Than she who deals me never a blow.
IV.
And so 'twill be, this many a day;
She comes to wound, if not to slay.
But in my dreams,—in honied sleep,—
'Tis I to smile, and she to weep!
PRO PATRIA.
AN ODE TO SWINBURNE.
["We have not, alack! an ally to befriend us,