English poem
On Field-Marshal Suworow. a Dialogue
by William Crowe (1745–1829)
A. This Hero, though delighting much in blood, Was yet a tender-hearted creature.—B. Good.
A. Without remorse he slaughter’d Turk and Pole, But still his nerves were very weak.—B. Poor soul!
A. And he became a prey to grief, for why, His master frown’d upon him.—B. O fie! fie!
A. Unkindness did his gentle heartstrings crack, And so the Hero came to an end.—B. Good lack!
A. That one so valiant and so meek, is’t fit he Should go at last to the devil?—B. What a pity!
More by William Crowe
- Lines Written at the Tomb of William of Wykeham, in Winchester Cathedral
- Lines Written with a Pencil in a Lady’s Almanac
- Ode to the King of France. 1823
- On F. W. the King of Prussia’s Ineffectual Attempt on Warsaw
- On the Death of Captain Cook
- On the Decease of Horne Tooke
- On the Funeral of ⸺, in a Hearse and Six, Followed by a Mourning Coach and Four
- On the Increase of Human Life