At Lake Thrasymenus

Poems by Joanna Baillie

FIRST of invaders, Hannibal, thy name
Is proud as chief may claim, or man bestow,
For thy historian is the conquer'd foe,
And nature's works thy monuments of fame.
The beautiful, the grand, thy deeds proclaim;
The mountain, lake, where Alps are clad in snow,
Where Thrasymenus' hill-girt waters flow,
Thine honours are like theirs for aye the same.
But what was thy reward? care, labour, war,
Defeat, and exile, a self-hasten'd end--
Enough;--for not confin'd to life, but far
Beyond, can minds like thine their vision send,
And see, tho' none beside, the ascending star
Of glory, which their memories shall attend.

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