I hated thee, fallen tyrant! I did groan
To think that a most unambitious slave,
Like thou, shouldst dance and revel on the grave
Of Liberty. Thou mightst have built thy throne
Where it had stood even now: thou didst prefer
A frail and bloody pomp which Time has swept
In fragments towards Oblivion. Massacre,
For this I prayed, would on thy sleep have crept,
Treason and Slavery, Rapine, Fear, and Lust,
And stifled thee, their minister. I know
Too late, since thou and France are in the dust,
That Virtue owns a more eternal foe
Than Force or Fraud: old Custom, legal Crime,
And bloody Faith the foulest birth of Time.

  • 0
  • 0
  •  
  •  
Login per commentare...
Email

Altre opere di Percy Shelley...

Alcuni poeti che seguono Percy Shelley...

Dimmi Chaltre Gonzalo Oto Sanders Miles Quinol-Cadalin DagMar Dederichs Marnie Lawson *tmarie*