To whet a dagger on their stony hearts, And smile avenged ere yet his eagle spirit parts. XXIII. Calm, opposite the Christian father rose, Of martyr light the conflagration throws; He for his bleeding country prays to Heaven Prays that the men of blood themselves may be forgiven. XXIV. Short time is now for gratulating speech: Thy country's flight, yon distant towers to reach, With brow relax'd to love? And murmurs ran, As round and round their willing ranks they drew, From beauty's sight to shield the hostile van. Grateful, on them a placid look she threw, Nor wept, but as she bade her mother's grave adieu ! XXV. Past was the flight, and welcome seem'd the tower, The lofty summit of that mountain green ; scere, XXVI. A scene of death! where fires beneath the sun, snow On Waldegrave's shoulder, half within his arm Enclosed, that felt her heart, and hush'd its wild alarm! XXVII. But short that contemplation - sad and short The pause to bid each much-loved scene adieu! |