Page:The Poems of John Dyer (1903).djvu/47

With various fruitage? murmur not the brooks
Along the flow'ry vallies? they, content,
Feasted at Nature's hand, indelicate,
Blithe, in their easy taste, and only sought 440
To know their duties; that their only strife,
Their gen'rous strife, and greatly to perform.
They thro' all shapes of peril and of pain,
Intent on honour, dar'd in thickest death
To snatch the glorious deed. Nor Trebia quell'd, 445
Nor Thrasymene, nor Cannæ's bloody field,
Their dauntless courage: storming Hannibal
In vain the thunder of the battle roll'd;
The thunder of the battle they return'd
Back on his Punic shores, till Carthage fell, 450
And danger fled afar. The City gleam'd
With precious spoils: alas, prosperity!
Ah, baneful state! yet ebb'd not all their strength
In soft luxurious pleasures; proud desire
Of boundless sway, and feverish thirst of gold,455
Rouz'd them again to battle. Beauteous Greece,
Torn from her joys, in vain with languid arm
Half rais'd her rusty shield; nor could avail
The sword of Dacia, nor the Parthian dart,
Nor yet the car of that fam'd British chief 460
Which sev'n brave years beneath the doubtful wing
Of vict'ry dreadful roll'd its grinding wheels
Over the bloody war: the Roman arms
Triumph'd till Fame was silent of their foes.
And now the world unrivall'd they enjoy'd 465
In proud security: the crested helm,
The plated greave and corselet, hung unbrac'd;
Nor clank'd their arms, the spear and sounding shield,
But on the glitt'ring trophy to the wind.
Dissolv'd in ease and soft delights they lie, 470
Till ev'ry sun annoys, and ev'ry wind