AND all is lost! Thy valiant sons are dead Or slaves! The crown from off thy queenly brow Is plucked! Thy glory in the dust doth bow! Thine ancient splendours are for ever fled! I see it all—thine altars gory red:— Around, Death lays the mighty heroes low, Awhile, revengeful and relentless glow The fiendish flames, and from the foot to head Consume the Sanctuary! O woeful day! When Temple, Country, Freedom, all in one, Most dire destruction, fell! Then to the skies Uprose the bitter cry of dark dismay, Oh, God, Almighty Lord, forgive, condone, And in Thy glory, make our glory rise! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEDICATION IN THESE DAY by HAYDEN CARRUTH A PRAISE OF HIS LADY by JOHN HEYWOOD |