Strode the shade of Locrian Ajax,
Guarding still the native soil,
And Leostratus, confronting,
Wounded fell before the spear.
Leech and herb the wound could heal not
Said the Pythian God, "Depart,
Voyage o'er the troubled Euxine
To the tranquil spirit-land.
"There abides the Locrian Ajax,
He who gave the wound shall heal;
Godlike souls are in their mercy
Stronger yet than in their wrath."
While at ease on lulled waters
Rose the blessed silver isle,
Purple vines in lengthening vistas
Knit the hill-top to the beach.
And the beach had sparry caverns,
And a floor of golden sands,
And wherever soared the cypress,
Underneath it bloomed the rose.
Glimmered there amid the vine trees,
Thoro' cavern, over beach,
Lifelike shadows of a beauty
Which the living know no more,
Towering statures of great heroes,
They who fought at Thebes and Troy;
And with looks that poets dream of
Beam'd the women heroes loved.
Kingly, forth before their comrades,
As the vessel touch'd the shore,
Came the stateliest Two, by Hymen
Ever hallowed into One.
As He strode, the forests trembled
To the awe that crowned his brow:
As She stepp'd, the ocean dimpled
To the ray that left her smile.
"Welcome hither, fearless warrior!"
Said a voice in which there slept
Thunder-sounds to scatter armies,
As a north-wind scatters leaves.