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To the mother that weeps O'er the fate of her son,I boast of the chivalrous Deeds I have done—
The oceans of blood And tears I have spilt,And witnessed cruelty, Sorrow and guilt.
At a breath or a touch Of my magical wand,The mighty are fallen— Their wealth I command.
The home of the happy Is wrecked at my name;The spoils of the wealthy Is the height of my fame;
The brow of the beautiful, Lovely and gay,I have mantled with shame And stamped with dismay.
