Page:Hero and Leander - Marlowe and Chapman (1821).pdf/185

 Love calls to war,— Sighs his alarms, Lips his swords are, The field his arms.

No need have we of factious Day, To cast, in envy of thy peace, Her balls of discord in thy way: Here Beauty's day doth never cease, Day is abstracted here, And varied in a triple sphere. Hero, Alcmane, Mya, so outshine thee, Ere thou come here let Thetis thrice refine thee. Love calls to war,— Sighs his alarms, Lips his swords are, The field his arms.

The evening star I see; Rise, youths! the evening star Helps Love to summon war, Both now embracing be.