2
PODAS OKUS.
Daylight fades and night must follow,
Low, where sea and sky combine,
Droops the orb of great Apollo,
Hostile god to me and mine.
Through the tent's wide entrance streaming,
In a flood of glory rare,
Glides the golden sunset, gleaming
On your golden gleaming hair.
Low, where sea and sky combine,
Droops the orb of great Apollo,
Hostile god to me and mine.
Through the tent's wide entrance streaming,
In a flood of glory rare,
Glides the golden sunset, gleaming
On your golden gleaming hair.
Chide him not, the leech who tarries,
Surest aid were all too late;
Surer far the shaft of Paris,
Winged by Phœbus and by fate;
When he crouch'd behind the gable,
Had I once his features scann'd,
Phœbus' self had scarce been able
To have nerved his trembling hand.
Surest aid were all too late;
Surer far the shaft of Paris,
Winged by Phœbus and by fate;
When he crouch'd behind the gable,
Had I once his features scann'd,
Phœbus' self had scarce been able
To have nerved his trembling hand.
Blue-eyed maiden! dear Athena!
Goddess chaste, and wise, and brave,
From the snares of Polyxena
Thou would'st fain thy favourite save.
Tell me, is it not far better
That it should be as it is?
Jove's behests we cannot fetter,
Fate's decrees are always his.
Goddess chaste, and wise, and brave,
From the snares of Polyxena
Thou would'st fain thy favourite save.
Tell me, is it not far better
That it should be as it is?
Jove's behests we cannot fetter,
Fate's decrees are always his.
