Tho' fix'd on him, his children's suppliant eyes,
Implore the aid avenging Fate denies;
Tho' with the giant-snake in fruitless strife,
Heaves every muscle with convulsive life,
And in each limb Existence writhes, enroll'd
Midst the dread circles of the venom'd fold;
Yet the strong spirit lives—and not a cry,
Shall own the might of Nature's agony!
That furrow'd brow unconquer'd Soul reveals,
That patient eye to angry Heav'n appeals,
That struggling bosom concentrates its breath,
Nor yields one moan to torture or to death!
Sublimest triumph of Intrepid Art!
With speechless horror to congeal the heart,
To freeze each pulse, and dart thro' every vein,
Cold thrills of fear, keen sympathies of pain;
Yet teach the spirit how its lofty power,