156
L'AMORE DOMINATORE.
His cheek was flushed with its own rose,
And with the crimson shed
From the rich wings that like a cloud
Were o'er his slumbers spread.
And by him lay his feathered shafts,
His golden bow unbent;—
Methought that, even in his sleep,
His smile was on them sent.
I heard them hymn his name—his power,—
I heard them, and I smiled;
How could they say the earth was ruled
By but a sleeping child?
I went then forth into the world
To see what might be there;
