If thou, Columbia, dost from this, thy son--
The condor beak and python eyes--recoil,
Bethink thee of the years that Freedom's soil
Was husbanded by devil-feet which run
To scatter lies and wrongs; until thereon
Huge growths do thrive, once meadow, by the toil
Of pioneers; where now resort for spoil
The mouths and beaks that hunt for carrion.
In years to come, if men mid the debris
Of this republic shall explore the cause
Of vast decay, two faces will appear:
The perjured Marshall, who with sorcery
Planted the jungle of unequal laws,
And this huge reptile, now a nation's Fear!