Losing

We are now wholly, yea! more than wholly devastated.

The band of presumptuous nations, they raving trumpets,

The sword oily with blood, the thundering cannon-royal

Have consumed the fruits of all our sweat and travail.

The towers stand in flames, the church is overturned,

The town hall lies in ruins, the stalwart are hacked to bits,

The maidens are deflowered, and everywhere we look

Fire, plague and death oppress the heart and soul.

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