Altera Eiusdem Prosop Poem by John Ashmore

Altera Eiusdem Prosop



The Dane me sackt, poor wretch the Scot, o're-bold
In victory, unworthily me sold:
But, to both Realmes a Royall stem, by Fate,
His peoples faults (Beholde!) doth expiate.

Monday, September 27, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: fate
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