SELECTIONS IN ENGLISH POETRY
The Sirens.
O happy seafarers are ye, 125
And surely all your ills are past,
And toil upon the land and sea,
Since ye are brought to us at last.
To you the fashion of the world,
Wide lands laid waste, fair cities burned, 130
And plagues, and kings from kingdoms hurled,
Are nought, since hither ye have turned.
Far as upon this beach we stand,
And o'er our heads the sea-fowl flit,
Our eyes behold a glorious land, 135
And soon shall be ye kings of it.
Orpheus.
A little more, a little more,
O carriers of the Golden Fleece,
A little labour with the oar,
Before we reach the land of Greece. 140
E'en now perchance faint rumours reach
Men's ears of this our victory,
And draw them down unto the beach
To gaze across the empty sea.
But since the longed-for day is nigh, 145
And scarce a God could stay us now,
Why do ye hang your heads and sigh,
Hindering for nought our eager prow?
The Sirens.
A.h, had ye chanced to reach the home
Your fond desires were set upon, 150
320