Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/86

52 XLIV.

Enough of Battle's minions! let them play

Their game of lives, and barter breath for fame:

Fame that will scarce reanimate their clay,

Though thousands fall to deck some single name.

In sooth 'twere sad to thwart their noble aim

Who strike, blest hirelings! for their countiy's good,

And die, that living might have proved her shame;

Perished, perchance, in some domestic feud,

Or in a narrower sphere wild Rapine's path pursued.

XLV.

Full swiftly Harold wends his lonely way

Where proud Sevilla triumphs unsubdued:

Yet is she free? the Spoiler's wished-for prey!

Soon, soon shall Conquest's fiery foot intrude,

Blackening her lovely domes with traces rude.

Inevitable hour! 'Gainst fate to strive

Where Desolation plants her famished brood

Is vain, or Ilion, Tyre might yet survive,

And Virtue vanquish all, and Murder cease to thrive