Contains the death of all a nation here.
These blades have given this isle a greater wound
Than time can heal—the fruit of civil wars:
A kingdom’s hand hath gor’d a kingdom’s heart.
Conan. When fame shall blaze these acts in latter years,
And time to come, so many ages hence,
Shall efts report our toils and British pains;
Or when perhaps our children’s children read
Our woful wars display’d with skilful pen,
They’ll think they hear some sounds of future facts,