Page:The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman, 1908.djvu/282

POEMS OF GREECE News! what news? Has it in truth then ended,

The term appointed for that wondrous sleep?

Has Earth so well her fairest brood defended

Within her bosom? Was their slumber deep

Not this our dreamless rest that knows no waking,

But that to which the years are as a day?

What! are they coming back, their prison breaking,—

These gods of Homer's chant, of Pindar's lay?

Are they coming back in might,

Olympia's gods, to claim their ancient right?

Shall then the sacred majesty of old,

The grace that holy was, the noble rage,

Temper our strife, abate our greed for gold,

Make fine the modern age?

Yes, they are coming back, to light returning!

Bold are the hearts and void of fear the hands

That toil, the lords of War and Spoil unurning,

Or of their sisters fair that break the bands;

That loose the sovran mistress of desire,

Queen Aphrodite, to possess the earth

Once more; that dare renew dread Hera's ire,

And rouse old Pan to wantonness of mirth.

The herald Niké, first,

From the dim resting-place unfettered burst,

Winged victor over fate and time and death!

Zeus follows next, and all his children then;

Phoibos awakes and draws a joyous breath,

And Love returns to men.

Ah, let them come, the glorious Immortals,

Rulers no more, but with mankind to dwell,

The dear companions of our hearts and portals,

Voiceless, unworshipped, yet beloved right well! 252