Give thine own better feeling play for once!

Thou, whose own life winks o'er the socket-edge,

Wouldst thou it went out in such ugly snuff

As dooming sons dead, e'en though justice prompt?

Why, on a certain feast, Barabbas' self

Was set free, not to cloud the general cheer:

Neither shalt thou pollute thy Sabbath close!

Mercy is safe and graceful. How one hears

The howl begin, scarce the three little taps

O' the silver mallet silent on thy brow,—