With brutal fury dealt the fatal wound.
Hold! hold, Barbarian! shall the guilty strife
Provoke to mortal acts thy frantic hand?
Let fall thy stroke on some less-valued life;
But save, O! save the Chieftain of the band!
E’en hostile kings bade spare his honour’d head,
The bloodless trophies of his fame bade spare;
And Peace and Science wide their influence spread
To guard him from the wasteful rage of war:
In vain—he falls—he dies—behold him bleed—