 | Poems by Bernard Barton |  |
252
THE DYING AMAZON.
SUGGESTED BY A COPY FROM AN ANTIQUE.
Ay! lay thee down, and die!
For what hadst thou to do with martial shield,
When nature did supply
Arms worthier of thy sex for thee to wield?
For what hadst thou to do with martial shield,
When nature did supply
Arms worthier of thy sex for thee to wield?
She gave thee glances—bright
As morning's splendours on the eastern hill,
And smiles—whose cheering light
Might bow before thee man's most stubborn will.
As morning's splendours on the eastern hill,
And smiles—whose cheering light
Might bow before thee man's most stubborn will.
She gave thee tones—whose sound
Surpasses far the trumpet's loud commotion;
Tresses, like those around
Some Nereid's snowy neck uprising from the ocean.
Surpasses far the trumpet's loud commotion;
Tresses, like those around
Some Nereid's snowy neck uprising from the ocean.
And, far beyond all these,
She gave thee gentleness, affection, love;
Arms—which can win with ease
Triumphs the conqueror's proudest wreaths above.
She gave thee gentleness, affection, love;
Arms—which can win with ease
Triumphs the conqueror's proudest wreaths above.
253
Oh! why should woman slight
Such graceful meeds, well worthy of her wooing;
And win, in ruder fight,
The sadder dirge call'd forth for her undoing?
Such graceful meeds, well worthy of her wooing;
And win, in ruder fight,
The sadder dirge call'd forth for her undoing?
| Poems by Bernard Barton | |