Aceldama

XXIX. Choked with their reek and fume and bitter sweat His body perishes, his life is drained, The last sweet drop of nectar has not stained Another life, his lips and limbs are wet With death-dews ! Ha ! The painter has attained As high a meed As his who first begot sweet music on a reed. XXX. And O ! my music is so poor and thin ! I am poor Marsyas ; where shall I find A wise Olympas and a lover kind To teach my mouth to sing some secret sin, Faint, fierce, and horrible, to tune my mind, And on a reed Better beloved to bid me discourses at his need ? 2 6