Palladium
Set
where
the
upper
streams
of
Simois
flow
Was
the
Palladium,
high
'mid
rock
and
wood;
And
Hector
was
in
Ilium,
far
below,
And
fought,
and
saw
it
not—but
there
it
stood!
It
stood,
and
sun
and
moonshine
rain'd
their
light
On
the
pure
columns
of
its
glen-built
hall.
Backward
and
forward
roll'd
the
waves
of
fight
Round
Troy—but
while
this
stood,
Troy
could
not
fall.
So,
in
its
lovely
moonlight,
lives
the
soul.
Mountains
surround
it,
and
sweet
virgin
air;
Cold
plashing,
past
it,
crystal
waters
roll;
We
visit
it
by
moments,
ah,
too
rare!
We
shall
renew
the
battle
in
the
plain
To-morrow;—red
with
blood
will
Xanthus
be;
Hector
and
Ajax
will
be
there
again,
Helen
will
come
upon
the
wall
to
see.
Then
we
shall
rust
in
shade,
or
shine
in
strife,
And
fluctuate
'twixt
blind
hopes
and
blind
despairs,
And
fancy
that
we
put
forth
all
our
life,
And
never
know
how
with
the
soul
it
fares.
Still
doth
the
soul,
from
its
lone
fastness
high,
Upon
our
life
a
ruling
effluence
send.
And
when
it
fails,
fight
as
we
will,
we
die;
And
while
it
lasts,
we
cannot
wholly
end.
