By guilt or shame? No; he has always been That but to be suspected strikes him dumb 299. O young John Talbot! I did send for thee 300. That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd, Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse; V. Mais l'autre est un rare bonheur; De tous les trois chez nous il doit tenir la place. H. Que n'a-t-on vu périr en lui le nom d'Horace! V. Seul vous le maltraitez après ce qu'il a fait. H. C'est à moi seul aussi de punir son forfait. V. Quel forfait trouvez-vous en sa bonne conduite ? H. Quel éclat de vertu trouvez-vous en sa fuite? V. Sa fuite est glorieuse en cette occasion. H. Vous redoublez ma honte et ma confusion. Certes, l'exemple est rare et digne de mémoire, De trouver dans la fuite un chemin à la gloire ! 301. There is in prison bound, condemn'd to die, And for a crime by other hands committed, A noble youth, and my betrothed love. Your son nay, shrink not back, nor look so sternly Your son, as secret rumour hath inform'd me, Mortally wounded and with little hope Of life, can ample testimony give, That Rayner did it not. O let him then, And we will bless him, heav'n will pardon him. 302. Ch. What fear you, Madam? C. That the frowning heavens Oppose themselves against us in their wrath. Ch. Our loss, I hope, hath satisfied their ire. C. My fearful dreams do my despairs redouble. C. Who is not troubled with strange visions? Ch. They of our spirit are but illusions. C. God grant these dreams to good effect be brought! Ch. We dream by night what we by day have thought. 303. Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. She, with a subtle smile in her mild eyes, 304. Forth of a desert wood an ugly beast There seem'd to come, whose shape was thus de fin'd: Ears of an ass, a wolf in head and breast, To fox-like shape did seem to be inclin❜d. The saviour comes; he arms him for the fight. The fortunes of the foe shall soon be wreck'd: He now is ready for the reaper's hand, And with her sickle will the maiden come, And mow his haughty spirit to the ground; She from the heavens will tear his glory down, Which he had hung upon the loftiest stars. Despair not, fly not! for ere yonder corn Assumes its golden hue, or ere the moon Displays her perfect orb, no English horse Shall drink the rolling waters of the Loire. 306. O mother, best of women, I am sent To utter the abstruse decrees of Heaven; Nor doth the Delian God against my will Fire my rapt soul. I and my virgin comrades Are stung by a foreknowledge of the shame Which waits my virtuous sire. O mother, thee I pity, and contemplate my own failings With anguish; for to Priam did'st thou bear A race most perfect, all but me: this heightens My griefs, to think I but augment thy woes; While they console thee, and their duteous zeal Hath render'd my transgression the more heinous. 307. He spake, and to his roof in haste withdrew 308. Before him neighing, steeds, a noble gift, Which Orithyia to Pilumnus gave, Whiter than snow, and swifter than the wind Prompt come the charioteers, and With words of praise, and comb their flowing manes. The Prince a breastplate fastens on, rough-scal'd All things have a double power, night. Should we for this forego The needful element? Because the scorching summer sun Darts fever, would'st thou quench the orb of day? 309. 'Tis time to turn our backs, to leave our homes, Rais'd by Minerva, citadel which she And to Diana let us sacrifice Upon the summit of Taygetus. 310. M. O miserable change! is this the man, That invincible Samson, far renown'd, The dread of Israel's foes, who with a strength He shakes his mane, he spurns the sands: 312. This is the place, the centre of the grove. Here stands the oak, the monarch of the wood: |