Page:Poems - Sayers (1792).djvu/57
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[ 49 ]
Scarce heeds your salutation: child of sorrow
The soothing voice of flattery passes by me,
Like feeble gales which fan a warring host,
Unnotic'd.—Is your chief return'd?
The soothing voice of flattery passes by me,
Like feeble gales which fan a warring host,
Unnotic'd.—Is your chief return'd?
CHORUS.
As yet
No messenger of victory has reach'd us.
No messenger of victory has reach'd us.
MOINA.
To slay, to conquer, these are Harold's pleasures,
To stain his dark blue steel with human gore;
Cannot the glad repast, the song of bards,
The vigor-giving chace, the solemn council,
Withdraw the savage hero from the battle?
No—these are vain.—To shed the blood of thousands,
To strew the reeking plain with sons and brothers,
To stain his dark blue steel with human gore;
Cannot the glad repast, the song of bards,
The vigor-giving chace, the solemn council,
Withdraw the savage hero from the battle?
No—these are vain.—To shed the blood of thousands,
To strew the reeking plain with sons and brothers,
To