 | Poems |  |
ELEGY THE FIRST.
I would not value, or transmit the fame
Of him, whose brightest worth in swiftness lies;
Nor would I chaunt his poor unwarlike name
Who wins no chaplet but the wrestler's prize.
Of him, whose brightest worth in swiftness lies;
Nor would I chaunt his poor unwarlike name
Who wins no chaplet but the wrestler's prize.
165
In vain, for me, the Cyclops' giant might
Blends with the beauties of Tithonus' form;
In vain the racer's agile powers unite,
Fleet as the whirlwind of the Thracian storm.
Blends with the beauties of Tithonus' form;
In vain the racer's agile powers unite,
Fleet as the whirlwind of the Thracian storm.
In vain, for me, the riches round him glow
A Midas or a Cinyras possess'd;
Sweet as Adrastus' tongue his accents flow,
Or Pelops' sceptre seems to stamp him blest.
A Midas or a Cinyras possess'd;
Sweet as Adrastus' tongue his accents flow,
Or Pelops' sceptre seems to stamp him blest.
Vain all the dastard honours he may boast,
If his soul thirst not for the martial field;
Meet not the fury of the rushing host,
Nor bear o'er hills of slain the untrembling shield.
If his soul thirst not for the martial field;
Meet not the fury of the rushing host,
Nor bear o'er hills of slain the untrembling shield.
166
This—this is virtue: This—the noblest meed
That can adorn our youth with fadeless rays;
While all the perils of the adventurous deed,
The new-strung vigour of the state repays.
That can adorn our youth with fadeless rays;
While all the perils of the adventurous deed,
The new-strung vigour of the state repays.
Amid the foremost of the embattled train,
Lo the young hero hails the glowing fight;
And, tho' fall'n troops around him press the plain,
Still fronts the foe, nor brooks inglorious flight.
Lo the young hero hails the glowing fight;
And, tho' fall'n troops around him press the plain,
Still fronts the foe, nor brooks inglorious flight.
His life—his fervid soul oppos'd to death,
He dares the terrours of the field defy;
Kindles each spirit with his panting breath,
And bids his comrade-warriours nobly die!
He dares the terrours of the field defy;
Kindles each spirit with his panting breath,
And bids his comrade-warriours nobly die!
See, see, dismay'd, the phalanx of the foe
Turns round, and hurries o'er the plain afar;
While doubling, as afresh, the deadly blow,
He rules, intrepid chief, the waves of war.
Turns round, and hurries o'er the plain afar;
While doubling, as afresh, the deadly blow,
He rules, intrepid chief, the waves of war.
167
Now fall'n, the noblest of the van, he dies,
His city by the beauteous death renown'd;
His low-bent father marking, where he lies,
The shield, the breast-plate hackt by many a wound.
His city by the beauteous death renown'd;
His low-bent father marking, where he lies,
The shield, the breast-plate hackt by many a wound.
168
The young, the aged, alike mingling tears—
His country's heavy grief bedews the grave;
And all his race in verdant lustre wears
Fame's richest wreath, transmitted from the brave.
His country's heavy grief bedews the grave;
And all his race in verdant lustre wears
Fame's richest wreath, transmitted from the brave.
Tho' mixt with earth the perishable clay,
His name shall live, while glory loves to tell,
‘True to his country how he won the day,
‘How firm the hero stood, how calm he fell!’
His name shall live, while glory loves to tell,
‘True to his country how he won the day,
‘How firm the hero stood, how calm he fell!’
But if he 'scape the doom of death (the doom
To long—long dreary slumbers) he returns,
While trophies flash, and victor-laurels bloom,
And all the splendour of the triumph burns.
To long—long dreary slumbers) he returns,
While trophies flash, and victor-laurels bloom,
And all the splendour of the triumph burns.
The old—the young—caress him, and adore;
And with the city's love, thro' life, repay'd,
He sees each comfort, that endears, in store,
Till, the last hour, he sinks to Pluto's shade.
And with the city's love, thro' life, repay'd,
169
Till, the last hour, he sinks to Pluto's shade.
Old as he droops, the citizens, o'eraw'd,
(Ev'n veterans) to his mellow glories yield;
Nor would in thought dishonour or defraud
The hoary soldier of the well-fought field.
(Ev'n veterans) to his mellow glories yield;
Nor would in thought dishonour or defraud
The hoary soldier of the well-fought field.
Be your's to reach such eminence of fame;
To gain such heights of virtue nobly dare,
My youths! and, 'mid the fervour of acclaim,
Press, press to glory; nor remit the war!
To gain such heights of virtue nobly dare,
My youths! and, 'mid the fervour of acclaim,
Press, press to glory; nor remit the war!
| Poems | |