Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem: Jugurtha

Ultima Thule by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Poems - Jugurtha
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Jugurtha How cold are thy baths, Apollo! Cried the African monarch, the splendid, As down to his death in the hollow Dark dungeons of Rome he descended, Uncrowned, unthroned, unattended; How cold are thy baths, Apollo! How cold are thy baths, Apollo! Cried the Poet, unknown, unbefriended, As the vision, that lured him to follow, With the mist and the darkness blended, And the dream of his life was ended; How cold are thy baths, Apollo! Content of Jugurtha [Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem collection: Ultima Thule] Read next: Poems#The Iron Pen Read previous: Poems#From my Arm-Chair Table of content of Ultima Thule GO TO TOP OF SCREEN Post your review Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book

Ultima Thule by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow