The Sirens.

Wail! wail! and smite your lyres' sonorous gold, And beckon naked beauty from the sea In arms and breasts and hips of godly mold, Dark, strangling hair carousing to the knee. In vain! in vain! and dull in unclosed ears To one loved voice sweet calling o'er the foam, Which in my heart like some strong hand appears To gently, firmly draw my vessel home.