For in the bosom of the wilderness
Imagination paints a fearful wild
With two young children bow’d in deep distress,
A simple maiden and a little child,
Begirt with savages in circles fill’d,
Who round them shout in triumph o’er the deed
That laid their kindred on the desert piled
An undistinguished mass, in death to bleed,
And left them without hope in their despairing need.
In captive chains whole races have been led,