Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Not now, nor past, nor future shall anguish Prevail in piceous depths betwixt Hell And Heaven bright whence He shall dwell, Despotic, casting voices to perish Where I, in sombre woe, conceive visions Of His tyrant reign. Grotesque agony Has been wrought by His seat, high, joyfully Quaking the decrepit Earth. Gaily Does His crown manacle our once free Souls. From death once wrought verisimilar chimes Of a nation brought to glory’s righteous Heart, but now pharaonic cries tread grim From the Second with such semblance of high, Righteous Sovran and now hath released His Ministers of Vengeance upon us whole. In atramentous grief, descrying the Bright cynosure in golden sleep beckon, The Heav'nly Muse my soul does possess.
0
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC
Milton's Dirge
Not now, nor past, nor future shall anguish Prevail in piceous depths betwixt Hell And Heaven bright whence He shall dwell, Despotic, casting voices to perish Where I, in sombre woe, conceive visions Of His tyrant reign. Grotesque agony Has been wrought by His seat, high, joyfully Quaking the decrepit Earth. Gaily Does His crown manacle our once free Souls. From death once wrought verisimilar chimes Of a nation brought to glory’s righteous Heart, but now pharaonic cries tread grim From the Second with such semblance of high, Righteous Sovran and now hath released His Ministers of Vengeance upon us whole. In atramentous grief, descrying the Bright cynosure in golden sleep beckon, The Heav'nly Muse my soul does possess.
alexandros
Written by
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem