NOR wants the cause the panic-striking aid Of hallelujahs tost from hill to hill -- For instant victory. But Heaven's high will Permits a second and a darker shade Of Pagan night. Afflicted and dismayed, The Relics of the sword flee to the mountains: O wretched Land! whose tears have flowed like fountains; Whose arts and honours in the dust are laid By men yet scarcely conscious of a care For other monuments than those of Earth; Who, as the fields and woods have given them birth, Will build their savage fortunes only there; Content, if foss, and barrow, and the girth Of long-drawn rampart, witness what they were. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN IN PARADISE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE GOLDEN TARGE by WILLIAM DUNBAR MANSONG: CHORAL by MARCUS ADENEY THE BRITISH PHILIPPIC by MARK AKENSIDE SONNET: LOVE'S ETHIC by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON |