There is in truth a temple on the isle; Therein a wooden statue of rude style And workmanship antique with helm of lead: Else all is desert, uninhabited; Only a few goats browse the wind-swept rocks, And oft the stragglers of their starving flocks Are caught and sacrificed by whomsoe'er, Whoever of chance or purpose hither fare: About the fence lie strewn their bleaching bones.

But in the temple jewels and precious stones, Upheapt with golden rings and vials lie, Thankofferings to Achilles, and thereby, Written or scratch'd upon the walls in view, Inscriptions, with the givers' names thereto, Some in Romaic character, some Greek, As each man in the tongue that he might speak Wrote verse of praise, or prayer for good to come, To Achilles most, but to Patroclus some; For those who strongly would Achilles move Approach him by the pathway of his love.

Thousands of birds frequent the sheltering shrine, The dippers and the swimmers of the brine, Sea-mew and gull and diving cormorant, Fishers that on the high cliff make their haunt Sheer inaccessible, and sun themselves Huddled arow upon the narrow shelves:-- And surely no like wonder e'er hath been As that such birds should keep the temple clean; But thus they do: at earliest dawn of day They flock to sea and in the waters play, And when they well have wet their plumage light, Back to the sanctuary they take flight Splashing the walls and columns with fresh brine, Till all the stone doth fairly drip and shine, When off again they skim asea for more And soon returning sprinkle steps and floor, And sweep all cleanly with their wide-spread wings.

From other men I have learnt further things.

If any of free purpose, thus they tell, Sail'd hither to consult the oracle,-- For oracle there was,--they sacrificed Such victims as they brought, if such sufficed, And some they slew, some to the G.o.d set free: But they who driven from their course at sea Chanced on the isle, took of the goats thereon And pray'd Achilles to accept his own.

Then made they a gift, and when they had offer'd once, If to their question there was no response, They added to the gift and asked again; Yea twice and more, until the G.o.d should deign Answer to give, their offering they renew'd; Whereby great riches to the shrine ensued.

And when both sacrifice and gifts were made They worship'd at the shrine, and as they pray'd Sailors aver that often hath been seen A man like to a G.o.d, of warrior mien, A beauteous form of figure swift and strong; Down on his shoulders his light hair hung long And his full armour was enchast with gold: While some, who with their eyes might nought behold, Say that with music strange the air was stir'd; And some there are, who have both seen and heard: And if a man wish to be favour'd more, He need but spend one night upon the sh.o.r.e; To him in sleep Achilles will appear And lead him to his tent, and with good cheer Show him all friendliness that men desire; Patroclus pours the wine, and he his lyre Takes from the pole and plays the strains thereon Which Cheiron taught him first on Pelion.

These things I tell as they were told to me, Nor do I question but it well may be: For sure I am that, if man ever was, Achilles was a hero, both because Of his high birth and beauty, his country's call, His valour of soul, his early death withal, For Homer's praise, the crown of human art; And that above all praise he had at heart A gentler pa.s.sion in her sovran sway, And when his love died threw his life away.

27

AN ANNIVERSARY

HE

Bright, my beloved, be thy day, This eve of Summer's fall: And Autumn ma.s.s his flowers gay To crown thy festival!

SHE

I care not if the morn be bright, Living in thy love-rays: No flower I need for my delight, Being crowned with thy praise.

HE

O many years and joyfully This sun to thee return; Ever all men speak well of thee, Nor any angel mourn!

SHE

For length of life I would not pray, If thy life were to seek; Nor ask what men and angels say But when of thee they speak.

HE

Arise! The sky hath heard my song, The flowers o'erhear thy praise; And little loves are waking long To wish thee happy days.

28

REGINA CARA

JUBILEE-SONG, FOR MUSIC, 1897

Hark! The world is full of thy praise, England's Queen of many days; Who, knowing how to rule the free, Hast given a crown to monarchy.

Honour, Truth and growing Peace Follow Britannia's wide increase, And Nature yield her strength unknown To the wisdom born beneath thy throne!

In wisdom and love firm is thy fame: Enemies bow to revere thy name: The world shall never tire to tell Praise of the queen that reigned well.

O FELIX ANIMA, DOMINA PRAECLARA, AMORE SEMPER CORONABERE REGINA CARA.

LATER POEMS

OCCASIONAL ODES &C.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: decoration]

_PREVIOUS PUBLICATIONS_

_1. Monthly Review. February, 1903._

_2. Country Life. 1906._

_3. 'Volunteer Haversack.' 1902._

_4. Daniel Press. Poems by A. Buckton.

1901._

_5, 6. Sat.u.r.day Review._

_7. 'The Sheaf.' June, 1902._

_8. English Review. March, 1911._

_9. Academy. April 1, 1905._

_10, 11. Monthly Review. June, 1904._

_13. Speaker._

_14. Monthly Review. March, 1902._

_15. 'Wayfarer's Love.' 1904._

_16. Sat.u.r.day Review. April 13, 1907.

Book of the Oxford Pageant. July 1907._

_17, 18, 19. Published with the Music by Novello, Ewer & Co._