BY no dry death another king goes down <br />The way of kings. Yet may no free man’s voice, <br />For stern compassion and deep awe, rejoice <br />That one sign more is given against the crown, <br />That one more head those dark red waters drown <br />Which rise round thrones whose trembling equipoise <br />Is propped on sand and bloodshed and such toys <br />As human hearts that shrink at human frown. <br />The name writ red on Polish earth, the star <br />That was to outshine our England’s in the far <br />East heaven of empire where is one that saith <br />Proud words now, prophesying of this White Czar? <br />‘In bloodless pangs few kings yield up their breath, <br />Few tyrants perish by no violent death,’<br /><br />Algernon Charles Swinburne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dysthanatos/
