XX. HE who can make my First to roll He who can curb my Second's will May turn my Whole more slightly still VOL. II.-18 XXI. ACROSS my First, with flash and roar, My Whole comes back to other eyes With beauteous change of fruits and flowers; But black to her are those bright skies, And sad those joyous bowers; Alas! my First is dark and deep, And my Second cannot hear her weep! XXII. SIR EUSTACE goes to the far Crusade And my First is graven on his blade, And broidered on his breast. And a flush is on his cheek and brow, As he stands upon my Second now, Away, away!—the canvas drives My Whole hath a score of Moslem lives XXIII My First came forth in booted state, And smiled to feel my Second's weight, "And here's a jailer sweet," quoth he, To keep one ward in custody But daybreak saw a lady ride And "Blessing on the bonds," quoth he, "Which wrinkled age imposes, If woman must your prisoner be, XXIV. Он yes ! her childhood hath been nurst And why doth she turn from the glittering throng, Why doth she look where the ripples play While the boat in the twilight nears the shore, Hath she not heard in her lonely bower Than the Bulbul's hymn to the midnight rose. |