LXXXVIII. The bird let loose in eastern skies, When fondly hastening home, Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies But high she shoots through air and light, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadow dims her way. So grant me, God, from every snare Aloft through virtue's purer air Moore. Into ELEGIACS. LXXXVIII. See the bird which bends its wings in the eastern clouds, and hopes that it has sought its wished-for home, turns not sluggish pinions towards the earth, nor tardy as the idlers, delays its course. But aloft to the rays of the sun, to the mid-air it darts; borne away it spurns the distasteful earth. Nay, nothing earthly can avail to curb its flight, nor can irksome shadow overcast its way with clouds. Me, I pray, Omnipotent Jehovah, mayest Thou so guard me cleansed from vices and the snares of evil. To Thee, where the purer atmosphere of Virtue is bright, may I be wafted in winged flight among the highest stars. May offences not deaden my soul, or vain wiles retard it, but that holy it may seek its proper home. May its course be illumined with the brightness of divine light; may its wing fly free in Thy liberty. LXXXIX. I.-1. Hark! heard ye not yon footstep dread, The warrior past; High tower'd his helmed head: I mark'd his mail, I mark'd his shield, I spy'd the sparkling of his spear, I saw his giant arm the falchion wield; Wide wav'd the bick'ring blade, and fir'd the angry air. I.-2. On me, (he cry'd,) my Britons, wait; To lead you to the field of fate I come: Yon car, That cleaves the air, Descends to throne my state: I mount, your champion and your god. My proud steeds neigh beneath the thong: Hark! to my wheels of brass, that rattle loud! Hark! to my clarion shrill, that brays the woods among! L I.-3. Fear not now the fever's fire, Fear not now the death-bed groan, Bed-rid age with feeble moan: Hourly at my palace gate; And when o'er slothful realms my rod I wave, These on the tyrant king and coward slave LXXXIX. Into ALCAICS. Hear ye! or does enthusiasm mock me with sickly image? Now I seem to hear a foot, at which the earth quakes as though stricken with a thundering tread. I am not deceived—it was stern Death; he passed by with the keen impulse of a warrior; his lofty head nodded in the air; his funereal crests quivered. Lo I saw his arms, I saw his shield, and the barbs of his lightning spear; he brandished a giant falchion, as though fire caught the air. To you, O Britons, I will be present a leader-the lot of a severe conflict is imminent; if the last destiny shall await you, prepare as comrades to wend the final journey. Lo my car, which but now cleft the air, descends, that it may be a distinction for my ample honours, I am borne at once your champion and auspice. The steed neighs scarce endurant of the lash, while my brazen wheel rattles in its course, and the clang of the sacred trumpets re-echoes through the coverts of the wood. Ye may despise the gasp of sickly fever; ye may despise the stroke of pestilent contagion, diseases, and wearying griefs, and the groans of weakly old age. This crowd of satellites stands at (my) palace, if ever I gather the slothful kingdoms, that they may snatch to Orcus the coward slaves, the trembling tyrants. XC. II.-1. But ye, my sons, at this high hour Shall share the fulness of my power: From all your bows, In levell'd rows, My own dread shafts shall shower. Go then to conquest, gladly go, Deal forth my dole of destiny, With all my fury dash the trembling foe Down to those darksome dens, where Rome's pale spectres lie; II -2. Where creeps the ninefold stream profound Her black inexorable round, And on the bank, To willows dank, The shiv'ring ghosts are bound. Twelve thousand crescents all shall swell To full-orb'd pride, and fading die, Ere they again in life's gay mansions dwell: Not such the meed that crowns the sons of liberty II.-3. No, my Britons! battle slain, Rapture gilds your parting hour: I, that all despotic reign, Claim but there a moment's power. Swiftly the soul of British flame Animates some kindred frame; Swiftly to life and light triumphant flies, Exults again in martial ecstacies; Again for freedom fights, again for freedom dies. XC. Mason's Caractacus. Into ALCAICS. This is the full hour of my power, ye I summon both as ministers and partners, your quivered cohorts shall hurl the fierce shafts of death. Hence go ye, may victory attend you; hence may ye bring fate to the bands of the Romans, that they may lie in the lurking places, which ghosts and shades enter. Where through the deep pools Styx nine times traces the lingering circuit of his stream, and spectres quake bound among the darkling banks of willow. The moon shall have replenished in perpetual change six thousand, twice six, waning orbs; not again shall they enjoy on earth the light and gladness of life. Not such rewards await the free; not such payment is due to those falling in war; there is delightful pleasure, there is honour, the alleviation of their death. Among bloody battles there is to me, whom all things obey, (but) a brief sway; but soon the vital flame shall, with Britons, pass |