Proclaim the crimes by God and Nature loathed.
Which—when fell poison revels in the veins—
(That poison fell, which frantic Gallia drains
From the crude fruit of Freedom’s blasted tree)
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Blot the fair records of Humanity.
To feebler nations let proud France afford
Her damning choice,—the chalice or the sword,
To drink or die;—O fraud! O specious lie!
Delusive choice! for if they drink, they die.