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The Helots

Whose fingers can span
The weapons of wrath and destruction—the terrible godhead of Man.

Let them shrink from our gods,
Let them tremble, for we
Shall shatter their rods
And strike till the sea,
Till the earth, by their anguish made eager, proclaim us triumphant and free.

They have urged us like cattle,
Like sheep have they slain,
But hate in the chattel
May guide as a brain—
Once quickened, the hand of the lifeless not soon is made lifeless again.

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