Mack Cooper

Boston, 1997
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Waiting for barbarians to breach Aurelian Walls,
Burly men with bearded face make marble columns fall.
They come with axe to bash the bust, cut justice with a sword,
Customs of a cultured land besieged by barbarian hordes.
Pay little mind to Praetorian Guard who kill kings without a thought,
Or magistrates and Senators who can be easily bought.
Tis not the fault of Patricians, whose slaves are beat and branded,
Or iron-fisted Emperors who demand their land’s expanded.
So when this shining city, upon its seven hills,
Becomes a pile of brick and ash and everything lays still,
Listen to the leaders who blame barbarian calls,
Forget their wicked governance and inertness of us all.
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