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Of Titans were a feeble power
To that with which your arms should smite
In the next awful battle-hour!
And deadlier than the bolts of heaven
Should flash your fury's fatal leven!
No pity! let your thirsty bands
Drink their warm fill at caitiff veins;
Dip deep in blood your wrathful hands,
Nor pause to wipe those crimson stains.
Slay! slay! with ruthless sword and will--
The God of vengeance bids you “kill!”
Yes! but there's one who shall not die
In battle harness! One for whom
Lurks in the darkness silently
Another and a sterner doom!
A warrior's end should crown the brave--
For him, swift cord! and felon grave!
As loathsome, charnel vapors melt,
Swept by invisible winds to nought,
So, may this fiend of lust and guilt
Die like nightmare's hideous thought!
Nought left to mark the mother's name,
Save — immortality of shame!
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