Poems, 1799 by Robert Southey
page 34 of 147 (23%)
page 34 of 147 (23%)
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The royal carcase, FLATTERY, fawning low,
Fell at his feet, and worshipped the new God. Titus [3] was here, the Conqueror of the Jews, He the Delight of human-kind misnamed; Caesars and Soldans, Emperors and Kings, Here they were all, all who for glory fought, Here in the COURT OF GLORY, reaping now The meed they merited. As gazing round The Virgin mark'd the miserable train, A deep and hollow voice from one went forth; "Thou who art come to view our punishment, Maiden of Orleans! hither turn thine eyes, For I am he whose bloody victories Thy power hath rendered vain. Lo! I am here, The hero conqueror of Azincour, HENRY OF ENGLAND!--wretched that I am, I might have reigned in happiness and peace, My coffers full, my subjects undisturb'd, And PLENTY and PROSPERITY had loved To dwell amongst them: but mine eye beheld The realm of France, by faction tempest-torn, And therefore I did think that it would fall An easy prey. I persecuted those Who taught new doctrines, tho' they taught the truth: And when I heard of thousands by the sword Cut off, or blasted by the pestilence, I calmly counted up my proper gains, And sent new herds to slaughter. Temperate Myself, no blood that mutinied, no vice |
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