Classic Poem

When Caesar Rome's reluctant spirit broke
And bow'd her haughty neck beneath his yoke;
When stern oppression ruled the blasted plain,
With all her kindred furies in her train,
“Oh wretched times!” desponding Cicero cry'd
While Rome's best blood but swell'd her Tyber's tide.
Yet generous Brutus struck one well aimed blow,
And instant vengeance laid the Tyrant low.
But when corruption tries her deeper art
To poison, not to stab, each honest heart,
When Virtue is so rooted from the ground
That hardly can one generous Vice be found,
And lust of gold in every sordid breast,
Like Aaron's rod has swallowed up the rest,
When sickly calms the nerveless land o'erspread,
With treacherous smiles of partial plenty fed
Then, then exclaim “Oh hapless Times indeed”,
For deeper is the wound that does not bleed.