As their iron heels trampled o'er :
I saw their brows and eyeballs glazed,
As slowly each his helmet raised!
XII.

From each side they met, and joined

Their mailed hands o'er the Altar's fire:

Then each King his head declined,

And knelt before that holy pyre;

Their tongues were loosened-slow, they broke
Their silence of all dateless years;
As if, withheld by human fears,

Their human natures dared not trust

The vouchsafed pardon from the Just:

Faith, strengthening in their hearts, awoke,
They believed-essayed-and spoke!

Their dark words were in a tongue
Which I knew not: but peace hung
On their accents; words of prayer

And forgiveness were there.

XIII.

With clasped hands they seemed to wait

The award of God and fate,

That his will He would reveal;

One dread moment-then a peal

Of thunder told them they were heard:

Then, from hand to hand, each Brother Took the cup, and blest each other! Breathless, I nor spake nor stirred;

But I said in my full heart :

Oh, that this might not depart !
This is a deep type to show,

That, though Kings may give below
Rein to their wild passions, they,
With their life, must pass away.
Revenge dies with the parting breath;
All must then be joined in peace:
In the awful realms of Death,

All hate and envy cease!

If we would join the Stars of Heaven,
We must be as pure and bright;
And those, erring from the right,

Forgive to be forgiven!

The Spirit of Love that reigns above,

Hath sworn it shall be so;

The Dead that keep their tranced sleep,

Have felt the oath below.

XIV.

I looked to where the Altar shone,
But the warrior Kings were gone.
Each shape had resumed his throne;

But the Life within was flown:

Their souls had joined, and were at rest, In Heaven, united with the Blest!

I rose, and stole forth from the Church;
And passed through that ancient porch.
Thoughtful, wrapt, and silently,

I walked towards the hoary Sea;
Like one who turns, with restless eye,
From some disturbing Mystery!

I left the land with Shadows rife :
And woke upon the shore of Life.

ARETHUSA.

Now let me lose myself

In dreams of Grecian beauty.

MARLOWE.

A DIM, rich, leafy covert! musical

With hum of bees, and Waters' gurgling sound:
And those more low and stilly melodies,

From leaves, and brooks, and dying airs, that are
Voices of Solitude, which lull the heart

To quiet and to sweet forgetfulness !

Hark!-'tis the mellow note of Dian's horn:
The chase is done, the huntresses dispersed,
Each to her woodland covert's wild recess.
And now a quick step rustles midst the leaves,
Now louder the bird hears it, fluttering