Rome shall perish - write that word / In the blood that she has spilt.

May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore,/ The parting word shall pass my lips no more!

What atonement is there for blood spilt upon the earth?

All they that take the sword, shall perish with the sword

We shall perish by guile just as we slew.

It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme