But when the waves had touched the marble base, And steps the fish swim over twice a day, The dawn beheld him sunken in his place 465 Upon the floor; and sleeping there he lay, Not heeding aught the little jets of spray The roughened sea brought nigh, across him cast, For as one dead all thought from him had passed. Yet long before the sun had showed his head, 470 Long ere the varied hangings on the wall Had gained once more their blue and green and red, He rose as one some well-known sign doth call When war upon the city's gates doth fall, And scarce like one fresh risen out of sleep, 475 He 'gan again his broken watch to keep. Then he turned round; not for the sea-gull's cry That wheeled above the temple in his flight, Not for the fresh south-wind that lovingly Breathed on the new-born day and dying night, 480 But some strange hope 'twixt fear and great delight Drew round his face, now flushed, now pale and wan, And still constrained his eyes the sea to scan. Now a faint light lit up the southern sky, Not sun or moon, for all the world was gray, 485 But this a bright cloud seemed, that drew anigh, Lighting the dull waves that beneath it lay As toward the temple still it took its way, And still grew greater, till Milanion Saw naught for dazzling light that round him shone. 490 But as he staggered with his arms outspread, Delicious unnamed odors breathed around, For languid happiness he bowed his head, And with wet eyes sank down upon the ground, Nor wished for aught, nor any dream he found 495 To give him reason for that happiness, Or make him ask more knowledge of his bliss. At last his eyes were cleared, and he could see Through happy tears the goddess face to face With that faint image of Divinity, 500 Whose well-wrought smile and dainty changeless grace Until that morn so gladdened all the place; Then he unwitting cried aloud her name, And covered up his eyes for fear and shame. But through the stillness he her voice could hear 505 Piercing his heart with joy scarce bearable, That said, "Milanion, wherefore dost thou fear? I am not hard to those who love me well; List to what I a second time will tell, And thou mayest hear perchance, and live to save 510 The cruel maiden from a loveless grave.