TO THE YOUNG.
AFTER HEINE.
Let your feet not falter, your course not alter
By golden apples, till victory's won!
The sword's sharp clangour, the dart's shrill anger,
Swerve not the hero thundering on.
A bold beginning is half the winning,
An Alexander makes worlds his fee.
No long debating! The Queens are waiting
In his pavilion on beaded knee.
Thus swift pursuing his wars and wooing,
He mounts old Darius' bed and throne.
O glorious ruin! O blithe undoing!
O drunk death-triumph in Babylon!
THE GOLDEN CALF.
AFTER HEINE.
Double flutes and horns resound
As they dance the idol round;
Jacob's daughters, madly reeling,
Whirl about the golden calf.
Hear them laugh!
Kettledrums and laughter pealing.
Dresses tucked above their knees,
Maids of noblest families,
In the swift dance blindly wheeling,
Circle in their wild career
Round the steer, -
Kettledrums and laughter pealing.
Aaron's self, the guardian grey
Of the faith, at last gives way,
Madness all his senses stealing;
Prances in his high priest's coat
Like a goat, -
Kettledrums and laughter pealing.
Pages:
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117