Upon The Punishment Of Death

  YE brood of conscience--Spectres! that frequent
  The bad Man's restless walk, and haunt his bed--
  Fiends in your aspect, yet beneficent
  In act, as hovering Angels when they spread
  Their wings to guard the unconscious Innocent--
  Slow be the Statutes of the land to share
  A laxity that could not but impair
  'Your' power to punish crime, and so prevent.
  And ye, Beliefs! coiled serpent-like about
  The adage on all tongues, "Murder will out," 
  How shall your ancient warnings work for good
  In the full might they hitherto have shown,
  If for deliberate shedder of man's blood
  Survive not Judgment that requires his own?