The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light. The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east: And lights wink out through the windows, one by one. A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night...

Now there was one who came in later days To play at Emperor: in the dead of night Stole crown and sceptre, and stood forth to light In sudden purple. The dawn’s straggling rays Showed Paris fettered, murmuring in amaze, With red hands at her throat -- a piteous sight. Then the new Cæsar, stricken with affright At his own daring, shrunk from public gaze In the Elysée, and had lost the day But that around him flocked his birds of prey, Sharp-beaked, voracious, hungry for the deed...

THOSE men build many houses: They dig the earth, and they build; They cut down the trees, and they build; They work always -- building. From the elevation of the mountainside I behold the clouds: The clouds build many beautiful houses in the sky: They build, and they tear down; They build, and they dissolve. ...

AUGUSTUS FITZ-HERBERT, as all are aware, Having crossed the Atlantic, and got a moustache on, Likewise being son of a known millionaire, Stands of course on the very top round of the fashion. Being taught to consider himself, from his birth, As one of the privileged ones of the earth, He cherishes deep and befitting disdain -6-For those who don’t live in the Fifth Avenue, As entirely unworthy the notice or thought Of the heir of two millions and nothing to do...

Giles Corey was a Wizzard strong, A stubborn wretch was he; And fitt was he to hang on high Upon the Locust-tree. So when before the magistrates For triall he did come, He would no true confession make, But was compleatlie dumbe. "Giles Corey," said the Magistrate, "What hast thou heare to pleade To these that now accuse thy soule Of crimes and horrid deed?" Giles Corey he said not a worde No single worde spoke he...

EVEN as the sun with purple-colour’d face Had ta’en his last leave of the weeping morn, Rose-cheek’d Adonis hied him to the chase; Hunting he loved, but love he laugh’d to scorn; Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him, And like a bold-faced suitor ’gins to woo him...

  Lucius Tarquinius, for his excessive pride surnamed Superbus, after he had caused his own father-in-law Servius Tullius to be cruelly murdered, and, contrary to the Roman laws and customs, not requiring or staying for the people’s suffrages, had possessed himself of the kingdom, went, accompanied with his sons and other noblemen of Rome, to besiege Ardea...

FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded A plaintful story from a sistering vale, My spirits to attend this double voice accorded, And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale; Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale, Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain, Storming her world with sorrow’s wind and rain...

I.WHEN my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutor’d youth, Unskilful in the world’s false forgeries. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although I know my years be past the best, I smiling credit her false-speaking tongue, Outfacing faults in love with love’s ill rest...

Note: [illustration omitted] IN the beginning Chareya made fire (That is, the Cahrocs say so), Housed it safe with two beldams dire, And meant to have it stay so. But the Cahrocs declared that fire should be free, Not jealously kept under lock and key. Crafty Squire Coyote, -- Counselor of note, he, -- Just such a case he was meant for: Forthwith his honor was sent for...