Anarchy: A Sonnet
The Universal Magazine, XCVIII (May 1796), p. 360
FURIES! Why sleep amid the carnage?—Rise!
Bring up my wolves of war, my pointed spears.
Daggers yet reeking, banners fill'd with sighs,
And paint your cheeks with gore, and lave
your locks in tears.
On yon white bosom see that happy child!
Seize it, deface its infant charms! and say,
Anarchy view'd its mangled limbs, and smil'd!
Strike the young mother to the earth!—
This is my era! O'er the dead I go!
From my hot nostrils minute murders fall!
Behind my burning ear lurks feeble woe!
Fill'd with my dragon's ire, my slaves for
Hear them not, father of the ensanguin'd
World! give my monsters way!—Death! Keep thy