The green foam-whitened wave wax red And all the morning's banner fly

Then, as earth's helpless hopes go down,
Let earth's self in the dark tides drown.

Yea, if no morning must behold
Man, other than were they now cold,
And other deeds than past deeds done,
Nor any near or far-off sun

Salute him risen and sunlike-souled,

Free, boundless, fearless, perfect, one, Let man's world die like worlds of old, And here in heaven's sight only be The sole sun on a worldless sea.

Algernon Charles Swinburne

CHORUS

FROM Hippolytus

OULD I take me to some cavern for mine

Chiding,

In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath

trod;

Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding,
As a bird among the bird-droves of God!
Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar
Of the deep Adriatic on the shore,
Where the water of Eridanus is clear,
And Phaethon's sad sisters by his grave
Weep into the river, and each tear

Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave.

To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his on

set,

And the red wave is tranquil as of old;

Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End
That Atlas guardeth, would I wend;
Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth
In God's quiet garden by the sea,

And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth
Joy among the meadows like a tree.

Euripides

Translation by Gilbert Murray

CHORUS

FROM The Bacchae

WHER

HERE is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam,

Would I could wend to thee;

Where the wings of the Loves are furled,
And faint the heart of the world.

Aye, unto Paphos' isle,

Where the rainless meadows smile
With riches rolled From the hundred-fold
Mouths of the far-off Nile,

Streaming beneath the waves
To the roots of the sea-ward caves.

But a better land is there
Where Olympus cleaves the air,

The high still dell Where the Muses dwell,
Fairest of all things fair!

O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's De

sire,

And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding

Fire!

Euripides

Translation by Gilbert Murray

THE HILLS

Perchè non sali il dilettoso monte

?

See, in the evening-glow,

How sharp the silver spear-heads charge
When Alp meets heaven in snow!

Dante

The solemn peaks but to the stars are known,

But to the stars and the cold lunar beams;

Alone the sun arises, and alone

Spring the great streams.

Arnold

THE HILLS

THE SUMMONS

FROM Monadnoc

P!-If thou knew'st who calls

Uro twilight parks of beech and pine,

High o'er the river intervals,
Above the ploughman's highest line,
Over the owner's farthest walls!
Up! where the the airy citadel

O'erlooks the surging landscape's swell!

Let not unto the stones the Day

Her lily and rose, her sea and land display.

Read the celestial sign!

Lo! the south answers to the north;
Bookworm, break this sloth urbane;
A greater spirit bids thee forth
Than the gray dreams which thee detain.
Mark how the climbing Oreads

Beckon thee to their arcades;

Youth, for a moment free as they,

Teach thy feet to feel the ground,
Ere yet arrives the wintry day
When Time thy feet has bound
Take the bounty of thy birth,

Taste the lordship of the earth.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

PARTING

E storm-winds of Autumn!

YE

Who rush by, who shake
The window, and ruffle
The gleam-lighted lake;