A SEA-CHANGE, AT KELP ROCK
'T is the famed Æolian quire
Bearing Pallas flowers and fruit—
Some with white hands touch the lyre,
Some with red lips kiss the flute;
You shall see the vestured priestess,
Violet-crowned, her chalice swing,
Ere yon cerylus has ceased his
Swirl upon "the sea-blue wing."
In the great Panathenæa
Climbing marble porch and stair,
Soon before the statued Dea
Votive baskets they shall bear,
Sacred palm, and fragrant censer,
Wine-cups—
But what vapor hoar,
What cloud-curtain dense, and denser,
Looms between them and the shore?
Off, thou Norseland Terror, clouding
Hellas with the jealous wraith
Which, the gods of old enshrouding,
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