Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/197

 None so glorious garland crowned the feast Panathenæan As this wreath too frail to fetter fast the Cyprian dove: None so fiery song sprang sunwards annual as the pæan Praising perfect love of friends and perfect country’s love.

Higher than highest of all those heavens wherefrom the starry Song of Homer shone above the rolling fight, Gleams like spring’s green bloom on boughs all gaunt and gnarry Soft live splendour as of flowers of foam in flight, Glows a glory of mild-winged maidens upward mounting Sheer through air made shrill with strokes of smooth swift wings Round the rocks beyond foot’s reach, past eyesight’s counting, Up the cleft where iron wind of winter rings Round a God fast clenched in iron jaws of fetters, Him who culled for man the fruitful flower of fire, Bared the darkling scriptures writ in dazzling letters, Taught the truth of dreams deceiving men’s desire, Gave their water-wandering chariot-seats of ocean Wings, and bade the rage of war-steeds champ the rein,