We go with clean hands into any fight;
That is our English way;—
Not this high thought alone shall brace your thews
To trample under heel those Vandal hordes
Who laugh when blood of mother and babe imbrues
Their damnéd craven swords.
But here must be hot passion, white of flame,
Pure hate of this unutterable wrong,
Sheer wrath for Christendom so sunk in shame,
To make you trebly strong.