Classic Poem

When good men bleed our nature suffers pain,
And pitying angels may, perhaps, complain!
But when the villain dooms the villain dead,
Impartial justice nods th' approving head.
No tear bedews the grave where Orleans lies,
No orphan's blessing, nor no widow's sights!
To princely wealth, and splendid titles born,
He liv'd of honour and of fame the scorn;
His youth, by grossest vices, was debas'd,
His manhood by the blackest crimes disgrac'd;
Without one virtue to adorn his state,
Without the courage to make guilt seem great —
A prince, unworthy of the name of man!
The meanest villain of the vilest clan!
Upon the scaffold yields his worthless breath,
In life detested, and despis'd in the death!
In vain he sought, among his tools, a friend,
His train'd assassins dragg'd him to his end.