XXV.

Alcides’ arm--the eye that Python slew, The limbs and shoulder of the Delian God! Now ’neath the breach that form triumphant view, Now see it stretched supine upon the sod! Ay, instant struck, as strikes Heaven’s fire the rod That points from loftiest pinnacle. No dirge Shall wail that fall, no cypress o’er it nod. ’Tis War’s repast! Their course the stormers urge, And o’er the Hero’s corse go sweeping like a surge!