The chieftain, ere his band he led, The boatman, ere his sail he spread, And ever the shriek rang loud within, And amid the sin and smoke and din I sate with a changeless, endless grin, Forging my First for Man! My priests are rotting in their grave, My name and my memory pass away, Are called by mortals mine. 1826. XIX. My First to-night in young Haidee That though my Second precious be And let my Whole be never twined Than fond Affection's arms. XX. He who can make my First to roll He who can curb my Second's will XXI. ACROSS my First, with flash and roar, Watching my Second's parting smile 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 In radiant armour drest; And my First is graven on his blade, And broidered on his breast. And a flush is on his cheek and brow, And a fever in his blood, As he stands upon my Second now, Away, away!-the canvas drives Like a sea-bird's rustling wing; My Whole hath a score of Moslem lives VOL. II. EE |