Compassion ne'er shall seize my steadfast breast / Though blood and carnage spread thro' all the land;/ Till streaming purple tinge the verdant turf, /
Till ev'ry street shall float with human gore, / I Nero-like, the capital in flames, / could laugh to see her glotted sons expire,/ Tho' much too rough my soul to touch the lyre.
Till ev'ry street shall float with human gore, / I Nero-like, the capital in flames, / could laugh to see her glotted sons expire,/ Tho' much too rough my soul to touch the lyre.
Compassion ne'er shall seize my steadfast breast / Though blood and carnage spread thro' all the land;/ Till streaming purple tinge the verdant turf, /
Compassion ne'er shall seize my steadfast breast / Though blood and carnage spread thro' all the land;/ Till streaming purple tinge the verdant turf, /
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He was 86 but felt more like 64.
He was 86 but felt more like 64.