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22. war Sonnet.

oh, God of Nations! whose august decree,
     Thundering through revolutions, fire, and smoke,
Raised from our sainted sires a foreign yoke,
     And lifted up our land sublimely free;
God of the Nations! once again to Thee,
     War-clad, we come, Thy vengeance to invoke,
To save Thy country, stricken with a stroke
     More dire than any foreign foe can be,
Because more shameless in its infamy.
     Oh, Thou! who through the patriots' heart of oak
The fetters of a far-off slavery broke,
     Break now this home-forged, linked iniquity,
And all these traitors' hands and hearts uncloak--
     Aye, though with blood yon “sacred soil” we soak.

Acmel.

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