No More Learning

--
Lovely Virginia with her sire was nigh:
Paternal love and anger in his eye
Beam'd terrible, while in his hand he show'd
Aloft the dagger, tinged with virgin blood,
Which freedom on the maid and Rome at once bestow'd. --
Then the Teutonic dames, a dauntless race,
Who rush'd on death to shun a foe's embrace;--
And Judith chaste and fair, but void of dread,
Who the hot blood of Holofernes shed;--
And that fair Greek who chose a watery grave
Her threaten'd purity unstain'd to save. --
All these and others to the combat flew,
And all combined to wreak the vengeance due
On him, whose haughty hand in days of yore
From clime to clime his conquering standard bore.
Another troop the vestal virgin led,
Who bore along from Tyber's oozy bed
His liquid treasure in a sieve, to show
The falsehood of her base calumnious foe
By wondrous proof. --And there the Sabine queen
With all the matrons of her race was seen,
Renown'd in records old;--and next in fame
Was she, who dauntless met the funeral flame,
Not wrong'd in Love, but to preserve her vows
Immaculate to her Sidonian spouse.
Let others of AEneas' falsehood tell,
How by an unrequited flame she fell;
A nobler, though a self-inflicted doom,
Caused by connubial Love, dismiss'd her to the tomb. --
Picarda next I saw, who vainly tried
To pass her days on Arno's flowery side
In single purity, till force compell'd
The virgin to the marriage bond to yield.
The triumph seem'd at last to reach the shore
Where lofty Baise hears the Tuscan roar.
'Twas on a vernal morn it touch'd the land,
And 'twixt Mount Barbaro that crowns the strand
And old Avernus (once an hallow'd ground);
For the Cumaean sibyl's cell renown'd.
Linterno's sandy bounds it reach'd at last,
Great Scipio's favour'd haunt in ages past;
Famed Africanus, whose victorious blade
The slaughterous deeds of Hannibal repaid,
And to his country's heart a bloody passage made.
Here in a calm retreat his life he spent,
With rural peace and solitude content.
And here the flying rumour sped before,
And magnified the deed from shore to shore.
The pageant, when it reach'd the destined spot,
Seem'd to exceed their utmost reach of thought.
There, all distinguish'd by their deeds of arms,
Excell'd the rest in more than mortal charms.
Nor he, whom oft the steeds of conquest drew,
Disdained another's triumphs to pursue.
At the metropolis arrived at last,
To fair Sulpicia's temples soon we pass'd,
Sacred to Chastity, to ward the pest
With which her sensual foes inflame the breast;
The patroness of noble dames alone--
Then was the fair plebeian Pole unknown,
The victress here display'd her martial spoils,
And here the laurel hung that crown'd her toils:
A guard she stationed on the temple's bound--
The Tuscan, mark'd with many a glorious wound
Suspicion in the jealous breast to cure:
With him a chosen squadron kept the door.
I heard their names, and I remember well
The youthful Greek that by his stepdame fell,
And him who, kept by Heaven's command in awe,
Refused to violate the nuptial law.

BOYD.




THE TRIUMPH OF DEATH.


PART I.

_Questa leggiadra e gloriosa Donna. _


The glorious Maid, whose soul to heaven is gone
And left the rest cold earth, she who was grown
A pillar of true valour, and had gain'd
Much honour by her victory, and chain'd
That god which doth the world with terror bind,
Using no armour but her own chaste mind;
A fair aspect, coy thoughts, and words well weigh'd,
Sweet modesty to these gave friendly aid.
It was a miracle on earth to see
The bow and arrows of the deity,
And all his armour broke, who erst had slain
Such numbers, and so many captive ta'en;
The fair dame from the noble sight withdrew
With her choice company,--they were but few.
And made a little troop, true virtue's rare,--
Yet each of them did by herself appear
A theme for poems, and might well incite
The best historian: they bore a white
Unspotted ermine, in a field of green,
About whose neck a topaz chain was seen
Set in pure gold; their heavenly words and gait,
Express'd them blest were born for such a fate.
Bright stars they seem'd, she did a sun appear,
Who darken'd not the rest, but made more clear
Their splendour; honour in brave minds is found:
This troop, with violets and roses crown'd,
Cheerfully march'd, when lo, I might espy
Another ensign dreadful to mine eye--
A lady clothed in black, whose stern looks were
With horror fill'd, and did like hell appear,
Advanced, and said, "You who are proud to be
So fair and young, yet have no eyes to see
How near you are your end; behold, I am
She, whom they, fierce, and blind, and cruel name,
Who meet untimely deaths; 'twas I did make
Greece subject, and the Roman Empire shake;
My piercing sword sack'd Troy, how many rude
And barbarous people are by me subdued?
Many ambitious, vain, and amorous thought
My unwish'd presence hath to nothing brought;
Now am I come to you, while yet your state
Is happy, ere you feel a harder fate. "
"On these you have no power," she then replied,
(Who had more worth than all the world beside,)
"And little over me; but there is one
Who will be deeply grieved when I am gone,
His happiness doth on my life depend,
I shall find freedom in a peaceful end. "
As one who glancing with a sudden eye
Some unexpected object doth espy;
Then looks again, and doth his own haste blame
So in a doubting pause, this cruel dame
A little stay'd, and said, "The rest I call
To mind, and know I have o'ercome them all:"
Then with less fierce aspect, she said, "Thou guide
Of this fair crew, hast not my strength assay'd,
Let her advise, who may command, prevent
Decrepit age, 'tis but a punishment;
From me this honour thou alone shalt have,
Without or fear or pain, to find thy grave. "
"As He shall please, who dwelleth in the heaven
And rules on earth, such portion must be given
To me, as others from thy hand receive,"
She answered then; afar we might perceive
Millions of dead heap'd on th' adjacent plain;
No verse nor prose may comprehend the slain
Did on Death's triumph wait, from India,
From Spain, and from Morocco, from Cathay,
And all the skirts of th' earth they gather'd were;
Who had most happy lived, attended there:
Popes, Emperors, nor Kings, no ensigns wore
Of their past height, but naked show'd and poor.
Where be their riches, where their precious gems,
Their mitres, sceptres, robes, and diadems?
O miserable men, whose hopes arise
From worldly joys, yet be there few so wise
As in those trifling follies not to trust;
And if they be deceived, in end 'tis just:
Ah!