Orpheus.
Fair as the lightning thwart the sky, As sun-dyed snow upon the high Untrodden heaps of threatening stone The eagle looks upon alone, O fair as the doomed victim's wreath, O fair as deadly sleep and death, What will ye with them, earthly men, To mate your three-score years and ten? Toil rather, suffer and be free, Betwixt the green earth and the sea.
The Sirens.
If ye be bold with us to go, Things such as happy dreams may show Shall your once heavy eyes behold About our palaces of gold; Where waters 'neath the waters run, And from o'erhead a harmless sun Gleams through the woods of chrysolite. There gardens fairer to the sight Than those of the Phæacian king Shall ye behold; and, wondering, Gaze on the sea-born fruit and flowers, And thornless and unchanging bowers, Whereof the May-time knoweth nought. So to the pillared house being brought, Poor souls, ye shall not be alone, For o'er the floors of pale blue stone All day such feet as ours shall pass, And, 'twixt the glimmering walls of glass, Such bodies garlanded with gold, So faint, so fair, shall ye behold, And clean forget the treachery Of changing earth and tumbling sea.
Orpheus.
O the sweet valley of deep grass, Where-through the summer stream doth pass, In chain of shallow, and still pool, From misty morn to evening cool; Where the black ivy creeps and twines O'er the dark-armed, red-trunkèd pines, Whence clattering the pigeon flits, Or, brooding o'er her thin eggs, sits, And every hollow of the hills With echoing song the mavis fills. There by the stream, all unafraid, Shall stand the happy shepherd maid, Alone in first of sunlit hours; Behind her, on the dewy flowers, Her homespun woollen raiment lies, And her white limbs and sweet grey eyes Shine from the calm green pool and deep, While round about the swallows sweep, Not silent; and would God that we, Like them, were landed from the sea.
The Sirens.
Shall we not rise with you at night, Up through the shimmering green twilight, That maketh there our changeless day, Then going through the moonlight grey, Shall we not sit upon these sands, To think upon the troublous lands Long left behind, where once ye were, When every day brought change and fear? There, with white arms about you twined, And shuddering somewhat at the wind That ye rejoiced erewhile to meet, Be happy, while old stories sweet, Half understood, float round your ears, And fill your eyes with happy tears. Ah! while we sing unto you there, As now we sing, with yellow hair Blown round about these pearly limbs, While underneath the grey sky swims The light shell-sailor of the waves, And to our song, from sea-filled caves Booms out an echoing harmony, Shall ye not love the peaceful sea?
Orpheus.
Nigh the vine-covered hillocks green, In days agone, have I not seen The brown-clad maidens amorous, Below the long rose-trellised house, Dance to the querulous pipe and shrill, When the grey shadow of the hill Was lengthening at the end of day? Not shadowy nor pale were they, But limbed like those who 'twixt the trees, Follow the swift of Goddesses. Sunburnt they are somewhat, indeed, To where the rough brown woollen weed Is drawn across their bosoms sweet, Or cast from off their dancing feet; But yet the stars, the moonlight grey, The water wan, the dawn of day, Can see their bodies fair and white As Hers, who once, for man's delight, Before the world grew hard and old, Came o'er the bitter sea and cold; And surely those that met me there, Her handmaidens and subjects were; And shame-faced, half-repressed desire Had lit their glorious eyes with fire, That maddens eager hearts of men. O would that I were with them when The new-risen moon is gathering light, And yellow from the homestead white The windows gleam; but verily This waits us o'er a little sea.