'The verse adorn again
Fierce War and faithful Love
And Truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
In buskined measures move
Pale Grief and pleasing Pain,
With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
A voice as of the cherub-choir
Gales from blooming Eden bear,
And distant warblings lessen on my ear
That lost in long futurity expire.
Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud,
Raised by thy breath, has quenched the orb of day?
To-morrow he repairs the golden flood
And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
Enough for me: with joy I see
The different doom our fates assign:
Be thine Despair and sceptred Care,
To triumph and to die are mine.'
He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height
Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.
_Gray._
XXXIV
THE ROYAL GEORGE
Toll for the Brave!
The brave that are no more!
All sunk beneath the wave
Fast by their native shore!
Eight hundred of the brave,
Whose courage well was tried,
Had made the vessel heel
And laid her on her side.
A land-breeze shook the shrouds
And she was overset;
Down went the Royal George
With all her crew complete.
Toll for the brave!
Brave Kempenfelt is gone;
His last sea-fight is fought,
His work of glory done.
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