XXV. “Alcides’ arm--the eye that Python slew, The limbs and shoulder of the Delian God!”
Nec quòd laudamus formam, tàm turpe putâris; Laudamus magnas hâc quoque parte Deas. Ovid. _Fast._ vi. 807.
XXVI. “And Morton now, and Nial by his side, In peril’s front the impetuous stormers lead,” &c.
Φευγόντων σὺν νηυσὶ φίλην ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν· Νῶϊ δ’ ἐγὼ Σθένελός τε μαχησόμεθ’, εἰσόκε τέκμωρ Ἰλίου εὕρωμεν. Hom. _Il._ ix. 47.
“Let them fly with their ships, to their dear native country; but we--Sthenelus and I--will fight till we find the end of Ilion!” Cæsar addresses his soldiers in language very nearly similar:--“Quòd si præterea nemo sequatur, tamen se cum solâ decimâ legione iturum, de quâ non dubitaret.”--_De Bella Gallico_, lib. i. §. 40.
XXXI. “Not death at every footstep can appal.”
Per damna, per cædes, ab ipso Ducit opes animumque ferro. Non ... Monstrumve summisere Colchi Majus, Echioniæve Thebæ. Horat. _Carm._ iv. 4.
XXXII. “Like mariner that dashed on stormy beach,” &c.
Naufragum ut ejectum spumantibus æquoris undis. Catul. lxvi.
“As snorts the wild bull Whom the banderils pierce.”
E qual táuro ferito il suo dolore Versó mugghiando e suspirando fuore. Tasso, _Ger. Lib._ iv. 1.
XXXIV. “Thus swarm i’ the summer ray o’er parchéd ground Unnumbered emmets toiling onward straight.”
This image will not be condemned as vulgar by those who are familiar with Homer; and it is further justified by the use of one of our most elegant poets, Thomson, who commences his _Castle of Indolence_ thus:
O mortal man, who livest here by toil, Do not complain of this thy hard estate; That like an emmet thou must ever moil, Is a sad sentence of an ancient date.
XXXVI. “With blood-red arms see Carnage, screaming hag.”
Todo es muerte y horror: vense hacinados En torno suyo cuerpos espirantes, Cadáveres y miembros destroncados. Campo-redondo. _Las Armas de Aragon en Oriente._
Upon the Chofre stood the dauntless Graham, And marked the slaughter with determined eye, Sad yet unshrinking--poured then forth of flame A torrent hissing red athwart the sky. Close o’er the stormers’ heads the missiles fly, The stone-ribbed curtain into fragments hurled-- Full fifty cannon streaming death on high. Unmoved they stand--no flag of fear unfurled-- A scene unmatched before since dawning of the world!