"Fill high the sparkling bowl,[11] The rich repast prepare; Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast. Close by the regal chair Fell Thirst and Famine scowl A baleful smile upon the baffled guest. Heard ye the din of battle bray,[12] Lance to lance and horse to horse? Long years of havoc urge their destined course, And through the kindred squadrons mow their way; Ye Towers of Julius![13] London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed, Revere his consort's[14] faith, his father's[15] fame, And spare the meek usurper's[16] holy head. Above, below, the Rose of snow,[17] Twined with her blushing foe, we spread; The bristled Boar[18] in infant gore Wallows beneath the thorny shade; Now, Brothers! bending o'er the accursed loom, Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. III.--I. "Edward, lo! to sudden fate (Weave we the woof; the thread is spun:) Half of thy heart[19] we consecrate; (The web is wove; the work is done.") 'Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn, In yon bright track, that fires the western skies, They melt, they vanish from my eyes. But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height, Descending slow, their glittering skirts unroll! Visions of glory! spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages crowd not on my soul! No more our long-lost Arthur[20] we bewail: All hail, ye genuine Kings![21] Britannia's issue, hail! III.--2. 'Girt with many a baron bold, Sublime their starry fronts they rear; And gorgeous dames and statesmen old In bearded majesty appear; In the midst a form divine, Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line, Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,[22] Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace. What strings symphonious tremble in the air! What strains of vocal transport round her play! Hear from the grave, great Taliessin,[23] hear! They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. Bright Rapture calls, and, soaring as she sings, Waves in the eye of Heaven her many-colour'd wings. III.--3.