tabor, No dance shall greet you there; No noise of mortal labour, Breaks on the blind chill air. Are ours not happy places, Where Gods with mortals trod? Saw not our sires the faces Of many a present God? THE SEEKERS. Nay, now no God comes hither, In shape that men may see; They fare we know not whither, We know not what they be. Yea, though the sunset lingers Far in your fairy glades, Though yours the sweetest singers, Though yours the kindest maids, Yet here be the true shadows, Here in the doubtful light; Amid the dreamy meadows No shadow haunts the night. We seek a city splendid, With light beyond the sun; Or lands where dreams are ended, And works and days are done. 

THE PHÆACIANS.

More fair than any dream,

Beyond the ocean stream?

Through firths unsailed before,

The dark Kimmerian shore?

There day and night are one,

No sight of any sun;

No dance shall greet you there;

Breaks on the blind chill air.

THE SEEKERS.

In shape that men may see;

We know not what they be.

Far in your fairy glades,

Though yours the kindest maids,

Here in the doubtful light;

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