English poem
On a Late Parricide
by Anonymous
Detested deed! what rites shall purge the land, Where dies the parent by the daughter's hand? Fell tygers rend the lamb and sportive kid, Yet hold the slaughter of their race forbid. O grant me instinct! if from reason flows A fierceness more than savage nature knows.
More by Anonymous
- ON A LADY's BIRTH DAY. W. M. SMITH
- On a Lady's drinking the Bath-Waters
- On a Lady's Hurting Her Hand with the Author's Sword
- On a Lady's Wedding Being on the Twenty-first of December
- On a MESSAGE-CARD in Verse, Sent by a LADY
- On a small Building in the Gothic Taste
- On a small Building in the Gothick Taste
- On a SPIDER