Werner

A frame which may be that of Hercules, It hath such giant members! and its port Is martial as e'er marked a Caesar's moving. Its sandals are of brass, its massive brow Is helmeted in steel, and in its hand It bears a sword with which, in idle strokes, It vainly beats the unresisting air, As if in battle with some phantom foe; And at each blow it deals, a strong fatality Turns back its sword's keen point on its own breast, Which deep it gashes,—then in mournful tone, It mutters o'er and o'er again these words,— "I fought for fame and won unending wo." His agonies seem like himself, immortal.