The Sword
L ET frantic Sibyls augur hostile skill,
And tell of millions this bright Sword shall kill;
With voice prophetic bid the Muse prepare
Her incens'd praise — for phantoms in the air!
The Poplar Sibyl other zeal inspires,
Averse to War and its avenging fires,
Averse to Warriors and their desperate feats,
She with a milder glow the trophy greets;
Yet, with address, and well-divining art,
Adapts her language to the Hero's heart,
Then may her leaves by no rude winds be tost,
Nor, like her Sisters, be for ever lost.
And tell of millions this bright Sword shall kill;
With voice prophetic bid the Muse prepare
Her incens'd praise — for phantoms in the air!
The Poplar Sibyl other zeal inspires,
Averse to War and its avenging fires,
Averse to Warriors and their desperate feats,
She with a milder glow the trophy greets;
Yet, with address, and well-divining art,
Adapts her language to the Hero's heart,
Then may her leaves by no rude winds be tost,
Nor, like her Sisters, be for ever lost.
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