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io6 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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VII
Solomon ! where is thy throne ? It is gone in the wind.
Babylon ! where is thy might ? It is gone in the wind.
Happy in death are they only whose hearts have consigned
All Earth's affections and longings and cares to the wind.
VIII
Pity, thou, reader ! the madness of poor humankind, Raving of knowledge—and Satan so busy to blind ! Raving of glory,—like me,—for the garlands I bind (Garlands of Song) are but gathered, and strewn in the wind.
IX
Solomon ! where is thy throne ? It is gone in the
wind. Babylon ! where is thy might ? It is gone in the wind. I, Abul-Namez, must rest; for my fire hath declined, And I hear voices from Hades like bells on the wind. |
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KATHALEEN NY-HOULAHAN1
A Jacobite relic—from the Irish.
LONG they pine in weary woe—the nobles of our land — Long they wander to and fro, proscribed, alas ! and banned;
1 One of the numerous poetic names for Ireland. |
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