Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/436

Spurred furious Hate; he foamed at mouth,
 His breath was hot upon the air,
His breath scorched souls, as a dry drought
 Withers green trees and burns them bare.

Straight drives he at his enemy,
 His hairy hands grip lance in rest,
His lance it gleams full bitterly,
 God!—gleams, true-point, on Love's bare breast!

Love's gray eyes glow with a heaven-heat,
 Love lifts his hand in a saintly prayer;
Look! Hate hath fallen at his feet!
 Look! Hate hath vanished in the air!

Then all the throng looked kind on all;
 Eyes yearned, lips kissed, dumb souls were freed;
Two magic maids' hands lifted a pall
 And the dead knight, Heart, sprang on his steed.

Then Love cried, "Break me his lance, each knight!
 Ye shall fight for blood-athirst Fame no more."
And the knights all doffed their mailèd might
 And dealt out dole on dole to the poor.

Then dove-lights sanctified the plain,
 And hawk and sparrow shared a nest.
And the great sea opened and swallowed Pain,
 And out of this water-grave floated Rest!