Raleigh, North Carolina
October 11, 1810
What is the honour that impels
Th' ensanguin'd mind to murderous deeds?
Why is it that the bosom swells
To taste of pride the genuine meed?
Can the vague pistol's bagrant arm
Determine ought of right or wrong?
As well might infamy to fame
Guide virtue's sacred steps along.
Then cease, O! cease this Gothic way,
Which ignorance plann'd and vice has trod,
Nor make, 'till God's appointed day,
The last, the grand appeal to God.
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