Normale Version: ATTILA
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WHAT though his feet were shod with sharp fierce flame,
And Death and Ruin were his daily squires,
The Scythian helped by Heaven's thunders came:
The time was ripe for God's avenging fires.
Lo, loose lewd trulls and lean luxurious liars
Had brought the fair fine face of Rome to shame
And made her one with sins beyond a name
That queenly daughter of imperial sires!
The blood of elders like the blood of sheep
Was dashed across the circus! Once while din
And dust and lightnings, and a draggled heap
Of beast-slain men made lords with laughter leap,
Night fell, with rain. The Earth so sick of sin
Had turned her face into the dark to weep.