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52.

65. His waist was bound with a broad belt round,

His plume of sable stream'd on high ; But his breast was bare, with the red wounds therą And fix'd was the glare of his glassy eye.

66.
And thrico he smiled, with his eyo so wild,

On Angus bending low the kliee;
And thrice he frown'd on a chief on the ground,
Whom shivering crowds with horror see.

67.
The bolts loud roll, from pole to pole,

The thunders through the welkin ring, And the gleaming form, througth the neist of the storns Was borne on high by the whirlwind's wing.

68.
Cold was the feast, the revel ceased.
Who lies

upon
the
stony

floor?
Oblivion press'd old Angus' breast*,
At length his life-pulse throbs once more

69. “ Away, away! let the leech essay

To pour the light on Allan's eyes :" His sand is done, -his race is run;

Oh! never more shall Allan rise !

70.

“ Alas!" the hapless sire replied,

The big tear starting as he spoke, "When Oscar left my hall, or died, This aged heart was almost broko.

53.
* Thrice has the earth revolved her course

Since Oscar's form has bless'd my sight;
And Allan is my last resource,
Since martial Oscar's death or flight."

54.
" 'Tis well,” replied the stranger stern,

And fiercely flash'd his rolling eye ; Thy Oscar's fate I fain would learn ; Perhaps the hero did not die.

55. " Perchance, if those whom he most loved,

Would call, thy Oscar might return; Perchance the chier has only roved ; For him thy Beltane* yel may burn.

56. “Fill high the bowl the table round,

We will not claim the pledge by stealth , With wine let every cup be crown'd; Pledge me departed Oscar's health."

57, "With all my soul,” old Angus said,

And fill'd his goblet to the brim; "Here's to my boy! alive or dead, I ne'er shall find a son like him.”

58. “ Bravely, old man, this health has sped ;

But why does Allan trembling stand ? Come, drink remembrance of the dead, And raise thy cup with firmer hand."

59. The crimson glow of Allan's face

Was turn'd at once to ghastly hue ; The drops of death each other chase Adown in agonizing dew.

60. T'hrice did he raise the goblet high,

And thrice his lips resused to taste ; For thrice he caught the stranger's eye On his with deadly tury placed.

61.
" And is it thus a brother hails

A brother's fond remembrance here?
If thus affection's strength prevails,
What might we not expect from fear ?"

62.
Roused by the sneer, he raised the bowl,

" Would Oscar now could share our mirth!" Internal fear appallid his soul; He said, and dash'd the cup to earth.

63. "'Tis he! I hear my murderer's voice !"

Loud shreaks a darkly gleaming form; » A murderer's voice !" the roof replies, And deeply swells the bursting storm.

64. The tapers wink, the chieftains shrink,

The stranger's gone,-amidst the crew A form was seen in tarian green,

And tall the shade terrific grew.

But Oscar's breast is cold as clay,

His locks are listed by the gale ;
And Allan's barbed arrow lay
With him in dark Glentanar's vale.

71.
And whence the dreadful stranger came,

Or who, no mortal wight can tell; But no one doubts the form of flame, For Alva's sons knew Oscar well.

72. Ambition nerved young Allan's hand,

Exulting demons wing'd his dart; While Envy waved her burning braud, And pour'd her venom round his heart,

73. Swift is the shaft of Allan's bow :

Whose streaming life-blood stains his sido ? Dark Oscar's sable crest is low, The dart has drunk his vital lide.

74.
And Mora's eye could Allan move,

She bade his wounded pride rebel:
Alas! that eyes which beamed with love

Should urge the soul to deeds of hell!

75.

Lo! seest thou not a lonely lomb

Which rises o'er a warrior dead ?
It glimmers through the lwilight gloom;
Oh! that is Allan's nuptial bed.

76.
Far, distant far, the noble grave

Which held his clan's great ashes stood; And o'er his corse no banners wave, For they were stain'd with kindred blood.

77. What minstrel gray, what hoary bard,

Shall Allan's deeds on harp-strings raise ? The song is glory's chief reward,

But who can strike a murderer's praise ?

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• Beltane Tree, a Highland festival on the first of May, hold near åreo Whiod for the sasiva.

• Old Angu preu'd to curb with his hroast.myat Edition

79.

The mouidering 'scutcheon, or the herald's roll, No lyre of fame, no hallow'd verso,

That well-emblazon'd but neglected scroll, Snail sound his glories high in air.

Where lords, unhonour'd, in the tomb may find A dying father's biiter curse,

One spot, to leave a worthless na ne behind.
A brother's death groan echoes there.

There sleep, unnoticed as the gloomy vaults
*That veil their dust, their follies, and their fa alts,

race with old armorial lists o'erspread,

In records destined never to be read.
TO THE DUKE OF DORSET.

Fain would I view thee, with prophetic eyes,

Exalted more among the good and wise, In looking over my papers to select a few additional poems for this A glorious and a long career pursue, second edition. I found the following lines, which I had totally forgot: As first in rank, the first in talent too: parture from Hazron. They were addressed to a young schoollellow Spurn every vice, each little meanness shun; of high rank, who had been my frequent companion in some wa mbles Not Fortune's minion, but her noblest son. through the neighhouring country : however, he never saw the lines, and most probably never will. As, on a re perusal, I found them not Turn to the annals of a former day, worse than some other pieces in the collection, I have now published Bright are the deeds thine earlier sires display. , a

One, though a courtier, lived a man of worth, Dorset! whose early steps with mine have stray'd, And call'd, proud boast! the British drama fortht. Exploring every path of Ida's glade,

Another view, not less renown'd for wit; Whom still affection taug'it me to defend,

Alike for courts, and camps, or senates fit ;
And made me less a tyrant than a friend ;

Bold in the field, and favour'd by the Nine ;
Though the harsh custom of our youthful band In every splendid part ordain'd to shine ;
Bade thet obey, and gave me to command * ; Far, far distinguish'd from the glittering throng,
Thee on whose head a few short years will shower The pride of princes, and the boast of songt.
The gifts of riches and the pride of power ;

Such were thy fathers; thus preserve their name; E'en now a name illustrious is thine own,

Not heir to litles only, but to fame. Renown'd in rank, not far beneath the throne.

The hour draws nigh, a few brief days will close, Yet Dorset, let not this seduce thy soul

To me, this little scene of joys and woes; To shun fair science, or evade control;

Each knell of Time now warns me to resign Though passive tutorst, fearful to dispraise

Shades where Hope, Peace, and Friendship all wort The titled child, whose future breath may raise,

mine: View ducal errors with indulgent eyes,

Hope, that could vary like the rainbow's bue, And wink at faults they tremble to chastise.

And gild their pinions as the moments flew;
When youthful parasites, who bend the knee Peace, that reflection never frown'd away,
To wealth, their golden idol, not to thee,-

By dreams of ill to cloud some future day;
And even in simple boyhood's opening dawn Friendship, whose truth let childhood only tel;
Some slaves are found to flatter and to fawn,- Alas! they love not long who love so well.
When these declare, “that pomp alone should wait To these adieu! nor let me linger o'er
On one by birth predestined to be great;

Scenes hail'd as exiles hail their native shore,
That books were only meant for drudging fools, Receding slowly through the dark-blue deep,
Thal gallant spirits scorn the common rules," Beheld by eyes that mourn, yet cannot weep.
Believe them not,—they point the path to shame Dorset, farewell! I will not ask one part
And seek to blast the honours of thy name.

Of sad remembrance in so young a heart ; Turn to the few in Ida's early throng,

The coming morrow from thy youthful mind Whose souls disdain not to condemn the wrong ; Will sweep my name, nor leave a trace behind. Or if, amidst the comrades of thy youth,

And yet, perhaps, in some maturer year, None dare to raise the sterner voice of truth, Since chance has thrown us in the self-same sphere, Ask thind own heart; 'will bid thee, boy, forbear; Since the same senate, nay, the same debate For well I know that virtue lingers there.

May one day claim our suffrage for the state, Yes! I have mark'd thee many a passing day, We hence may meet, and pass each other by But now new scenes invite me far away;

With faint regard, or cold and distant eye. Yes I have mark'd within that generous mind For me, in future, neither friend nor foe, A soul, if well matured, to bless mankind.

A stranger to thyself, thy weal or woe, Ah! though myself by nature haughty, wild,

With thee no more again I hope to trace Whom indiscretion hail'd her favourite child;

The recollection of our early race ; Though every error stamps me for her own,

No more, as once, in social hours rejoice, And dooms my fall, I fain would fall alone;

Or hear, unless in crowds, thy well-known voice. Though my proud heart no precept now can tame, Still, if the wishes of a heart untaught I love the virtues which I cannot claim.

To veil those feelings which perchance it ought, 'Tis not enough, with other sons of power, If these—but let me cease the lengt heu'd strainTo gleam the lambent meteor of an hour ;

Oh! if these wishes are not breathed in vain,
To swell some peerage page in feeble pride,

The guardian seraph who directs thy fate
With long-drawn names that grace no page beside ; Will leave thee glorious as he found thee great.
Then share with titled crowds the common lot
In life just gazed at, in the grave forgot ;

• See the same line in Larn, stanza 11. While nought divides thee from the vulgar dead, "Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst, created Earl of Dorsst, by Except the dull, cold stone that hides thy head,

James the first, was one of the earliest and brightest ornaments to the poetry of his country, and the first who produced a regula: drama."Anderson's British Poeta,

"Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset, esteemed the most assciplishe! • At every, poolle school the Junior boys are completely subservient man of his day, was alike distinguished in the voluptuous court of to the upper forms till they attain a seat in the higher classes. From Charles II. and the gloomy one of William III. He behaved with grea: this state or probation, very properly, no rank is exeinpt; but after a gallantry in the sea fight with the Dutch in 1665, on the day previous to Certain period they command in turn those who succeed.

which he composed his celebrated song. His character has been drawn # Allow me o disclaim any personal allusions, even the most distant ; in the highest colours by Drvdea, Pope, Prior, and Congreve.- Arder. Titerely mention generally what is too often the weakness of preceptors. SoR'. British Poets.

ADRIAN'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOUL WHEN

DYING.

ANIMULA! vagula, blandula,
Hospes, comnesque, corporis,
Quæ nunc abibis in loca?
Pallidula, rigida, nudula,
Nec, ut soles, dabis jocos,

TRANSLATION,
Ah! gen:le, fleeting, wav'rir.g sprite,
Friend and associate of this clay!

To whạt unknown region borne, Wilt thou now wing thy distant flight No more with wonted humour gay,

But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn.

TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS “ LUCTUS DE MORTE PASSERIS,'

1.
Yu Cupids, droop each little head,
Nor let your wings with joy be spread,
My Lesbia's favourite bird is dead,

Whom dearer than her eyes she loved :
For he was gentle, and so true,
Obedient to her call he flew,
No fear, no wild alarm he knew,
But lightly o'er her bosom moved :

2.
And softly fluttering here and there,
He never sought to clear the air,
But chirupp'd oft, and, free from care,

Tuned to her ear his grateful strain.
Now having pass'd the gloomy bourno
From whence he never can return,
His death and Lesbia's grief I mourn,
Who sighs, alas! but sighs in vain.

3.
Oh! curst be thou, devouring grave!
Whose jaws elernal victims crave,
From whom no earthly power can save,

For thou hast ta'en the bird away :
From thee my Lesbia's eyes o'erflow,

Her swollen cheeks with weeping glow; Thou art the cause of all her wo

Receptacle of life's decay,

TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS.

AD LESBIAM,

EQUAL to Jove that youth niust beGreater than Jove he seerns lo meWho, free from jealousy's alarms, Securely views thy matchless charms. That cheek, which ever dimpling glows, That mouth, from whence such music flows, To him, alike, are always known, Reserved for him, and him alone. Ah! Lesbia! though 'l is death to me, I cannot choose but look on thee; But, at the sight, my senses fly; I needs must gaze, but, gazing, die ; Whilst trembling with a thousand fears, Parch'd to the throat my longue adheres, My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short, My limbs deny their slight support, Cold dews my paliid face o'erspread, With deadly languor droops my head, My ears with tingling echoes ring, And life itself is on the wing; My eyes refuse the cheering light, Their orbs are veil'd in starless night : Such pangs my nature sinks beneath, And feels a temporary death.

IMITATED FROM CATULLUS.

TO ELLEX.

Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire,
A million scarce would quench desire :
Still would I steep my lips in bliss,
And dwell an age on every kiss:
Nor then my soul should sated be;
Still would I kiss and cling to thee :
Naught should my kiss from thine disserap
Still would we kiss, and kiss for ever ;
E'en though the numbers did exceed
The yellow harvest's countless seed.
To part would be a vain endeavour :
Could I desist ?-ah! never-never.

TRANSLATION OF THE EPITAPH ON

VIRGIL AND TIBULLUS,

BY DOMITIUS MARSUS.
He who sublime in epic numbers rolld,

And he who struck the softer lyre of love,
By Death's* unequal hand alike controllid,
Fit comrades in Elysian regions move !

IMITATION OF TIBULLUSt.

" Sulpicia ad Cerinthum."-Lib. Quart. CRUEL Cerinthus! does the fell disease Which racks my breast your fickle bosom please ? Alas! I wish'd but to o'ercome the pain, That I might live for love and you again : But now I scarcely shall bewail my fate : By death alone I can avoid your hate.

TRANSLATION FROM HORACE

ODE S, LIB. 3.

1.
The man of firm and noble soul
No factious clamours can control;
No threat'ning tyrant's darkling brow

Can swerve him from his just intent:
Gales the warring waves which plough,

By Auster on the billows spent, To curb the Adriatic main, Would awe his fix'd determined mind in van.

Ay, and the red right arm of Jove, Hurtling his lightnings from above,

The hand of Deuth is said to be unjust or unequal, u Virgil was nadderably older than Tibullus at his decear.

From the private volume.

• Orsty priated in the private volume.

With all his terrors then unfurld,

He would unmoved, unawed behold: The flames of an expiring world,

Again in crashing chaos rollid, In vast promiscuous ruin hurled, Might light his glorious funeral pile: Still dauntless midst the wreck of earth ho 'd smile.

With care I tend my weary guest,
His little fingers chill my breast ;
His glossy curls, his azure wing,
Which droop with nighuy showers, I wring:
His shivering limbs the embers warm;
And now reviving from the storm,
Scarce had he felt his wonted glow,
Than swift he seized his slender bow:
“I fain would know, my gentle host,"
He cried, " if this its strength has lost ;
I fear, relax'd with midnight dews,
The strings their former aid refusc."
With poison tipt, his arrow fies,
Deep in my tortured heart it lies;
Then loud the joyous urchin laugh'd :-
“My bow can still impel the shaft:
'T is firmly fix'd, thy sighs reveal it;
Say, courteous host, canst thou not feel it?"

TRANSLATION FROM ANACREON*.

TO HIS LYRE.

I WISH to tuine my quivering lyro
To deeds of fame and notes of fire ;
To echo, from its rising swell,
How heroes fought and nations fell,
When Atreus' sons advanced to war,
Or Tyrian Cadmus roved afar;
But still, to martial strains unknown,
My lyre recurs to love alone.
Fired with the hope of future fame,
I seek some nobler hero's name;
The dying chords are strung anew,
To war, to war, my harp is due :
With glowing strings, the epic strain
To Jove's great son I raise again;
Alcides and his glorious deeds,
Beneath whose arm the Hydra bleeds,
All, all in vain; my wayward lyre
Wakes silver noles of soft desire,
Adieu, ye chiess renown'd in arms!
Adieu the clang of war's alarms!
To other deeds my soul is strung,
And sweeter notes shall now be sung;
My harp shall all its powers reveal,
To tell the tale my heart must feel;
Love, Love alone, my lyre shall claim,
In songs of bliss and sighs of flame.

FRAGMENTS OF SCHOOL EXERCISES. FROM THE PROMETHEUS VINCTUS OF ESCHYLUS. GREAT Jove, lo whose almighty throne

Both gods and mortals homage pay, No'er may my soul thy power disown,

'Thy dread behests ne'er disobey. Oft shall the sacred victim fall In seagirt ocean's mossy hall;

My voice shall raise no impious strain 'Gainst him who rules the sky and azure main.

# * How different now thy joyless fate,

Since first Hesinne thy bride,
When placed aloft in godlike state,

The blushing beauty by thy side,
Thou sat'st, while reverend Ocean smiled,
And mirthful strains the hours beguiled,

The Nymphs and Tritons danced around,
Nor yet thy doom was fix’d, nor Jove relentless frown'd.

Harrow, Dec. 1, 1804.

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THE EPISODE OF NISUS AND EURIALUS

ODE IIIt. T' was now the hour when Night had driven Her car half round yon sable heaven; Bootes, only, seem'd to roll His arctic charge around the pole ; While mortals, lost in gentle sleep, Forgot to smile, or ceased to weep : At this lone hour, the Paphian boy, Descending from the realms of joy, Quick to my gare directs his course, And knocks with all his little force. My visions fled, alarm'd I rose, " Whal stranger breaks my blest repose ?" * Alas !" replies the wily child In faitering accents sweetly mild, " A hapless infant here I roam, Far from my dear maternal home. Oh! shiold me from the wintry blast! The nightly storm is pouring fast. No prowling robber lingers here. A wandering baby who can sear? I heard his seeming artless tale, I heard liis sighs upon the gale: My breast was never pity's foe, Bút felt for all the baby's wo. I drew the bar, and by the light Young Love, the infant, met my sight; His bow across his shoulders flung, And thence his fatal quiver hung, (Ah! little did I think the dart Would rankle soon within my heart.)

A PARAPHRASE FROM THE ENEID, LIB. IX. N180s, the guardian of the portal, stood, Eager to gild his arms with hostile blood; Well skill'd in fight the quivering lance to wield, Or pour bis arrows through th' emballled field: * From Ida torn, he left his sylvan cave, And sought a foreign home, a distant grave. To watch the movements of the Daunian host, With him Euryalus sustains the post ; No lovelier mien adorn'd the ranks of Troy, And beardless bloom yet graced the gallant boy ; Though few the seasons of his youthful life, As yet a novice in the martial strife, 'T was his, with beauty, valour's gifts to share A soul heroic, as his form was fair : These burn with one pure flame of generous lovo In peace, in war, united still they move; Friendship and glory form their joint reward; And now combined they hold their nightly guard

• Film Ida sent, a hunter now no more,
To combat foes upon a foreign shore.
Near him, the loveliest of the Trojan band
Did fair Euryalus, his comrade, stand:
Few are the seasons of his youthful life
As yet A novice in the martial atrise :
The gods to him inwonted gifts impart,
A female's beauty, with a hero's heart.
There burn with one pure fame of generoua loro,
In peace, in war, united still they move;
Friendship and glory form their joint revant,

And now combined, the massy gate they guard. Such was the original version of this passage, u given in the private volume, where no more than the above fragment vas priateche

• Pirst published in Hour of Idlenesı.

Fint priated in Hour of Idlene.

“What god," exclaim'd the first,“ instils this firo ! When Nisus and his friend their leave request
Or, in itself a god, what great desire ?

To offer something to their high behest.
My labouring soul, with anxious thought oppress'd, With anxious tremors, yet unawed by real,
Abhors this station of inglorious rest;

The faithful pair before i he throne appear :
The love of fame with this can ill accord,

Iulus greels them; at his kind command,
Be't mine to seek for glory with my sword.

The elder first address'd the hoary band.
Seest thou yon camp, with torches twinkling dim,
Where drunken slumbers wrap each lazy limb ? "With patience" (thus Hyrtacides began)
Where confidence and ease the watch disdain, “ Attend, nor judge from youth our humble plan.
And drowsy Silence holds her sable reign?

Where yonder beacons half expiring beam,
Then hear my thought :-In deep and sullen grief Our slumbering foes of future conquest dream
Our troops and leaders mourn their absent chief: Nor heed that we a secret path have traced,
Now could the gifts and promised prize be thine, Between the ocean and the portal placed.
(The deed, the danger, and the fame be mine,) Beneath the covert of the blackening smoke,
Were this decreed, beneath yon rising mound,

Whose shade securely our design will cloak !
Methinks, an easy path perchance were found; If you, ye chiefs, and fortune, will allow,
Which past, I speed my way to Pallas' walls, We 'll bend our course to yonder mountain's brom,
And lead Æneas from Evander's halls."

Where Pallas' walls at distance meet the sight, With equal ardour fired, and warlike joy,

Seen o'er the glade, when not obscured by night: His glowing friend address'd the Dardan boy :- Then shall Eneas in his pride return, “ These deeds, my Nisus, shalt thou dare alone ? While hostile matrons raise their offspring's urn; Must all the fame, the peril, be thine own?

And Lalian spoils and purpled heaps of dead Am I by thee despised, and left afar,

Shall mark the havoc of our heru's tread. As one unfit to share the toils of war?

Such is our purpose, not unknown the way; Not thus his son the great Opheltes taught;

Where yonder torrent's devious water stray, Not thus my sire in Argive combats fought;

Oft have we seen, when hunting by the stream,
Not thus, when Ilion fell by heavenly hate,

The distant spires above the valleys gleam."
I track'd Æneas through the walks of fate:
Thou know'st my deeds, my breast devoid of fear,
And hostile life-drops dim my gory spear.

Mature in years, for sober wisdom famed,

Moved by the speech, Alethes here exclaim'd, Here is a soul with hope immortal burns,

" Ye parent gods! who rule the fate of Troy, And life, ignoble life, for glory spurns.

Still dwells the Dardan spirit in the boy ; Fame, fame is cheaply earn'd by fleeting breath :

When minds like these in striplings thus ye raise, The price of honour is the sleep of death."

Yours is the godlike act, be yours the praise ; Then Nisus,—"Calm thy bosom's fond alarins :

In gallant youth, my fainting hopes revive,
Thy heart beats fiercely to the din of arms.

And Ilion's wonted glories still survive."
More dear thy worth and valour than my own, Then in his warm embrace the boys he pressid,
I swear by him who fills Olympus' throne !

And, quivering, strain'd them to his aged breast; So may I triumph, as I speak the truth,

With tears the burning cheek of each bedew'd, And clasp again the comrade of my youth!

And, sobbing, thus his first discourse renewid : But should I fall,--and he who dares advance

" What gisi, my countrymen, what martial prize Through hostile legions must abide by chance,

Can we bestow, which you may not despise ? If some Rutulian arm, with adverse blow,

Our deities the first best boon have given Should lay the friend who ever loved thee low,

Internal virtues are the gift of Heaven. Live thou, such beauties I would rain preserve,

What poor rewards can bless your deeds on carth Thy budding years a lengthend term deserve.

Doubtless await such young, exalted worth. When humbled in the dust, let some one be,

Æneas and Ascanius shall combine Whose gentle eyes will shed one tear for me ;

To yield applause, far, far surpassing mine." Whose manly arm may snatch me back by force,

Iulus then :-"By all the powers above! Or wealth redeem from foes my captive corse ;

By those Penates* who my country love! Or, if my destiny these last deny,

By hoary Vesta's sacred fane, I swear, Il in the spoiler's power my ashes lie,

My hopes are all in you, ye generous pair! Thy pious care may raise a simple tomb,

Restore my father to my grateful sight, To mark thy love, and signalize my doom.

And all my sorrows yield to one delight. Why should thy doting wretched mother weep

Nisus ! two silver goblets are thine own, Her only boy, reclined in endless sleep?

Saved from Arisba's stately domes o'erthrown!
Who, for thy sake, the tempest's fury dared,

My sire secured them on that fatal day,
Who, for thy sake, war's deadly peril shared ; Nor left such bowls an Argive robber's prey :
Who braved what woman never braved before,

Two massy tripods, also, shall be thine ;
And left her native for the Latian shore."

Two talents polished from the glittering mine : “In vain you damp the ardour of my soul,”

An ancient cup, which Tyrian Dido gave, Replied Euryalus; "it scorns control!

While yet our vessels press'd the Punic wave Hence, let us haste !"—their brother guards arose,

But when the hostile chiess at length bow down, Roused by their call, nor court again repose ;

When great Æneas wears Hesperia's crown, The pair, buoy'd up on Hope's exulting wing,

The casque, the buckler, and the fiery steed Their stations leave, and speed to seek the king. Which Turnus guides with more than mortal speel,

Are thine ; no envious lot shall then be cast. Now o'er the earth a solemn stillness ran,

I pledge my word, irrevocably past : And lull'd alike the cares of brute and man;

Nay more, twelve slaves, and twice six captive dama Sare where the Dardan leaders nightly hold

To sooth thy softer hours with anjorous Rames. Alternate converse, and their plans unsold.

And all the realms which now the Latins swar
On one great point the council are agreed,

The labours of to-night shall well repay.
An instant message to their princo decreed;
Each lean'd upon the lance he well could wield
And poised with easy arm his ancient shield;

Housebold gode.

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