Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/1046

 A s

��ANDREW LANG 839 The Odyssey

one that for a weary space has lain LulPd by the song of Circe and her wine In gardens near the pale of Proserpine, Where that /Easan isle forgets the main, And only the low lutes of love complain, And only shadows of wan lovers pine Ab such an one were glad to know the brine Salt on his lips, and the large air again So gladly from the songs of modern speech Men turn, and see the stars, and feel the free Shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers, And through the music of the languid hours They hear like Ocean on a western beach The surge and thunder of the Odyssey.

��ROBERT BRIDGES 840 My Delight and Thy Delight

'Y delight and thy delight

Walking, like two angels white, In the gardens of the night'

��M

��My desire and thy desire Twining to a tongue of fire, Leaping live, and laughing higher:

Thro 5 the everlasting strife In the mystery of life.

�� �