Mast-thronged beneath her shadowing citadel In glassy bays among her tallest towers.' "O mother Ida, harken ere I die. Still she spake on, and still she spake of power, 'Which in all action is the end of all; Power fitted to the season, wisdom-bred 120 If gazing on divinity disrobed And throned of wisdom; from all neighbor Thy mortal eyes are frail to judge of fair, Unbiased by self-profit, -O, sure 155 rest thee Dangers, and deeds; until endurance grow Sinewed with action, and the full-grown will, Circled through all experiences, pure law, 165 Give it to Pallas!' but he heard me not, Or hearing would not hear me, woe is me! "O mother Ida, many-fountained Ida, Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. Idalian Aphrodite beautiful, Fresh 170 as 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 175 Shone rosy-white; and o'er her rounded form Between the shadows of the vine-bunches Floated the glowing sunlights, as she moved. "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. She with a subtle smile in her mild eyes, 180 The herald of her triumph, drawing nigh Were wound about thee, and my hot lips Sealed it with kisses? watered it with prest tears? 230 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 face? Of fruitful kisses, thick as autumn rains Flash in the pools of whirling Simoïs! 200 Whose thick mysterious boughs in the Weigh heavy on my eyelids: let me die. 240 Cut Prejudice against the grain. But gentle words are always gain: Walking the cold and starless road of Regard the weakness of thy peers. death 255 Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 60 It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Though much is taken, much abides; and though 65 We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we |