The Equinox (Volume I, Number III)

XVIII Sir PALAMEDES for a space Deliberates on his rustic bed. “T lack the quarry’s awful pace” (Quod he); “my limbs are slack as lead.” So, as he gets his strength, he seeks The castles where the pennons red Of dawn illume their dreadful peaks. There dragons stretch their horrid coils Adown the winding clefts and creeks : From hideous mouths their venom boils. But Palamede their fury ’scapes, Their malice by his valour foils, Climbing aloft by bays and capes Of rock and ice, encounters oft The loathly sprites, the misty shapes Of monster brutes that lurk aloft. O! well he works: his youth returns, His heart revives: despair is doffed D 49