Fly, son of Banquo! Fleance, fly! <br />Leave thy guilty sire to die. <br />O'er the heath the stripling fled, <br />The wild storm howling round his head. <br />Fear mightier thro' the shades of night <br />Urged his feet, and wing'd his flight; <br />And still he heard his father cry <br />Fly, son of Banquo! Fleance, fly. <br /> <br />Fly, son of Banquo! Fleance, fly <br />Leave thy guilty sire to die. <br />On every blast was heard the moan <br />The anguish'd shriek, the death-fraught groan; <br />Loathly night-hags join the yell <br />And see--the midnight rites of Hell. <br /> <br />Forms of magic! spare my life! <br />Shield me from the murderer's knife! <br />Before me dim in lurid light <br />Float the phantoms of the night-- <br />Behind I hear my Father cry, <br />Fly, son of Banquo--Fleance, fly! <br /> <br />Parent of the sceptred race, <br />Fearless tread the circled space: <br />Fearless Fleance venture near-- <br />Sire of monarchs--spurn at fear. <br /> <br />Sisters with prophetic breath <br />Pour we now the dirge of Death!<br /><br />Robert Southey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-race-of-banquo/
