"Soon, oh soon," cried the impatient shepherd, "may the wrath of
heaven be overpast! Extend, all-merciful divinity, thy benign influence
to the shores of Arvon! Once more may the rustling of the shower refresh
our longing ears! Once more may our eyes be gladdened with the pearly,
orient dew! May the fields be clothed afresh in cheerful green! May the
flowers enamel the verdant mead! May the brooks again brawl along their
pebbly bed! And may man and beast rejoice together!" Ah, short-sighted,
unapprehensive shepherd! thou dost not know the misfortune that is
reserved for thyself; thou dost not know, that thou shalt not live to
behold those smiling scenes which thy imagination forestallest; thou
dost not see the dart of immature and relentless death that is suspended
over thee. Think, O ye swains, what was the universal astonishment and
pity, when the awful voice of the Druid proclaimed the decree of heaven!
Terror sat upon every other countenance, tears started into every other
eye; but the mien of Arthur was placid and serene. He came forward from
the throng; his eyes glistened with the fire of patriotism. "Hear me, my
countrymen," cried he, "for you I am willing to die. What is my
insignificant life, when weighed against the happiness of Arvon? Be
grateful to the Gods, that, for so poor a boon, they are willing to
spread wide the hand of bounty, and to exhaust upon your favoured heads
the horn of plenty.
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