rom the sons of murther,
The hares drag their tired limbs no further.
But, lo! the western wind erelong
Was loud, and roared the woods among:
From rustling leaves, and crashing boughs,
The sound of woe and war arose.
The hares, distracted, scour the grove,
As terror and amazement drove;
But danger, wheresoe'er they fled,
Still seemed impending o'er their head.
Now crowded in a grotto's gloom,
All hope extinct, they wait their doom:
Dire was the silence, till, at length,
Even from despair deriving strength,
With bloody eye, and furious look,
A daring youth arose, and spoke.
"O wretched race, the scorn of Fate,
"Whom ills of every sort await!
"O, cursed with keenest sense to feel
"The sharpest sting of every ill!
"Say ye, who, fraught with mighty scheme,
"Of liberty and vengeance dream,
"What now remains? To what recess
"Shall we our weary steps address,
"Since Fate is evermore pursuing
"All ways and means to work our ruin?
"Are we alone, of all beneath,
"Condemned to misery worse than death!
"Must we, with fruitless labour, strive,
"In misery worse than death to live!
"No. Be the smaller ill our choice:
"So dictates Nature's powerful voice.
"Death's pang will in a moment cease;
"And then, All hail, eternal peace!"
Thus while he spoke, his words impart
The dire resolve to every heart.
A distant lake in prospect lay,
That, glittering in the solar ray,
Gleamed through the dusky trees, and shot
A trembling light along the grot.
Thither with one consent they bend,
Their sorrows with their lives to end;
While each, in thought, already hears
The water hissing in his ears,
Fast by the margin of the lake,
Concealed within a thorny brake,
A linnet sate, whose careless lay
Amused the solitary day.
Careless he sung, for on his breast
Sorrow no lasting trace impressed;
When suddenly he heard a sound
Of swift feet traversing the ground.
Quick to the neighbouring tree he flies,
Thence, trembling, casts around his eyes;
No foe appeared, his fears were vain;
Pleased, he renews the sprightly strain.
The hares, whose noise had caused his fright,
Saw, with surprise, the linnet's flight.
Is there on earth a wretch, they said,
Whom our approach can strike with dread?
An inst