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II.Thy hoofs, unwilling, climb the sphery vault;Thy red eye trembles with an angry glare,When the hounds follow, and in fierce assaultBay through the fringes of the lion's hair.The stars that once were mortal in their love,And by their love are made immortal now,Cluster like golden bees upon thy mane,When thou, possessed with Jove,Bore sweet Europa's garlands on thy browAnd stole her from the green Sicilian plain.
III.Type of the stubborn force that will not bendTo loftier art,—soul of defiant breathThat blindly stands and battles to the end,Nerving resistance with the throes of death,—Majestic Taurus! when thy wrathful eyeFlamed brightest, and thy hoofs a moment stayedTheir march at Night's meridian, I was born:But in the western sky,Like sweet Europa, Love's fair star delayed,To hang her garland on thy silver horn.
