A bright-haired company of youthful slaves,
Beautiful Strangers, stand within the pale
Of a sad market, ranged for public sale,
Where Tiber's stream the glorious City laves;
ANGLI by name; and not an Angel waves
His wing who seemeth lovelier in Heaven's eye
Than they appear to holy Gregory,
Who, having learnt that name, salvation craves
For Them, and for their Land. The earnest Sire,
His questions urging, feels in slender ties
Of chiming sound commanding sympathies;
De-irians--he would save them from God's ire;
Subjects of Saxon AElla--they shall sing
Sweet Hallelujahs to the eternal King!
Design, coding, and editing: Copyright © 1997-2004 by James M. Garrett. All rights reserved.