702 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1810. 



Still glares his closing eye with angry light, 

 Now glares, now darkens with approaching night. 



Think not with terror heaves that sinewy breast — 

 'Tis vengeance visible, and pain supprest : 

 Calm in despair, in agony sedate, 

 His proud soul wrestles with o'er-mast'ring fate ; 

 That pang the conflict ends— he falls not yet — 

 Seems ev'ry nerve for one last effort set, 

 At once, by death, death's ling'ring power to brave- 

 He will not sink, but plunge into the grave — 

 Exhaust his mighty heart in one last sigh, 

 And rally life's whole energy — to die. 



Unfear'd is now that cord, which oft ensnared 



The baffled rival whom his falchion spar'd ; 



Those clarions mute, which, on the murd'rous stage, 



Roused him to deeds of more than martial rage : 



Once pois'd by peerless might, once dear to fame, 



The shield, which could not guard, supports his frame; 



His fix'd eye dwells upon the faithless blade, 



As if in silent agony he pray'd — 



*' Oh ! might I yet, by one avenging blow, 



" Not shun my fate, but share it with my foe !" 



Vain hope ! — the streams of life-blood fast descend ; 



That giant-arm's upbearing strength must bend ; 



Yet shall he scorn, procumbent, to betray 



One dastard sign of anguish or dismay ; 



With one weak plaint to shame his parting breath, 



In pangs subhme, magnificent in death ! 



But his were deeds unchronicled : his tomb 

 No patriot wreaths adorn ; to cheer his doom, 

 No soothing thoughts arise of duties done. 

 Of trophied conquest for his country won ; 

 And he, whose sculptur'd form gave deathless fame 

 To Ctesilas^ie dies without a name ! 



Haply to grace some Caesar's pageant pride 



The hero-slave or hireling-champion died, 



When Rome, degen'rate Rome, for barb'rous shows 



Barter'd her virtue, glory, and repose, 



Sold all that freemen prize as great and good. 



For pomps of death, and theatres of blood 1 



I 



