Locrine: a tragedy by Algernon Charles Swinburne
page 33 of 141 (23%)
page 33 of 141 (23%)
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Or quail for hope's sake, or more faithless fear,
From truth of single-sighted manhood, here Born and bred up to read the word aright That sunders man from beast as day from night. That red rank Ireland where men burn and slay Girls, old men, children, mothers, sires, and say These wolves and swine that skulk and strike do well, As soon might know sweet heaven from ravenous hell. GUENDOLEN. Ay: no such coward as crawls and licks the dust Till blood thence licked may slake his murderous lust And leave his tongue the suppler shall be bred, I think, in Britain ever--if the dead May witness for the living. Though my son Go forth among strange tribes to battle, none Here shall he meet within our circling seas So much more vile than vilest men as these. And though the folk be fierce that harbour there As once the Scythians driven before thee were, And though some Cornish water change its name As Humber then for furtherance of thy fame, And take some dead man's on it--some dead king's Slain of our son's hand--and its watersprings Wax red and radiant from such fire of fight And swell as high with blood of hosts in flight - No fiercer foe nor worthier shall he meet Than then fell grovelling at his father's feet. Nor, though the day run red with blood of men |
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