Who, As They Sung, Would Take The

Ink Is The Blood Of The Printing-press.

My Sentence Is For Open War.

Death To Life Is Crown Or Shame.

Now The Bright Morning-star, Day's Harbinger, Comes Dancing From The East.

Nor Aught Availed Him Now To Have Built In Heaven High Towers; Nor Did He Scrape By All His Engines, But Was Headlong Sent With His Industrious Crew To Build In Hell.