Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/254

236 Say, shall we sing of sadness, joy or hope ? Or bathe in blood the serried, steel-clad ranks ? See loTers mount the ladder's silken rope ? Or fleck the wind with coursers' foaming flanks ? Or shall we tell whose hand the lamps above, In the celestial mansions, year by year. Kindles with sacred oil of life and love ? With Tarquin shall we cry, " Come, night is here ! " Or shall we dive for pearls beneath the seas, Or find the wild goats by the alpine trees ? Bid melancholy gaze upon the skies ? Follow the huntsman on the upland lawns ? The roe uplifts her tearful, suppliant eyes, Her heath awaits her, and her suckling fawns ; He stoops, he slaughters her, he flings her heart Still warm amidst his panting hounds apart. Or shall we paint a maid with vermeil cheek, Who, with her page behind, to vespers fares, Beside her mother, dreamy-eyed and meek, And on her half-oped lips forgets her prayers, Trembles midst echoing columns, hearkening To hear her bold knight's clanging spurs out-ring. Or shall we bid the heroes of old France Scale full equipped the battlemented wall. And So revive the simple-strained romance Their fame inspired our troubadours withal ? Or shall we clothe soft elegies in white ? Or bid the man of Waterloo recite