90

95

With all these hideous howlings to the skies,
I could be much composed, nor should appear,
For such a cause, to feel the slightest fear.
Yourselves have seen, what time the thunders rolled
All night, me resting quiet in the fold,
Or heard we that tremendous bray alone,

ould expound the melancholy tone;
Should deem it by our old companion made,
The ass; for he, we know, has lately strayed,
And being lost, perhaps, and wandering wide,
Might be supposed to clamor for a guide.
But ah! those dreadful yells what soul can hear
That owns a carcass and not quake for fear? 100
Demons produce them doubtless, brazen-clawed,
And fanged with brass, the demons are abroad;
I hold it therefore wisest and most fit,
That, life to save, we leap into the pit."

Him answered then his loving mate and true, 105 But more discreet than he, a Cambriano ewe.

110

“How ! leap into the pit our life to save?
To save our life leap all into the grave?
For can we find it less ? Contemplate first
The depth how awful! falling there we burst:
Or should the brambles, interposed, our fall
In part abate, that happiness were small:
For with a race like theirs no chance I see
Of

peace or ease to creatures clad as we.

120

Meantime, noise kills not. Be it Dapple's bray, 115
Or be it not, or be it whose it may,
And rush those other sounds, that seem by tongue
Of demons uttered, from whatever lungs,
Sounds are but sounds, and till the cause appear,
We have at least commodious standing here.
Come fiend, come fury, giant, monster, blast
From earth or hell, we can but plunge at last.”

While thus she spake, I fainter heard the peals,
For Reynard, close attended at his heels
By panting dog, tired man, and spattered horse, 125
Through mere good fortune, took a different course.
The flock grew calm again, and I the road
Following, that led me to my own abode,
Much wondered that the silly sheep had found
Such cause of terror in an empty sound,
So sweet to huntsman, gentleman, and hound.

130

MORAL

Beware of desperate steps. The darkest day,
Live till to-morrow, will have passed away.

BOADICEA

AN ODE

Ι

WHEN the British warrior queen,

Bleeding from the Roman rods,

Sought, with an indignant mien,

Counsel of her country's gods,

II

5

Sage beneath the spreading oak

Sat the Druid, hoary chief; Every burning word he spoke

Full of rage and full of grief:

III

10

“Princess ! if our aged eyes

Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 'Tis because resentment ties

All the terrors of our tongues.

IV

“Rome shall perish, — write that word

In the blood that she hast spilled; Perish hopeless and abhorred,

Deep in ruin as in guilt.

15

V

“Rome, for empire far renowned,

Tramples on a thousand states; Soon her pride shall kiss the ground,

Hark! the Gaul is at her gates.°

20

VI

“Other Romans shall arise,

Heedless of a soldier's name;

Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize,

Harmony the path to fame.

VII

25

"Then the progeny that springs

From the forests of our land,
Armed with thunder, clad with wings,

Shall a wider world command.

VIII

30

“Ruffians, pitiless as proud,

Heaven awards the vengeance due; Empire is on us bestowed,

Shame and ruin wait for you!

Rushed to battle, fought, and died;

Dying hurled them at the foe.

EPITAPH ON A HARE°

HERE lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,

Nor swifter greyhound follow,
Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,

Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo;

5

Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,

Who, nursed with tender care, And to domestic bounds confined,

Was still a wild Jack-hare.

10

Though duly from my hand he took

His pittance every night, He did it with a jealous look,

And, when he could, would bite.

His diet was of wheaten bread,

And milk, and oats, and straw; Thistles, or lettuces instead,

With sand to scour his maw.

15

On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,

On pippins' russet peel,
And, when his juicy salads failed,

Sliced carrot pleased him well.

21