84 
HYMN TO APOLLO 
 
All the old worship in this land is broken ; 
Yet on my altar burns the ancient censer, 
Frankincense, saffron, galbanum, intenser ! 
Ornaments glisten. 
Robes of thy colour bind me for thy token. 
My voice is fuller in thine adoration. 
Thine image holds its god-appointed station. 
Lycian, listen ! 
 
 
My prayers more eloquent than olden chants 
Long  since  grown  dumb  on  the  soft  forgetful 
airs— 
My lips are loud to herald thee :  my prayers 
Keener to follow. 
I do aspire, as thy long sunbeam slants 
Upon my crown ; I do aspire to thee 
As no man yet—I am in ecstasy ! 
Hear me, Apollo ! 
 
 
My chant wakes elemental flakes of light 
Flashing along the sandal-footed floor. 
All listening spirits answer and adore 
Thee, the amazing ! 
I follow to the eagle-baffling sight, 
Limitless oceans of abounding space ; 
Purposed to bind myself, but know thy face, 
Phœbus, in gazing.