Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/227

Rh Crowned with the Titan s name that stirs the heart Like a blown clarion one more Bonaparte.

to the purple, lying stark and dead, Transfixed with poisoned spears, beneath the sun Of brazen Africa ! Thy grave is one, Fore-fated youth (on whom were visited Follies and sins not thine), whereat the world, Heartless howe er it be, will pause to sing A dirge, to breathe a sigh, a wreath to fling Of rosemary and rue with bay-leaves curled. Enmeshed in toils ambitious, not thine own, Immortal, loved boy-Prince, thou tak’st thy stand With early doomed Don Carlos, hand in hand With mild-browed Arthur, Geoffrey s murdered son. Louis the Dauphin lifts his thorn-ringed head, And welcomes thee, his brother, mongst the dead.

So, Calchas, on the sacred Palatine, You thought of Mopsus, and o er wastes of sea A flower brought your message. I divine (Through my deep art) the kindly mockery That played about your lips and in your eyes, Plucking the frail leaf, while you dreamed of home.