Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/205

Rh Struggling in vain, a captive to the crew.

What can his friend 'gainst thronging numbers dare?

Ah! must he rush, his comrade's fate to share?

What force, what aid, what stratagem essay,

Back to redeem the Latian spoiler's prey?

His life a votive ransom nobly give,

Or die with him, for whom he wish'd to live?

Poising with strength his lifted lance on high,

On Luna's orb he cast his frenzied eye:—

"Goddess serene, transcending every star!

Queen of the sky, whose beams are seen afar!

By night Heaven owns thy sway, by day the grove,

When, as chaste Dian, here thou deign'st to rove;

If e'er myself, or Sire, have sought to grace

Thine altars, with the produce of the chase,

Speed, speed my dart to pierce yon vaunting crowd,

To free my friend, and scatter far the proud."

Thus having said, the hissing dart he flung;

Through parted shades the hurtling weapon sung;

The thirsty point in Sulmo's entrails lay,

Transfix'd his heart, and stretch'd him on the clay:

He sobs, he dies,—the troop in wild amaze,

Unconscious whence the death, with horror gaze;

While pale they stare, thro' Tagus' temples riven,

A second shaft, with equal force is driven:

Fierce Volscens rolls around his lowering eyes;