human
I hated thee, fallen tyrant! I did groan To think that a most ambitious slave, Like thou, shouldst dance and revel on the grave Of Liberty. Thou mightst have built thy throne Where it had stood even now; thou didst prefer A frail and bloody pomp, which time has swept In fragments towards oblivion. Massacre, For this I pray'd would on thy sleep have crept, Treason and Slavery, Rapine, Fear and Lust, And stifled thee, their minister. I know Too late, since thou and France are in the dust, That virtue owns a more eternal foe Than force or fraud; old custom, legal crime, And bloody Faith, the foulest birth of time.