The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton with an essay on the Rowley poems by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat and a memoir by Edward Bell |
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LXXX.
[Æl.]There is no house, throughout this fate-scourged isle,
That hath not lost some kin in these fell fights;
Fat blood hath surfeited the hungry soil,
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In robe of fire our holy church they dights,
Our sons lie smothered in their smoking gore;
Up by the roots our tree of life they pights,
Vexing our coast, as billows do the shore.
Ye men, if ye are men, display your name,
Consume their troops, as doth the roaring tempest flame.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton | |