"Then in the minds of our men arose a terrible yearningThat which was lost to avenge, and that which remain'd to defend still.All of them seized upon arms, lured on by the fugitives' hurry,By their pale faces, and by their shy, uncertain demeanour.There was heard the sound of alarm-bells unceasingly ringing,And the approach of danger restrain'd not their violent fury.Soon into weapons were turn'd the implements peaceful of tillage,And with dripping blood the scythe and the pitchfork were cover'd.Every foeman without distinction was ruthlessly slaughter'd,Fury was ev'rywhere raging, and artful, cowardly weakness.May I never again see men in such wretched confusion!Even the raging wild beast is a better object to gaze on.Ne'er let them speak of freedom, as if themselves they could govern!All the evil which Law has driven farback in the cornerSeems to escape, as soon as the fetters which bound it are loosen'd."
Turn to profit thy young days,
WHEN in the dance of the Nymphs, in the moonlight so holy assembled,
Yet will a deeper one, friend, cover thy bones at the last.Joyously plough'd and sow'd! Here food all living is budding,
Sooner thus will good unfold;Children young and children oldGladly hear thy numbers flow.
Oh, be faithful, maiden dear!Fare thee well! thy lover's ship
Had, in its presence, felt a kindling glow;Sadness, reproach, repentance, weight of care,Hang heavy on it in the sultry air.
Strains of mortality
He now in strength of limb
Oh, wherefore not stay?
To his goal, e'en when thus press'd, still faithful.But from out the damp grey distance rising,Softly now the storm proclaims its advent,Presseth down each bird upon the waters,Presseth down the throbbing hearts of mortals.And it cometh. At its stubborn fury,Wisely ev'ry sail the seaman striketh;With the anguish-laden ball are sportingWind and water.