BRIGHT rays of purple fire the sky, And gild the shivering stream, Beyond the western mist on high While the gay woodlands gleam. Hark! how the voice of hounds and horn Floats in the fragrant gale; Along the rustling thicket born, And down the shadowy vale. They pass; nor fancy's modest ear The shouting train pursues; No screams of bloody triumph chear The solitary muse. Ye, whose victorious arts beguile The sufferer of its breath, Who watch, with fierce unthinking smile, The languid throbs of death; Haste let your harmless captives bleed: Ye too must fall as they; Death, on a swift though noiseless steed, Pursues you as his prey. Nor yet prolong the victim's wo. In lingering terror driven: Kill, do not torture! mercy shew, And mercy hope from Heaven. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET TO MASTER GABRIELL HARVEY, DOCTOR OF LAWES by EDMUND SPENSER SAINT AGNES' EVE by ALFRED TENNYSON VERSES TO A FRIEND by BERNARD BARTON POLYHYMNIA: SONNET TO LADY FALKLAND UPON HER GOING TO INTO IRELAND by WILLIAM BASSE |