and lightning strokes, all earthly ills Which Heaven inflicts and trembling men abhor-- Fell bolts in God's red armory of wrath, With all your terrors in one stroke combined, Come!
and in mercy blast the land with ruin Rather than we should see Columbia's plains Drenched in a crimson sea of fratricide, Lust, rapine, malice, treachery, revenge, The tall and crowning infamy of time.” I hear a passing bell — the muffled drum Rolls its sepulchral echoes on the night Which spreads across the sky the starless pall Of desolation.
And upon my ear Falls the wild burden of a dismal song Like that of mocking fiends in revelry. Fiends who in the lurid gloom Of hell do ply the fatal loom, Weave a banner of despair For Columbia's tainted air. Like the boding raven's wing All the land overshadowing, In the murky woof embroider Darkness, death, and hell's disorder. On the fatal standard show Every form of guilt and woe-- Murder drinking deep of blood, Rolling round him like a flood, Faction's d