XII.

It is resolved--they march--consenting Night Guides with her star their dim and torchless flight; Already they perceive its tranquil beam Sleep on the surface of the barrier stream; Already they descry--Is yon the bank? Away! 'tis lined with many a hostile rank. 970 Return or fly!--What glitters in the rear? 'Tis Otho's banner--the pursuer's spear! Are those the shepherds' fires upon the height? Alas! they blaze too widely for the flight: Cut off from hope, and compassed in the toil, Less blood perchance hath bought a richer spoil!