II.

Floats a wild chant of morning from the hills; Bursts a broad song of sunlight on the sea; High Heaven throbs strung with rays of chords and thrills, Life's resonant paeans to Earth's minstrelsy. Bind thou swift sandals on of youth, My love, and harp to me of truth In lands of joy or ruth.

Now sheer o'er solitudes of noon the strife Of chariot fierce by chariot scintillant Flames, and the blade-bare charioteers for life, O'er-bent, close-curled, goad their hot yokes that pant. Haste not, my love, but from the beam Beside this olive-frosty stream Sing while I rest and dream.

What swart Penthesilea, Amazon, Hath, smitten, hurled her shield, that crescent there; To wrench the barbed arrow leaned,—voiced one Defiant shout, breathed her red life in air.— Tho' life be close to sunset, lo, Into the sunset let us go Still lyring joy not woe.

How swims the Night thro' the deep-oceaned sky! How at pale lips blown stars like bubbles break, Burn, streamed from showery locks she tosses high!— A stronger swimmer, Death, glares in her wake.— Cast, love, ah cast thy harp away! Aweary am I of thy lay— Kneel down by me and pray.