134

Yon gloomy ruffian, gash'd and gored,

Was he, whose fatal skill First beat the plough-share to a sword,

And taught the art to kill.

Behind liim skulks a shade, bereft

Of fondly-worshipp'd Fame ; He built the Pyramids, — but left

No stone to tell his name.

Wlio is the chief, with visage dark

As tempests when they roar ? — The first who push'd his daring bark

Beyond the timid shore.

Through storms of death and seas of graves

He steer'd with stedfast eye ; His path was on the desert waves,

His compass in the sky.

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