Are these our Heroes pictured each by each?
We fondly deemed that where our English speech
Sounded, there English hearts, of mould humane.
Justice would strengthen, cruelty restrain.
And is it all a figment of false pride?
Such horrors do our vaunting annals hide
Beneath a world of words, like flowers that wave
In tropic swamps o'er a malarious grave?
These are the questions which perforce intrude
As the long tale of horror coarse and crude,