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"The sons of the earth, the proud giants of old,
Have fled from their darksome abodes;
And, such is the news that in heaven is told,
They are marching to war with their gods.
A council was held in the chamber of Jove,
And this was their final decree;
That Wolfe should be call’d to the army above,
And the charge was entrusted to me.
"To the plains of Quebee with the orders I flew;
Wolfe beg'd for a moment’s delay;
He cry’d, ‘Oh; forbear, let me victory hear,
And then the command I’ll obey.’
With a dark’ning film’d encompass’d his eyes,
And bore him away in an urn;
Lest the fondness he bore to his own native shore,
Might tempt him again to return.”
FINIS.
