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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
Sternly he writes of these:
‘Shun thou those Pagan maids who, serpent-like,
Shoot out from creviced chinks of rock a crest
That shines but to betray; and shun not less
Those worldlings that usurp the Christian name
Yet, Pagans still at heart, stretch fearless forth
A full-fed, gem-lit, sacrilegious hand
Even to the sacred chalice! Shun those widows
Shrill-voiced because some Consul of their kin
Rode up three centuries since to the Capitol
Dragged by the snow-white steeds. Predestinate race!
That golden-gated Capitol is void!
Trembles the seven-hilled city! Suppliant throngs
Rush on by vacant temples of the gods,
Rush to the Martyrs' graves.’
167
Shoot out from creviced chinks of rock a crest
That shines but to betray; and shun not less
Those worldlings that usurp the Christian name
Yet, Pagans still at heart, stretch fearless forth
A full-fed, gem-lit, sacrilegious hand
Even to the sacred chalice! Shun those widows
Shrill-voiced because some Consul of their kin
Rode up three centuries since to the Capitol
Dragged by the snow-white steeds. Predestinate race!
That golden-gated Capitol is void!
Trembles the seven-hilled city! Suppliant throngs
Rush on by vacant temples of the gods,
Rush to the Martyrs' graves.’
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |