Art Pottery, Politics and Food
Thursday, December 07, 2006

To thee, whose cautious step, and specious air,
Deceive the world, who simulating good,
Drop'st from thine oily tongue the pitying pray'r,
T'avert the ills of man, and spare his blood.
'To thee I call, but with no friendly voice,'
I am no dupe to thine insidious art,
The vaunted mercy of thy traitor heart,
Nor in thy promises can I rejoice.
For well I know thee hypocrite!—I know
Thou art the fatal source of human woe,
Thine is the shield that bloodiest tyrants bear,
Foul harbinger of death, black herald of despair.

--Fragment, Ode to Moderation, A.C., 1795

Image: Reuters
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