When Conscience bares her horrors, and the dread
Of sudden vengeance, bursting o'er his head,
Wrings his black soul; when injured nations groan,
And cries of millions shake his tottering throne;
Shall flattering churchmen soothe his guilty ears,
With tortured texts, to calm his growing fears;
Exalt his power above the Aetherial climes,
And call down Heaven to sanctify his crimes!