And in the nights of winter When the oldest cask is opened, When the chestnuts glow in the embers, When the goodman mends his armor, Goes flashing through the loom; With weeping and with laughter How well Horatius kept the bridge In the brave days of old. Thomas Babington Macaulay [1800-1859] LEONIDAS [480 B. C.] SHOUT for the mighty men Who died along this shore, Who died within this mountain's glen! For never nobler chieftain's head Was laid on valor's crimson bed, Nor ever prouder gore Sprang forth, than theirs who won the day Upon thy strand, Thermopyla! Shout for the mighty men Who on the Persian tents, Like lions from their midnight den Let loose from an immortal hand But there are none to hear— No warrior makes the warrior's vow The voice that should be raised by men And it is given! The surge, The tree, the rock, the sand The vision of thy band Still gleams within the glorious dell And is thy grandeur done? Mother of men like these! Where justice has an ear to hear? Are plunged the chain and scimitar. George Croly [1780-1860] ANTONY TO CLEOPATRA [AUGUST, 30 B. C.] I AM dying, Egypt, dying! Let thine arms, O Queen, enfold me, Thou, and thou alone, must hear. Though my scarred and veteran legions I must perish like a Roman, Die the great Triumvir still. Let not Cæsar's servile minions 'Twas no foeman's arm that felled him, Should the base plebeian rabble. And for thee, star-eyed Egyptian- I am dying, Egypt, dying! Hark! the insulting foeman's cry; William Haines Lytle [1826-1863] BOADICEA: AN ODE WHEN the British warrior queen, Sage beneath a spreading oak "Princess! if our agèd eyes Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 'Tis because resentment ties All the terrors of our tongues. "Rome shall perish:-write that word "Rome, for empire far renowned, Tramples on a thousand states; "Other Romans shall arise Heedless of a soldier's name; Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize, Harmony the path to fame. "Then the progeny that springs From the forests of our land, Armed with thunder, clad with wings, Shall a wider world command. 'Regions Cæsar never knew Thy posterity shall sway; Such the bard's prophetic words, She, with all a monarch's pride, "Ruffians! pitiless as proud, Heaven awards the vengeance due; Empire is on us bestowed, Shame and ruin wait for you!" William Cowper [1731-1800] "HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN" [NOVEMBER, 1120] THE bark that held the prince went down, And what was England's glorious crown To him that wept a son? He lived-for life may long be borne, Ere sorrow break its chain; Why comes not death to those who mourn?— He never smiled again! There stood proud forms around his throne, The stately and the brave; But which could fill the place of one, That one beneath the wave? |