Page:Suppliant Maidens (Morshead) 1883.djvu/52

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Ay, but Come wolf, flee jackal, saith the saw;

Nor can the flax-plant overbear the corn.

Lustful, accursèd, monstrous is their will

As of beasts ravening—'ware we of their power!

Look you, not swiftly puts a fleet to sea,

Nor swiftly to its moorings; long it is

Or e'er the saving cables to the shore

Are borne, and long or e'er the steersmen cry,

The good ship swings at anchor—all is well.

Longest of all, the task to come aland

Where haven there is none, when sunset fades

In night. To pilot wise, the adage saith,

Night is a day of wakefulness and pain.

Therefore no force of weaponed men, as yet,

Scatheless can come ashore, before the bark

Lie at her anchorage securely moored.

Bethink thee therefore, nor in panic leave

The shrine of gods whose succour thou hast won.

I seek the town—men shall not blame me long,

Old, but with youth at heart and on my tongue.

[Exit.

O land of hill and dale, O holy land,

What shall befall us? whither shall we flee,

From Apian land to some dark lair of earth?