England In 1819
Percy Bysshe Shelley
An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,— Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who Through public scorn,—mud from a muddy spring,— Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know, But leech-like to their fainting country cling, Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,— A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,— An army, which liberticide and prey Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,— Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay; Religion Christless, Godless—a book sealed; A Senate, Time’s worst statute unrepealed,— Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day.
Next 10 Poems
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : English In 1819
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- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Feelings Of A Republican On The Fall Of Bonaparte
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Fragment: To The Moon
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- Percy Bysshe Shelley : From The Arabic ( An Imitation )
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Good-night
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Hellas
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Hymn Of Pan
- Percy Bysshe Shelley : Hymn To Intellectual Beauty
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