The forest flames! The rivers are choked with wreckage! The belfries full of clanging bells crash into chaos!
O my desolate fields!
O my strong men who strew the roads, like crushed beetles!
O the grocery and the bakery! O villages ill guarded by the Cock of the Cross, O towns devoured by the ravening grave-yard!
Past is the time of ploughing and reaping and peaceful sharing of daily bread!
And we ourselves like dead animals shall rot among weeds and nettles,
Or we shall be forced to take refuge in woods and caves and learn again the language of nymphs and ravens.
O race! O dynasty! Long have I lived! Long has the King been governor of this country.
Solitary, searching for Wisdom, fixing on Duty his arid eyes,
A helmsman made wise by steering in the uncharted sea, practised in deciphering the slow changes of the stars!