 | The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang |  |
211
‘Though the light of the sun be bidden’
Though the light of the sun be hidden,Though his race be run;
Though we sail in a sea forbidden
To the golden sun;
Though we wander alone, unknowing—
Oh, heart of mine—
The path of the strange sea-going,
On the blood-red brine;
Yet endure! We shall not be shaken
By things worse than these;
We have 'scaped, when our friends were taken,
On the unsailed seas;
Worse deaths have we faced and fled from,
In the Cyclops' den,
When the floor of his cave ran red from
The blood of men;
Worse griefs we have known undaunted,
Worse fates have fled;
When the Isle that our long love haunted
Lay waste and dead!
| The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang | |