"Smile at each wound, each torture calmly bear, "And only curse the cruel chance of war: "Now let them lead me to the fires of fate, "Where round, in horrid shew, the furies wait, "No lab'ring sigh my secret pain shall speak, "No stealing tear disgrace my manlier cheek; "Forbad to conquer, and forbad to bleed, "I ask but Death, and court no other meed. The warrior ceas'd-the Lord of Light again The Muse, impartial, bless'd the hapless youth; That lov'd with Fame to live, that dar'd with Glory die. THE DEATH SONG. ODE VII. HARK to the loud and dismal sound! Assaults, in troubled cry, the startling ear! O say! what rude and clamorous breath Some hapless youth, whom Glory never led, Borne captive to her drear retreat, And now while Vengeance, with remorseless hand, But hark! again the mingled sound Hollow and fearful echoes through the vale; "Ye conquering chiefs! ye leaders of your train! "Who as ye lie, embath'd in bliss along, "Mark with exulting eye our warriors slain, "To you I call-O hear th' indignant song! "What tho' by happier chance, or by the pow'r "Of kinder Gods that bless your genial skies, "Ye boast the victories of the present hour "Have giv'n you to the noblest heights of fame, "Some vengeful and some bloody morn shall rise, "And sink you low again to death, defeat, and shame. Then, O my spirit! wand'ring blest around, "Point thou the shaft, and aid the fatal blow, "Then fix, with joy, the deep inglorious wound "That marks, with baser scar, the abject foe! "O then be thine the pleasurable sound, "The yell of battle, and the murderous cry, "The forc'd dull groans of Death, and shrieks of Agony! "Nor boast, proud Chiefs! a fated victory won "The mighty mind, impatient of controul, "And all the manlier powers that feed a warrior's soul. "And say, ye fathers of the fight! "Ye whose high bosoms labour'd for the deed, "Say, saw ye not amid' the battle bleed "Your sons of prowess, and your chiefs of might? "Say, felt not then your ranks unusual fear, "While your arm'd nations crowded on the plain, "When, borne by pow'rful fate, th' unerring spear "(For this for ever be that spear renown'd, "For this my latest hour with pleasure crown'd!) "Laid low your warrior-chief and level'd with the "slain? "I saw him fall-I heard the groan "That pierc'd your ranks with hollow moan; "Mine the spear, and mine the hand "That smote him from your murderous band, "Who on my country's bleeding plains from far "First planted deep the withering steps of war. "Ye sons of Oglu! and ye Indian Maids! "I led your hosts, I lov'd your soothing shades, "But perish from my soul the idle strife "Of glorious perils, or of wanton joys, "Begone, and with ye go your glittering train of toys! "Ye flattering hopes! ye foolish fears! "The warrior's praise! the virgin's tears! "What colour'd once with joy, or sour'd the springs of "life! "Though once, with fondest vow, "I bless'd the sweets of Zeyra's peaceful grove, "The sylvan chace, or gentler charms of Love "And all the rapt'rous scenes of past delight; "Lord of myself, I boast a better claim, "Th' unconquerable soul that scorns the funeral flame. “Not a tear and not a sigh "Shall weakly to my pangs reply, "No coward wretch, no dastard foe "But he who bore, unmov'd, your chairs, "Tho' now I feel your searching pains "Fierce and more fierce convulse my lab'ring veins, "Tho' fall'n that hand (O bless the deed!) "That fore'd your Warrior-chief to bleed, "Still my true heart in equal motion leaps, "And my firm soul its wonted freedom keeps. "Hail to the dawn that rises on my soul! "All hail the coming day! “I feel, I feel the fiery torrents roll "Ah now I come! prepare, ye spirits blest, "While the sounds tremble on my fault'ring tongue, ""Tis all a dying warrior knows to give, "My last sad curse, ye warrior chiefs, receive!" |