3.

Now the country does not even boast a tree,

As you see,

To distinguish slopes of verdure, certain rills
From the hills

Intersect and give a name to, (else they run
Into one)

4.

Where the domed and daring palace shot its spires
Up like fires

O'er the hundred-gated circuit of a wall

Bounding all,

Made of marble, men might narch on nor be prest, Twelve abreast.

5.

And such plenty and perfection, see, of grass

Never was!

Such a carpet as, this summer-time, o'erspreads
And embeds

Every vestige of the city, guessed alone,

Stock or stone

6.

Where a multitude of men breathed joy and woe

Long ago;

Lust of glory pricked their hearts up, dread of shame

Struck them tame;

And that glory and that shame alike, the gold
Bought and sold.

7.

Now, the single little turret that remains
On the plains,

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
Smiles to leave

To their folding, all our many-tinkling fleece
In such peace,

And the slopes and rills in undistinguished gray

Melt away

10.

That a girl with eager eyes and yellow hair

Waits me there

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,
Either hand

On my shoulder, give her eyes the first embrace

Of my face,

Ere we rush, ere we extinguish sight and speech
Each on each.

13.

In one year they sent a million fighters forth
South and north,

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! Earth's returns

For whole centuries of folly, noise and sin!

Shut them in,

With their triumphs and their glories and the rest. Love is best!

A LOVERS' QUARREL.

1.

Он, what a dawn of day!

How the March sun feels like May!
All is blue again

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,