Poland
When, fixed in righteous wrath, a nation's eye
Torments some crowned tormentor with just hate.
Nor threat nor flattery can that gaze abate;
Unshriven the unatoning years go by;
For as that starry archer in the sky
Unbends not his bright bow, though early and late
The syren sings, and folly weds with fate,
Even so that constellated destiny
Which keeps fire-vigil in a night-black heaven,
Upon the countenance of the doomed looks forth
Consentient with a nation's gaze on earth:
To the twinned powers a single gaze is given;
The earthly fate reveals the fate on high—
A brazen serpent raised, that says, not "live," but "die."
Aubrey de Vere.