And, spite of truth, let mercy guide your pen!
What vent'rous race are ours! what mighty foes
Lie waiting all around them to oppose!
What treacherous friends betray them to the fight!
What dangers threaten them—yet still they write:
A hapless tribe! to every evil born,
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Whom villains hate, and fools affect to scorn;
Strangers they come amid a world of wo,
And taste the largest portion ere they go.