Swift at the word the dreadful sisters flew, Where the nine portals of the drear abode Arise, and, seated on her ebon throne, The gloomy goddess reigns in dreadful pomp, The dog of darkness spreads his fangs, sets wide Beam'd from the glowing east. Now hell unfolds Is darken'd, and the conscious earth beneath Of Sture, they cease their flight, and lift their voice. c. He fed upon the lives of those who perished by violence. Their myriads. Helms on helms, and shields on shields, In long succession. Throng'd with glitt'ring spears The plain appears to move. As when the gale, When now rich Autumn's hand has ting'd the fields Sweeps o'er the rip'ning grain; now here now there Waves quick the yielding corn; here driven on heaps The creaking blades encounter, and behind A void appears, which soon the breeze supplies. Now tumult rises; now the sound is heard The clatt'ring armour; the fierce soldiers shout; Glowing with martial fury pants for battle. Gazing, and waiting his commanding voice. Before Cornubia's ranks Belinus moves, And every chief incites to noble deeds. Rouse all your strength, and waken all your fires. Their prowess more than human, this blest morn, By heav'n with each auspicious omen grac'd, Shall add a nobler conquest." Silent all Attend their bosoms glow with generous rage. : With equal ardour in refulgent arms Loëgria's heroes drest their manly limbs. There Ilus frown'd: there Galgacus appear'd, Portentous gleam'd: there great Assaracus Surveys with practis'd eye the marshall'd files. The monarch tow'rs, and from his glitt'ring car Shrinks from the glorious dangers of the war, And doubts to mingle where the battle burns? Hear, Jove, and Pallas! by this hand he dies. ye Now prove your might, and emulate your king." Sprung the brave chief, and rush'd against the foe. As the red meteor in the troubled air Appears, the dread forerunner of the storm; Such from his arms the dismal splendors glar'd. And as across the blue expanse of heav'n A star swift shooting darts its lengthen'd light; Such was his course, as, gathering strength to throw, The hero shook aloft his fatal spear. Now wing'd with death, he speeds the rapid dart, The point lies buried in Bleduno's breast. Prone on the ground the grasping warrior falls, 1 And grasps with strong convulsive pangs the dust. Cornubia mourns her slaughter'd chief. At once |