THE SACRED SHIP FROM DELOS
(The Pilot speaks)
“Strange, how I felt the homeward voyage long;
As I looked back to Delos o’er our wake,
And heard the priest’s song, saw our sails out-shake
Under the round sun hanging like a gong
Mid-heaven. All night long I lay on deck
Remembering how he taught us in the Porch;
Yet, the black waters’ phosphorescent torch
Gave me no Sign, no word in white foam-fleck.
“When we passed Sunion, methought I saw
Red fires burning ’mid the holy white
Of sacred columns; but the Athenian law
I did not know! And then, the reef’s long jaw
Foamed at us. Through the hollow night
We fared, unwitting; putting forth our might;
Speeding with oars our fated way upon,
Till the white Dawn ensilvered Phaleron.
“At the Piræus, when I saw the throng,—
Crito and Phædo, there, to meet us,—I
Gave myself no portentous reason why,
But thought: ‘He’s free!’ (Forsooth he did no wrong)
Then I remembered lofty words he said
Of freedom as its dangerous truth he read,—
Great Zeus! The cowards might as well indict
Sea-circled priest or mountain anchorite!
“Crito it was who told me, voice all raw
With grief, and on my shoulder his kind hand:
He saw me flinch,—‘Tremblest?’ he said, ‘Nay, stand
Here in the shadow. ’Twas thy ship they saw,
The Sacred ship from Delos, ere they gave
The signal for the hemlock—and his grave!
He drank the cup: the while, methought, thy prow
Would have steered Hades-ward, didst thou but know.’
“I made no sign. No trite word left my lip.
I turned from Crito, and saw Phædo, grave,
Join him. Alone, I went back to my ship,
Sails furled with garlands riding harbor-wave;
I looked at her, rehearsed the sacred rite,
And purified me; set my torch alight:
‘Socrates! Master!’ I sobbed once; set then
Aflame the Sacred Ship of Ill-Omen!”