THE
DEATH
OF
NICOU
,
AN
AFRICAN
ECLOGUE
.
ON
Tiber's
banks
,
Tiber
,
whose
waters
glide
In
slow
meanders
down
to
Gaigra's
side
;
And
circling
all
the
horrid
mountain
round
,
Rushes
impetuous
to
the
deep
profound
;
Rolls
o'er
the
ragged
rocks
with
hideous
yell
;
Collects
its
waves
beneath
the
earth's
vast
shell
:
There
for
a
while
in
loud
confusion
hurl'd
,
It
crumbles
mountains
down
and
shakes
the
world
.
Till
borne
upon
the
pinions
of
the
air
,
Through
the
rent
earth
the
bursting
waves
appear
;
Fiercely
propell'd
the
whiten'd
billows
rise
,
Break
from
the
cavern
and
ascend
the
skies
:
Then
lost
and
conquer'd
by
superior
force
,
Through
hot
Arabia
holds
its
rapid
course
.
On
Tiber's
banks
where
scarlet
jass'mines
bloom
,
And
purple
aloes
shed
a
rich
perfume
:
Where
,
when
the
sun
is
melting
in
his
heat
,
The
reeking
tygers
find
a
cool
retreat
;
Bask
in
the
sedges
,
lose
the
sultry
beam
,
And
wanton
with
their
shadows
in
the
stream
,
On
Tiber's
banks
,
by
sacred
priests
rever'd
,
Where
in
the
days
of
old
a
god
appear'd
:
'Twas
in
the
dead
of
night
,
at
Chalma's
feast
,
The
tribe
of
Alra
slept
around
the
priest
.
He
spoke
;
as
evening
thunders
bursting
near
,
His
horrid
accents
broke
upon
the
ear
;
Attend
,
Alraddas
,
with
your
sacred
priest
!
This
day
the
sun
is
rising
in
the
east
;
The
sun
,
which
shall
illumine
all
the
earth
,
Now
,
now
isrising
,
in
a
mortal
birth
.
He
vanish'd
like
a
vapour
of
the
night
,
And
sunk
away
in
a
faint
blaze
of
light
.
Swift
from
the
branches
of
the
holy
oak
,
Horror
,
confusion
,
fear
,
and
torment
broke
:
And
still
when
Midnight
trims
her
mazy
lamp
,
They
take
their
way
thro'
Tiber's
wat'ry
swamp
.
On
Tiber's
banks
,
close
rank'd
,
a
warring
train
,
Stretch'd
to
the
distant
edge
of
Galca's
plain
:
So
when
arriv'd
at
Gaigra's
highest
steep
,
We
view
the
wide
expansion
of
the
deep
;
See
in
the
gilding
of
her
wat'ry
robe
,
The
quick
declension
of
the
circling
globe
;
From
the
blue
sea
a
chain
of
mountains
rise
,
Blended
at
once
with
water
and
with
skes
:
Beyond
our
sight
in
vast
extension
curl'd
,
The
check
of
waves
,
the
guardians
of
the
world
.
Strong
were
the
warriors
,
as
the
ghost
of
Cawn
,
Who
threw
the
Hill-of-archers
,
to
the
lawn
:
When
the
soft
earth
at
his
appearance
fled
;
And
rising
billows
play'd
around
his
head
:
When
a
strong
tempest
rising
from
the
main
,
Dash'd
the
full
clouds
,
unbroken
on
the
plain
.
Nicou
,
immortal
in
the
sacred
song
,
Held
the
red
sword
of
war
,
and
led
the
strong
;
From
his
own
tribe
the
sable
warriors
came
,
Well
try'd
in
battle
,
and
well
known
in
fame
.
Nicou
,
descended
from
the
god
of
war
,
Who
liv'd
coeval
with
the
morning
star
:
Narada
was
his
name
;
who
cannot
tell
,
How
all
the
world
thro'
great
Narada
fell
!
Vichon
,
the
god
who
rul'd
above
the
skies
,
Look'd
on
Narada
,
but
with
envious
eyes
:
The
warrior
dar'd
him
,
ridicul'd
his
might
,
Bent
his
white
bow
,
and
summon'd
him
to
fight
.
Vichon
,
disdainful
,
bade
his
lightnings
fly
,
And
scatter'd
burning
arrows
in
the
sky
;
Threw
down
a
star
the
armour
of
his
feet
,
To
burn
the
air
with
supernat'ral
heat
;
Bid
a
loud
tempest
roar
beneath
the
ground
;
Lifted
the
sea
,
and
all
the
earth
was
drown'd
.
Narada
still
escap'd
;
a
sacred
tree
Lifted
him
up
,
and
bore
him
thro'
the
sea
.
The
waters
still
ascending
fierce
and
high
,
He
tower'd
into
the
chambers
of
the
sky
:
There
Vichon
sat
;
his
armour
on
his
bed
,
He
thought
Narada
with
the
mighty
dead
.
Before
his
seat
the
heavenly
warrior
stands
,
The
lightning
quiv'ring
in
his
yellow
hands
.
The
god
astonish'd
dropt
;
hurl'd
from
the
shore
,
He
drop'd
to
torments
,
and
to
rise
no
more
.
Head-long
he
falls
;
'tis
his
own
arms
compel
,
Condemn'd
in
ever-burning
fires
to
dwell
.
From
this
Narada
,
mighty
Nicou
sprung
;
The
mighty
Nicou
,
furious
,
wild
and
young
.
Who
led
th'em
battled
archers
to
the
field
,
And
bore
a
thunderbolt
upon
his
shield
:
That
shield
his
glorious
father
died
to
gain
,
When
the
white
warriors
fled
along
the
plain
:
When
the
full
sails
could
not
provoke
the
flood
,
Till
Nicou
came
,
and
swell'd
the
seas
with
blood
.
Slow
at
the
end
of
his
robust
array
,
The
mighty
warrior
pensive
took
his
way
:
Against
the
son
of
Nair
,
the
young
Rorest
,
Once
the
companion
of
his
youthful
breast
.
Strong
were
the
passions
of
the
son
of
Nair
,
Strong
,
as
the
tempest
of
the
evening
air
.
Insatiate
in
desire
;
fierce
as
the
boar
;
Firm
in
resolve
as
Cannie's
rocky
shore
.
Long
had
the
gods
endeavour'd
to
destroy
,
All
Nicou's
friendship
,
happiness
,
and
joy
:
They
sought
in
vain
,
'till
Vicat
,
Vichon's
son
,
Never
in
feats
of
wickedness
outdone
,
Saw
Nica
,
sister
to
the
mountain
king
,
Drest
beautiful
,
with
all
the
flowers
of
spring
:
He
saw
and
scatter'd
poison
in
her
eyes
;
From
limb
to
limb
,
in
varied
forms
he
flies
;
Dwelt
on
her
crimson
lip
,
and
added
grace
To
every
glossy
feature
of
her
face
.
Rorest
was
fir'd
with
passion
at
the
sight
,
Friendship
and
honour
,
sunk
to
Vicat's
right
:
He
saw
,
he
lov'd
,
and
burning
with
desire
,
Bore
the
soft
maid
from
brother
,
sister
,
sire
.
Pining
with
sorrow
,
Nica
faded
,
died
,
Like
a
fair
aloe
in
its
morning
pride
.
This
brought
the
warrior
to
the
bloody
mead
,
And
sent
to
young
Rorest
the
threat'ning
reed
.
He
drew
his
army
forth
:
Oh
!
Need
I
tell
!
That
Nicou
conquer'd
,
and
the
lover
fell
:
His
breathless
army
mantled
all
the
plain
;
And
Death
sat
smiling
on
the
heaps
of
slain
.
The
battle
ended
,
with
his
reeking
dart
,
The
pensive
Nicou
pierc'd
his
beating
heart
:
And
to
his
mourning
valiant
warriors
cry'd
,
I
,
and
my
sister's
ghost
are
satisfy'd
.
Brooke-Street
,
June
12
.