HOMER.
I.
FIRST-BORN and first of all the godlike line, That sang of love and death and wayfaring, Surely death seemed to thee a comely thing, Having loved and fared, whose soul was more divine • These subscriptions are promised subject to the condition "that the rest of the money required can be collected or promised."
Than all the imperial suns and stars that shine In thy tremendous Heaven. Not sorrowing Thou sleptst, being worn with so great wandering Beside Odysseus o'er the violet brine.
Thou wast content; to dreamers sleep is dear. Nor couldst thou know, when from thy lifeless knees The mute lyre fell, how myriads would rejoice, While thy young earth waxed old and grim, to hear, Grand as the thunder of gigantic seas, The imperishable cadence of thy voice.
On some vast headland of the Cyclades, Where the ambrosial-fronted cliffs abide The long, smooth billow of the Aegean tide, He dwells with sleep ; and there the anemones Bring forth eternal blossoms, and the bees O'er asphodel for ever sanctified From Death, being born of dust that ne'er has died, Weave all the year their little Odysseys.
The old splendour fades, the ancient virtues wane ; The Gods are lost, the Kings are deep entombed ; Caught in the eddying wind of modern life How many laurels wither ! There remain Supreme Achilles, beautiful and doomed ; Helen, and Troy, and that immortal strife.
ST. JOHN LUCAS.
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