And Pales loves the straw-built shed Beneath the chesnut shade. "But thy father loves the clashing He loves to drink the stream that reeks He smiles a smile more dreadful Than his own dreadful frown, When he sees the thick black cloud of smoke "And such as is the War-god, His bath and his perfumes; "Thine, Roman, is the pilum: The even trench, the bristling mound, L "Beneath thy yoke the Volscian Shall quake thy rods to see; "The Gaul shall come against thee From the land of snow and night; Thou shalt give his fair-haired armies To the raven and the kite. "The Greek shall come against thee, The conqueror of the East. Beside him stalks to battle The huge earth-shaking beast, The beast on whom the castle With all its guards doth stand, The beast who hath between his eyes The serpent for a hand. First march the bold Epirotes, Wedged close with shield and spear; And the ranks of false Tarentum Are glittering in the rear. "The ranks of false Tarentum Like hunted sheep shall fly: In vain the bold Epirotes Shall round their standards die : And Apennine's grey vultures Shall have a noble feast On the fat and the eyes Of the huge earth-shaking beast. 66 Hurrah! for the good weapons That keep the War-god's land. Hurrah! for Rome's short broadsword, Of levelled spears and serried shields "Then where, o'er two bright havens, Where, in the still deep water, Sheltered from waves and blasts, Bristles the dusky forest Of Byrsa's thousand masts; Where fur-clad hunters wander Amidst the northern ice; Where through the sand of morning-land The camel bears the spice; Where Atlas flings his shadow Far o'er the western foam, Shall be great fear on all who hear The mighty name of Rome." MACAULAY. GUDRUN. By her Sigurd's blood-stained bier, Her hand she smote not on her breast: Word, nor sign, nor act might show The wonted course of woman's woe. Sages came, the wisest they, But vain the aids from art they borrow; Can rhetoric soothe, or reason sway, That stern mood of deepest sorrow, When the heart to bursting swells, Yet no tear its anguish tells? Round her pressed a widowed train, Each her own sad tale recited: Vainly thus to wake they try Vainly; for her anguished mind, Stunned beneath that sudden blow, Hardens, to itself confined, Nor opens to another's woe. Hard and cold was Gudrun's soul, Nor sigh would rise, nor tear would roll. Last did youthful Gulrand speak- When youth's strong loves are rent apart." With hurrying hand, from Sigurd's bier, Gudrun turned-one hurried glance On that much-loved form she threwA moment viewed, where murder's lance Had pierced the breast to her so true; Saw stiff with blood those locks of gold, And quenched that eye so bright, so bold. She saw, and sank, and low reclined Hid in the couch her throbbing head: Her loose veil floated unconfined, Her burning cheek was crimsoned red: Then, her bursting heart's relief, Copious fell the shower of grief.a Translated, in "Conybeare's Anglo-Saxon Poetry," from an Icelandic Poem. |