Classic Poem

Oft have we heard of impious sons before,
Rebelled for crowns their royal parents wore;
But of unnatural daughters rarely hear
'Till those of hapless James and old King Lear.
But worse than cruel lustful Goneril, thou!
She took but what her father did allow;
But thou, more impious, robb'st thy father's brow.
Him both of power and glory you disarm,
Make him, by lies, the people's hate and scorn,
Then turn him forth to perish in a storm.
Sure after this, should his dead corpse become
Exposed like Tarquin's in the streets of Rome,
Naked and pierced with wounds on every side,
Thou wouldst, like Tullia, with triumphant pride
Thy chariot drive, winged with ambitious fire,
O'er the dead body of thy mangled sire.