His voice is awful, and his eye
Fill’d with prophetic majesty.
“The dead!—and deem’st thou they retain
Aught of terrestrial passion’s stain?
Of guilt incurr’d in days gone by,
Aught but the fearful penalty?
And say’st thou, mortal! blood alone
For deeds of slaughter may atone?
There hath been blood—by Him ’twas shed
To expiate every crime who bled;