A Vision

.        TWO crownèd Kings, and One that stood alone
           With no green weight of laurels round his head,
           But with sad eyes as one uncomforted,
         And wearied with man's never-ceasing moan
         For sins no bleating victim can atone,
           And sweet long lips with tears and kisses fed.
           Girt was he in a garment black and red,
         And at his feet I marked a broken stone
           Which sent up lilies, dove-like, to his knees.
           Now at their sight, my heart being lit with flame        


         I cried to Beatricé, "Who are these?"
         And she made answer, knowing well each name,
           "Æschylos first, the second Sophokles,
           And last (wide stream of tears!) Euripides."