I am the Prince of unremembered towers
Destroyed before the birth of Babylon;
And I was there when all the forest shone
While pale Medea culled her deadly flowers.
I heard the iron weeping of the King,
When Orpheus sang to life his buried joy;
And I beheld upon the walls of Troy
The woman who made of death a little thing.
I heard the horn that shook the mountain tall,
When Roland lay a-dying, and the call
That fevered Tristram whispered o’er the sea,
And brought Iseult of Cornwall to his side.
I saw the Queen of Egypt like a bride
Go glorious to her dead Mark Antony.
CENTER
Printed in England
at The Westminster Press
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