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Poem by Aubrey Thomas De Vere

The Three Woes

THAT angel whose charge is Eire sang thus, oer the dark isle winging;
  By a virgin his song was heard at a tempests ruinous close:
Three golden ages God gave while your tender green blade was springing;
  Faiths earliest harvest is reaped. To-day God sends you three Woes.

For ages three without laws ye shall flee as beasts in the forest;
  For an age and a half-age faith shall bring not peace, but a sword;
Then laws shall rend you, like eagles sharp-fanged, of your scourges the sorest:
  When these three woes are past, look up, for your hope is restored.

The times of your woe shall be twice the time of your foregone glory;
  But fourfold at last shall lie the grain on your granary floor.
The seas in vapor shall fleet, and in ashes the mountains hoary:
  Let God do that which he wills. Let his servants endure and adore!

Aubrey Thomas De Vere

Aubrey Thomas De Vere's other poems:
  1. Kinsale
  2. To a Flower on the Skirts of Mont Blanc
  3. A Ballad of Athlone; Or, How They Broke down the Bridge
  4. Composed at Rydal, September, 1860
  5. The Dirge of Athunree

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