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But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery. By torch and trumpet fast array’d, Each horseman drew his battle-blade, And furious every charger neigh’d, To join the dreadful revelry. Then shook the hills with thunder riven, Then rush'd the steed to battle driven, And louder than the bolts of heaven, Far flash'd the red artillery. But redder yet that light shall glow On Linden's hills of stained snow, And bloodier yet the torrent flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, Shout in their sulph'rous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry! Few, few, shall part where many meet ! The snow shall be their winding-sheet, And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
309. THE LAST MAN, All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom,
The Sun himself must die,
Adown the gulph of Time!
As Adam saw her prime!
The Sun's eye had a sickly glare,
The Earth with age was wan,
Around that lonely man!
In plague and famine some!
To shores where all was dumb!
Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood,
With dauntless words and high, That shook the sere leaves from the wood
As if a storm pass'd by, Saying, We are twins in death, proud Sun, Thy face is cold, thy race is run,
'Tis Mercy bids thee go. For thou ten thousand thousand years Hast seen the tide of human tears,
That shall no longer flow. What though beneath thee man put forth
His pomp, his pride, his skill ;
The vassals of his will ;-
For all those trophied arts
Entail'd on human hearts.
Go, let oblivion's curtain fall
Upon the stage of men,
Life's tragedy again.
Of pain anew to writhe ;
Like grass beneath the sithe.
skies To watch thy fading fire ;
Test of all sumless agonies,
Behold not me expire.
To see thou shalt not boast.
Receive my parting ghost !
That gave its heavenly spark;
When thou thyself art dark !
By Him recall’d to breath,
And took the sting from Death!
On Nature's awful waste
Of grief that man shall taste-
On Earth's sepulchral clod,
Or shake his trust in God!
WORDSWORTH, COLERIDGE, SOUTHEY, AND OTHER
William Wordsworth. 1770-1850. (Manual, pp. 446-451.)
310. FROM THE EXCURSION.'
THE GREEK MYTHOLOGY.
-In that fair clime, the lonely herdsman, stretched On the soft grass, through half a summer's day, With music lulled his indolent repose : And, in some fit of weariness, if he, When his own breath was silent, chanced to hear A distant strain, far sweeter than the sounds Which his poor skill could make, his fancy fetched, Even from the blazing chariot of the sun, A beardless youth,' who touched a golden lute, And filled the illumined groves with ravishment. The nightly hunter, lifting up his
eyes Towards the crescent moon, with grateful heart Called on the lovely wanderer who bestowed That timely light, to share his joyous sport : And hence, a beaming goddess * with her nymphs, Across the lawn and through the darksome grove (Not unaccompanied with tuneful notes, By echo multiplied from rock or cave), Swept in the storm of chase, as moon and stars Glance rapidly along the clouded heaven, When winds are blowing strong. The traveller slaked His thirst from rill or gushing fount, and thanked The Naiad. 3 –Sunbeams, upon distant hills Gliding apace, with shadows in their train, Might, with small help from fancy, be transformed Into fleet Oreads sporting visibly. The Zephyrs, fanning as they passed, their wings, Lacked not, for love, fair objects, whom they wooed
i Phæbus Apollo.
2 Diana. 3 Naiads, the nymphs of the springs; Oreads, those of the mountains.
With gentle whisper. Withered boughs grotesque,
311. TINTERN ABBEY.
Five years have passid ; five summers, with the length
Though absent long,