XXVIII.

Nazrene Apollo, beautiful as bold, Whose worship whirls the enthusiast Southern maid To passion oft and madness, to behold Thee limned so blooming fair--give, give thine aid! Oh, by Irene’s love who undismayed Unbound thee, pouring balm into each wound The archers left--against the pillar laid-- When dead they thought thee who had only swooned; By her who healed thee, raise that voice to mercy tuned!