And a large cloud of infantry and horse
Scattering in wild diforder, spread the plain.
Not noise, nor number, nor the brawny limb,
Nor high-built fize prevails: 'Tis courage fights,
'Tis courage conquers. So whole forests fall
(A fpacious ruin) by one fingle axe.
And fteel well-fharpned: fo a generous pair
Of young-wing'd eaglets fright a thousand doves.
Vaft was the flaughter, and the flowery green
Drank deep of flowing crimfon. Veteran bands
Here made their last campaign. Here haughty chiefs
Stretch'd on the bed of purple honour lie
Supine, nor dream of battle's hard event,
Opprefs'd with iron flumbers, and long night.
Their ghofts indignant to the nether world.
Fled, but attended well: for at their fide
Some faithful Janizaries ftrew'd the field,
Fall'n in juft ranks or wedges, lunes or fquares,
Firm as they stood; to the Warfovian troops,
A nobler toil, and triumph worth their fight.
But the broad fabre and keen poll-axe flew
With speedy terror through the feebler herd,
And made rude havock and irregular spoil
Amongst the vulgar bands that own'd the name
Of Mahomet. The wild Arabians fled
In fwift affright a thousand different ways [mountains
Through brakes and thorns, and climb'd the craggy
Bellowing; yet hafty fate o'ertook the cry,
And Polish hunters clave the timorous deer.
Thus the dire prospect distant fill'd my foul
With awe; till the laft relicks of the war,
The thin Edonians, flying had difclos'd
The ghaftly plain: I took a nearer view,
Unfeemly to the fight, nor to the fmell
Grateful. What loads of mangled flesh and limbs
(A difmal carnage!) bath'd in reeking gore
Lay weltering on the ground; while flitting life
Convuls'd the nerves ftill fhivering, nor had loft
All tafte of pain! Here an old Thracian lies,
Deform'd with years and fears, and groans aloud
Torn with fresh wounds; but inward vitals firm
Forbid the foul's remove, and chain it down
By the hard laws of nature, to fuftain
Long torment: his wild eye-balls roll: his teeth,
Gnafhing with anguish, chide his lingering fate.
Emblazon'd armour spoke his high command
Amongst the neighbouring dead; they round their lord
Lay proftrate; fome in flight ignobly flain,
Some to the skies their faces upwards turn'd
Still brave, and proud to die fo near their prince.
I mov'd not far, and lo, at manly length
Two beauteous youths of richest Ott'man blood
Extended on the field: in friendship join'd,
Nor fate divides them: hardy warriors both;
Both faithful; drown'd in fhowers of darts they fell,
Each with his fhield spread o'er his lover's heart,
In vain for on thofe orbs of friendly brafs
Stood groves of javelins; fome, alas, too deep
Were planted there, and through their lovely bosoms Made painful avenues for cruel death.
O my dear native land, forgive the tear
I dropt on their wan cheeks, when strong compaffion
Forc'd from my melting eyes the briny dew,
And paid a facrifice to hoftile virtue.
Dacia, forgive the fight that wish'd the souls
Of thofe fair infidels fome humble place
Among the blet. Sleep, fleep, ye hapless pair,
"Gently, I cry'd, worthy of better fate,
"And better faith." Hard by the General lay,
Of Saracen defcent, a grizly form
Breathlefs, yet pride fat pale upon his front
In difappointment, with a furly brow
Louring in death, and vext; his rigid jaws
Foaming with blood bite hard the Polish spear
In that dead vifage my remembrance reads
Raih Caraccas: In vain the boafting flave
Promis'd and footh'd the fultan threatening fierce
With royal fuppers and triumphant fare
Spread wide beneath Warsovian filk and gold;
See on the naked ground all cold he lies
Beneath the damp wide covering of the air
Forgetful of his word. How heaven confounds
Infulting hopes! with what an awful smile
Laughs at the proud, that loofen all the reins
To their unbounded wishes, and leads on
Their blind ambition to a fhameful end!
But whither am I borne? This thought of arms Fires me in vain to fing to fenfelefs bulls
What generous horse should hear. Break off, my song;
My barbarous Muse, be ftill: Immortal deeds
Muft not be thus profan'd in ruftic verse:
The martial trumpet, and the following age,
And growing fame, fhall loud rehearse the fight
In founds of glory. Lo, the evening-star
Shines o'er the western hill; my oxen, come,
The well-known ftar invites the labourer home.
HE following fong was yours when firft compofed: The Muse then defcribed the general fate of mankind, that is, to be ill matched; and now fhe rejoices that you have escaped the common mischief, and that your foul has found its own mate. Let this ode then congratulate you both. Grow mutually in more compleat likeness and love: Persevere, and be happy.
I perfuade myself you will accept from the prefs what the pen more privately inscribed to you long ago; I am in no pain left you should take offence at the fabulous drefs of this poem: Nor would weaker minds be fcandalized at it, if they would give themfelves leave to reflect how many divine truths are fpoken by the holy writers in vifions and images, parables and dreams; Nor are my wifer friends afhamed to defend it, fince the narrative is grave and the moral so just and obvious.
WHY fhould our joys transform to pain?
Why gentle Hymen's filken chain
A plague of iron prove?
Bendyfh, 'tis ftrange the charm that binds
Millions of hands, fhould leave their minds
At fuch a loose from love.
In vain I fought the wondrous cause,
Rang'd the wide fields of nature's laws,
And urg'd the schools in vain ;
Then deep in thought, within my breast
My foul retir'd, and flumber drefs'd
A bright inftructive scene.
O'er the broad lands, and cross the tide,
On fancy's airy horfe I ride,
(Sweet rapture of my mind!)
Till on the banks of Ganges flood,
In a tall ancient grove I ftood,
For facred use design'd.
Hard by, a venerable priest,
Rifen with his God, the Sun, from reft,
Awoke his morning fong;
Thrice he conjur'd the murmuring stream ;
The birth of fouls was all his theme,
And half-divine his tongue.
|