Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE RACE OF BANQUO, by ROBERT SOUTHEY



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THE RACE OF BANQUO, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Fly, son of banquo! Fleance, fly
Last Line: Pour we now the dirge of death!
Subject(s): Ancestry & Ancestors; Death; Legacies; Prophecy & Prophets; Singing & Singers; Dead, The


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!





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