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If face to face at length we see；
Be thine the voice to welcome me。
HESPEROTHEN
By the example of certain Grecian mariners； who； being safely
returned from the war about Troy； leave yet again their old lands
and gods； seeking they know not what； and choosing neither to abide
in the fair Phaeacian island； nor to dwell and die with the Sirens；
at length end miserably in a desert country by the sea； is set
forth the VANITY OF MELANCHOLY。 And by the land of Phaeacia is to
be understood the place of Art and of fair Pleasures； and by
Circe's Isle； the place of bodily delights； whereof men； falling
aweary； attain to Eld； and to the darkness of that age。 Which
thing Master Francoys Rabelais feigned； under the similitude of the
Isle of the Macraeones。
THE SEEKERS FOR PHAEACIA。
There is a land in the remotest day；
Where the soft night is born； and sunset dies；
The eastern shore sees faint tides fade away；
That wash the lands where laughter； tears； and sighs
Make life； … the lands below the blue of common skies。
But in the west is a mysterious sea；
（What sails have seen it； or what shipmen known？）
With coasts enchanted where the Sirens be；
With islands where a Goddess walks alone；
And in the cedar trees the magic winds make moan。
Eastward the human cares of house and home；
Cities； and ships； and unknown gods； and loves；
Westward； strange maidens fairer than the foam；
And lawless lives of men； and haunted groves；
Wherein a god may dwell； and where the Dryad roves。
The gods are careless of the days and death
Of toilsome men； beyond the western seas；
The gods are heedless of their painful breath；
And love them not； for they are not as these；
But in the golden west they live and lie at ease。
Yet the Phaeacians well they love； who live
At the light's limit； passing careless hours；
Most like the gods； and they have gifts to give；
Even wine； and fountains musical； and flowers；
And song； and if they will； swift ships； and magic powers。
It is a quiet midland； in the cool
Of the twilight comes the god； though no man prayed；
To watch the maids and young men beautiful
Dance； and they see him； and are not afraid；
For they are neat of kin to gods； and undismayed。
Ah； would the bright red prows might bring us nigh
The dreamy isles that the Immortals keep！
But with a mist they hide them wondrously；
And far the path and dim to where they sleep； …
The loved； the shadowy lands； along the shadowy deep。
A SONG OF PHAEACIA。
The languid sunset； mother of roses；
Lingers； a light on the magic seas；
The wide fire flames； as a flower uncloses；
Heavy with odour； and loose to the breeze。
The red rose clouds； without law or leader；
Gather and float in the airy plain；
The nightingale sings to the dewy cedar；
The cedar scatters his scent to the main。
The strange flowers' perfume turns to singing；
Heard afar over moonlit seas：
The Siren's song； grown faint in winging；
Falls in scent on the cedar trees。
As waifs blown out of the sunset； flying；
Purple； and rosy； and grey； the birds
Brighten the air with their wings； their crying
Wakens a moment the weary herds。
Butterflies flit from the fairy garden；
Living blossoms of flying flowers；
Never the nights with winter harden；
Nor moons wax keen in this land of ours。
Great fruits； fragrant； green and golden；
Gleam in the green； and droop and fall；
Blossom； and bud； and flower unfolden；
Swing； and cling to the garden wall。
Deep in the woods as twilight darkens；
Glades are red with the scented fire；
Far in the dells the white maid hearkens；
Song and sigh of the heart's desire。
Ah； and as moonlight fades in morning；
Maiden's song in the matin grey；
Faints as the first bird's note； a warning；
Wakes and wails to the new…born day。
The waking song and the dying measure
Meet； and the waxing and waning light
Meet； and faint with the hours of pleasure；
The rose of the sea and the sky is white。
THE DEPARTURE FROM PHAEACIA。
The Phaeacians。
Why from the dreamy meadows；
More fair than any dream；
Why seek ye for the shadows
Beyond the ocean stream？
Through straits of storm and peril；
Through firths unsailed before；
Why make you for the sterile；
The dark Kimmerian shore？
There no bright streams are flowing；
There day and night are one；
No harvest time； no sowing；
No sight of any sun；
No sound of song or tabor；
No dance shall greet you there；
No noise of mortal labour
Breaks on the blind chill air。
Are ours not happy places；
Where gods with mortals trod？
Saw not our sires the faces
Of many a present god？
The Seekers。
Nay； now no god comes hither；
In shape that men may see；
They fare we know not whither；
We know not what they be。
Yea； though the sunset lingers
Far in your fairy glades；
Though yours the sweetest singers；
Though yours the kindest maids；
Yet here be the true shadows；
Here in the doubtful light；
Amid the dreamy meadows
No shadow haunts the night。
We seek a city splendid；
With light beyond the sun；
Or lands where dreams are ended；
And works and days are done。
A BALLAD OF DEPARTURE。 （3）
Fair white bird； what song art thou singing
In wintry weather of lands o'er sea？
Dear white bird； what way art thou winging；
Where no grass grows； and no green tree？
I looked at the far…off fields and grey；
There grew no tree but the cypress tree；
That bears sad fruits with the flowers of May；
And whoso looks on it； woe is he。
And whoso eats of the fruit thereof
Has no more sorrow； and no more love；
And who sets the same in his garden stead；
In a little space he is waste and dead。
THEY HEAR THE SIRENS FOR THE SECOND TIME。
The weary sails a moment slept；
The oars were silent for a space；
As past Hesperian shores we swept；
That were as a remembered face
Seen after lapse of hopeless years；
In Hades； when the shadows meet；
Dim through the mist of many tears；
And strange； and though a shadow； sweet。
So seemed the half…remembered shore；
That slumbered； mirrored in the blue；
With havens where we touched of yore；
And ports that over well we knew。
Then broke the calm before a breeze
That sought the secret of the west；
And listless all we swept the seas
Towards the Islands of the Blest。
Beside a golden sanded bay
We saw the Sirens； very fair
The flowery hill whereon they lay；
The flowers set upon their hair。
Their old sweet song came down the wind；
Remembered music waxing strong； …
Ah now no need of cords to bind；
No need had we of Orphic song。
It once had seemed a little thing
To lay our lives down at their feet；
That dying we might hear them sing；
And dying see their faces sweet；
B