CLEOBIS AND BITON.
7
Then, weary with toil and worship, they sank to slumber there,
While the wind blew soft and the Sun-god turned to his western goals.
While the wind blew soft and the Sun-god turned to his western goals.
In the altar's shadow sitting I watched their tranquil sleep,
And thought of the fame and gladness the long years held in store;
When the fairest maids of Argos their bridal feasts should keep,
Maids they should bring all jewelled and blushing to their door;
While the Dorian land—nay, Hellas—should praise and honor heap
On the youths who put the Goddess their festal ease before.
And thought of the fame and gladness the long years held in store;
When the fairest maids of Argos their bridal feasts should keep,
Maids they should bring all jewelled and blushing to their door;
While the Dorian land—nay, Hellas—should praise and honor heap
On the youths who put the Goddess their festal ease before.
But day was fast declining to sunset's golden gleam,
And, still with joy transported, I stooped, their rest to rouse; . . .
Oh! direful, direful slumber! . . . Oh! bliss beyond my dream! . . .
The breath had left their parted lips, and pallid were their brows!
This was the rarest blessing; this was the gift supreme,—
The summons from the mighty Gods that doth the soul unhouse!
And, still with joy transported, I stooped, their rest to rouse; . . .
Oh! direful, direful slumber! . . . Oh! bliss beyond my dream! . . .
The breath had left their parted lips, and pallid were their brows!
This was the rarest blessing; this was the gift supreme,—
The summons from the mighty Gods that doth the soul unhouse!
