Daughters of Oceanus, Save our darling from this hap! Arethusa, spread thy lap, Catch him, and with pinky hands Bear him to the coral sands, Where thy sisters sit in school Carding the Milesian wool:-- Clio, Spio, Beroe, Opis and Phyllodoce,-- Pass by these, and also pass Yellow-haired Lycorias; Pass Ligea, shrill of song-- All the dear surrounding throng; Lay him at Cyrene's feet There, where all the rivers meet: In their waters crystalline Bathe him clean of weed and brine, Comb him, wipe his pretty eyes, Then to Zeus who rules the skies Call, assembling in a round Every fish that can be found-- Whale and merman, lobster, cod, Tittlebat and demigod:-- "Lord of all the Universe, We, thy finny pensioners, Sue thee for the little life Hurried hence by Hades' wife. Sooner than she call him her dog, Change, O change him to a mer-dog! Re-inspire the vital spark; Bid him wag his tail and bark, Bark for joy to wag a tail Bright with many a flashing scale; Bid his locks refulgent twine, Hyacinthian, hyaline; Bid him gambol, bid him follow Blithely to the mermen's 'holloa!' When they call the deep-sea calves Home with wreathed univalves. Softly shall he sleep to-night, Curled on couch of stalagmite, Soft and sound, if slightly moister Than the shell-protected oyster. Grant us this, Omnipotent, And to Hera shall be sent One black pearl, but of a size That shall turn her rivals' eyes Greener than the greenest snake Fed in meadow-grass, and make All Olympus run agog-- Grant for this our darling dog!" Musing thus, the other day, In a bight within a bay, I'd a sudden thought that yet some Purpose for this piece of jetsom Might be found; and straight supplied it. On the turf I knelt beside it, Disengaged it from the boulders, Hoisted it upon my shoulders, Bore it home, and, with a few Tin-tacks and a pot of glue, Mended it, affix'd a ledge; Set it by the elder-hedge; And in May, with horn and kettle, Coax'd a swarm of bees to settle. Here around me now they hum; And in autumn should you come Westward to my Cornish home, There'll be honey in the comb-- Honey that, with clotted cream (Though I win not your esteem As a bard), will prove me wise, In that, of the double prize Sent by Hermes from the sea, I've Sold the song and kept the bee-hive. WRESTLERS.