In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son.
XVIII.
ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT.
Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones
Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold;
Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old,
[When all our fathers worshiped stocks and stones],
Forget not: in thy book record [their groans] 5
[Who were thy sheep], and in their ancient fold
Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that rolled