« PreviousContinue »
4Subrubet ilia pudore, tt •cofitrahit altera frontem,
Me torquet mca rnerfs cpnscia, psalld, tremo; Atque Cupidinea dixit Dea cincta corona,
Heu ! fallendi artem quam didicere parum.
B 0 -"A D I C E A,
'A N O D E.
WHEN the British warrior queen,
Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought with an indignant mien,
Counsel of her country's gods, ... 2. Sage beneath a spreading oak
Sat the Druid, hoary chief, Ev'ry burning word he spoke,
Full of rage and full of grief.
Princess! if our aged eyes ....': .;.. . ...
Weep upon thy. rstaccblese wrongs, Tis because reftntctiwit. ties '". .'
All the terrors of ©W ©Sngues. - -:'
43 Rome shall perish—write that word ; .'
In the blood that she his ispik; ".'•.' I '.: Perish hopeless and abhorr'dj 'j«"'
Deep in ruin as in guilt.
Tramples on a thousand states j .'.".'
Heedless of a soldier's name,
A a 2 Then
From the forests of our land,
Shall a wider world command. *. Regions Cæsar never knew,
Thy posterity shall sway, Where his eagles never flew,
None invincible as they.
Such the bards prophetic words,
Pregnant with celestial fire, Bending as he swept the chords
Of his sweet but awful lyre, io. She with all a monarch's pride,
Felt them in her bosom glow, Rush'd to battle, fought and died,
Dying, hurl'd them at the foe.
Ruffians, pittilcss as proud,
Heav'n awards the vengeance due,
Empire is on us bestow'd*
THERE was a time when Ætna's silent fire Slept unperceiv'd, the mountain yet entire, When conscious of no danger from below, She towr'd a cloud-capt pyramid of snow. No thunders shook with deep intestine found The blooming groves that girdled her around, Her unctuous olives and her purple vines, (Unfelt the fury of those bursting mines) The peasant's hopes, and not in vain, assur'd, In peace upon her sloping sides matur'd.
A a 3 When "When on a day, like that of the last doom,
A conflagration lab'ring in her womb,
She teem'd and heav'd with an infernal birth,
That shook the circling seas and solid earth.
Dark and voluminous the vapours rife,
And hang their horrors in the neighb'ring skies,
While through the stygian veil that blots the day,
In dazzling streaks the vivid light'nings play.
But oh! what muse, and in what pow'rs of song,
Can trace the torrent as it burns along?
Havock and devastation in the van,.
It marches o'er the prostrate works of man,
"Vines, olives, herbage, forests disappear,
And all the charms of a Sicilian year.
Revolving seasons, fruitless as they pass, See it an uninform'd and idle mass, "Without a soil t'invite the tiller's care, Or blade that might redeem it from despair. Yet t;ime at length (what will not time atchieve?) Cloaths it with earth, and bids the produce live,