From “The Odyssey”

Prefacing the Butcher-Lang Translation AS one that for a weary space has lain Lulled by the song of Circe and her wine In gardens near the pale of Proserpine, Where that Ææan Isle forgets the Main, And only the low lutes of love complain, And only shadows of wan lovers pine; As such an one were glad to know the brine Salt on his lips, and the large air again,— So, gladly from the songs of modern speech Men turn, and see the stars, and feel the free Shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers; And through the music of the languid hours, They hear like ocean on a western beach The surge and thunder of the Odyssey.

Collection: 
English
1864
Andrew Lang
Sub Title: 
Poems of Sentiment: IV. Thought: Poetry: Books

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