To Ruin  23287

  • Poem
  • by
  • first line (public domain):
    All hail! inexorable lord!
    At whose destruction-breathing word,
                   The mightiest empires fall!
    They cruel, woe-delighted train,
    The ministers of Grief and Pain,
                   A sullen welcome, all!
                   With stern-resolv'd despairing eye,
    I see each aimed dart;
    For one has cut my dearest tye,
                   And quivers in my heart.
                        Then low'ring and pouring,
                                  The Storm no more I dread;
                        Tho' thick'ning and black'ning
                                  Round my devoted head.
  • Language:

Locations in Harold's Library

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