XVI. HAIL, Zaragoza! If with unwet eye Blood flowed before thy sight without remorse; XVII. SAY, what is Honour?-'Tis the finest sense And guard the way of life from all offence Glory, and triumph. Yet with politic skill Are forfeited; but infamy doth kill. XVIII. THE martial courage of a day is vain, An empty noise of death the battle's roar, Or fortitude be wanting to sustain, Armies or kingdoms. We have heard a strain Austria a Daughter of her Throne hath sold! Murdered, like one ashore by shipwreck cast, XIX. BRAVE Schill! by death delivered, take thy flight A meteor wert thou crossing a dark night: Is Fortune's frail dependant; yet there lives In whose pure sight all virtue doth succeed. XX. CALL not the royal Swede unfortunate, Hence lives He, to his inner self endeared; And hence, wherever virtue is revered, He sits a more exalted Potentate, Throned in the hearts of men. Should Heaven ordain That this great Servant of a righteous cause Must still have sad or vexing thoughts to endure, Yet may a sympathising spirit pause, Admonished by these truths, and quench all pain In thankful joy and gratulation pure *. *See Note to Sonnet VII. Page 181. |