_Charles I, King of England_.




XIV.

Oh, Brahma, guard in sleep
The merry lambs and the complacent kine,
The flies below the leaves and the young mice
In the tree roots, and all the sacred flocks
Of red flamingo; and my love Vijaya,
And may no restless fay, with fidget finger
Trouble his sleeping; give him dreams of me.

_William B Yeats_.




XV.

Solemnly, mournfully,
Dealing its dole,
The Curfew Bell
Is beginning to toll.

Cover the embers,
And put out the light;
Toil comes with morning,