DEAR Reliques! from a pit of vilest mould
Uprisen--to lodge among ancestral kings;
And to inflict shame's salutary stings
On the remorseless hearts of men grown old
In a blind worship; men perversely bold
Even to this hour,--yet, some shall now forsake
Their monstrous Idol if the dead e'er spake,
To warn the living; if truth were ever told
By aught redeemed out of the hollow grave:
O murdered Prince! meek, loyal, pious, brave!
The power of retribution once was given:
But 'tis a rueful thought that willow bands
So often tie the thunder-wielding hands
Of Justice sent to earth from highest Heaven!
More verses by William Wordsworth
- Composed At The Same Time And On The Same Occasion
- Epitaphs Translated From Chiabrera
- Lines Written On A Blank Leaf In A Copy Of The Author’s Poem
- Hint From The Mountains For Certain Political Pretenders
- George And Sarah Green