Fate-conquering—like a waif thrown back and forth
O’er many waters! Oft I see thee stand
At eve, a landmark on the outer cliff,
Looking far westward; later, when the feast
Smokes in the hall, and nimble servants pass
Great bowls of wine, and ancient Phemeus sings
The deeds of Peleus’ son, thy right hand moves
Straight for its sword-hilt, like a ship for home;
Then, when thou hearest him follow in the song
Thine own miraculous sojourn of long years