THY faithful sons, whom Thou in love hast owned, Behold! are strangled, burnt and racked and stoned; Are broken on the wheel; like felons hung; Or, living, into noisome charnels flung. I see them yonder, of their eyes bereft, And there their mangled limbs in twain are cleft. Beneath the wine-press are their bodies drawn, Crushed, drowned, or with harsh saws asunder sawn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH IN A CHURCH-YARD IN CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA by AMY LOWELL WE HAVE GONE THROUGH GREAT ROOMS TOGETHER by CARL SANDBURG EPILOGUE FROM EMBLEMS OF LOVE by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE AIR: 'CAPTAIN JINKS' by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS IF I ONLY WAS THE FELLOW by WILL S. ADKIN THE BIRDS: THE HOOPOE'S CALL TO HIS WIFE PROCNE, THE NIGHTINGALE by ARISTOPHANES |