DE TE 



A BURNING glass of burnish'd brass, 



The calm sea caught the noontide rays, 



And sunny slopes of golden grass 



And wastes of weed-flower seem to blaze. 



Beyond the shining silver-greys. 



Beyond the shades of denser bloom, 



The sky-line girt with glowing haze 

 The farthest, faintest forest gloom. 

 And the everlasting hills that loom. 



We heard the hound beneath the mound, 

 We scared the swamp hawk hovering 

 nigh— 



We had not sought for that we found — 

 He lay as dead men only lie. 



With wan cheek whitening in the sky 



Through the wild heath flowers, white and 

 red. 



The dumb brute that had seen him die, 

 Close crouching, howl'd beside the head, 

 Brute burial service o'er the dead. 



The brow was rife with seams of strife — 

 A lawless death made doubly plain 



202 



