When the British warrior queen, <br />Bleeding from the Roman rods, <br />Sought, with an indignant mien, <br />Counsel of her country's gods, <br /> <br />Sage beneath a spreading oak <br />Sat the Druid, hoary chief; <br />Every burning word he spoke <br />Full of rage, and full of grief. <br /> <br />Princess! if our aged eyes <br />Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, <br />'Tis because resentment ties <br />All the terrors of our tongues. <br /> <br />Rome shall perish,--write that word <br />In the blood that she has spilt; <br />Perish, hopeless and abhorred, <br />Deep in ruin as in guilt. <br /> <br />Rome, for empire far renowned, <br />Tramples on a thousand states; <br />Soon her pride shall kiss the ground-- <br />Hark! the Gaul is at her gates! <br /> <br />Other Romans shall arise, <br />Heedless of a soldier's name; <br />Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize-- <br />Harmony the path to fame. <br /> <br />Then the progeny that springs <br />From the forests of our land, <br />Armed with thunder, clad with wings, <br />Shall a wider world command. <br /> <br />Regions Cæsar never knew <br />Thy posterity shall sway, <br />Where his eagles never flew, <br />None invincible as they. <br /> <br />Such the bard's prophetic words, <br />Pregnant with celestial fire, <br />Bending, as he swept the chords <br />Of his sweet but awful lyre. <br /> <br />She, with all a monarch's pride, <br />Felt them in her bosom glow; <br />Rushed to battle, fought, and died; <br />Dying, hurled them at the foe. <br /> <br />Ruffians, pitiless as proud, <br />Heaven awards the vengeance due: <br />Empire is on us bestowed, <br />Shame and ruin wait for you!<br /><br />William Cowper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/boadicea-an-ode/
