Of “Slay each spy—each minister—each priest—
We’ll kill them all!” The little boy replied:
“I tell you this is papa.” One girl cried
“A pretty fellow—see his curly head!”
“How old are you, my boy?” another said.
“Do not kill papa!” only he replies.
A soulful lustre lights his streaming eyes,
Some glances from his gaze are turned away,
And the rude hands less fiercely grasp their prey.
Then one of the most pitiless says, “Go—