Poems by Frederic Manning

Noon smote down on the field,

Burning on spears and helms,

Shining from Theseus' shield.

As a wave of the sea that whelms

A rock, and its crest uprears,

Through the wreck of the trampled wheat

The charge of the charioteers

Thundering broke. A sleet

Veiled light, and the air was alive,

As with hissing of snakes, as with swarms

Of the Spring by a populous hive,

As with wind, and the clamour of storms:

So hurtled the arrowy hail

Loosed from the Amazon ranks,

Smote ringing on brazen mail,

Struck fanged through the shuddering flanks