Classic Poem

Go, injur'd Shade, thy peace implore
At Mercy's aweful throne,
Whilst Pity here her tear shall pour,
And o'er thy Sorrows moan.

Thy gen'rous Soul indignant fled
Oppression's stern command;
Too rashly fall'n amid the dead,
To 'scape her iron hand.

For thus, alas! thy feeling heart
Interpreted the blow:
Tho' Justice oft inflicts the smart,
Whence countless mis'ries flow.

Yet if, by too relentless Fate,
And Law's decree severe,
Disgrace and ruin may await
A hapless Mortal here:

O, let us look, beyond this span
Of Earth, to HIM Supreme,
Who sees the changing life of Man,
Pass like a fleeting dream.

Assur'd that HE will still regard
The wrongs his creatures know:
And give the patient heart reward
For all it feels below.