TO THE “WINGED VICTORY OF
SAMOTHRACE”
Thou wonder of the warrior prow,
Supreme, immortal Victory!
Before thy majesty I bow
And all my soul flames forth to thee!
Within the shadow of thy wings
A thousand voices sound for me;
In far, tumultuous murmurings,
I catch the echo of the sea;
The salty surge that rolls more near,
Till loud and clear
In mighty thunder tones I hear
The rush of old Ægean tides,
The bright, white waves that from the shore
Sweep seaward with unceasing roar;
In dawning skies the day-star guides,
Across the surf the seabirds call,
Whilst white and tall
With swift sails swelling over all,
The shield-hung warship rides.
And like the heaven-born dreams that soar
From hero spirits, eagle-wise,
And urge to deeds of great emprise
And fly before
The eager, throbbing hearts that know
No goal but victory, even so,
Above the restless breakers’ roar,
Upon the high cliff evermore
Thou standest with bright wings outspread,
In all thy fresh-wrought godlihead,
Beloved of the conqueror!
And as I gaze I seem to trace
The features of thy fearless face,
The matchless marvel of its grace
That like a star
Across the seas of Samothrace
Shone forth afar;
I hear the southern winds intone
Whilst backward blown
Thy trailing garments, fluttering
From out the slender girdle, cling
About thy limbs and so confess
Their lines of perfect loveliness;
Then suddenly o’er everything
Great shouts and martial echoes ring!
I see thee, storm-like, rushing past
Thy hand upon the carven mast,
And harken whilst thy proud lips fling
The loud, triumphal trumpet blast!
O glorious image! what if time
Hath smitten with ungentle touch
Thy perfect beauty? Still sublime
Thou art a conqueror, and still
All men unite to name thee such!
Before thee all my pulses thrill,
Old hopes and dreams awake in me;
O Victory,
Lead, lead but thou mine eager will,
I follow fast and far until
Some day my ship shall harbor thee!