Page:Agamemnon (1877) Browning.djvu/96

80 Wherefore should prophet-play

The uncalled unpaid lay,

Nor—having spat forth fear, like bad dreams—sits she

On the mind's throne beloved—well-suasive Boldness?

For time, since, by a throw of all the hands,

The boat's stern-cables touched the sands,

Has past from youth to oldness,—

When under Ilion rushed the ship-borne bands.

And from my eyes I learn—

Being myself my witness—their return.

Yet, all the same, without a lyre, my soul,

Itself its teacher too, chants from within

Erinus' dirge, not having now the whole

Of Hope's dear boldness: nor my inwards sin—