Poem by Walter Savage Landor

On Seeing a Hair of Lucretia Borgia

Borgia, thou once wert almost too august
And high for adoration; now thou'rt dust.
All that remains of thee these plaits unfold,
Calm hair, meandering in pellucid gold.

1. Soon, O Ianthe! Life Is O'er
2. Dirce
3. Corinna, from Athens, to Tanagra
4. Past Ruin'd Ilion Helen Lives
5. Tell Me Not Things Past All Belief

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