Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp. The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse. 1922.
HermotimusWilliam Edmondstoune Aytoun (18131865)
V
Evermore must Charon turn from me.
Still my thread of life remains unbroken,
And unbroken it must ever be!
Only they may rest
Whom the Fates’ behest
From their mortal mansion setteth free.
Seen him wave afar his serpent wand;
But to me the Herald would not listen
When the dead swept by at his command.
Not with that pale crew
Durst I venture too:
Ever shut for me the quiet land!
Phantom shapes, the guards of Hades, lie:
None of heavenly kind, nor yet of mortal,
May unchallenged pass the warders by.
None that path may go
If he cannot show
His last passport to eternity.
Fatal, O Apollo, was thy love!
Pythian, Archer, brightest God and bravest,
Hear, O hear me from thy throne above!
Let me not, I pray,
Thus be cast away:
Plead for me, thy slave—O plead to Jove!
Heard that full melodious voice of thine
Silver-clear throughout the ether ringing—
Seen thy locks in golden clusters shine:
And thine eye, so bright
With its innate light,
Hath ere now been bent so low as mine.
Those who trusted in thy godlike power?
Hyacinthus did not wholly perish!
Still he lives the firstling of thy bower:
Still he feels thy rays,
Fondly meets thy gaze,
Tho’ but now the spirit of a flower.