And crouches low, to gorge and gloat.
The Prince of Peace? Ye write his name
In blood, then dare to pray! For shame!
These Saxon lies on top of lies,
Ten millstones to the neck of us,
Forbid that we should lift our eyes
Till we dare meet that manlier Russ;
In peons for peace of paradise:
Forbid that we, until the day
We wash our hands, should dare to pray.