Protus

Among these latter busts we count by scores, Half-emperors and quarter-emperors, Each with his bay-leaf fillet, loose-thonged vest, Loric and low-browed Gorgon on the breast, One loves a baby face, with violets there, Violets instead of laurel in the hair, As those were all the little locks could bear. Now, read here. "Protus ends a period Of empery beginning with a god; Born in the porphyry chamber at Byzant, Queens by his cradle, proud and ministrant: And if he quickened breath there, 'twould like fire Pantingly through the dim vast realm transpire.…