TALL SALMACIS

Were an apple tree a pine,

Tall and slim, and softly swaying,

Then her beauty were like thine,

Salmacis, when boune a Maying,

Tall as any poplar tree,

Sweet as apple blossoms be!

Had the Amazonian Queen

Seen thee‘ midst thy maiden peers,

Thou the Coronel hadst been

Of that lady's Grenadiers;

Troy had never mourned her fall,

With thine axe to guard her wall.

As Penthesilea brave

Is the maiden ( in her dreams );

Ilium she well might save,

Though Achilles’ armour gleams,

‘ Midst the Greeks; all vain it is,

‘ Gainst the glance of Salmacis!