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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-05-06 | [Este texto, tienes que leerlo en english] | Inscrito en la biblioteca por Miruna Dima
I hated thee, fallen Tyrant! I did groan
To think that a most unambitious slave, Like thou, should dance and revel on the grave Of Liberty. Thou mightst have built thy throne Where it had stood even now: thou didst prefer A frail and bloody pomp, which Time has swept In fragments towards oblivion. Massacre, For this, I prayed, would on thy sleep have crept, Treason and Slavery, Rapine, Fear, and Lust, And stifled thee their minister. I know Too late, since thou and France are in the dust, That Virtue owns a more eternal foe Than Force or Fraud: old Custom, legal Crime, And bloody Faith, and foulest birth of Time.
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