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The Raw Youth

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Nature has not concieved in vain
The horrid Archangel of Terror.
Before his steadfastness all trembled,
Not once in his life did he deign.

It must be said we underestimated
His raw youth, blooming like a flower,
This raging flame, with which he devoured
The heresies too soft for his senses -

Such a dangerous beast! And we
Kept him for too long under spells
Of one sinister force: Maxime Robespierre,
To whom he belongs, both spirit and will. 

But if he was Patroclos, then nevertheless
He was not less fearsome than his Achilles.