22 AUGUST 1914, Page 17

lifYCENAE.

POMPEIUS.

THOUGH drifted dust entombs Mycenae's halls,

Though drear obscurity is now my fats,

Remember famous Ilium's shattered walls,

And Priam's palace, lying desolate.

These are the records of a glory spent— What though the hand of Time may press me hard?

I suffer not, but proudly rest content, Calling to witness the Maeonian bard. O.