It chanced that as I sailed the purple sea,—
The marvellous sea, the name of which is Life,—
There came a day when there was borne to me
A song, with wondrous melody so rife,

That as I listened to its silver strain,
And heard its waves of music rise and fall,
I longed to hear it ever and again,—
To seek the place from whence it seemed to call.

It was the singing of that siren band
Who lure so many voyagers astray:
Such music never was on sea or land,
And these the words it did so sweetly say:—
“Come, oh! come.
Here the winds are soft and low,
And the sweetest roses blow:
Here the brightest waters run,
Dancing, leaping in the sun.
Come, oh! come.
“Come, oh! come.
Here are maidens young and fair,
Roses tangled in their hair;
But the redness of their lips
Doth the roses all eclipse.
Come, oh! come.
“Come, oh! come.
Do you think our song is sweet?
You should hear their glancing feet,
As they dance: that indeed
Music is for gods to heed.
Come, oh! come.
“Come, oh! come.
Every maiden in her eyes
Has a charm that never dies:
He will want no other bliss
Whom they whisper, as they kiss,
‘Come, oh! come.’
“Come, oh! come.
Here is every pleasant sound;
Here is Duty never found,—
Never does her rigid face
Darken this delightful place.
Come, oh! come.
“Come, oh! come.
We will lull thy soul to sleep,
And thy senses we will steep
In a joy so rich and strange
Thou shalt never long for change.
Come, oh! come.”

Then those with whom I voyaged said to me
That they had often heard the song before,
In days when they were young and fair to see,
And would have followed it for evermore,

But that their fellow-voyagers did bind
Their eager bodies to the reeling mast,—
Lest they a melancholy death should find,—
Till of the singing they had heard the last.

And then because my life was fresh in me,
And the warm blood not curdled in my veins,
They said, “E'en so, now, will we do to thee,”
And thought that I would thank them for their pains.

Then brought they cord to bind my restless limbs,
And wax to stop the portals of mine ears,
That I might hear no more of those sweet hymns
That filled my eyes with hot but happy tears.

And, oh! the singing filled me with such fears:
It was so wicked, though it was so sweet,
That half a mind I was to shut my ears,
And let them fasten as they would my feet.

But quick and sudden came the better thought
That this would be a coward thing indeed;
That for this cause I had been hither brought,—
To let mine heart upon this music feed,

And yet be strong to let it plead in vain,
And so by its accursed haunts to go,
And reach the waters of that open main
Where God's great ships go sailing to and fro.

“Unhand me! let me win this fight alone:
Win it not for me with your wax and cord.”
Already was the music fainter grown,
As they obeyed me as a slave his lord.

Then fainter and more faint the singing grew,
Till, though Itried to catch its closing strain,
The last sound died across the waters blue,
And smote no more my bosom with its pain.

And then methought another song I heard,
Sweeter than was the first a thousand times:
It sang as doth the happiest summer bird
To its fond mate, what time Apollo climbs.

The ruddy east; and, as each note I caught,
I wondered that the first seemed sweet at all,
So heavenly sweet was that which now besought
My soul to mingle with the All-in-all.