How e'en the tiny worm is given a sting
For sore distress, a weapon of defence,
Which, weak and harmless though it even be,
Kind Nature's hand, protectress of us all.
Will help him aim and guide with deadly dart
'Gainst the Achilles-heel of his tormentor—
[As above.]
Thou knowest, tyrant? No, thou knowest not,
How Faith and lamb-like Patience meekly bow
To every hardship, every sacrifice,
Enduring pangs of body and of soul,
But also rise with more than giant's strength,
With all-regardless, all-renouncing power,
When, outraged in their holy sanctuary,
Their feelings blend in one impassionate flame—
[As above]
Thou knowest. tyrant? No, thou knowest not,
How woman, tender woman, under tears,
Shed in her closet's silence, under prayers,
O'erheard by none save God, will long defer
To break the hallowed peace of her reserve,
To lay her bosom's tender feelings ope
To chilly blasts of worldly sneer and scorn,
But when at last confronted by the choice.
The fiendish choice, 'twixt virtue and disgrace,
Will fling aside the fetters of her doubts,
Shake off the shackles of her self-restraint.
