Oracles

HYMN TO APOLLO 85 O hear me ! hear me ! hear me ! for my hands, Dews deathly bathe them ; sinks the stricken song ; Eyes that were feeble have become the strong, See thee and glisten. Blindness is mine ; my spirit understands, Weighs out the offering, accepts the pain, Hearing the pæan of the unprofane ! Lycian, listen ! God of the fiery face, the eyes inviolate ! Lord of soundless thunders, lightnings lightless ! Hear me now, for joy that I see thee sightless, Fervent to follow. Grant one boon ; destroy me, let me die elate, Blasted with light intolerant of a mortal, That the undying in me pass thy portal ! Hear me, Apollo. Hear me, or if about thy courts be girded Paler some purple softening the sunlight Merciful, mighty, O divide the one light Into a million Shattered gems, that I mingle in my worded Measures some woven filament of passion Caught, Phœbus, from thy star-girt crown, to fashion Poet’s pavilion.