VI.

Twice glided through her course the wandering Queen Who rules the stars and deeps, since first they met. 'Tis eve once more, that earliest hour, serene With the last light, before the sun hath set; And Zoe waits her lover on the hill, Waits, looking forth afar:--The parting ray Of the reluctant Day-god linger'd still; Aslant it glinted through the pinewood boughs, Broadly to rest upon the ruins grey, That at her feet in desolate glory lay. Through chasm and chink, the myrtle's glossy green, Votive of old to Cytheraea's brows-- Rose over wrecks, and smiled: And there, like Grief Close-neighbouring Love, the aloe forced between Myrtle with myrtle clasp'd--its barbed leaf. Where Zoe stands, the Caesar's Palace stood, And from that lofty terrace ye survey, Naked within their thunder-riven tomb, The bones of that dead Titaness call'd Rome. Beyond, the Tiber, through the Latian Plain With many a lesser sepulchre bestrew'd, Mourn'd songless onward to the Tyrrhene main; Around, in amphitheatre afar The hills lay basking in the purple sky; Till all grew grey, and Maro's shepherd-star Look'd through the silence with a loving eye. And soft from silver clouds stole forth the Moon, Hush'd as if still she watch'd Endymion.

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