ACTUS QUARTUS 15
In Sun or planet, moon or star?
What nymphs as sweet as ours are dwell
By foreign grove and alien well?
With every watchman’s cheery cry,
“Land ho!” through all the journeying years
Our ever-hoping hearts reply,
“A land of bliss at last appears.”
But what land laps a foreign foam
So sweet as is the hero’s home?
At every port the novel sights
Charm for an hour—delusive bliss.
On every shore the false delights
Of maidens ply the barbarous kiss.
But where did hero think to stay
Lulled in their love beyond a day?
No shoreland whistles to the wind
So musically as Thrace: no town
So gladdens the toil-weary mind
As brave Athenae: no renown
Stands so divine in war and peace
As the illustrious name of Greece.
This island of the subtle song
Shall vanish as the shaken spray
Tossed by the billow far and strong
On marble coasts: we will not stay!