WHEN the British warrior queen, Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought, with an indignant mien, Counsel of her country's gods, Sage beneath a spreading oak Sat the Druid, hoary chief, Every burning word he spoke Full of rage and full of grief: "Princess! if our aged eyes Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 'Tis because resentment ties All the terrors of our tongues. "Rome shall perish,--write that word In the blood that she has spilt; Perish hopeless and abhorred, Deep in ruin as in guilt. "Rome, for empire far renowned, Tramples on a thousand states; Soon her pride shall kiss the ground,-- Hark! the Gaul is at her gates. "Other Romans shall arise, Heedless of a soldier's name, Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize, Harmony the path to fame. "Then the progeny that springs From the forests of our land, Armed with thunder, clad with wings, Shall a wider world command. "Regions Caesar never knew Thy posterity shall sway, Where his eagles never flew, None invincible as they." Such the bard's prophetic words, Pregnant with celestial fire, Bending as he swept the chords Of his sweet but awful lyre. She, with all a monarch's pride, Felt them in her bosom glow, Rushed to battle, fought and died, Dying, hurled them at the foe. "Ruffians, pitiless as proud, Heaven awards the vengeance due; Empire is on us bestowed, Shame and ruin wait for you!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NIGHTINGALE; A CONVERSATION POEM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN: A FRAGMENT by THOMAS GRAY YOUTH by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A GIRL OF POMPEII by EDWARD SANDFORD MARTIN THE MOTHERLAND by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE LITTLE REBEL by JOSEPH ASHBY-STERRY THE NURSE'S STORY: THE HAND OF GLORY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |