Does the prophet-maiden falter?
Hark! those wild disordered cries!
Slain before the sacred altar,
Dead the son of Thetis lies.
Eris shakes her wreathed serpents—
All the Gods their temples shun—
And a thunder-cloud is resting
Heavily on Ilion!
UNDINÉ.
FROM THE DANISH.
I.
UNDINÉ by the lonely shore,
In lonely grief, is pacing;
The vows her perjured lover swore
No more with hope retracing.
Yet none in beauty could compare
With ocean's bright-haired daughter.
Her cheek is like the lotus fair
That lieth on the water;