An thou should’st grow weary ere my returning, An “_they_” should call to thee from out the borderland, What should avail me booty of whale-ways? What should avail me gold rings or the chain-mail? What should avail me the many-twined bracelets? What should avail me, O my beloved, Here in this “Middan-gard”[7] what should avail me Out of the booty and gain of my goings? [7] Anglo-Saxon, “Earth.” THE TREE From “A Lume Spento.” I stood still and was a tree amid the wood, Knowing the truth of things unseen before; Of Daphne and the laurel bow And that god-feasting couple old That grew elm-oak amid the wold. ’Twas not until the gods had been Kindly entreated, and been brought within Unto the hearth of their heart’s home That they might do this wonder thing; Nathless I have been a tree amid the wood And many a new thing understood That was rank folly to my head before. AN IDYL FOR GLAUCUS _Nel suo aspetto tal dentro mi fei_ _Qual si fe’ Glauco nel gustar dell’ erba_ _Che il fe’ consorto in mar degli altri dei._ PARADISO, 1, 67-9. “_As Glaucus tasting the grass that made_ _him sea-fellow with the other gods._” I Whither he went I may not follow him. His eyes Were strange to-day. They always were, After their fashion, kindred of the sea. To-day I found him. It was very long That I had sought among the nets, and when I asked The fishermen, they laughed at me. I sought long days amid the cliffs thinking to find The body-house of him, and then There at the blue cave-mouth my joy Grew pain for suddenness, to see him ’live. Whither he went I may not come, it seems He is become estranged from all the rest, And all the sea is now his wonder-house. And he may sink unto strange depths, he tells me of, That have no light as we it deem. E’en now he speaks strange words. I did not know One half the substance of his speech with me. And then when I saw naught he sudden leaped, And shot, a gleam of silver, down, away. And I have spent three days upon this rock And yet he comes no more. He did not even seem to know I watched him gliding through the vitreous deep. II They chide me that the skein I used to spin Holds not my interest now, They mock me at the route. Well, I have come again. Last night I saw three white forms move, Out past the utmost wave that bears the white foam crest. I somehow knew that he was one of them.