Spreads amber arms the purple glow stains red;
Nor hath she seen, nor known with shuddering breath.
Symbols of Doom, those Youths Divine who shed
Rose-leaves on sombre deeps--Desire and Death.


BATTLE AT SUNSET

2

The shock was stern: the cohorts near to rout.
Staying the flight, tribune, centurion,
From heat of carnage 'neath th' enduring sun
Breathe blood, and smell its savour as they shout.
With haggard eyes, that count the dead about,
Each spearman marks the archers, all undone,
Whirl like heaped leaves before Euroclydon.
From the brown faces sweat falls gout by gout.

That fated hour--with many a shaft stuck o'er,
Streaming in burnished brass and purple weed,
Red with the scarlet flux of wounds full sore,
With trumpets shrilling forth their urgent need,
Against the sunset, on his frighted steed--
Surged, glorious, the ensanguined Emperor.


ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA

3