And that glory and that shame alike, the gold 7. Now, the single little turret that remains By the caper overrooted, by the gourd Overscored, While the patching houseleek's head of blossom winks Through the chinks 8. Marks the basement whence a tower in ancient time Sprang sublime, And a burning ring all round, the chariots traced As they raced, And the monarch and his minions and his dames Viewed the games. 9. And I know, while thus the quiet-coloured eve To their folding, all our many-tinkling fleece And the slopes and rills in undistinguished gray That a girl with eager eyes and yellow hair In the turret, whence the charioteers caught soul For the goal, [dumb When the king looked, where she looks now, breathless, 'Till I come. 11. But he looked upon the city, every side, Far and wide, All the mountains topped with temples, all the glades' Colonnades, All the causeys, bridges, aqueducts, and then, All the men! 12. When I do come, she will speak not, she will stand, On my shoulder, give her eyes the first embrace Of my face, Ere we rush, ere we extinguish sight and speech 13. In one year they sent a million fighters forth And they built their gods a brazen pillar high As the sky, Yet reserved a thousand chariots in full force Gold, of course. 14. Oh heart! oh, blood that freezes, blood that burns! For whole centuries of folly, noise and sin! With their triumphs and their glories and the rest. A LOVERS' QUARREL. 1. Он, what a dawn of day! How the March sun feels like May! After last night's rain, And the South dries the hawthorn-spray. Only, my Love's away! I'd as lief that the blue were gray. 2. Runnels, which rillets swell, Must be dancing down the dell With a foamy head On the beryl bed Paven smooth as a hermit's cell; Each with a tale to tell, Could my Love but attend as well. 3. Dearest, three months ago! When we lived blocked-up with snow, When the wind would edge In and in his wedge, In, as far as the point could go- Where we loved each the other so! 4. Laughs with so little cause! We devised games out of straws. One another's face In the ash, as an artist draws; Free on each other's flaws, How we chattered like two church daws! 5. What's in the "Times? 99 -a scold He has taken a bride To his gruesome side, That's as fair as himself is bold: There they sit ermine-stoled, And she powders her hair with gold. 6. Fancy the Pampas sheen! Miles and miles of gold and green In a solid glow, |