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With all these hideous howlings to the skies,
Him answered then his loving mate and true, 105 But more discreet than he, a Cambriano ewe.
"How ! leap into the pit our life to save?
peace or ease to creatures clad as we.
Meantime, noise kills not. Be it Dapple's bray, 115
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,
130 So sweet to huntsman, gentleman, and hound.
When the British warrior queen,
Bleeding from the Roman rods,
Sought, with an indignant mien,
Counsel of her country's gods,
Sage beneath the spreading oak
Sat the Druid, hoary chief; Every burning word he spoke
Full of rage and full of grief:
“Princess ! if our aged eyes
Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 'Tis because resentment ties
All the terrors of our tongues.
“Rome shall perish, — write that word
In the blood that she hast spilled; Perish hopeless and abhorred,
Deep in ruin as in guilt.
'Rome, for empire far renowned,
Tramples on a thousand states; Soon her pride shall kiss the ground,
Hark! the Gaul is at her gates.°
"Other Romans shall arise,
Heedless of a soldier's name;
Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize,
Harmony the path to fame.
“Then the progeny that springs
From the forests of our land,
Shall a wider world command.
“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,
Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo;
Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,
Who, nursed with tender care, And to domestic bounds confined,
Was still a wild Jack-hare.
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.
On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,
On pippins' russet peel,
Sliced carrot pleased him well.