AND who is this that comes with awful pace, Red-handed like a slayer, and appears To glare the fiercer for my sudden fears? Gradivus, worshiped in the land of Thrace! The Strider, armed with battle-ax and mace, Before whose step the cornfields sprout with spears, And clouds for rain drop blood and women's tears, Till earth wears stains that heaven may scarce efface. 'Tis he that battled with a mighty hand And led the hosts, when in their courses so The stars fought Sisera; he bears the brand That levels noble cities, and his blow Doth make a shudder run from land to land. Thank God, his hour is passing; let him go! |