There lies the port: the vessel puffs her sail: There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners, Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me-- That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads--you and I are old; Old age has yet his honor and his toil; Death closes all: but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods. The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks: The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. FOOTNOTES: [330] Sonnet by Andrew Lang. [331] For the authorship of the Odyssey, see § 298 (3); and for translations, see corresponding section of the Commentary. [332] Odyssey, 9. [333] § 141. [334] Odyssey, 10. [335] From Austin Dobson's Prayer of the Swine to Circe. [336] Odyssey, 10; adapted from Butcher and Lang's translation. So the following from Odyssey, 11. [337] Odyssey, 12. [338] _Incidit in Scyllam, cupiens vitare Charybdim._ [339] Odyssey, 1, 10. [340] Odyssey, 5, 64 (Cowper's translation). [341] Odyssey, 6. [342] Odyssey, 7. [343] Andrew Lang, A Song of Phæacia. [344] Odyssey, 8. [345] Odyssey, 13. [346] Stephen Phillips, Ulysses. [347] Odyssey, 14. [348] Odyssey, 15. [349] Odyssey 16, 212 (Cowper's translation). [350] Odyssey, 17, 290 (Cowper's translation). [351] Odyssey, 19. [352] Odyssey, 21. [353] Odyssey, 22. CHAPTER XXV ADVENTURES OF ÆNEAS Roman Virgil, thou that singest Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire, Ilion falling, Rome arising, wars, and filial faith, and Dido's pyre; Landscape lover, lord of language more than he that sang the Works and Days, All the chosen coin of fancy flashing out from many a golden phrase;... Light among the vanish'd ages; star that gildest yet this phantom shore; Golden branch amid the shadows, kings and realms that pass to rise no more;... Now the Rome of slaves hath perish'd, and the Rome of freemen holds her place, I, from out the Northern Island sunder'd once from all the human race,