Page:Lyra heroica.djvu/118

 94 BLAKE

The fight was off the Frenchman's land, We forced them back upon their strand, For we fought till not a stick could stand

Of the gallant Arethusa. And now we've driven the foe ashore Never to fight with Britons more,

Let each fill his glass

To his fav'rite lass;

A health to our captain and officers true, And all that belong to the jovial crew

On board of the Arethusa.

Prince Hoare.

��XLI

THE BEAUTY OF TERROR

TIGER, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire ?

And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? and what dread feet?

�� �