 | The Isles of Greece |  |
V
All in the hall of arms was silence nowAnd darkness; for the mournful guests were gone.
I stood, and listen'd; for I heard a cry
Pass down the city-ways, and up the hills.
Voice bore onward voice, like wave on wave,
“Myrsilus, oh, Myrsilus is dead!”
And, when the louder tongues had ceased, there came
From the dark inner depths of the dark town,
Farther and fainter, “Myrsilus is dead!”
And, when all nearer sounds were hush'd, there flow'd
From moonless valleys, and from moonlit heights,
Like hidden flames that flash back from the clouds,
Or muffled thunders underneath the earth,
Or the thin whispers of far forest trees,
That cry of victory, “Myrsilus is dead!”
| The Isles of Greece | |