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Alliance and allegiance, till thy hand
Fail from the sceptre-staff. Such boon


from me,



That I shall love thee well and cleave to

thee: So that my vigor, wedded to thy blood, Shall strike within thy pulses like a god's, To push thee forward through a life of

shocks, Dangers, and deeds; until endurance grow Sinewed with action, - and the full-grown

will, Circled through all experiences, pure law, Commeasure perfect freedom.'

"Here she ceased, And Paris pondered; and I cried, 'O

Paris, Give it to Pallas!' but he heard me not, Or hearing would not hear me, woe is me!




From me, heaven's queen, Paris, to thee

king-born, A shepherd all thy life but yet kingborn, Should come most welcome; seeing men, in

power Only, are likest gods, who have attained Rest in a happy place and quiet seats Above the thunder, with undying bliss In knowledge of their own supremacy.'

"Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. She ceased, and Paris held the costly fruit Out at arm's-length, so much the thought

of power Flattered his spirit. But Pallas, where she

stood Somewhat apart, her clear and bared limbs O'erthwarted with the brazen-headed

spear Upon her pearly shoulder leaning cold, — The while, above, her full and earnest eye Over her snow-cold breast and angry

cheek Kept watch, waiting decision, - made re

ply: 'Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-con

trol, These three alone lead life to sovereign

power. Yet not for power (power of herself Would come uncalled for) but to live by

law, Acting the law we live by without fear; And, because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of conse





"O mother Ida, many-fountained Ida, Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. Idalian Aphroditè beautiful, Fresh the foam,

-new-bathed in Paphian wells, — With rosy slender fingers backward drew From her warm brows and bosom her deep

hair Ambrosial, golden round her lucid throat And shoulder. From the violets her light

foot Shone rosy-white; and o'er her rounded

form Between the shadows of the vine-bunches Floated the glowing sunlights, as she




“Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. She with a subtle smile in her mild eyes, 180 The herald of her triumph, drawing nigh




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Half-whispered in his ear, 'I promise thee Sweep through them; never see them over-
The fairest and most loving wife in laid


moonlit slips of silver She spoke and laughed: I shut my sight cloud, for fear.

Between the loud stream and the tremBut when I looked, Paris had raised his bling stars. arm;

185 And I beheld great Here's angry eyes, "O mother, hear me yet before I die. As she withdrew into the golden cloud; I wish that somewhere in the ruined folds, And I was left alone within the bower. Among the fragments tumbled from the And from that time to this I am alone,

glens, And I shall be alone until I die.

Or the dry thickets, I could meet with her

The Abominable, that uninvited came '220 “Yet, mother Ida, harken ere I die. Into the fair Peleïan banquet-hall, Fairest — why fairest wife? am I not fair? And cast the golden fruit upon the board, My love hath told me a thousand And bred this change; that I might speak times.

my mind, Methinks I must be fair, for yester And tell her to her face how much I hate day,

Her presence, hated both of gods and When I past by, a wild and wanton

pard, Eyed like the evening-star, with playful “O mother, hear me yet before I die. tail

Hath he not sworn his love a thousand Crouched fawning in the weed. Most times, loving is she?

In this green valley, under this green hill, Ah me, my mountain shepherd, that my Even on this hand, and sitting on this

stone? Were wound about thee, and my hot lips Sealed it with kisses ? watered it with prest

tears? Close, close to thine in that quick-falling | O happy tears, and how unlike to these! dew

O happy heaven, how canst thou see my Of fruitful kisses, thick as autumn rains

face? Flash in the pools of whirling Simoïs! O happy earth, how canst thou bear my

weight? "O mother, hear me yet before I die. O death, death, death, thou ever-floating They came, they cut away my tallest

cloud, pines,

There are enough unhappy on this My tall dark pines, that plumed the earth, craggy ledge

Pass by the happy souls, that love to live; High over the blue gorge and, all between I pray thee, pass before my light of life, The snowy peak and snow-white cataract, And shadow all my soul, that I may die. Fostered the callow eaglet — from be Thou weighest heavy on the heart withneath

in, Whose thick mysterious boughs in the Weigh heavy on my eyelids: let me die. 240

dark morn The panther's roar came muffled, while I “O mother, hear me yet before I die.

I will not die alone; for fiery thoughts Low in the valley. Never, never more Do shape themselves within me, more and Shall lone none see the morning mist









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A wind to puff your idol-fires,

And heap their ashes on the head;

To shame the boast, so often made, That we are wiser than our sires.

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It little profits that, an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren

crags, Matched with an agèd wife, I mete and

dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know

not me. I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees. All times I have en

joyed Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with

those That loved me, and alone; on shore, and

when Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades Vext the dim sea. I am become a name: For always roaming with a hungry heart Much have I seen and known, cities of

men, And manners, climates, councils, govern

ments, Myself not least, but honored of them

all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough


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Not yet the wise of heart would cease
To hold his hope through shame and

guilt; But with his hand against the hilt, Would pace the troubled land, like








Gleams that untravelled world whose Not unbecoming men that strove with margin fades

gods. For ever and for ever when I move. The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; How dull it is to pause, to make an end, The long day wanes; the slow moon To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! climbs; the deep As though to breathe were life! Life Moans round with many voices. Come, piled on life

my friends, Were all too little, and of one to me 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Little remains. But every hour is saved Push off, and sitting well in order smite From that eternal silence, something The sounding furrows; for my purpose more,

holds A bringer of new things; and vile it were To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 60 For some three suns to store and hoard Of all the western stars, until I die. myself,

It may be that the gulfs will wash us And this gray spirit yearning in desire

down; To follow knowledge like a sinking star, It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, Beyond the utmost bound of human And see the great Achilles, whom we thought.


Though much is taken, much abides; and This is my son, mine own Telemachus, though To whom I leave the sceptre and the We are not now that strength which in isle

old days Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil Moved earth and heaven, that which we This labor, by slow prudence to make are, we are: mild

One equal temper of heroic hearts, A rugged people, and through soft degrees Made weak by time and fate, but strong in Subdue them to the useful and the good.

will Most blameless is he, centred in the To strive, to seek, to find, and not to sphere

Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,

When I am gone. He works his work, I

(c. 1834) mine.

The woods decay, the woods decay and There lies the port; the vessel puffs her fall; sail :

The vapors weep their burthen to the There gloom the dark, broad seas. My ground; mariners,

Man comes and tills the field and lies Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and beneath; thought with me,

And after many a summer dies the swan. That ever with a frolic welcome took Me only, cruel immortality The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Consumes: I wither slowly in thine arms, Free hearts, free foreheads

Here at the quiet limit of the world, are old:

A white-haired shadow roaming, like a Old age hath yet

his honor and his toil. 50 dream, Death closes all; but something ere the The ever-silent spaces of the East, end,

Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls of Some work of noble note, may yet be done,





you and I



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