Like shadows on a shadow-ship The dark-haired, dark-eyed sailors lay; When from the island seemed to slip, Borne overhead and far away, A voice that "Thamus!" seemed to say. Then silence: and the languid Greek, The lounging Cretan, watched the sky, Or, in carousal, ceased to speak And sing. Again came rolling by The voice, and "Thamus!" in its cry. All were awake: tall, swarthy men With bated breath stood listening, Or gravely scanned the shore. And then, Although they saw no living thing, Again they heard the summons ring. And "Thamus!" sounded shore and sea: And at the third call leaned the Greek, Full facing toward the isle; and he Cried to the voice and bade it speak The mission, message it would seek. "Thou shalt sail on to such a place Among the pagan seas," it said; "To such a land: and thou shalt face Against it when the east is red, And cry aloud, 'Great Pan is dead!'"... As fearful of unholy word Their souls stood stricken with strange fear. Then Thamus said, "Yea, I have heard. Yet 'tis my purpose still to steer Straight on. That land shall never hear!" And so they sailed that night; and came Into an unknown sea; and there The east burnt like a sword of flame A Cyclops forges: straight the air Fell sick with calm: the morn was fair. Then double dread was theirs; and dread Was Thamus'; and he raised his hand And shouted, "Pan! great Pan is dead!" And all the twilight-haunted land Cried, "Pan is dead!" from peak to strand. They saw pale shrines and temples nod Among the shaken trees: and pale Wild forms of goddess and of god Crawl forth with crumbling limbs and trail Woe, till the dim land grew one wail.-- What tripods groaned?--Serapis first Within Canopus' temples heard The word, and his brute granite burst Its monster bulk. Dodona stirred And bowed its oaks before the word That left them thunder-riv'n; then passed To Aphaca where, marble-hewn, Venus possessed a well that glassed Her form, white-burning, like the moon-- And lo! her loveliness lay strewn. Then o'er Cilicia swept, and bent Sarpedon's oracle with scorn, Apollo.--Yea! the gods lay rent And Delphos dumb. And, lo! the morn Flamed o'er the world where Christ lay born. THE MAMELUKE I She was a queen. 'Midst mutes and slaves, A mameluke, he loved her.--Waves Dashed not more hopelessly the paves Of her high marble palace-stair Than lashed his love his heart's despair.-- As souls in Hell dream Paradise, He suffered yet forgot it there Beneath Rommaneh's houri eyes. II