But with a mien of haughty grief,
That seeks not e’en from heaven relief.
He rends his robes—he sternly speaks—
Yet tears are on the warrior’s checks:—
“Father! not thus the wounds may close
Inflicted by eternal foes.
Deem’st thou thy mandate can efface
The dread volcano’s burning trace?
Or bid the earthquake’s ravaged scene
Be smiling as it once hath been?