"'Tis yours to bear the lurid blaze, "But 'tis not ours alone to know, 66 "Your hated hand's resistless force; You bid the stream of anguish flow, 66 Responsive to the sounding horn; "Have seen the deep-mouth'd early hound, "Wake the poor victim of the morn. "With trembling steps, by fear opprest, "Thro' paths unknown the sufferer flies; Despair invades her throbbing breast, "Midst barb'rous shouts she gasps and dies. "Whilst man unpitying at the scene, "Where flows yon stream, so soft and clear, "And whispering sedges crown its side; "Whose wat❜ry tenants void of fear, "Oft sport amid the crystal tide; "Ere yet the sun's returning beam, "Did erring Nature then ordain, "That all must stoop to man's control; "Invest him sovereign of the plain, "Yet curse him with a stubborn soul? "Ah! no-from life's remotest hour, "He soon perverts the sacred pow'r, "But, ah! the weak unnotic'd strain, Spent idly in the noontide air, 66 "Serves but to raise the sense of pain, "And add fresh poignance to despair." As thus the warbling mourner said, Life's crimson current stain'd the ground. THE WISH. FROM THE LATIN OF MARCUS FLAMINIUS. O COOL retreats! O vernal bowers! Kind to my hopes, if in your breast Now from my browsing goats demand The fervors of the noontide rage: |