. The palace beautiful : and other poems . relld hero blush for shame ; Down through the snowy temple of the soul I struck the glittring blade, and quenchd the flame Of a young life, that all the brightness stole From my own martyrd heart, as the red drops did roll I They calld me madman for it, fetterd me,And shut me in a prison—where I standTo bear the bitter mockings of the live a by-word for a darkend laud I 122 TEE MADMAN. Virginius slew his child witli his own hand,To save her from a tyrant; I did slayMy bride to save her from myself! How grandThe deed ! Yet worlds their lasting
. The palace beautiful : and other poems . relld hero blush for shame ; Down through the snowy temple of the soul I struck the glittring blade, and quenchd the flame Of a young life, that all the brightness stole From my own martyrd heart, as the red drops did roll I They calld me madman for it, fetterd me,And shut me in a prison—where I standTo bear the bitter mockings of the live a by-word for a darkend laud I 122 TEE MADMAN. Virginius slew his child witli his own hand,To save her from a tyrant; I did slayMy bride to save her from myself! How grandThe deed ! Yet worlds their lasting homage payUnto the Roman hero—hut Im mad, they say I The madman paused, and turnd away his face— As though he would not have a stranger know That he could weep. Then, with the haughty grace Of one to empire bom, he bade me go Forth from his royal presence! Bowing low, I left him in his solitary den To weep, and rave, and live, and die, as though He to the world unknown had ever been. And, being cursd by God, was doubly cursd by men. THE DEATH OF THE ROSES. TTTHO shall tell the roses now Where their missing loves are lying,Buried under softest snows, By the sweetest torture dying,—Dying, like the mornings rayLapt and lost in perfect day ? Dainty Zephyr, cherishd oftBy the flowrs to their undoing. Have you found the Roses grave Here, or there, in all your wooing,— Wooing wide and wooing free Constant to Inconstancy ? Brief the tale the Zephyr tells,How the pair he half-discoverV! 124 TEE DEATH OF THE ROSES. Lurking neatli a virgins veil, As about the place lie hoverd,—HoverM, till in orange spraysQuick he lost them from his gaze. Orange Blossoms, frail as of all who wear the kirtle, Know ye if the Roses lost Kissed the Cypress, or the Myrtle ? Myrtle, ask the Cypress, thou. Where the Roses died, and how ? This the tale the blossoms tell,Whispring one unto the other, Softly, softly breathing low As they would the secret smother,— Smother from the blue-bel
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1865
