John Milton

(9 December 1608 – 8 November 1674 / London, England)

Sonnet 15 - Poem by John Milton

XV

On The Late Massacher In Piemont

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 worship't Stocks and Stones,
Forget not: in thy book record their groanes
Who were thy Sheep and in their antient Fold
Slayn by the bloody Piemontese that roll'd
Mother with Infant down the Rocks. Their moans
The Vales redoubl'd to the Hills, and they
To Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow
O're all th'Italian fields where still doth sway
The triple Tyrant: that from these may grow
A hunder'd-fold, who having learnt thy way
Early may fly the Babylonian wo.


Comments about Sonnet 15 by John Milton

  • Michael WalkerMichael Walker (2/16/2020 5:39:00 PM)

    Milton's older English diction can still appeal. He certainly feels for the saints slain by the Piedmontese.
    Quite a good sonnet.
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  • Savita TyagiSavita Tyagi (2/16/2020 10:57:00 AM)

    that rolled
    Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans
    The vales redoubled to the hills,
    To Heaven.......heart breaking.....human cruelty knows no bounds.....
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  • Ramesh T ARamesh T A (2/16/2020 5:18:00 AM)

    Right wrath to avenge for slain saints written in Milton's own sonnet style is indeed great to read! Thanks for sharing this here! (Report)Reply

    1 person liked.
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  • Edward Kofi LouisEdward Kofi Louis (2/16/2020 1:17:00 AM)

    Slain by the Piemontese! ! ! !


    Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
    (Report)Reply

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Read poems about / on: truth, mother, sonnet, father



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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