Page:Ode on the Departing Year - Coleridge (1796).djvu/12

 "Groans not her Chariot o'er its onward way? Fly, mailed Monarch, fly! Stunn'd by Death's "twice mortal" mace No more on lurid face Th' insatiate Hag shall glote with drunken eye! Manes of th' unnumbered Slain! Ye that gasp'd on  plain! Ye that erst at  tower, When human Ruin chok'd the streams, Fell in Conquest's glutted hour Mid Women's shrieks and Infant's screams; Whose shrieks, whose screams were vain to stir Loud-laughing, red-eyed Massacre! Spirits of th' uncoffin'd Slain, Sudden blasts of Triumph swelling Oft at night, in misty train Rush around her narrow Dwelling! Th' exterminating Fiend is fled— (Foul her Life and dark her Doom!) Mighty Army of the Dead, Dance, like Death-fires, round her Tomb! Then with prophetic song relate Each some scepter'd Murderer's fate!