| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
VENGE O Lord! Thy slaughter'd saints whose bones Lie scatter'd on the Alpine1 mountains cold; Even them who kept Thy truth so pure of old When all our fathers worshipt stocks and stones Forget not: in Thy book record their groans2 Who were Thy sheep and in their ancient fold Slain3 by the bloody4 Piemontese that roll'd Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans The vales redoubled to the hills and they To Heaven. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow O'er all the Italian fields where still doth sway The triple Tyrant5: that from these may grow A hundredfold who having learnt Thy way 点击收听单词发音
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
TAG标签:
- 发表评论
-
- 最新评论 进入详细评论页>>