To-day their banish'd lord returns, How he with Tyrcis, at the chace, Hied o'er the hill and dale: Their hoary heads with rapture glow, While each to each repeats, How well he knew where to bestow, Was to oppression still a foe; Still mixing with their praise his youthful feats. Then from the grass Melanthus rose, The arbitrator of the plains, And silent all stood fixed to hear The Tityrus of Mernia's swains; For with the Muse's fire his bosom glow'd, "Now the wished-for day is come, 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 At length, what time the ploughman leads At yon old tree the roe-buck fell: The huntsmen's jocund mingled shouts his downfall tell. "The mem'ry of these happy days Still in my breast must transport raise; And the early kine rise from their dewy seat." Thus as he spoke, each youthful breast Glows with wild extasies; In each eye rapture stands confest, Each thinks he flies along the mead, 50 55 60 And manages the fiery steed, And hears the beagles' cries. The sage Melanthus now again Stretch'd forth his hand, and thus resum'd the strain: 65 Big with his joys of youth the old man stood; Dunnotyr's ruin'd towers then caught his eye; He stopp'd, and hung his head in pensive mood, And from his bosom burst the unbidden sigh. Then turning, with a warrior look, Shaking his hoary curls, the old man spoke : "Virtue, O Fortune! scorns thy power, Thou can'st not bind her for an hour; Virtue shall ever shine; And endless praise, her glorious dower, 80 85 Before them march pale Terror and Alarms. 100 His sword with thine, and backs thy cause; Yes, thou art doubly safe, thy cause is just. "With dread the Turks have oft beheld "When all the fury of the fight With wrath redoubled rag'd; When man to man, with giant-might, For all that's dear engag'd; When all was thunder, smoke, and fire; When from their native rocks the frighted springs retire; 'Twas then, through streams of smoke and blood, Achates mounts the city-wall: Though wounded, like a god he stood, And at his feet the foes submissive fall. "Brave are the Goths, and fierce in fight, Yet these he gave to rout and flight; Proud when they were of victory, 115 120 He rushed on like a storm; dispersed and weak they fly. 125 Thus, from the Grampians old, A torrent, deep and strong, Down rushes on the fold, And sweeps the shepherd and the flock along. "When, through an aged wood, The thunder roars amain, So many a German field can tell, 130 How in his path the mighty heroes fell. 135 "When, with their numerous dogs, the swains Surprise the aged lion's den, The old warrior rushes to the charge, And scorns the rage of dogs and men; His whelps he guards on every side; Safe they retreat. What though a mortal dart Stands trembling in his breast, his dauntless heart 140 "So the old lion, brave Achates, fought, And miracles of prowess wrought; 145 With a few piquets bore the force Of eighty thousand, stopped their course, Till off his friends had marched, and all was well. Even he himself could ne'er do more, Fate had no greater deed in store 150 When all his host was safe, the godlike hero fell." Thus as he spoke, each hoary sire Fights o'er again his ancient wars; Each youth burns with a hero's fire, (Beneath his lifted arm, struck pale, 155 160 |