Sunday, May 17, 2020


This Wreck of a Realm

Byron (1788-1824), Manfred, Act II, Scene III (First Destiny speaking):
The city lies sleeping;
   The morn, to deplore it,
May dawn on it weeping:
   Sullenly, slowly,
The black plague flew o'er it,—        40
   Thousands lie lowly;
Tens of thousands shall perish—
   The living shall fly from
The sick they should cherish:
   But nothing can vanquish        45
The touch that they die from.
   Sorrow and anguish,
And evil and dread,
   Envelope a nation—
The blest are the dead,        50
Who see not the sight
   Of their own desolation;
This work of a night—
This wreck of a realm—this deed of my doing—
For ages I've done, and shall still be renewing!        55

<< Home
Newer›  ‹Older

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?