human
Oh, for a tongue to curse the slave, Whose treason, like a deadly blight, Comes o'er the councils of the brave, And blasts them in their hour of might! May life's unblessed cup for him Be drugg'd with treacheries to the brim,-- With hopes, that but allure to fly, With joys, that vanish while he sips, Like Dead-Sea fruits, that tempt the eye, But turn to ashes on the lips! His country's curse, his children's shame, Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame, May he, at last, with lips of flame, On the parch'd desert thirsting die,-- While lakes, that shone in mockery nigh, Are fading off, untouch'd, untasted, Like the once glorious hopes he blasted! And, when from earth his spirit flies, Just Prophet, let the damn'd-one dwell Full in the sight of Paradise, Beholding heaven, and feeling hell!