He that with Rebel Arms to fight is led,
To Justice forfeits his opprobrious Head:
But 'tis unhappy  first Offence,
Seduc'd by some too plausible Pretence,
To take the inj'ring side by error brought;
He had no Malice, tho' he has the Fault.
Let the old Tempters find a shameful Grave,
But the half-innocent, the Tempted, save.
Vengeance Divine, tho' for the greatest Crime,
But rarely strikes the first or second time:
And he best follows the Almighty's Will,
Who spares the guilty, he has Pow'r to kill.
When proud Rebellions would unhinge a State,
And wild Disorders in a Land create,
'Tis requisite, the first Promoters shou'd
Put out the Flames, they kindled, with their Blood:
But sure 'tis a degree of Murder, all
That draw their Swords, should undistinguish'd fall:
And since a Mercy must to some be shown,
Let  'mongst the happy few be One:
For as none guilty has less Guilt than he,
So none for Pardon has a fairer Plea.