I must go—whither I must go. Do ye
But keep my word, and ye may learn, though now
Be my dark hour, that all with me is well.
Chorus.
A shudder of love thrills through me. Joy! I soar. 1
O Pan, wild Pan! [They dance
Come from Cyllenè hoar—
Come from the snowdrift, the rock-ridge, the glen!
Leaving the mountain bare
Fleet through the salt sea-air,
Mover of dances to Gods and to men.
Whirl me in Cnossian ways—thrid me the Nysian maze!
Come, while the joy of the dance is my care!
Thou too, Apollo, come
Bright from thy Delian home,
Bringer of day,
Fly o’er the southward main
Here in our hearts to reign,
Loved to repose there and kindly to stay.
Horror is past. Our eyes have rest from pain. 2
O Lord of Heaven! [They dance
Now blithesome day again
Purely may smile on our swift-sailing fleet,
Since, all his woe forgot,
Aias now faileth not
Aught that of prayer and Heaven-worship is meet.
Time bringeth mighty aid—nought but in time doth fade:
Nothing shall move me as strange to my thought.
Aias our lord hath now
Cleared his wrath-burdened brow
Long our despair,
Ceased from his angry feud
And with mild heart renewed
Peace and goodwill to the high-sceptred pair.
