It chanced as the dawning grew to grey Pale and sad on our homeward way, With weary lips, and palled with pleasure The Goddess met us, farewell to say. “Ye have made your choice, and the better part, Ye chose” she said, “and the wiser art; In the wild May night drank all the measure, The perfect pleasure of heart and heart. “Ye shall walk no more with the May,” she said, “Shall your love endure though the Gods be dead? Shall the flitting flocks, mine own, my chosen, Sing as of old, and be happy and wed? “Yea, they are glad as of old; but you, Fair and fleet as the dawn or the dew, Abide no more, for the springs are frozen, And fled the Gods that ye loved and knew. Ye shall never know Summer again like this; Ye shall play no more with the Fauns, I wis, No more in the nymphs’ and dryads’ playtime Shall echo and answer kiss and kiss. “Though the flowers in your golden hair be bright, Your golden hair shall be waste and white On faded brows ere another May time Bring the spring, but no more delight.” HOMERIC UNITY. THE sacred keep of Ilion is rent By shaft and pit; foiled waters wander slow Through plains where Simois and Scamander went To war with Gods and heroes long ago. Not yet to tired Cassandra, lying low In rich Mycenæ, do the Fates relent: The bones of Agamemnon are a show, And ruined is his royal monument. The dust and awful treasures of the Dead, Hath Learning scattered wide, but vainly thee, Homer, she meteth with her tool of lead, And strives to rend thy songs; too blind to see The crown that burns on thine immortal head Of indivisible supremacy! IN TINTAGEL. LUI. AH lady, lady, leave the creeping mist, And leave the iron castle by the sea! ELLE. Nay, from the sea there came a ghost that kissed My lips, and so I cannot come to thee! LUI. Ah lady, leave the cruel landward wind That crusts the blighted flowers with bitter foam! ELLE. Nay, for his arms are cold and strong to bind, And I must dwell with him and make my home! LUI. Come, for the Spring is fair in Joyous Guard And down deep alleys sweet birds sing again. ELLE. But I must tarry with the winter hard, And with the bitter memory of pain, Although the Spring be fair in Joyous Guard, And in the gardens glad birds sing again! PISIDICÊ. The incident is from the Love Stories of Parthenius, who preserved fragments of a lost epic on the expedition of Achilles against Lesbos, an island allied with Troy.