A PIOUS magistrate! sound his praise throughout br The wondering churches. Who shall henceforth doubt br That the long-wished millennium draweth nigh? br Sin in high places has become devout, br Tithes mint, goes painful-faced, and prays its lie br Straight up to Heaven, and calls it piety! br The pirate, watching from his bloody deck br The weltering galleon, heavy with the gold br Of Acapulco, holding death in check br While prayers are said, brows crossed, and beads are told; br The robber, kneeling where the wayside cross br On dark Abruzzo tells of life's dread loss br From his own carbine, glancing still abroad br For some new victim, offering thanks to God! br Rome, listening at her altars to the cry br Of midnight Murder, while her hounds of hell br Scour France, from baptized cannon and holy bell br And thousand-throated priesthood, loud and high, br Pealing Te Deums to the shuddering sky, br 'Thanks to the Lord, who giveth victory!' br What prove these, but that crime was ne'er so black br As ghostly cheer and pious thanks to lack? br Satan is modest. At Heaven's door he lays br His evil offspring, and, in Scriptural phrase br And saintly posture, gives to God the praise br And honor of the monstrous progeny.