LXIII

'Or he would hurl me down the dark abyss.

I know that every Apollonian limb

Is clothed with speed and might and manliness,

As a green bank with flowers—but unlike him

I was born yesterday, and you may guess

He well knew this when he indulged the whim

Of bullying a poor little new-born thing

That slept, and never thought of cow-driving