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114 |
OTHER VERSE |
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Then came a roar of awful rage—
The bellow of the thunder; A monarch's challenge and his'gage,
That broke the clouds asunder; And leapt his weapon from its sheath,
Its gleam the darkness bright'ning— The shuddering ship sank dead beneath
A glittering blade of lightning. |
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BOHEMIA'S REST.
I met a gray old man, one night, And he was worn and pale;
Yet his heart was light,
And his eyes were bright When he told his curious tale.
The old man's garb was worn to threads, His hair and beard were rimed With the frost of age, And he seemed a sage, With wisdom's lessons primed.
Bright Culture's garland crowned his brow, And 'neath his humble guise Was a noble heart; And the love of art Shone from his twinkling eyes. |
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