A foe renown'd in arms the brave require;
That high-plumed foe, renown'd for martial fire,
Before thy gates his shining spear displays,
Whilst thou wouldst fondly dare the watery maze,
Enfeebled leave thy native land behind,
On shores unknown a foe unknown to find.
Oh! madness of ambition! thus to dare
Dangers so fruitless, so remote a war!
That fame's vain flattery may thy name adorn,
And thy proud titles on her flag be borne:
Thee, Lord of Persia, thee, of India lord,
O'er Ethiopia's vast, and Araby adored!
Curst be the man who first on floating wood,
Forsook the beach, and braved the treacherous flood!
Oh! never, never may the sacred Nine,
To crown his brows, the hallowed wreath entwine;
Nor may his name to future times resound;
Oblivion be his meed, and hell profound!
Curst be the wretch, the fire of heaven who stole,
And with ambition first debauch'd the soul!
What woes, Prometheus, walk the frighten'd earth!
To what dread slaughter has thy pride given birth!
On proud ambition's pleasing gales upborne,
One boasts to guide the chariot of the morn:[1]
- ↑ One boasts to guide the chariot of the morn, &c. Alluding to the fables of Phacton and Icarus.
