Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. IV. The Nineteenth Century: Wordsworth to Rossetti

Charles Kingsley (1819–1875)

Pallas in Olympus (from Andromeda)

BLISSFUL, they turned them to go: but the fair-tressed Pallas Athené

Rose, like a pillar of tall white cloud, toward silver Olympus;

Far above ocean and shore, and the peaks of the isles and the mainland;

Where no frost nor storm is, in clear blue windless abysses,

High in the home of the summer, the seats of the happy Immortals,

Shrouded in keen deep blaze, unapproachable; there ever youthful

Hebé, Harmonié, and the daughter of Jove, Aphrodité,

Whirled in the white-linked dance with the gold-crowned Hours and the Graces,

Hand within hand, while clear piped Phoebe, queen of the woodlands.

All day long they rejoiced: but Athené still in her chamber

Bent herself over her loom, as the stars rang loud to her singing,

Chanting of order and right, and of foresight, warden of nations;

Chanting of labour and craft, and of wealth in the port and the garner;

Chanting of valour and fame, and the man who can fall with the foremost,

Fighting for children and wife, and the field which his father bequeathed him.

Sweetly and solemnly sang she, and planned new lessons for mortals;

Happy who, hearing, obey her, the wise unsullied Athené.