SIR PALAMEDES, THE SARACEN KNIGHT
He strains and strives in very deed,
So that at last a boulder trips
The hero, that he bursts a-bleed,
And sanguine from his bearded lips
The torrent of his being breaks.
The Beast is gone: the hero slips
Down to the valley: he forsakes
The fond idea (every bone
In all his body burns and aches)
By speed to attain the dear Unknown,
By force to achieve the great Beyond.
Yet from that brain may spring full-grown
Another folly just as fond.
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