Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 5.djvu/640

600 Anoint our bodies with the fragrant oil,

And plait our garlands gathered from the grave,

And wear the wreaths that sprung from out the brave.

But lo! night comes, the Mooa woos us back,

The sound of mats are heard along our track;

Anon the torchlight dance shall fling its sheen

In flashing mazes o'er the Marly's green;

And we too will be there; we too recall

The memory bright with many a festival,

Ere Fiji blew the shell of war, when foes

For the first time were wafted in canoes.

Alas! for them the flower of manhood bleeds;

Alas! for them our fields are rank with weeds:

Forgotten is the rapture, or unknown,

Of wandering with the Moon and Love alone.

But be it so:—they taught us how to wield

The club, and rain our arrows o'er the field:

Now let them reap the harvest of their art!

But feast to-night! to-morrow we depart.

Strike up the dance! the Cava bowl fill high!