Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/64

 So mighty by magnificence of form, They were not dwarfed beneath that mass enorm.

Upon the cross-hilt of a naked sword The angel's hands, as prompt to smite, were held; His vigilant, intense regard was poured Upon the creature placidly unquelled, Whose front was set at level gaze which took No heed of aught, a solemn trance-like look.

And as I pondered these opposed shapes My eyelids sank in stupor, that dull swoon Which drugs and with a leaden mantle drapes The outworn to worse weariness. But soon A sharp and clashing noise the stillness broke, And from the evil lethargy I woke.

The angel's wings had fallen, stone on stone, And lay there shattered; hence the sudden sound: A warrior leaning o'n his sword alone Now watched the sphinx with that regard profound; The sphinx unchanged looked forthright, as aware Of nothing in the vast abyss of air.