Page:Wessex poems and other verses (IA wessexpoemsother00hard).pdf/119

 Was treated ill when offspring came Of the new-made dame, And marked a more vigorous line.

A smarter grief within me wrought Than even at loss of her so dear; Dead the being whose soul my soul suffused, Her child ill-used, I helpless to interfere!

One eve as I stood at my spot of thought In the white-stoned Garth, brooding thus her wrong, Her husband neared; and to shun his view By her hallowed mew I went from the tombs among

To the Cirque of the Gladiators which faced— That haggard mark of Imperial Rome. Whose Pagan echoes mock the chime Of our Christian time: It was void, and I inward clomb.