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OTHER VERSE |
95 |
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And the parting lips still quivering— Great God, I heard rude laughter ring, By the cross, I stand confessed.
By the rood, I saw his brutal bulk
Stand midway in the door, 'Twas hard to slay so strong a man, But I had slain the Saracen—
And her blood cried from the floor.
Little may vulgar strength avail
'Gainst arm that's nerved with steel; He lies at the foot of a carven knight— And I—I kissed her lips " Good night." Good night! All peace, all rest go hence; Good night to all but penitence. |
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RENAISSANCE.
T was in the fairest season of the year,
That comes to where the yellow Tiber flows
Southward, among Italia's sunlit hills,
And when the sweetest bloom of Latium blows,
With staff and dog I strolled along the streets, Then out, and far away from modern Rome |
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