Yet my fond bosom fain would know
Your thoughts of our relentless foe—
If any, blest with skill to save,
Have plann’d the proud oppressor’s grave,
Whatever perils shall attend
A scheme to save one bleeding friend,
I’ll meet, I’ll vanquish, or no more
Return to this opprobrious shore:
For oh! to steal the tyrant’s breath,
I’d perch upon the dart of death.”