A fire unquenchable, but cold as ice

That scorcheth ere it strike a mortal chill

Upon the heart. "Darest thou...?"

Smiling still,

He heeded not her warning, nor he read

The terror of her eyes, but drew and sped

A screaming arrow, deadly, swerving not—

Then stood to watch the ruin he had wrought.

He heard the sob of breath o'er all the host

Of hushing men; he marked, but then he lost,

The blood-spurt at the shaft-head; for the crest

[10]

Upheaved, the shoulders stiffen'd, ere to the breast

Bent down the head, as though the glazing sight

Curious would mark the death-spot. Still upright

Stood he; but as a tree that on the side

Of Ida yields to axe her soaring pride

And lightlier waves her leafy crown, and swings

From side to side—so on his crest the wings

Erect seemed shaking upwards, and to sag

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