The Grey Monk

I die I die the Mother said My Children die for lack of Bread t What more has the merciless Tyrant said The Monk sat down on the Stony Bed t

The blood red ran from the Grey Monks side His hands & feet were wounded wide His Body bent his arms & knees Like to the roots of ancient trees

His eye was dry no tear could flow A hollow groan first spoke his woe He trembled & shudderd upon the Bedt At length with a feeble cry he said

When God commanded this hand to write t In the studious hours of deep midnight He told me the writing I wrote should provet The Bane of all that on Earth I lovd t

My Brother starvd between two Walls His Childrens Cry my Soul appalls I mockd at the wrack & griding chain t My bent body mocks their torturing pain t

Thy Father drew his sword in the North With his thousands strong he marched forth t Thy Brother has armd himself in Steel t To avenge the wrongs thy Children feel t

But vain the Sword & vain the Bow They never can work Wars overthrow The Hermits Prayer & the Widows tear Alone can free the World from fear

For a Tear is an Intellectual Thing t And a Sigh is the Sword of an Angel King And the bitter groan of the Martyrs woe t Is an Arrow from the Almighties Bow

The hand of Vengeance found the Bed t To which the Purple Tyrant fled The iron hand crushd the Tyrants head And became a Tyrant in his steadt