Comus and other poems
by John Milton
On the late Massacher in Piemont
3296845Comus and other poems — On the late Massacher in PiemontJohn Milton

On the late Massacher in Piemont.

Avenge O Lord thy slaughter'd Saints, whose bones

Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold,
Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old
When all our Fathers worship't Stocks and Stones,
Forget not: in thy book record their groanes
Who were thy Sheep and in their antient Fold
Slayn by the bloody Piemontese that roll'd
Mother with Infant down the Rocks. Their moans
The Vales redoubled to the Hills, and they
To Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow
O're all th'Italian fields where still doth sway
The triple Tyrant: that from these may grow
A hunder'd-fold, who having learnt thy way
Early may fly the Babylonian wo.