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39
THE CAPTIVE LION.
The Lion of the sacred hill
And he that awed Nemæa's wood
Could never slake, though prowling still,
Their still increasing thirst of blood:
The nations thus by thee accurst
Insatiate found ambition's thirst!
But Ammon's Son those pests appeased,
Though singly to the task he rush'd;
This in his iron grasp he seized,
And That the Muse's olive crush'd:
Who, singly, in thy fortune's wane,
Could lay a hand upon thy mane?
And he that awed Nemæa's wood
Could never slake, though prowling still,
Their still increasing thirst of blood:
The nations thus by thee accurst
Insatiate found ambition's thirst!
But Ammon's Son those pests appeased,
Though singly to the task he rush'd;
This in his iron grasp he seized,
And That the Muse's olive crush'd:
Who, singly, in thy fortune's wane,
Could lay a hand upon thy mane?
The terror of Etolian plains,
Whose tusk Diana's wrath impell'd,
Not by the herd of trembling swains
But by a kingly host was quell'd:
Thee, in a chase of dire renown,
A field of princes hunted down.
O noble was the sight and sound
When, flashing in the golden sun,
The Grecian lances sung around
Their game in rocky Calydon!
Thy hunting-day had sterner charms
When tens of thousands shone in arms!
Whose tusk Diana's wrath impell'd,
Not by the herd of trembling swains
But by a kingly host was quell'd:
Thee, in a chase of dire renown,
A field of princes hunted down.
O noble was the sight and sound
When, flashing in the golden sun,
The Grecian lances sung around
Their game in rocky Calydon!
Thy hunting-day had sterner charms
When tens of thousands shone in arms!
Crete's horned plague the captor bore
To' amaze his argive despot's court;
Then, wild in Marathon, once more
'Twas dragged, to furnish Athens sport.
Thou too hast been in thy despair
A show for idle wonder's stare.
That thou wert cruel was thy crime;
That thou art captive is thy fate;
But tyrants in their adverse time
Should more of pity raise than hate;
And noblest natures least of all
Insult the mighty in their fall.
To' amaze his argive despot's court;
Then, wild in Marathon, once more
'Twas dragged, to furnish Athens sport.
Thou too hast been in thy despair
A show for idle wonder's stare.
That thou wert cruel was thy crime;
That thou art captive is thy fate;
But tyrants in their adverse time
Should more of pity raise than hate;
And noblest natures least of all
Insult the mighty in their fall.
Once he burst forth—-oh, who forgets
That fierce stupendous spring he took,
When plunging through his hunters' nets
Again the slumbering thrones he shook?
Earth scarce is breathing from the shock;
And dare they now thy name to mock!
A Lion to a woman's prayer
His fangs was tempted to resign:
Vainglory, like that treacherous Fair,
Seduced thee to surrender thine;
And thou art now for ever bow'd;
The toils must be the Lion's shroud.
That fierce stupendous spring he took,
When plunging through his hunters' nets
Again the slumbering thrones he shook?
Earth scarce is breathing from the shock;
And dare they now thy name to mock!
A Lion to a woman's prayer
His fangs was tempted to resign:
Vainglory, like that treacherous Fair,
Seduced thee to surrender thine;
And thou art now for ever bow'd;
The toils must be the Lion's shroud.
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