Pro. There is hope
For all who suffer with indignant thoughts
Which work in silent strength. What! think ye heaven
O’erlooks the oppressor, if he bear awhile
His crested head on high? I tell you, no!
Th’ avenger will not sleep. It was an hour
Of triumph to the conqueror, when our king,
Our young brave Conradin, in life’s fair morn
On the red scaffold died. Yet not the less
Is Justice throned above; and her good time