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Not far from here, they point out the veritable caves of the Sirens, who have now shut up house, and gone away, like the rest of the nobility. If I had been a mariner in their day, I should have made no effort to sail by and away from their soothing shore. I went, one day, through a long, sloping arch, near the sailors' Chapel of St.

Had he asked of me, what song the Sirens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women, I might, with Sir Thomas Browne, have hazarded a "wide solution."

The rocks of the Sirens, as the islets are called to this day, are sufficiently elevated above the surface of the sea to be visible at some distance; though, lying in a line with the coast, it would not have been easy for the lookouts of le Feu-Follet to discern them at the hour when she struck, even had they been on the alert.

If thou art won by the song of these sirens to aid that unhappy lady's escape from this place of penitence and security, it is over with the peace of Scotland's cottages, and with the prosperity of her palaces and the babe unborn shall curse the name of the man who gave inlet to the disorder which will follow the war betwixt the mother and the son."

Why, Olaf, suppose you took a Fijian when the war was on and set him suddenly down in London with autos rushing past, sirens blowing, Archies popping, a dozen enemy planes dropping bombs, and the searchlights shooting all over the sky wouldn't he think he was among thirty-third degree devils in some exclusive circle of hell? Sure he would!

It began with the chanting, childish refrain, a Lithuanian fairy-tale of old, and as its naïve, drowsy, lulling measures the voices of wicked, wooing sirens sang and sank in recurrent rhythms, Pobloff heard this time he was sure the regular reverberation of distant footsteps.

That was something, anyway. Bells and sirens exploded in the next aisle. Jackpot. An elderly woman stared at flashing lights, bemused, a bit bewildered. Arthur realized that tears were running down his face, that he was both sad and grateful, and that it was time to leave. Four Pictures and a Flower Thief I have these pictures two in fog, two in sun.

Heavy heat beams or artillery could puncture the city's protecting dome. The copter went straight up, gathering speed. Up, and up, and it did not stop! It hit the plastic dome near its zenith. It tilted and staggered. It ripped through the dome and vanished. Immediately, sirens began to wail throughout the city. Doors clanged shut automatically everywhere.

Wires had plainly been pulled, too, for a motorcycle escort joined them at the Queensboro Bridge and led them, sirens screaming, to their meeting with George Hadley, the publisher. They looked at each other in surprise when they were admitted to the meeting. Hadley's huge offices were packed. The mayor was there, the police commissioner, the assistant to the head of Federal Secret Service.

I pray you tell me in what part of your land these dangers lie, that I may be on my guard against them." Thereat they laughed the more, and answered him, "Oh, foolish traveler, your head is certainly full of dreams! There are no such things as sirens; all that is an old Greek fable, a fairy tale with no meaning except for old Greeks and modern babies!