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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421486" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet XVIII: On the Late Massacre in Piemont</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones<br> Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold,<br> Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old,<br> When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones;<br> Forget not: in thy book record their groans<br> Who were thy sheep and in their ancient fold<br> Slain by the bloody Piemontese that roll'd<br> Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans<br> The vales redoubl'd to the hills, and they<br> To Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow<br> O'er all th' Italian fields where still doth sway<br> The triple tyrant; that from these may grow<br> A hundred-fold, who having learnt thy way<br> Early may fly the Babylonian woe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Milton">John Milton</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421486" data-title="Sonnet XVIII: On the Late Massacre in Piemont de John Milton" data-description="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 worshipp'd stocks and stones;
 Forget not: in thy book record their groans
 Who we..."></div>
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