Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicéan barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy-Land!
bunları okuyabilenler yazsın, bu da mı ingilizce diyen arkadaşlar derhal silsin entry lerini, derhal...
in order to render more prudent,and to instruct,by means of the tyrannical judgements of the council of constance, all theologians that may be hereafter called to sit in a council of the roman church.
