How cold are thy baths, Apollo!
Cried the African monarch, the splendid,
As down to his death in the hollow
Dark dungeons of Rome he descended,
Uncrowned, unthroned, unattended;
How cold are thy baths, Apollo! 

How cold are thy baths, Apollo!
Cried the Poet, unknown, unbefriended,
As the vision, that lured him to follow,
With the mist and the darkness blended,
And the dream of his life was ended;
How cold are thy baths, Apollo! 

Added: on December 16th, 2005 at 12:28 PM | Viewed: 607 times | Comments (1)

Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Poem: Jugurtha
Volume: Ultima Thule

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