As round her fell her long fair hair;
And she looked to heaven with that frenzied air,
Which seem’d to ask if a God were there!
And, stretch’d by the wall of a ruined hut,
With its hollow cheek, and eyes half shut,
A child of famine dying:
And the carnage begun, when resistance is done
And the fall of the vainly flying.
But the Devil has reached our cliffs so white,
And what did he there, I pray?