And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, food! And War, which for a moment was no more, Did glut himself again :-a meal was bought With blood, and each sate sullenly apart Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left; All earth was but one thought—and that was death Immediate and inglorious; and the pang Of famine fed upon all entrails-men 40 The meagre by the meagre were devour'd, But with a piteous and perpetual moan, Of an enormous city did survive, And they were enemies: they met beside Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things For an unholy usage; they raked up, And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath Blew for a little life, and made a flame Which was a mockery; then they lifted up Even of their mutual hideousness they died, 60 The populous and the powerful was a lump, 70 And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd They slept on the abyss without a surge- grave, The moon, their mistress, had expired before; The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air, 80 And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need Of aid from them-She was the Universe. 1816. Lord Byron. OPPORTUNITY THIS I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream :— Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. A craven hung along the battle's edge, And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steelThat blue blade that the king's son bears,- but this Blunt thing!" he snapt and flung it from his hand, And lowering crept away and left the field. bestead, And weaponless, and saw the broken sword, And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down, And saved a great cause that heroic day. 1887. Edward Rowland Sill. THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL PRELUDE TO PART FIRST OVER his keys the musing organist, First lets his fingers wander as they list, And builds a bridge from Dreamland for his lay; Then, as the touch of his loved instrument Gives hope and fervor, nearer draws his First guessed by faint auroral flushes sent Not only around our infancy Doth heaven with all its splendors lie; Over our manhood bend the skies; The great winds utter prophecies; With our faint hearts the mountain strives; ΙΟ Its arms outstretched, the druid wood Waits with its benedicite; And to our age's drowsy blood Still shouts the inspiring sea. Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us; The beggar is taxed for a corner to die in, The priest hath his fee who comes and shrives us, We bargain for the graves we lie in; At the Devil's booth are all things sold, 20 'T is only God may be had for the asking; 30 There is no price set on the lavish summer; And June may be had by the poorest comer. And what is so rare as a day in June? An instinct within it that reaches and And, groping blindly above it for light, 40 |