 | Poems |  |
170
ELEGY THE SECOND.
Rouse, rouse, my youths! the chain of torpour break;
Spurn idle rest, and couch the glittering lance!
What! Does not shame with blushes stain your cheek
Quick-mantling, as ye catch the warriour's glance?
Spurn idle rest, and couch the glittering lance!
What! Does not shame with blushes stain your cheek
Quick-mantling, as ye catch the warriour's glance?
Ignoble youths! Say, when shall valour's flame
Burn in each breast? Here, here, while hosts invade,
And war's wild clangours all your courage claim,
Ye sit, as if still peace embower'd the shade.
Burn in each breast? Here, here, while hosts invade,
And war's wild clangours all your courage claim,
Ye sit, as if still peace embower'd the shade.
But, sure, fair honour crowns the auspicious deed,
When patriot love impels us to the field;
When, to defend a trembling wife, we bleed,
And when our shelter'd offspring bless the shield.
When patriot love impels us to the field;
When, to defend a trembling wife, we bleed,
And when our shelter'd offspring bless the shield.
171
What time the fates ordain, pale death appears:
Then, with firm step and sword high drawn, depart;
And, marching thro' the first thick shower of spears,
Beneath thy buckler guard the intrepid heart.
Then, with firm step and sword high drawn, depart;
172
Beneath thy buckler guard the intrepid heart.
173
Each mortal, tho' he boast celestial sires,
Slave to the sovereign destiny of death,
Or mid the carnage of the plain expires,
Or yields unwept at home his coward breath.
Slave to the sovereign destiny of death,
Or mid the carnage of the plain expires,
Or yields unwept at home his coward breath.
Yet sympathy attends the brave man's bier;
Sees on each wound the balmy grief bestow'd;
And, as in death the universal tear,
Thro' life inspires the homage of a god.
Sees on each wound the balmy grief bestow'd;
And, as in death the universal tear,
Thro' life inspires the homage of a god.
For like a turret his proud glories rise,
And stand, above the rival's reach, alone;
While millions hail, with fond adoring eyes,
The deeds of many a hero meet in one!
And stand, above the rival's reach, alone;
While millions hail, with fond adoring eyes,
The deeds of many a hero meet in one!
| Poems | |