Verse > Anthologies > Francis T. Palgrave, ed. > The Golden Treasury
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Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury.  1875.
 
J. Milton
 
LXIV. On the Late Massacre in Piemont
 
AVENGE, O Lord! Thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones 
  Lie scatter'd on the Alpine 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 groans         5
  Who were Thy sheep, and in their ancient fold 
  Slain by the bloody 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  10
O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway 
  The triple Tyrant: that from these may grow 
A hundredfold, who, having learnt Thy way, 
  Early may fly the Babylonian woe. 
 
 
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