Crimson and green were the shawls of their wear,

And each scalp had a single long tuft of hair,

All the rest was shaven and bare.

The scalps were in the wild dog's maw,

The hair was tangled round his jaw.

But close by the shore, on the edge of the gulf,

There sat a vulture flapping a wolf,

425

Who had stolen from the hills, but kept away, 430

Scared by the dogs, from the human prey;

But he seized on his share of a steed that lay,

Picked by the birds, on the sands of the bay.

XVII.

Alp turned him from the sickening sight:

Never had shaken his nerves in fight;

435

But he better could brook to behold the dying,

Deep in the tide of their warm blood lying, Scorched with the death-thirst, and writhing in vain, Than the perishing dead who are past all pain.

There is something of pride in the perilous hour,

Whate'er be the shape in which death may lower;

For Fame is there to say who bleeds,

And Honour's eye on daring deeds!

But when all is past, it is humbling to tread

O'er the weltering field of the tombless dead,

And see worms of the earth, and fowls of the air,

Beasts of the forest, all gathering there;

All regarding man as their prey,

All rejoicing in his decay,

445

XVIII.

There is a temple in ruin stands,

Fashioned by long forgotten hands;

450

Two or three columns, and many a stone,
Marble and granite, with grass o'ergrown!

Out upon Time! it will leave no more

Of the things to come than the things before! 455

Out upon Time! who for ever will leave

But enough of the past for the future to grieve.

O'er that which hath been, and o'er that which

must be:

What we have seen, our sons shall see;

Remnants of things that have passed away,

Fragments of stone, reared by creatures of clay!

460

Was it the wind, through some hollow stone",

Sent that soft and tender moan?

VOL. V.

D

He lifted his head, and he looked on the sea,

But it was unrippled as glass may be;

He looked on the long grass-it waved not a blade;

How was that gentle sound conveyed?

He looked to the banners-each flag lay still,

So did the leaves on Cithæron's hill,

And he felt not a breath come over his cheek;

What did that sudden sound bespeak?

He turned to the left-is he sure of sight?

There sate a lady, youthful and bright!

481

E

485

XX.

He started up with more of fear

Than if an armed foe were near.

"God of my fathers! what is here?

490