Of those that, one night, returned to their dream
Of conquering folly by assaulting the skies?
For their destitute works—we feel it seems,
For a little love their longing cries
From horizons far—for their errings and pain.
In horizons ever of heart and thought,
While the evenings old in bright blaze wane
Suddenly, for black glories anguish fraught.
No. 3.
And the following is a poem by Moréas, evidently an admirer of Greek beauty. It is from page 28 of a volume of his Poems:—