Is heaven’s dread justice—ay, and it is well!
Why then should we be tender, when the skies
Deal thus with man? What if the infant bleed?
Is there not power to hush the mother’s pangs?
What if the youthful bride perchance should fall
In her triumphant beauty? Should we pause?
As if death were not mercy to the pangs
Which make our lives the records of our woes?
Let them all perish! And if one be found
Amidst our band to stay th’ avenging steel