Herman Melville

O Pride of the days in prime of the
Now trebled in great renown,
When before the ark of our holy
Fell Dagon down-Dagon foredoomed, who, armed and targed,

Gold in the mountain,
And gold in the glen,
And greed in the heart,
Heaven having no part,

If Luther's day expand to Darwin's
Shall that exclude the hope--foreclose the
Unmoved by all the claims our times avow,
The ancient Sphinx still keeps the porch of    shade;

The Ancient of Days forever is young,  Forever the scheme of Nature thrives;
I know a wind in purpose strong--  It spins _against_ the way it drives
What if the gulfs their slimed foundations    bare
So deep must the stones be

Not magnitude, not lavishness,
But Form—the Site;
Not innovating wilfulness,
But reverence for the Archetype

In time and measure perfect moves All Art whose aim is sure;
Evolving rhyme and stars divine Have rules, and they endure
Nor less the Fleet that warred for Right, And, warring so, prevailed,
In geometric beauty curved, And in an orb...

We rovers bold,  To the land of Gold,
Over the bowling billows are gliding:  Eager to toil,  For the golden spoil,
And every hardship biding
See

We drop our dead in the sea, The bottomless, bottomless sea;
Each bubble a hollow sigh, As it sinks forever and aye
We drop our dead in the sea,-- The dead reek not of aught;
We drop our dead in the sea,-- The sea ne'er gives it a t...

Look, the raft, a signal flying,  Thin--a shred;
None upon the lashed spars lying,  Quick or dead
Cries the sea-fowl, hovering over,  "Crew, the crew
"And the billow, reckless, rover,  Sweeps anew

Sailors there are of the gentlest breed,  Yet strong, like every goodly thing;
The discipline of arms refines,  And the wave gives tempering
The damasked blade its beam can fling;
It lends the last grave grace:

Stay,
Death,
Not mine the
Wherewith to charge thee and command:

Found a family, build a state,
The pledged event is still the same:
Matter in end will never
His ancient brutal claim