A Vision

.        TWO crownèd Kings, and One that stood alone

           With no green weight of laurels round his head,

           But with sad eyes as one uncomforted,

         And wearied with man's never-ceasing moan

         For sins no bleating victim can atone,

           And sweet long lips with tears and kisses fed.

           Girt was he in a garment black and red,

         And at his feet I marked a broken stone

           Which sent up lilies, dove-like, to his knees.

           Now at their sight, my heart being lit with flame        

         I cried to Beatricé, "Who are these?"

         And she made answer, knowing well each name,

           "Æschylos first, the second Sophokles,

           And last (wide stream of tears!) Euripides."