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16 To me his levin-light he promiseth

O'er ships and men, for scourging and hot death:

Do thou make wild the roads of the sea, and steep

With war of waves and yawning of the deep,

Till dead men choke Euboea's curling bay.

So Greece shall dread even in an after day

My house, nor scorn the Watchers of strange lands!

I give thy boon unbartered. These mine hands

Shall stir the waste Aegean; reefs that cross

The Delian pathways, jag-torn Myconos,

Scyros and Lemnos, yea, and storm-driven

Caphêreus with the bones of drownèd men

Shall glut him.—Go thy ways, and bid the Sire

Yield to thine hand the arrows of his fire.

Then wait thine hour, when the last ship shall wind

Her cable coil for home!

How are ye blind,

Ye treaders down of cities, ye that cast

Temples to desolation, and lay waste

Tombs, the untrodden sanctuaries where lie

The ancient dead; yourselves so soon to die!

[Exit.

Up from the earth, O weary head!

This is not Troy, about, above—

Not Troy, nor we the lords thereof.

Thou breaking neck, be strengthenèd!