With it I conclude this story trusting and believing that it is anything but the concluding chapter to the Boer fight for freedom, the bravest and noblest ever fought since God taught men to love liberty.
Her robes are of purple and scarlet,
And the kings have bent their knees
To the gemmed and jewelled harlot
Who sitteth on many seas.
They have drunk the abominations
Of her golden cup of shame;
She has drugged and debauched the nations
With the mystery of her name.
Her merchants have gathered riches
By the power of her wantonness,
And her usurers are as leeches
On the World's supreme distress.
She has scoured the seas as a spoiler;
Her mart is a robber's den,
With the wrested toll of the toiler,
And the mortgaged souls of men.
Her crimson flag is flying,
Where the East and the West are one;
Her drums while the day is dying
Salute the rising sun.
She has scourged the weak and the lowly
And the just with an iron rod;
She is drunk with the blood of the holy,
She shall drink of the wrath of God!