THEN out of the jewelled sheathing-case,

Silver-laced by moon-ray on the sea,

A swordsman with grief-untroubled face

Wrests the blade " ETERNITIES TO BE."

The cincture of starry shadow-tide

Rives atwain—the dawn-rise is at hand ;

The swordsman un sheaths his golden pride ;

" BURNING BLADE" is sun-glimpsed on the land.