Agnes the Indian Captive. A Poem, in Four Cantos. With Other Poems. By the Rev. John Mitford |
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 | Agnes |  |
192
III.
[That form has fled.—Before me shone what seemed]
That form has fled.—Before me shone what seemedAn old barbaric city, in its pride
Of towers and palaces, such as allied
To loftiest tradition: so have gleamed
Bactra, or Phrygian Pergamus, or, deemed
Of highest fame, Selucia, where his tide
Swift Tigris rolls; or by the Syrian side,
Where Balbec, empress of the desart, beam'd.
And on a throne of massive gold was seen
One who her sceptre waved in regal might,
And she who seemed that ancient city's queen,
Was clothed in the majesty of light.
I gazed, and it was she in form and mien,
The maid I loved, so beautiful and bright.
| Agnes | |