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Poems

By Alfred Domett
  
  

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24

Antistrophe 1.

See! clouds of stones are thickly soaring,
Against the ramparts, crashing, roaring—
Nearer rolls the desperate fight!
'Tis at the gate those falchions bright
Are clashing on the brass-bound shields—
Who now, Apollo, wins or yields?
Mistress of the Conflict! hear!
Fray-enchanted Queen! appear!
Yield not thus to adverse Fates
The City of the Seven Gates!