And if the pow’rs of human virtue fail
”Here sleep the relics of an orphan flower,Crush’d by the brutal foot of lawless pow’r;Another victim to the thousands slainWithin the mighty slaughterhouse of gain.O! come ye kind philanthropists, who feelThe noblest int’rests in the people’s weal,Pause on this infant-martyr’s new turn’d grave, Swear to emancipate the British slave;Tell the oppressor, that the widow’s God,Injustice, wields […]