New strife, new song on Æschylean seas,
Canaris risen above Themistocles;
Old glory of warrior ghosts
Shed fresh on filial hosts,
With dewfall redder than the dews of day,
And earth-born lightnings out of bloodbright spray;
Then through the flushed grey gloom on shadowy sheaves
Low flights of falling leaves; 70
And choirs of birds transfiguring as they throng
All the world's twilight and the soul's to song.

Voices more dimly deep [_Ep._ 2.
Than the inmost heart of sleep,
And tenderer than the rose-mouthed morning's lips;
And midmost of them heard
The viewless water's word,
The sea's breath in the wind's wing and the ship's,
That bids one swell and sound and smite 79
And rend that other in sunder as with fangs by night.

But ah! the glory of shadow and mingling ray, [_Str._ 3.
The story of morn and even
Whose tale was writ in heaven
And had for scroll the night, for scribe the day!
For scribe the prophet of the morning, far
Exalted over twilight and her star;
For scroll beneath his Apollonian hand
The dim twin wastes of sea and glimmering land.
Hark, on the hill-wind, clear
For all men's hearts to hear 90