Are souls then nothing? Must at length the die

Are souls then nothing? Must at length the die
Be cast by weight of multitudes? Shall hoardes
Of Slaves triumphant over noble words
And noble thoughts and antient liberty
Deal with us as they would with sheep and tie
Our hands behind our backs with felon cords?
Yields every thing to outnumbering of swords?
Is man as good as man? none low, none high?
This was not once the doctrine of our Land;
Then would we say great storms there are that nurse
Themselves in little clouds, a petty Band
Of gallant hearts to be an enemy’s curse
Hath might beyond the might of Moses’ wand;
God helps the brave to scatter man and horse.