Hast thou no soul, that thou canst be unmoved
At glorious sports like these? Even now I see
Come forth the noble charioteers, arrayed
In red, white, green, and azure, like the sky,
The eye of beauty dazzled by their hue!
And now with eager hopes and proud desires
Exulting, lo! the youthful, daring band
Start to the race, and fiercely seize the reins!
Onward they rush; a thousand voices hail
The alternate victor as he speeds along;
Ten thousand eyes pursue the chariot flight,
And as they gaze, as many thousand souls
Swell in their bosoms and almost leap out.
Then comes the glorious moment when the goal
Is almost reached--they goad the foremost steeds
Lashing with all their might upon their flanks;
The golden chariot glitters in the course,
And swifter than the wind is borne along--
And now the victor, like a flash of light,
Bursts on the view, and hails the loud acclaim,
While lengthening shouts of triumph rend the air!
_Waldimar, a Tragedy. Act II., Scene I._