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Title: Feigned Courage
Author: Charles Lamb [
More Titles by Lamb]
Horatio, of ideal courage vain,
Was flourishing in air his father's cane,
And, as the fumes of valour swell'd his pate,
Now thought himself _this_ Hero, and now _that_:
"And now," he cried, "I will Achilles be;
My sword I brandish; see, the Trojans flee.
Now I'll be Hector, when his angry blade
A lane through heaps of slaughter'd Grecians made!
And now by deeds still braver I'll evince,
I am no less than Edward the Black Prince.--
Give way, ye coward French:--" as thus he spoke,
And aim'd in fancy a sufficient stroke
To fix the fate of Cressy or Poictiers;
(The Muse relates the Hero's fate with tears)
He struck his milk-white hand against a nail,
Sees his own blood, and feels his courage fail.
Ah! where is now that boasted valour flown,
That in the tented field so late was shown!
Achilles weeps, Great Hector hangs the head,
And the Black Prince goes whimpering to bed.
[The end]
Charles Lamb's poem: Feigned Courage
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