As serpent that incessantly devours,
So ever from your coming, to consume
Has it raged o’er me. See here, how it lowers!
And in the hidden place of death and gloom,
Buries my children and my loves. Affords
Your skill no remedy? O! ye, who call
Yourselves as of America the lords,
Have pity on my agony. See, fall
Beneath your insane fury, not sufficed
One generation, but a hundred slain!