When , who the barbarous fact disclaimed,
In these sad terms their former malice blam'd,
Would Heav'n your flowing tears might wash away
The bloody stains of that detested day;
Its horror, with eternal grief, I trace;
The soft impression of my brother's face
Dwells on my heart, the tragic scene I view,
The mournful object is for ever new.
Methinks I see the anguish, the surprise,
The melting sorrow in his lovely eyes,
While kneeling, pleading all the tender claims
Of kindred blood, he singly call'd your names,
And one by one invok'd – what power I had,
Was all employ'd to save the guiltless lad:
His filial love and goodness, free from art,
Touch'd every tender motion in my heart,
When for his drooping father's hoary age
He try'd your soft compassion to engage;
I heard his cries, while round his suppliant hands,
Without remorse, you ty'd the cruel bands;
My soul is wounded with the farewel groan,
When to the yawning pit you forc'd him down.