Thomas Babbington Macaulay
Thomas Babbington Macaulay Poems
|2.||The Battle Of Ivry||4/21/2010|
|3.||The Prophecy Of Capys||4/21/2010|
|5.||The Country Clergyman's Trip To Cambridge -- An Election Ballad||4/21/2010|
|6.||The Marriage Of Tirzah And Ahirad||4/21/2010|
|8.||The Battle Of The Lake Regillus||4/21/2010|
|10.||Lines To The Memory Of Pitt||1/3/2003|
|11.||Epitaph On A Jacobite||1/3/2003|
|12.||The Battle Of Naseby||1/3/2003|
|13.||Epitaph On Henry Martyn||1/3/2003|
|15.||Lines Written In August||1/3/2003|
|16.||Sermon In A Churchyard||1/3/2003|
|17.||A Radical War Song||1/3/2003|
|18.||The Last Buccaneer||1/3/2003|
|19.||An Election Ballad||1/3/2003|
|20.||The Battle Of Moncontour||1/3/2003|
|22.||The Cavalier's March To London||1/3/2003|
A Lay Made About the Year Of The City CCCLX
Lars Porsena of Closium
By the Nine Gods he swore
That the great house of Tarquin
Should suffer wrong no more.
By the Nine Gods he swore it,
And named a trysting day,
And bade his messengers ride forth,
East and west and south and north,
To summon his array.
East and west and south and north
The messengers ride fast,
And tower and town and cottage
Have heard the trumpet's blast.
Shame on the false Etruscan
Who lingers in his home,
When Porsena of Clusium
Is on the march for...
The Battle Of Naseby
Oh! wherefore come ye forth, in triumph from the North,
With your hands, and your feet, and your raiment all red?
And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout?
And whence be the grapes of the wine-press which ye tread?
Oh, evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit,
And crimson was the juice of the vintage that we trod;
For we trampled on the throng of the haughty and the strong,
Who sate in the high places, and slew the saints of God.