David Given Schwarm

       “The herded wolves, bold only to pursue;
       The obscene ravens, clamorous o’er the dead;
       The vultures to the conqueror’s banner true
       Who feed where Desolation first has fed,
       And whose wings rain contagion; how they fled,
       When, like Apollo, from his golden bow
       The Pythian of the age one arrow sped
       And smil’d! The spoilers tempt no second blow,
They fawn on the proud feet that spurn them lying low.