Poem Hunter
Sonnet 15
(9 December 1608 – 8 November 1674 / London, England)

Sonnet 15

Poem By John Milton


On The Late Massacher In Piemont

Avenge O lord thy slaughter'd Saints, whose bones
Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold,
Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old
When all our Fathers worship't Stocks and Stones,
Forget not: in thy book record their groanes
Who were thy Sheep and in their antient Fold
Slayn by the bloody Piemontese that roll'd
Mother with Infant down the Rocks. Their moans
The Vales redoubl'd to the Hills, and they
To Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow
O're all th'Italian fields where still doth sway
The triple Tyrant: that from these may grow
A hunder'd-fold, who having learnt thy way
Early may fly the Babylonian wo.

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Comments (4)

Milton's older English diction can still appeal. He certainly feels for the saints slain by the Piedmontese. Quite a good sonnet.
that rolled Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans The vales redoubled to the hills, To Heaven.......heart breaking.....human cruelty knows no bounds.....
Right wrath to avenge for slain saints written in Milton's own sonnet style is indeed great to read! Thanks for sharing this here!
Slain by the Piemontese! ! ! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.