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Rich spectral beasts that feared to stir,
The breathless seventh tune died out
Joseph Russell Taylor.
ON A LUTE FOUND IN A
What curled and scented sun-girls, almond
eyed, With lotos-blossoms in their hands and hair, Have made their swarthy lovers call them fair, With these spent strings, when brutes were
deified, And Memnon in the sunrise sprang and cried, And love-winds smote Bubastis, and the bare Black breasts of carven Pasht received the
prayer Of suppliants bearing gifts from far and wide! This lute has out-sung Egypt; all the lives Of violent passion, and the vast calm art
That lasts in granite only, all lie dead;
THE MUSICAL DUEL
(From "The Lover's Melancholy ")
Menaphon. Passing from Italy to Greece,
the tales Which poets of an elder time have feigned To glorify their Tempe, bred in me Desire of visiting that paradise. To Thessaly I came; and, living private, Without acquaintance of more sweet compan
ions Than the old inmates to my love, my thoughts, I day by day frequented silent groves And solitary walks. One morning early This accident encountered me: I heard The sweetest and most ravishing contention That art and nature ever were at strife in. Amethus. I cannot yet conceive what you
infer By art and nature.
I shall soon resolve you.
He could not run division with more art
Am. How did the rivals part?
You term them rightly ;