IV.

Where, then, was she that was Eternal called? Bore she no likeness of immortal youth? Did she lament her cruel dower in truth As once Tithonus by that gift enthralled? All joy of youth long perished, living on In dread possession of the pitiless gift, In hopeless age set helplessly adrift, Her bread the bitter thought of days bygone! No word immortal on the statue writ, Save the deep bitterness of graven name; No trumpet telling dumbly of her fame, Nor unquenched lamp by vestal virgin lit―― Youth, empire, and her people’s love all o’er, Unqueened, and still undying, evermore!