Ralph Waldo Emerson, comp. (1803–1882). Parnassus: An Anthology of Poetry. 1880.
BoadiceaWilliam Cowper (17311800)
W
Bleeding from the Roman rods,
Sought, with an indignant mien,
Counsel of her country’s gods,
Sat the Druid, hoary chief;
Every burning word he spoke
Full of rage and full of grief.
Weep upon thy matchless wrongs,
’Tis because resentment ties
All the terrors of our tongues.
In the blood that she has spilt,—
Perish, hopeless and abhorred,
Deep in ruin as in guilt.
Tramples on a thousand states;
Soon her pride shall kiss the ground:
Hark! the Gaul is at her gates!
Heedless of a soldier’s name;
Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize,
Harmony the path to fame.
From the forests of our land,
Armed with thunder, clad with wings,
Shall a wider world command.
Thy posterity shall sway;
Where his eagles never flew,
None invincible as they.”
Pregnant with celestial fire,
Bending as he swept the chords
Of his sweet but awful lyre.
Felt them in her bosom glow:
Rushed to battle, fought, and died;
Dying, hurled them at the foe.
Heaven awards the vengeance due;
Empire is on us bestowed,
Shame and ruin wait for you.