The Spirit of the Nation/Sonnet
SONNET.
TRANSLATED FOR THE "NATION," FROM "ZAPPI," BY E. N. SHANNON, ESQ., THE TRANSLATOR OF DANTE, AUTHOR OF "TALES OLD AND NEW.")
In fair, delightful Cyprus, by the Main,
A lofty, royal seat, Love's dwelling stands:
Thither I went, and gave into his hands
An humble scroll, his clemency to gain.
Sire, said the writing, Thyrsis, who in pain
Has served thee hitherto, this boon demands—
His freedom—neither should his suit be vain,
After six lustres' service in thy bands.
He took the scroll, and seemed to pore thereon:
But he was blind, and could not read the case.
Seeming to feel his grievous want full sore—
Wherefore, with stern and frowning air, anon,
He said, and flung my writing in my face—
Give it to DEATH—we two will talk it o'er.