Strode, as netters wade,。，Wavered, as the lake-flower swims:
At sniff of the tainted wind; he gazed。，I
Civil will conquer: were 't other 'twere worse;。，Waiting him to stream and ray,
She stood pallid in the light.。，
Then the bitter chamber heard。，Torrents of the tightened reins,
Each at each, a crouching beast,。，Chirrups of the trot afield,
In the yellow lamp the limbs。，Make the bed for Attila!
VII。，Foemen stretched their length!
Chargers neighed, and trappings glowed。，
Loud in warrior-hymns that grew。，
Out beyond the flush of light.。，
Attila, my Attila!。，Out beyond the flush of light.
The shambles, the charnel, the wrinkle!。，
II。，On a bloody day in Gaul,
I。，Open-mouthed as a young child
Bade wrestle hourly for his soul,。，In the yellow lamp the limbs
，。，Here and there his heart would cleave