XXI.

XXI.

His long-tried friend had not o’er past the bound, Which mark’d the limits of the fatal ground; For when he saw the sad, untimely end Which seem’d to wait his dearer half, his friend, 340 Beneath a weight of more than mortal care, He stood transfix’d in motionless despair; His falt’ring tongue, with agony of wo, Cleav’d to his mouth! his blood forgot to flow. The glorious leader saw his mighty grief, And, pitying, strove to give his friend relief: The stern contempt of death, the warrior’s pride, No more his feelings or his judgment guide; To gentlest passions meltingly resign’d Each harsh emotion of his mighty mind: 350 Soft beam’d his lucid eye, the kindling flame Melted to love, before a brother’s name. With soften’d voice, and pitying looks, began The parting accents of the godlike man.