FLY, son of Banquo! Fleance, fly! Leave thy guilty sire to die. O'er the heath the stripling fled, The wild storm howling round his head. Fear mightier through the shades of night Urged his feet, and winged his flight; And still he heard his father cry, Fly, son of Banquo! Fleance, fly! Fly, son of Banquo! Fleance, fly! Leave thy guilty sire to die. On every blast was heard the moan, The anguished shriek, the death-fraught groan; Loathly night-hags join the yell, And see—the midnight rites of hell. Forms of magic! spare my life! Shield me from the murderer's knife! Before me dim in lurid light Float the phantoms of the night— Behind I hear my father cry, Fly, son of Banquo—Fleance, fly! Parent of the sceptred race, Boldly tread the circled space: Boldly, Fleance, venture near— Sire of monarchs—spurn at fear. Sisters, with prophetic breath, Pour we now the dirge of death! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS DAY (2) by JOHN BYROM SONGS WITH PRELUDES: REGRET by JEAN INGELOW TO MY MERE ENGLISH CENSURER by BEN JONSON ON THE DEATH OF A CAT by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE CENTAURS by JAMES STEPHENS RONDEL by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE DARK FOREST by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): JASON'S SOWING AND REAPING by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS |