Though War Be Harsh, Proud, and Cruel

Poem by Théodore Agrippa D'Aubigné Period 16th century

Though war be harsh, proud, and cruel
And a doubtful combat steals away sweetness,
That from two mingled camps the fury of each
Loses its hope, and then renews it,

At last, when the field by the lead of a hail
Smokes with souls upward, bloodied with horror,
The defeated soldier humbles himself before the victor,
Forcing with clasped hands a deadly rage.

I am brought to the ground, and your sweet beauty
Cannot make me believe in you the cruelty
That I feel in the striking of your enemy force:

When I cry mercy to you, I come to reason,
You will not kill me, nor take me from prison
Nor take my ransom, nor give me life.

Théodore Agrippa d’Aubigné

Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.

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