text:  Amid the plains where ample plenty spreads Her copious stores and decks the yellow meads The outcast turns a ghastly look to heaven; Oh not for him is Nature's plenty given; Robb'd of the birthright nature freely gave Save that last portion freely left--a grave! Oh that another power would rule man's heart Uncramp its free-born will in every part; Mercy more swift justice more just more slow Grandeur less prone to deal the cruel blow To bind men's hands with fetters than with alms And spurn the only boon that soothes and calms