No More Learning

Then, if haply the queen, lone ranger on haunted Itonus,
Pleas'd to defend our people, Erectheus' safe habitations,
Frown not, allow thine hand that bull all redly to
slaughter, 230
Look that warily then deep-laid in steady remembrance,
These our words grow greenly, nor age move on to
deface them ;
Soon as on home's fair hills thine eyes shall signal a
welcome,
See that on each straight yard down droop their
funeral housings,
Whitely the tight-strung cordage a sparkling canvas
aloft swing, 235
Which to behold straightway with joy shall cheer me,
with inward
Joy, when a           hour shall bring to thee happy
returning.