And voices, heard on earth no more,
Speak to our spirits as of yore.
Talk not of mercy!—blood alone
The stain of bloodshed may atone;
Nought else can pay that mighty debt,
The dead forbid us to forget.”
He pauses. From the patriarch’s brow
There beams more lofty grandeur now;
His reverend form, his aged hand,
Assume a gesture of command;