IV.

In vain, not silenced by the eye of Death, Thou call'st the loyal with thy menaced breath:-- They come not; they are few, and, overawed, Must acquiesce, while sterner hearts applaud. In vain thou dost demand the cause: a curse Is all the answer, with the threat of worse. 70 Full in thine eyes is waved the glittering blade, Close to thy throat the pointed bayonet laid. The levelled muskets circle round thy breast In hands as steeled to do the deadly rest. Thou dar'st them to their worst, exclaiming--"Fire!" But they who pitied not could yet admire; Some lurking remnant of their former awe Restrained them longer than their broken law; They would not dip their souls at once in blood, But left thee to the mercies of the flood.[355] 80