"Ah! but I knew them," answered he benignly,
"Mantuan sisters, widowed ere their prime,
Ruling broad acres righteously and finely,
Deaf to the call of passion—for a time.
"Till there came one, resistless in his wooing,
Gallant and bold, who loved and rode away,
Leaving his Dido to her swift undoing,
Leaving her Anna to a slow decay.
"Turnus I saw, unshaken by disaster,
Brought out of Gaul in mighty Julius' train,
Noblest of foes, whom fate could never master,
Holding his captors in a fierce disdain."
Late was the night ere Virgil ceased from telling
How past and present mingled in his view,
And the worn features, lit by fire indwelling,
Changed to the marble mask that others knew.
Clearer uprose the murmur of the river
Hurrying onward past the orchard lawn,
And the tall poplars with their leaves aquiver
C. L. Graves.
17
