Their icy Leader calls a blood-nurs'd fiend—
Hell ne'er saw direr from her womb ascend!
Perch'd on a rack he held his ruthless stand;
A scorpion scourge wav'd in his wither'd hand;
Snaky his locks—with eye-balls roll'd in flame;
Sin's second-born, and Cruelty his name.
Him to the trading mast the vengeful King,
Precursive sends, with many a venom'd sting;
For, here, ere Death the slackened heart-string tears,
Still savage Cruelty the wound prepares.