Have seen, through the gleaming grey,
Ring behind ring, men say,
The dance of the old Sea's daughters.

The guiding oar abaft
It rippled and it dinned,
And now the west wind laughed
And now the south-west wind;
And the sail was full in flight,
And they passed by the Island White:

Birds, birds, everywhere,
White as the foam, light as the air;
And ghostly Achilles raceth there,
Far in the Friendless Waters.
[ANTISTROPHE 1.]
Ah, would that Leda's child ...
(So prayeth the priestess maiden)
From Troy, that she beguiled,
Hither were borne, to know
What sin on her soul is laden!
Hair twisted, throat held low,
Head back for the blood to flow,
To die by the sword. ... Ah no!
One hope my soul yet hideth.

A sail, a sail from Greece,
Fearless to cross the sea,
With ransom and with peace
To my sick captivity.