Ten thousand 'No's' will pierce his dastard breast,
And treat him tenfold worse than all the rest!"
Thus spake their leader, and with angry roar
The o'er wrought friends assail the door;
Lot, backward hurled, could hardly stand,
Till snatched within by angel hand,
The maddened crowd no longer wait,
But headlong rush to meet their fate!
The ready angels rise, with godlike mind,
And strike the guilty wretches blind: