the jars were rings and flowers of gold.
We found twin ear-drops cut from choicest stone,
Metallic mirrors, and a statuette
Of amorous Dido naked to the waist.
Life is a harp, and all its nervous strings,
Touched by the fingers of the fear of death,
Jar with pathetic music. Having found
No trusty implement to bar the way
Of threatening peril, we embraced,
And kissed with silent kisses mixed with tears,
And waited for the end.

When no more,
Hope, like an eagle in the mountain air,
Soars in time's future, it mounts up with wings
Toward the unmapped city walled by death.
Thither the eagle of our hope took flight.

The sun was in the zenith. His back
Toward us, crouched the spider, at the mouth
Of our strange prison on the towering cliff.
The spider's shape was full a fathom long.
Two parts it had, the fore part, head and breast;
The hinder part, the trunk. The first was black,
But all the last was covered with short hair,
Yellow and fine. Eight sprawling legs adhered
To his tough breast. Eight eyes were in his head,
Two in the front, and three on either side;
They had no eyelids, and were never closed,
Protected by a strong transparent nail.
His pincers grew between his foremost eyes--
Were toothed like saws, were venomous, and sharp,
With claws on either end. Two arms stretched out
From his mailed shoulders, and with these he caught
His tangled prey, or guided what he spun.
Slowly the monster turned, and glared at us,
Working his arms, and opening his claws,
Then moved toward us fiercely for attack.
We ran to gain the limit of the tomb
Where darkness was; there as we crouched with dread,
My foot struck some hard substance. In despair
I grasped at it, and with great joy upheld
An ancient sword!--surely, a sharp, bold tooth
To bite the spider. I would sink it deep,
Up to the gum of the crossed guard. Alert,
I sprang upon the monster as he came,
And with one blow cut off his brutish head.
He writhed awhile with pain, but in the end,
Drew up the eight long legs and two thick arms,
And rolling over on his useless back,
Died with a pang.

So we issued forth,
And the green earth seemed happy to be free,
And glad the sky cloud-frescoed 'gainst the blue.
We sought the sea-side cottage, where the chief
Clasped once again his daughter to his breast.
Down from the hill we fetched the spider slain,
And I to science g