In heaven-high musings and many,
Far-seeking and deep debate,
Of strong things find I not any
That is as the strength of Fate.
One with eyes the fairest
Cometh from his dwelling,
Some one loves thee, rarest,
Bright beyond my telling.
No more, O Troy, thy dreaded name
Conspicuous in the lists of fame,
Midst fortresses impregnable shall stand,
In such thick clouds an armed host
Pours terrors from the Grecian coast,
Alight! a light! rise up, be swift;
I seize, I worship, and I lift
The bridal torches' festal rays,
Till all the burning fane's ablaze!
Hymen! Hymenæan king!
Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding,
In the hilltops where the Sun scarce hath trod;
Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding,
As a bird among the bird-droves of God.