Ode to the Duke of Wellington, and other poems by Robert Charles Dallas ... Written between the ages of eleven and thirteen years |
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LATIN ODE ON AMBITION,
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 | Ode to the Duke of Wellington, and other poems |  |
133
LATIN ODE ON AMBITION,
BY R. C. D. WITH AN ENGLISH VERSION.
135
ENGLISH VERSION.
Deep in the jaws of darkest Hell,
Where Death's grim monarch deals his nod;
Where Stygian furies love to dwell,
And spectres own the scowling God:
Where Death's grim monarch deals his nod;
Where Stygian furies love to dwell,
And spectres own the scowling God:
Where dark Avernus rolls in blood
Its noisome waves with sullen roar,
And echo answers o'er the flood
Wild shrieks that ring along the shore.
Its noisome waves with sullen roar,
And echo answers o'er the flood
Wild shrieks that ring along the shore.
Where dragg'd behind the sounding wheel,
Ixion rues the wrath of Jove;
And Earth's curs'd giants tortur'd feel
The pangs they dar'd to brave above:
Ixion rues the wrath of Jove;
And Earth's curs'd giants tortur'd feel
The pangs they dar'd to brave above:
Unscath'd by Time's destroying doom,
A palace rears its stately head,
Whose rugged towers outvie the gloom
That reigns among the silent dead;
A palace rears its stately head,
Whose rugged towers outvie the gloom
That reigns among the silent dead;
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Where near the portal's iron gate,
With furies leagu'd, begirt with care,
Ambition reigns in sceptred state,
And wildly shakes her snaky hair.
With furies leagu'd, begirt with care,
Ambition reigns in sceptred state,
And wildly shakes her snaky hair.
Lo, from her ebon throne she speeds:
Mounts, at a bound, her whirling car;
To courage bends her sable steeds;
A Fury borne by Rage and War.
Mounts, at a bound, her whirling car;
To courage bends her sable steeds;
A Fury borne by Rage and War.
While all around her frantic crew,
Foul midnight horrors widely stand,
And smiling fraud in fairest hue;
While Carnage lifts her gory brand.
Foul midnight horrors widely stand,
And smiling fraud in fairest hue;
While Carnage lifts her gory brand.
Yet, as she wings her baneful flight,
On high she rears the golden prize;
And thron'd in clouds of fairest light,
With jewell'd sceptre lures the eyes.
On high she rears the golden prize;
And thron'd in clouds of fairest light,
With jewell'd sceptre lures the eyes.
Fierce as the whirlwind's rapid rage,
She bursts the busy miser's rest;
Yet deigns to seek the needy stage,
And wakes to arms a poorer breast.
She bursts the busy miser's rest;
Yet deigns to seek the needy stage,
And wakes to arms a poorer breast.
137
Yon high-born chief, whose glorious name
Has stopp'd the course of hostile arms;
Led by her hand, deserting fame,
With guilty bosom courts alarms.
Has stopp'd the course of hostile arms;
Led by her hand, deserting fame,
With guilty bosom courts alarms.
Fir'd at his call, the gath'ring throng,
In flashing steel and dread array,
With blazing banners sweep along,
Mid trumpet's clang and charger's neigh.
In flashing steel and dread array,
With blazing banners sweep along,
Mid trumpet's clang and charger's neigh.
Not e'en a suff'ring nation's tears—
Big drops that forc'd by anguish start!
Not orphan's shrieks, or maiden's fears,
To pity turn that flinty heart.
Big drops that forc'd by anguish start!
Not orphan's shrieks, or maiden's fears,
To pity turn that flinty heart.
Lo, mid the battle's closing shock,
Where foot to foot, and knee to knee,
In mortal grapple fiercely lock,
With not a thought—save Victory—
Where foot to foot, and knee to knee,
In mortal grapple fiercely lock,
With not a thought—save Victory—
Though pressing squadrons round him close,
And each bar'd brand now aims at life;
Reckless he meets ten thousand foes:
Ambition spurs his soul to strife.
And each bar'd brand now aims at life;
Reckless he meets ten thousand foes:
Ambition spurs his soul to strife.
138
Known by his dazzling crest and eye,
Where danger calls at pressing need,
O'er heaps of slaughter see him fly,
Fast bounding on his mettled steed.
Where danger calls at pressing need,
O'er heaps of slaughter see him fly,
Fast bounding on his mettled steed.
The Thracian God who dyes the plain,
In thunder rears the Slogan's yell:
While wanton carnage heaps the slain,
Fresh, reeking from the depths of Hell.
In thunder rears the Slogan's yell:
While wanton carnage heaps the slain,
Fresh, reeking from the depths of Hell.
Bellona bears his banner bright,
Wide streaming to the winds unfurl'd,
As each bright flash reflects its light
In mock'ry o'er a vanquish'd world.
Wide streaming to the winds unfurl'd,
As each bright flash reflects its light
In mock'ry o'er a vanquish'd world.
Vain pomp of pride! what kingly name
Can lengthen life's restricted span?
Can despot's pow'r—can victor's fame,
Turn Death's chill stroke from thoughtless man?
Can lengthen life's restricted span?
Can despot's pow'r—can victor's fame,
Turn Death's chill stroke from thoughtless man?
Say, can Ambition's brazen call
Burst Fate's dark thraldom o'r the grave?
Say, can she ward her heroes fall?—
Who lures them on, forgets to save!
Burst Fate's dark thraldom o'r the grave?
Say, can she ward her heroes fall?—
Who lures them on, forgets to save!
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E'en Philip's son, whose daring mind
Scorn'd the dull bounds of farthest earth,
And wept when not a world could find
One sword to stop his Glory's birth;
Scorn'd the dull bounds of farthest earth,
And wept when not a world could find
One sword to stop his Glory's birth;
Though round his car a captive train
With tearful eye of sorrow trod;
While, as it dragg'd the clanking chain,
He, on his chariot, seem'd a God:
With tearful eye of sorrow trod;
While, as it dragg'd the clanking chain,
He, on his chariot, seem'd a God:
Long, long has slept!—a foreign clay
Shrouds the great Victor's ashy breast,
While not a trace can point, to day,
Where Grecia's glory sank to rest!
Shrouds the great Victor's ashy breast,
While not a trace can point, to day,
Where Grecia's glory sank to rest!
He, who on murder builds his fame,
Who proudly claims a victor's lot,
And thinks to raise a glorious name
By deeds, whose best, were best forgot;
Who proudly claims a victor's lot,
And thinks to raise a glorious name
By deeds, whose best, were best forgot;
Sleeps not in death a tranquil sleep:
No pitying tear shall dew his head:
Though deep his grave, a curse as deep
Shall brand with shame his marble bed.
No pitying tear shall dew his head:
Though deep his grave, a curse as deep
Shall brand with shame his marble bed.
140
Ye who, at Glory's martial call,
Would proudly yield your noblest breath;
Ye who, to ward a foreign thrall,
Fly foremost in the ranks of death;
Would proudly yield your noblest breath;
Ye who, to ward a foreign thrall,
Fly foremost in the ranks of death;
Let Fame's loud blast, through ev'ry age,
To list'ning nations cite your deeds;
While Glory's hand on Hist'ry's page,
In blazing tablets stamps your meeds:
To list'ning nations cite your deeds;
While Glory's hand on Hist'ry's page,
In blazing tablets stamps your meeds:
But, if Ambition's lurid gaze
Should dare to fix on Glory's crown,
Shrink from her touch—Oh! spurn her praise;
One smile from her would blast renown.
Should dare to fix on Glory's crown,
Shrink from her touch—Oh! spurn her praise;
One smile from her would blast renown.
Think on the traitor's woeful fate
Who rashly stole celestial fire;
And madly thinking to be great,
Scorn'd Heav'n's own Thund'rer's boiling ire!
Who rashly stole celestial fire;
And madly thinking to be great,
Scorn'd Heav'n's own Thund'rer's boiling ire!
Think on the youth whose daring pride
Rouz'd the dread wrath of Gods above;
And, when with heav'nly pow'r he vied,
Sought, vainly sought, the halls of Jove!
Rouz'd the dread wrath of Gods above;
And, when with heav'nly pow'r he vied,
Sought, vainly sought, the halls of Jove!
141
His winged courser swept the sky,
When Heav'n's high Lord his thunder hurl'd:
The blinded boaster fell from high,
Dash'd headlong, to a wond'ring world!
When Heav'n's high Lord his thunder hurl'd:
The blinded boaster fell from high,
Dash'd headlong, to a wond'ring world!
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