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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
XXXIV. THE NOBLE REVENGE.
The nations stood around thee, frowning someSome coldly pitying when thy head lay low:
On them what good for ill wilt thou bestow
When Wrong that overcame is overcome?
When earth in Faith's eclipse lies cold and numb;
When pride hath reaped the fruits she holp to sow;
When anarch peoples hurled from wealth to woe
In vain deplore their vanished Christendom;
When from the nether night, his penal prison
By spurious science loosed the Apostate Angel
Lifts his red bond and claims the astonished lands
Shine thou that hour, a sun from night new-risen,
Chase thou with thine his foul, disproved evangel:
Raise thou thy Cross, and bind the Murderer's hands!
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |