XII. But most the modern Pict's ignoble boast, To rive what Goth, and Turk, and Time hath spared: (6) His mind as barren and his heart as hard, Is he whose head conceived, whose hand prepared, Aught to displace Athena's poor remains: Her sons too weak the sacred shrine to guard, Yet felt some portion of their mother's pains, (7) And never knew, till then, the weight of Despot's chains. XIII. What! shall it e'er be said by British tongue, Albion was happy in Athena's tears? Though in thy name the slaves her bosom wrung, the free Britannia bears The ocean queen, Which envious Eld forbore, and tyrants left to stand. XIV. Where was thine Ægis, Pallas! that appall'd Stern Alaric and Havoc on their way? (8) His shade from Hades upon that dread day, Bursting to light in terrible array! What! could not Pluto spare the chief once more, To scare a second robber from his prey? Idly he wander'd on the Stygian shore, Nor now preserved the walls he loved to shield before. XV. Cold is the heart, fair Greece! that looks on thee, Nor feels as lovers o'er the dust they loved; Thy walls defaced, thy mouldering shrines removed To guard those relics ne'er to be restored. Curst be the hour when from their isle they roved, And snatch'd thy shrinking Gods to northern climes abhorr'd! XVI. But where is Harold? shall I then forget To urge the gloomy wanderer o'er the wave? No loved-one now in feign'd lament could rave; And left without a sigh the land of war and crimes. XVII. He that has sail'd upon the dark blue sea, So gaily curl the waves before each dashing prow, XVIII. And oh, the little warlike world within! XIX. White is the glassy deck, without a stain, Where on the watch the staid Lieutenant walks: Look on that part which sacred doth remain Conquest and Fame: but Britons rarely swerve From Law, however stern, which tends their strength to nerve. XX. Blow! swiftly blow, thou keel-compelling gale! The flapping sail haul'd down to halt for logs like these! XXI. The moon is up; by Heaven a lovely eve! Long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand; Such be our fate when we return to land! Or to some well-known measure featly move, Thoughtless, as if on shore they still were free to rove. |