Page:The Poems of Oscar Wilde.pdf/145

 And steered across the bay, and when nine suns

Passed down the long and laddered way of gold,

And nine pale moons had breathed their orisons

To the chaste stars their confessors, or told

Their dearest secret to the downy moth

That will not fly at noonday, through the foam and surging froth

Came a great owl with yellow sulphurous eyes

And lit upon the ship, whose timbers creaked

As though the lading of three argosies

Were in the hold, and flapped its wings and shrieked,

And darkness straightway stole across the deep,

Sheathed was Orion's sword, dread Mars himself fled down the steep.

And the moon hid behind a tawny mask

Of drifting cloud, and from the ocean's marge

Rose the red plume, the huge and hornèd casque,

The seven-cubit spear, the brazen targe!

And clad in bright and burnished panoply

Athena strode across the stretch of sick and shivering sea!

To the dull sailors' sight her loosened locks

Seemed like the jagged storm-rack, and her feet

Only the spume that floats on hidden rocks, 131