Page:Studies in Song - Swinburne (1880).djvu/33

 Recrowned the wreathless hours That mused and mourned upon their works in vain; For all their works of death Song filled with light and breath, And listening grief relaxed her lightening chain; For sweet as all the wide sweet south She found the song like honey from the lion's mouth.

High from his throne in heaven Simonides, Crowned with mild aureole of memorial tears That the everlasting sun of all time sees All golden, molten from the forge of years, Smiled, as the gift was laid upon his knees Of songs that hang like pearls in mourners' ears, Mild as the murmuring of Hymettian bees