Lord Alfred Tennyson

This oiled and curled Assyrian bull,
Smelling of musk and of insolence.

This oiled and curled Assyrian bull,
Smelling of musk and of insolence.

I know not which way to turn. [I am in a quandary.]

I know not which way to turn. [I am in a quandary.]

And from his ashes may be made
The violet of his native land.

And from his ashes may be made
The violet of his native land.

My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure.

My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure.

He clasps the crag with hooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the read more

He clasps the crag with hooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls:
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.