by Thomas B. Macaulay
In the hall-gate sat Capys,
Capys, the sightless seer;
From head to foot he trembled
As Romulus drew near.
And up stood stiff his thin white hair,
And his blind eyes flashed fire:
"Hail! foster child of the wondrous nurse!
Hail! son of the wondrous sire!"
XII
"But thou--what dost thou here
In the old man's peaceful hall?
What doth the eagle in the coop,
The bison in the stall?
Our corn fills many a garner;
Our vines clasp many a tree;
Our flocks are white on many a hill:
But these are not for thee.
Continued next week. Tomorrow's installment from the great Arab book Thousand and One Nights.
A collection consisting exclusively of war-songs would give anScottish poet Macaulay published this in 1842.
imperfect, or rather an erroneous, notion of the spirit of the
old Latin ballads.
Photo, CC-BY-SA-3.0.
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