440
POEMS OF GEORGE ELIOT.
But he, in liberty of song,
Fearless of death or other wrong,
With full spondaic toll
Poured forth his mighty soul:
Poured forth the strain his dream had taught,
A nome with lofty passion fraught
Such as makes battles won
On fields of Marathon.
The last long vowels trembled then
As awe within those wolfish men:
They said, with mutual stare,
Some god was present there.
But lo! Arion leaped on high,
Ready, his descant done, to die;
Not asking, "Is it well?"
Like a pierced eagle fell.
1873
