The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, with memoir of the author.

DON RODERICK. 399
And by destruction bids its fame endure,
Hath not a source more sullen, stagnant, and impure.'
XL.
Before that Leader strode a shadowy Form;
Her limbs like mist, her torch like meteor
show'd,
With which she beckon'd him through fight and
storm,
And all he crush'd that cross'd his desperate
road,
Nor thought, nor fear'd, nor look'd on what he
trode.
Realms could not glut his pride, blood could
not slake,
So oft as e'er she shook her torch abroad
It was AMBITION bade her terrors wake,
Nor deign'd she, as of yore, a milder form to take.
XLI.
No longer now she spurn'd at mean revenge,
Or staid her hand for conquer'd foeman's moan;
1 [" We are as ready as any of our countrymen can be, to
designate Bonaparte's invasion of Spain by its proper epithets;
but we must decline to join in the author's declamation
against the low birth of the invader; and we cannot help
reminding Mr. Scott that such a topic of censure is unworthy
of him, both as a poet and as a Briton."-Monthly Review.
"The picture of Bonaparte, considering the difficulty of all
contemporary delineations, is not ill executed.''-Edinburgh
Beviewv.]