THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE 
 
 OF 
 
 LOS 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 CALIFORNIA 
 ANGELES
 
 riMOLEON. 
 
 a IDtamattc jpocm.
 
 T I MO LEON: 
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM, 
 
 JAMES RHOADES. 
 
 HENRY S. KING &^ CO., LONDON 
 1875.
 
 {All Rights reserved.)
 
 5Z2'\ 
 
 TO HER, 
 
 WHOSE SWEET NAME LIVING 
 
 SHOULD HAVE GRACED THIS MOURNFUL PAGE, 
 
 Co mg Wiiit 
 
 ON THE OTHER SIDE OF DEATH 
 
 I DEDICATE THIS 
 
 AND ALL MY FUTURE WORK, 
 
 WITH THE LOVE THAT IS DEATHLESS. 
 
 8G1845
 
 '^Ije #cc0on0* 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 Demakiste, mother of Timophanes and Timoleon. 
 
 ..„ "'f ^SCHYLUS, brother to the wife of Timophanes. 
 
 Orthagoras, a Soothsayer. 
 
 DiONYSius, Tyrant of Syracuse. 
 
 Diogenes of Sinope. 
 
 Deinakchus \ 
 * 
 
 Demaretus 
 
 r Generals under Timoleon. 
 Neon 
 
 ISIAS 
 
 Lysias, a Soldier. 
 
 The Furies. 
 
 The Ghost of Timophanes. 
 
 The Curse of Demariste. 
 
 The Spirit of Liberty. 
 
 Corinthian Citizens, etc. 
 
 Corinthian Women. 
 
 Corinthian Soldiers. 
 
 Greek Mercenaries of Timoleon. 
 
 Greek Mercenaries of Hiketas. 
 
 Syracusan Citizens. 
 
 Archons. 
 
 Heralds. 
 
 Chorus of Syracusan Women.
 
 HISTORICAL PREFACE. 
 
 TiMOLEON was the son of noble Corinthian parents, 
 Timodemus and Demariste. The elder son Timophanes 
 was in all, save personal prowess, the reverse of his 
 brother, being weak, licentious, and of immoderate 
 ambition : nevertheless Timoleon loved him dearly, and 
 to save his life in battle had once jeoparded his own. 
 About the year 364 B.C., the Corinthians having reason 
 to suspect foul play from Athens, their ally, resolved to 
 set on foot a force of four hundred Mercenaries, whom 
 they equipped and quartered in the citadel under the 
 command of Timophanes. But this traitor, turning to 
 the detriment of Corinth the means entrusted to him for 
 her defence, seized and slew certain of the chief inhabi- 
 tants, and forthwith proclaimed himself absolute ruler of 
 the city. Now Timoleon's love for his brother was 
 strong, but his hatred of tyrants was stronger ; so, when 
 he heard what was done, he went out to seek Timophanes,
 
 X Historical Preface. 
 
 with two friends, Orthagoras, a soothsayer, and ^schylus, 
 brother of the tyrant's wife, in the hope of persuading 
 him to repentance and vohintary atonement for his 
 crime ; but their arguments and entreaties were met 
 first with scorn and then with threats of violence ; till at 
 length, no remedy being left but one, Timoleon with 
 grief and sorrow gave the sign, and these three fell upon 
 Timophanes, and dispatched him. The greater part of 
 the citizens extolled Timoleon for this deed, but some 
 reviled him as a murderer, and loudest among these his 
 own mother, who called down the most dreadful curses 
 on his head. Overwhelmed with the weight of this 
 malediction, he would have put an end to his life ; but, 
 being forcibly dissuaded by his friends, he withdrew to a 
 country retreat near Corinth, where he lived in solitude 
 and dejection for a space of twenty years. 
 
 At the end of this time he was called upon to lead 
 the arms of Corinth against another tyrant, Dionysius 
 the younger of Syracuse. This man in the tenth year 
 after his expulsion by Dion had returned and re-esta- 
 blished himself in power ; but so intolerable was his 
 license and oppression, that the chief citizens appealed 
 for protection in their misery to Hiketas, despot of 
 Leontini, who, for his own selfish ends, complied with 
 the request, and led an army against Dionysius. In the 
 midst of this trouble a Carthaginian fleet appeared before
 
 Historical Preface. xi 
 
 Syracuse, which raised the terror of the people to such a 
 pitch, that they sent off an embassy to Corinth, the 
 mother city, to beg assistance. Hiketas also joined 
 publicly in this petition, the better to cloak his real 
 design ; while secretly he treated with the Carthaginians, 
 thinking by the aid of their forces to oust Dionysius, and 
 afterwards divide the city with them. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Corinthians having voted to send a 
 force to Syracuse, no general could be found who cared 
 to lead it, until a voice in the assembly proposed Timo- 
 leon. A messenger was immediately despatched to 
 him ; the offered post was accepted ; and with seven 
 triremes and one thousand men — the most that could be 
 mustered for so perilous an enterprise — the lonely recluse 
 set forth to be the saviour of Sicily. 
 
 Upon his arrival at Rhegium the villany of Hiketas 
 was revealed : for there met him twenty Carthaginian 
 ships with envoys from that prince on board, who gave out 
 that the war being now nearly ended, his help was super- 
 fluous, and bade him go no farther. Timoleon feigned 
 submission to this insult, but by an artifice contrived to 
 detain the Carthaginian commanders within Rhegium, 
 while his galleys put to sea, and crossing the strait safely, 
 arrived at Tauromenium. After a few days he surprised 
 and defeated a part of the forces of Hiketas near 
 Adranum, which city opened its gates to him forthwith.
 
 xii Historical Preface. 
 
 Hereupon Dionysius, who was holding the citadel of 
 Ortygia against Hiketas and the Carthaginians, offered 
 to surrender to Timoleon, stipulating only for permission 
 to pass the remainder of his days undisturbed in Corinth. 
 The condition was allowed ; Dionysius was conducted to 
 Corinth ; and four hundred men under Neon were sent 
 to garrison Ortygia, Timoleon himself retiring to Katana, 
 to await reinforcements. 
 
 Hiketas now summoned to his aid the whole power of 
 Carthage, and Mago shortly arrived with one hundred 
 and fifty ships and a land force computed at sixty 
 thousand. 
 
 The Corinthians in Ortygia had much ado to hold the 
 citadel against so numerous a foe ; and, being strictly 
 blockaded, they must soon have been starved into sub- 
 mission, had not Timoleon succeeded in sending un- 
 observed through the enemy's fleet some small ships 
 laden with corn from Katana. To put a stop to this, 
 Hiketas and Mago advanced upon Katana with the best 
 of their troops ; but during their absence Neon fell upon 
 the remnant with such vigour, that he expelled the 
 besiegers from Achradina, which he thenceforth occupied 
 together with Ortygia. Hiketas and Mago, on hearing 
 it, abandoned their design against Katana, and returned 
 to those quarters of Syracuse which still remained to 
 them.
 
 Historical Preface. xiii 
 
 Neon had thus furnished hmiselfwith abundant pro- 
 visions, and Timoleon too was approaching with rein- 
 forceiuents sent from Corinth. 
 
 At this critical juncture, owing partly to the late 
 disasters, and partly to the familiarity which he saw 
 subsisting between the soldiers of Hiketas and those of 
 Timoleon during the intervals of fighting, Mago con- 
 ceived a suspicion that Hiketas was betraying him, and 
 suddenly withdrew his fleet and army. 
 
 This defection so facilitated Timoleon's attack, and 
 so discouraged the troops of Hiketas, that the Corin- 
 thians took the town without the loss of a single man. 
 Hiketas escaped to Leontini. 
 
 Timoleon, thus master of Syracuse, proved at once his 
 singleness of purpose by summoning the citizens to aid 
 him in pulling down the stronghold of Ortygia. On its 
 site was built a court of justice. This done, with the aid of 
 the Corinthians at home he caused the Syracusan exiles 
 to be recalled from far and near ; and, these proving 
 insufficient for the renovation of the community, colo- 
 nists were invited from other Grecian cities, who swelled 
 the total number of immigrants to sixty thousand. From 
 this may be imagined the desolation which had come 
 upon Syracuse; and the like was true of other towns 
 in Sicily also, where the tyrants reigned ; for the in- 
 habitants would fly to the fields or anywhither, rather
 
 xiv Histo7'ical Preface. 
 
 than remain subject to their oppressors in the 
 cities. 
 
 Meanwhile, with the advice of experienced statesmen 
 from home, Timoleon remodelled the constitution upon 
 a free basis, improved their legislation, and allotted the 
 lands and houses of Syracuse to its new inhabitants. 
 
 But Hiketas was not yet crushed. At his urgent 
 appeal, a host of seventy thousand men, including all 
 the best native warriors of Carthage, magnificently armed, 
 was despatched under Hasdrubal and Hamilcar, and 
 landed at Lilybseum. To oppose this vast armament 
 Timoleon could only muster a force of about seven 
 thousand men ; and even this was diminished on the 
 march by the mutinous flight of a thousand Mercenaries, 
 whose pay was somewhat in arrears. Timoleon, affecting 
 to regard the desertion of these cowards as a gain, 
 pushed forward, and reached the top of the heights 
 above the river Krimesus, while the enemy was still en- 
 gaged in crossing. Inspired by his voice, which sounded 
 more than human on that day, his infantry charged 
 down the hill, and after vain efforts to break the pon- 
 derous masses opposed to them with their spears, got to 
 close quarters with the sword. The unwieldy ranks of 
 the Carthaginians, thus taken at disadvantage, had begun 
 to fall thick and fast, when a terrific storm bursting full 
 upon their faces filled them with superstitious terror, and
 
 HistoiHcal Preface. xv 
 
 completed their discomfiture. Ten thousand of them 
 were slain, and the camp was abandoned to the victors, 
 containing an enormous treasure. 
 
 Timoleon now marched against Hiketas, who was 
 delivered into his hands alive, and by him executed ; 
 and, ^ter speedily restoring to freedom the few remaining 
 cities that were still oppressed by tyrants,'"' he returned 
 finally to Syracuse, and laid down his power, because 
 his task was done. 
 
 In excuse for his retirement from public life he is said 
 to have pleaded the approach of that blindness which 
 shordy after overtook him. Plutarch adds that to the joy 
 and pride of the Syracusans he chose to spend his re- 
 maining days with them ; and that whenever questions of 
 difficulty arose in the assembly, " he was conveyed in a 
 litter to the theatre," where, after the acclamations of 
 the people had subsided, " he took cognizance of the 
 affair, and delivered his opinion," which generally ob- 
 tained their sanction : he was then carried out in the 
 same manner, amidst loud applause. 
 
 Four or five years after the battle of Krimesus, Timo- 
 leon died. His funeral, which was sumptuously con- 
 ducted at the public expense, was followed by a vast 
 crowd, not only of Syracusans, but of men and women 
 
 * For the sake of dramatic order and proportion, these events have 
 been treated in the poem as though they had preceded, instead of 
 following, the victory of Krimesus.
 
 xvi Historical Preface. 
 
 from neighbouring cities " in the most pompous so- 
 lemnity, crowned with garlands and clothed in white ;" 
 and the herald made proclamation concerning him as 
 follows : " The people of Syracuse inter Timoleon the 
 Corinthian, the son of Timodemus, at the public expense 
 of two hundred mince ; they honour him moreover 
 through all time with annual games, to be celebrated 
 with perfonnances in music, horse-racing, and wrestling, 
 as the man who destroyed tyrants, repeopled great 
 cities which lay desolate, and restored to the Sicilians 
 their laws and privileges."* 
 
 * The passages quoted are from " Langhorne's Plutarch's Lives," 
 from which, and from " Crete's History of Greece," the above account 
 of these events is mainly taken.
 
 TIMOLEON: 
 
 Si 3Dcamatic J9ocm. 
 
 AUTHOR'S ERRATA. 
 
 Page 23, line 17. After 'thing,' omit — . 
 
 „ 24, „ 9. For ' yet,' read ' well.' 
 
 ,. 24, ,, 18. /Vr 'all, professing,' mrr/' all-professing.' 
 
 50, ,, 8. For ' travailed,' read ' travailed.' 
 
 „ 71, „ 13. Z>'</t?;v 'some,' insert 'Their last.' 
 
 90, ,, 17. /^(?r ' brukeng,' /■«■(?<;/' broken.' 
 
 The intestine sore of home-bred tyranny ; 
 Therefore abroad much dreaded, therefore too 
 Much loved of all her children, of none more 
 Than me, who have known and loved her from a child. 
 Yes, yonder proud pile is the citadel, 
 Acrocorinthus southward on sheer rock, 
 High o'er the sister-seas. I am not mad, 
 
 2
 
 xvl Historical Preface. 
 
 from neighbouring cities " in the most pompous so- 
 lemnity, crowned with garlands and clothed in white ;" 
 and the herald made proclamation concerning him as 
 follows : " The people of Syracuse inter Timoleon the 
 Corinthian, the son of Timodemus, at the public expense 
 of two hundred mince ; they honour him moreover
 
 TIMOLEON 
 
 ^ 2Dcamatic iSoenu 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — A Street in Corinth. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 \Paci7ig up and down with an air of perplexity.^ 
 
 I AM Timoleon the Corinthian, this 
 
 Corinth, my native city, blest of heaven. 
 
 In that no foreign arm her fort profanes 
 
 With hostile occupation, nor — worse ill, 
 
 Since harder to be quelled — exhausts her life 
 
 The intestine sore of home-bred tyranny ; 
 
 Therefore abroad much dreaded, therefore too 
 
 Much loved of all her children, of none more 
 
 Than me, who have known and loved her from a child. 
 
 Yes, yonder proud pile is the citadel, 
 
 Acrocorinthus southward on sheer rock, 
 
 High o'er the sister-seas. I am not mad, 
 
 2
 
 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Bemocked of all my senses, nor asleep, 
 
 No, nor yet risen a pale perturbed shade, 
 
 To scare the living, from the uncharnelled dead ; 
 
 These are the same broad hands have slain or saved 
 
 In rout and onset many a friend or foe: 
 
 Why, then, what ails me? — Let me say it again, 
 
 I am Timoleon, this my native Corinth, 
 
 These all my neighbours, wont to greet me fair 
 
 With kind 'good morrow,' and chat i' th' market-place, 
 
 As free folk will, of politics and war. 
 
 Then sigh for our poor sister Syracuse, 
 
 And call God's curse on tyrants. Now all's changed 
 
 In a night, as though some foul usurping dream, 
 
 That morning should have murdered, braved it out 
 
 Into broad dav, and clothed the waking world 
 
 Of substance with its lying livery. 
 
 God wot, I am not Dionysius, 
 
 To flay to-morrow whom I feast to-day. 
 
 And trim the scale of State too high for men 
 
 By sinking manhood to below the beasts : 
 
 And yet my friends, when I would question them 
 
 Wliat all this turmoil argues, rush me past 
 
 With chalky faces, seeming not to hear. 
 
 Why, were the pest on them from door to door 
 
 So fierce as erst on Athens, when the dead 
 
 Ousted the quick and rotted as they fell.
 
 A Street in Corinth. 3 
 
 They would have told me ; or were Athens herself 
 The plague that lowers upon us, a black cloud 
 Of trgachery, whose big drops are bristling spears, 
 They would not yet deal so with an old friend, 
 To lock the secret from me. I must know 
 The j^ruth — what makes us strangers ; and indeed 
 Hither there speeds who from his face should seem 
 Bursting with eager news — my brother's kinsman, 
 .^schylus ! Now pray heaven he prove not dumb ! 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 Timoleon here ! — a loiterer ! — hast not heard ? 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 No, nor can guess, unless the Gods have struck 
 Corinth with general madness, or transformed 
 Me to the body of a beast, that none 
 Of my old friends should know me ; but since thou 
 Still tak'st me for a man, cease gaping, speak ; 
 Solve me the riddle. 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 Hast thou not heard— thy brother — 
 The chief men slain — riots in the citadel, 
 Tyrant of Corinth ? — Now canst understand ? 
 
 Timoleon. 
 Thy words pass through mine ears, and stun my brain. 
 But leave no record of intelligence. 
 
 2*
 
 Timoleo7i : a Di'amatic Poem. 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 Thus fares the seaman when he strikes, but soon 
 Recovering sense gets heart to shout for aid, 
 Or thrust from shore, or bale the settUng ship, 
 So heaven may help him at his pinch. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 Say'st thou 
 Tyrant ? Timophanes ! — My mother's son ! 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 My sister's husband ! At the dead of night, 
 When all good citizens were fast in sleep, 
 Damn'd treason was awake, ay and abroad ; 
 AVith those four hundred mercenaries, men 
 Kept by the State in his command to watch 
 'Gainst outward wiles, he murdered in their beds, 
 Unable to suspect a fall so deep, 
 The chief of those who named him ; then at dawn, 
 High on the shoulders of the cut-throat crew, 
 Was trumpeted forth despot. — Whither now? 
 Push not the event so fast : there is much need 
 We were deliberate in what's left to do. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 I go to entreat him, and, despite himself, 
 
 Win him to virtue and his saner mind : 
 
 May be 'tis not too late ; the thought of power
 
 A Street in Coriiith. 
 
 Full oft is sweeter than the taste : already 
 He surfeits of his sin : experience breeds 
 Hate, in one moment of a life's desire. 
 Try we persuasion first ; perchance even now 
 He knows how bairen and how bleak it is 
 To stand unlov'd, unhonour'd, and alone 
 Upon the frozen tops of sovereignty. 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 First shall the rain wash cool red Etna's throat, 
 Ere mild words melt a tyrant in his ire. 
 
 TiMOiEON- 
 
 Nay, he will hear me : thou rememberest how, 
 That dreadful day, six hours of fighting o'er, 
 Our weaker wing fell back before the weight 
 Of Argos and Cleonae : he was down 
 Among the horse-hoofs, blinded with his blood, 
 And stunned with blows ; a score of troopers rushed 
 With lowering spears to make an end of him, 
 When I, from out the foot-men, seeing it, ran, 
 Bestrode his body, and bore him safe away. 
 Myself, too, sorely wounded, and my targe 
 Thick-planted with a copse of quivering steel — 
 I shall prevail with him for that day's sake. 
 
 ^SCHVLUS. 
 
 And if thou failest, then ?
 
 6 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 O ^schylus ! 
 He was my brother, my own mother's son ! 
 
 But if his heart relent not come away. 
 
 Chorus. 
 With trembUng steps from out the neighbour-street, 
 Consumed with fear as with a fire, 
 Hurrying I heard 
 A sound, a voice, that made my heart to beat, 
 And both ears tingle with desire, 
 A glorious word. 
 But irresistible in man 
 The inborn lust of power and of oppression 
 Springs, and takes root, and strikes as deep as hell, 
 Choking each pure and chastened thought, 
 Each holier passion, 
 That in the meek submissive mind doth dwell 
 By prayer and sober vigilance unwrought : 
 As some vast yew in a dark mountain-dell. 
 Alone since years began. 
 Immovable, immutable, 
 Inexorable, in overweening pride 
 
 Spares not to spurn aside, 
 Starved from the kind earth's womb, 
 Each dwarfish flower that sickens at its feet 
 In uncongenial gloom,
 
 A Street in Co7'inth. 
 
 No, not for any intercession, 
 
 From morning-tide till even-tide, 
 Of bitter skies or sweet. 
 Of sun, or rain, or equal airs that fan, 
 
 Or shine, or fall, 
 , >(■ Alike on all. 
 
 Yea, ev'n though at his birth he may inherit. 
 
 Through fate's mysterious plan. 
 The flower of all the earth for his possession, 
 Riches beside, and wisdom, ay and merit, 
 ' Beauty and wit to please. 
 
 Yet be content with these. 
 Except his power be throned for men to fear it, 
 His robe be edged with hate for him to wear it, 
 He neither will nor can. 
 
 So was it with the ancient stock 
 
 Of Sisyphus and Cypselus, 
 That of ^olian, this of Dorian strain ; 
 The Dionysian vulture ravins thus 
 
 Upon the well-loved isle, 
 
 Our home, we left erewhile 
 Across the main : 
 Now in a strange land lights the curse on us, 
 Ne'er to be lifted from our necks again, 
 
 Unless the tyrant shall be taught 
 
 By some insuperable shock,
 
 8 Timoleon: a Dramaiic Poem. 
 
 Or not in vain 
 Warned by the everlasting pain 
 Of Sisyphus to set his pride at naught, 
 Nor give to lewd desires too loose a rein. 
 Oh ! that in the deep there were, 
 Or above the starry skies. 
 Refuge for the wanderer 
 Out of sight of all men's eyes ! 
 Far away from all men's voices, 
 In some silent paradise 
 Broken by no ruder noises 
 Than the low melodious singing 
 Of the nymph as she arises 
 From the fountain ever springing 
 At our feet, while far above 
 In blue ether softly winging 
 Floats the Cytherean dove ; 
 Where the minstrel to his lyre 
 Tells no harsher tale than love. 
 And no heart with fiercer fire 
 Bums, nor lights with emulation 
 Of immoderate desire. 
 Never king from all creation 
 Reigned there, nor the lord of war 
 Fell like night upon the nation 
 Scared with thunders of his car ;
 
 A Street in Corinth. 
 
 None whose feet are stained with slaughter 
 
 Pass there, nor the lips that are 
 
 Layers of delirious laughter 
 
 O'er the wine-cup's mad excess, 
 
 But such cheer as earth's glad daughter 
 
 Brings the reaping-folk to bless, 
 
 After sojourn long returning 
 
 From dark Hades, none the less 
 
 Fills each heart with tender yearning, 
 
 With sedate and holy pleasure 
 
 Hated of the undisceming ; 
 
 Where no lust of hoarded treasure 
 
 Tempts the sailor o'er the seas 
 
 To forsake love, home, and leisure, 
 
 For the stormy Cyclades, 
 
 Of past ills insatiate. 
 
 Till a darker chance than these 
 
 Finds him, and he learns too late 
 
 Wisdom when he comes to die. 
 
 And his house stands desolate. 
 
 Whoso keeps before his eye 
 
 Sober aims, and in his mind 
 
 Blest contentment, him will I 
 
 Praise, whatever Fates be kind, 
 
 Whatso cruel ; but, for me. 
 
 Careless what men lose or find,
 
 lO Timolcon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 One thing lack I yet — to be 
 Where nor pride nor passion is, 
 Nor delight, nor misery, 
 Nor friend's curse, nor traitor's kiss, 
 Nor hearts sick with vain devotion, 
 Nor the vain desire of bliss, 
 And, all hope and all emotion 
 Ended, as is surely best. 
 Under earth, beyond the ocean. 
 Somewhere, somewhere to find rest. 
 
 I st Sen I ichorus. 
 Hark ! did ye hear a sound of lamentation 
 
 Float hither on the south wind tremulously ? 
 
 2nd Semichorus. 
 Again ! and louder ! as the acclamation 
 
 Of them that shout for new-born liberty ! 
 
 xst Semichorus. 
 A wail of cities, as when earth is shaken, 
 
 And the sea trembles and the mountains sway ! 
 
 2nd Semichorus. 
 A cry of captains, when the towers are taken, 
 And men ride onward to divide the prey ! 
 
 ist Semichorus. 
 Ah ! did ye hear a dirge of many voices, 
 
 As when they mourn around a dead man's bier ?
 
 A Street in Corinth. 1 1 
 
 2nd Semkhorus. 
 Nay, as the bridegroom with his friends rejoices, 
 
 And the mirth deepens, as the bride draws near. 
 
 \st Semkhorus. 
 Hark yet ! a voice of weeping and of cursing 
 
 Red-handed deeds of death-deserving wrong ! 
 2nd Semkhorus. 
 Nay, but a nation its great acts rehearsing, 
 With praises and solemnity of song. 
 ' ist Semkhorus. 
 
 Chill trembling holds me, as when night-clouds thicken, 
 And no star pricks the horror of the sky. 
 2nd Semkhorus. 
 Mine eye grows brighter, as the faint hills quicken 
 Rejoicing that the dawn is by-and-by. 
 
 [Enter Orthagoras. 
 
 \st Semkhorus. 
 Say, prophet, Avhat dark tidings hast thou brought, 
 What dire forebodings big with misery ? 
 
 2nd Semkhorus. 
 What present comfort of deliverance wrought. 
 And what glad promise of good days to be ? 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 Ye ask not vainly, since one day brings forth 
 A double birth of twin-born hope and fear.
 
 1 2 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poejit. 
 
 V 
 
 Chorus. 
 Pray all the right may prosper ; but do thou 
 Unriddle the dark tenor of thy speech. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 Ladies, have heart, and let the gods be praised ; 
 Uprooted lies the new-blown tyranny. 
 
 Chof'2is. 
 How sayest thou ? sown and withered in a night ! 
 By man's hand vanquished, or the mightier Fates ? 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 By swift award of following destiny, 
 As one blood-guilty pays the murderer's debt. 
 
 Chorus. 
 How stricken ? or who the executioners ? 
 Prithee, forbear not, but set forth the tale. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 He fell heart-pierced by a triple blow ; 
 For I, with his bride's brother, ^schylus, 
 And his own blood, Timoleon, now sole son 
 Of Demariste, childless otherwise, 
 Nay childless at this hour, could curses kill, 
 We three went forth without much hope indeed, 
 But since Timoleon's love would have it so, 
 Making assay to bow the tyrant's pride 
 By stern expostulation. At the foot
 
 A SU'eet in Corinth. 13 
 
 Of his new home, the citadel, he met us, 
 
 Guarded on either side, in front, behind. 
 
 From all foes outward ; from his inmost self, 
 
 Worst foe of all, unguarded, and the fangs 
 
 Of that coiled serpent fattening at his heart. 
 
 Timoleon first went forward, with grave eye 
 
 Greeting the tyrant ; we, some steps withdrawn, 
 
 Paused while the brothers niet, but spake no word. 
 
 Thrice he importuned him with tears and prayers, 
 
 That would have moved a multitude, whose eyes 
 
 Had never wept before ; first by that oath 
 
 Sworn to the State : ' the State is dead,' laughed he, 
 
 " There is no restitution in the grave." 
 
 Next by the loved knees and reverM head 
 
 Of their one mother, and one common blood 
 
 Betwixt them twain, a twin fraternal strength 
 
 From birth to manhood, never broke till now : — 
 
 He stood as one stone-deaf, or as a man 
 
 That hears strange language in an alien tongue. 
 
 Last he conjured him by the strong compulsion 
 
 Of his once rescued life, by that dear debt 
 
 Of intense toil and battle-agony. 
 
 And blood poured forth like water, to requicken 
 
 The stamped-out life of Corinth, and wash clean 
 
 Her stained honour : otherwise he stood 
 
 There to reclaim his gift, adjust the odds
 
 14 Timoleo7i: a D7'a7Jiatic Poem. 
 
 Even to the uttermost inexorably. 
 
 This was a summons he could understand ; 
 
 For the boar-swine at bay, no longer man, 
 
 Hissed out defiance 'twixt clenched teeth, and foamed 
 
 Infatuate, as the Furies drove him on. 
 
 ' How, fool !' he shouted, 'think'st thou to outface. 
 
 Outbrave, and overbear me by the weight 
 
 Of one life's vantage ? Should I spare thee now 
 
 Unscathed for this, the paltry debt is paid 
 
 A hundred times and over ; but have care, 
 
 Mouth me no more tliy curs'd remembrances 
 
 Henceforth : new fashions come with the new day.' 
 
 Then stood Timoleon with averted eyes, 
 Silent a space and praying : at last he cried, 
 ' Traitor ! thy blood be on no head but thine ; 
 The hour is come : to Corinth I devote 
 The life, would heaven I had not lived to save. ' 
 So, ere the guards could aid him, he was dead ; 
 For we three closed upon him, who speechless, blind. 
 Trembling with rage intolerable, fell 
 Dead, as a bull is butchered, heavy as he 
 And helpless ; while the huddling herd behind 
 Stood stupid, gazing on Tunoleon. 
 Then, as bewitched by Circe's sovereign spell 
 Or pale Medea's midnight sorceries. 
 Each at the mute commandment of his eye
 
 A Street in Coi'inth. 15 
 
 Confounded, no word spoken, with one clang 
 Dropped spear and buckler, all the savage soul 
 Taijied in them, and the wordy tumult lulled. 
 
 I know not how the general sort may judge 
 The fact or him ; he is above the cast 
 Of {their conjecture : but should Corinth need, 
 In some strait pass of fortune, one to guide 
 Safe for the open, or untwist the knots 
 And tangles of inextricable war, 
 Let Corinth look to this man, for by heaven ! 
 I have not known his like. So, fare you well. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Farewell; but may the gods o'errule the event 
 To thy forecasting and the hopes of all. 
 
 {Exit Orthagoras. 
 {Enter Demariste. 
 Demariste. 
 Sicilian women, have ye seen my son ? 
 The accursed, the abominable, who slew, 
 Not in fair field an open enemy, 
 Victorious in the chance of blow for blow. 
 But with base wile, but as a beast is slain 
 Caught in the toils, unconquerable else, 
 A mightier and more honourable man. 
 His brother, chief of Corinth, flower of men. 
 The first-fruit of my labour? — Woe is me !
 
 1 6 TinioleoJi : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Have ye no hearts, that gape on my distress, 
 
 Like unfed birds, nor have one word to say ? 
 
 Oh ! brutish, past all utterance ! knowing not 
 
 The natural human bond of kin to kin ! 
 
 With his own hand he sought him, with his hand 
 
 Slew him, and had no pity. Ah ! my son, 
 
 First-born of me and goodliest ! Have not I — 
 
 Ah ! yes, how often have I seen, and smiled. 
 
 Thee elder in the house, thyself a babe, 
 
 With tender uncontrol of tottering feet 
 
 Lead him full gently — thy hand clasping his, 
 
 His hand that slew thee ! Oh ! his eye was kind : 
 
 With smiling show of smooth hypocrisy 
 
 He sought thee out to kill thee : impious ! 
 
 With fair speech aping virtue, that beside 
 
 His blackness blackest midnight should be noon. 
 
 Shall I not rail at heaven ? what plague have they 
 
 From all their storehouse of fanged agonies. 
 
 Red-heaped horrors of the wrath of God, 
 
 What curse, what fiery bolt, what barbed pang 
 
 Unlaunched, that I should fear it — that would not fall 
 
 Faint as shed feathers from the snow-cloud's wing, 
 
 Soft stars of showery coolness wavering down 
 
 Upon some scorch'd and thunder-rifted scalp 
 
 Of pine in gorges of Edonian hills ? 
 
 Oh ! me ! of all the mothers in all the world
 
 A Street in Corinth. 17 
 
 Most miserable ! who having nursed and reared, 
 
 Borne of my body, and suckled at my breast, 
 
 Two -fair men-children to my pride, erewhile 
 
 A double flower and crown of married days, 
 
 First of the fairest am untimely reft. 
 
 Cut off in summer's height, nor next can turn 
 
 To my sole prop remaining, but must find 
 
 A two-edged monster of devouring hate, 
 
 More fell than Scylla or that prodigious seed 
 
 Sprung from the blood of Uranus and Ge, 
 
 Porphyrion and Alcioneus, or what 
 
 Of foul abortive shape dread Perseus slew. 
 
 Or that Chimsera, or the envenomed folds 
 
 Of hyperboreal Ladon, — worse than these. 
 
 Yea, than Orestes' self to her that bare him 
 
 More bitter, and a deadlier birth to me. 
 
 What have ye left me of sweet, the gods and thou ? 
 
 What fruit of life or labour ? Behold, for love 
 
 I am filled with loathing, and with despair for hope ; 
 
 And all my life falls from me, shaken and shed 
 
 From these old boughs ; my name once honourable 
 
 Brought to dishonour — my so fruitful house 
 
 A desolation — all the cup of wrath 
 
 To the last scalding drop and shameful dregs 
 
 Poured on my helpless head ! Lo ! here I am. 
 
 Stripped bare, cut off, cut down, a barren tree, 
 
 3
 
 i8 Tivwlcon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Made empty of all desire of all things sweet — 
 Of all sweet things and bitter, save only this, 
 Once more to see him that was my bane, once more- 
 The thrice-defiled, the slayer of all delight — 
 To see him, and curse him to his face, and die. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Have patience, lady ; in cursing is no cure. 
 Nor in relentless \vrath a remedy. 
 
 Demariste. 
 What profit then hath patience, or what part 
 Honour with infamy, or I with thee ? 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Not first art thou to suffer, and with mad words 
 Whet more the edge of thine own suffering. 
 
 Demariste, 
 
 There is no sharpening of a woe like mine — 
 One murdered son, and one the murderer. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 All healing is of silence and slow time. 
 
 Demariste. 
 
 Yet shall one curse his bitterest enemy. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Yea, but a mother her own flesh and blood ?
 
 A Sti^eet in Corint/i. 19 
 
 Demariste. 
 No blood but poison, and no flesh but stone. 
 
 \Enter Timoleon. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 Mother, most sacred of all names, I come 
 To deprecate thy curses, not to sue 
 Fur pardon, howsoe'er to thee I seem 
 A sinner, and hateful in thine eyes to-day, 
 Even of all men most hateful, who was once 
 Thy son, beloved and blameless. Hear me plead, 
 ]\Iother, nor stiffen my warm limbs to stone 
 With the cold gaze of unregardful eyes. 
 And set face frozen in hate, and firm fierce lips 
 Locked fast from comfortable words, till now 
 Soft-moulded to all shapes of tender speech. 
 What shall I say ? thou knowest my heart, my hand, 
 Thou knowest I loved and slew him : knowest thou why ? 
 Nay, for thou shrink'st as from a loathly thing, 
 And in thy soul unnatural hate is more 
 Than thy most natural sorrow. As for me. 
 My blood, one throb of burniqg agony, 
 Feels yet no prick of shame : for Corinth's sake, 
 Because his mind was set on villanies. 
 And his heart travailed of a deadly thing, 
 And his hand wrought it ; because he took to bride 
 Power, and gat death to first-born, and with death 
 
 3*
 
 20 Timolcon : a Di^amatic Poem. 
 
 Ambition, monstrous enemy of man, 
 Falsehood, and fraud, and every vice of kings ; 
 Because he widened his desires as hell, 
 And would not hear entreatment, but waxed vile, 
 And made his lust insatiate as the sea. 
 And from a healing and a help became 
 A common curse to country, home, and kin, — - 
 Because of all these things, for Corinth's sake. 
 Yea, therefore, mother, for thy sake and mine, 
 I did not fear to slay him. But oh ! ye heavens, 
 Oh ! fates, how crossly have ye drawn the threads 
 Athwart my web of life, to tangle it ! 
 Not only visiting the contentious man. 
 Stiff-necked, and insolent of hand and tongue. 
 Ye smite his heart with blindness, step by step 
 Lured on to new precipitous heights of sin, 
 Till he shoot over to some dreadful deep 
 Through the void yawn of unsustaining air, 
 But him too who with lowly reverent mind 
 On life's firm level plants a steadfast foot, 
 And swerves not from the right, him too ye draw 
 On to the same red pit, as me ye have drawn, 
 And for no sin of mine have made my name 
 An execration, and this guiltless hand 
 Polluted, even in its most righteous act 
 Of retribution, with the kindred blood
 
 A Street in Corinth. 21 
 
 Of one far dearer than myself to me. 
 Oh ! misery piled on misery mountains high ! 
 Tot) vast a heft for Atlas, yet all heaped 
 On the weak pillars of one human heart ! 
 Surely the happiest life is sad enow, 
 So brief of term, so bitter in event- 
 So many reefs and currents of the soul. 
 Opposing passions, contrary desires ! 
 An even course 'twixt either foul extreme 
 Sp hard to compass, till the port be won ! 
 But whoso in the quest of worldly gain 
 Makes shipwreck, or, for pleasure voyaging. 
 Upon some unforeseen calamitous rock 
 Falls foundered, losing all, though him the world 
 Count miserable, yet did he never seek 
 The highest, and hath not lost it ; and e'en he 
 Full oft, with life escaping, timely warned. 
 May shape new aims, refit his shattered bark. 
 And, bound on some more moderate just emprise. 
 Pluck golden vantage from adversity. 
 But I have no such hope, not having fallen 
 Through mine own fault or folly, who never yet 
 In all the journey of my days divorced 
 Discretion from my steps, nor hurled at heaven 
 Great swelling words of arrogance, nor strained 
 Between uplifted lips to take and taste
 
 22 Timoleo7t : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 The high-hung fruits of honour : and yet behold me 
 
 Sunk down more hopelessly in deeper mire, 
 
 And suffering deadlier defeat than he ! 
 
 Are the gods just that plague their worshippers, 
 
 And for lip-service and the bended knee, 
 
 And life-long adoration of pure hearts. 
 
 Alike to guiltless and to guilty mete 
 
 One measure of life to all, one dole of death ? 
 
 Or do they move by paths fortuitous. 
 
 Or bond-slaves to inexorable law 
 
 Leave men perforce to perish ? — Black thought, away ! 
 
 Duty is best, though hell come after it, 
 
 And heaven is far, and no man knows the end. 
 
 Out on my weak lamentings, making vile 
 
 The serene air of silent suffering ! 
 
 Unworthy of me ! unworthy of a man, 
 
 Who still hath striven before all aims to find 
 
 His sole advancement in the general good ! 
 
 Whoso to fatherland himself hath given, 
 
 Wliat need hath he of lowlier happiness 
 
 Or lesser loves beside it ? or what sorrow 
 
 Can shake him from that service, to disown 
 
 For narrower ties his heart's allegiance ? 
 
 Mother, let not these red and tear-scarred eyes 
 Deceive thee : do not herein think to read 
 Weak traces of repentance ; I rejoice
 
 A Street in Corinth. 2 
 
 That I had strength to do it, had strength to leap 
 
 At once, not girl-Uke on the awful edge 
 
 Hang- shuddering, but as some storm-fed stream 
 
 Spills in an instant over with one bound, 
 
 Clear from the cliff: yea, mother, I rejoice ; 
 
 It was the dark necessity, not the deed, 
 
 Tha t rent my soul asunder — yet, ah ! yet, 
 
 If any power could change me or compel, 
 
 Check my impetuous current, turn my tide, 
 
 And hurl me back rebellious on myself. 
 
 Mother, thy curse would do it ; if any prayers 
 
 Move me, thy face beseeching ; if any thought. 
 
 Surely the thought of thy past tenderness 
 
 And love of old time. Nay, what idle words ! 
 
 Thou knowest how I have held thee all my days 
 
 Dearest of all things living, and after thee 
 
 Him, and have deemed my life a common thing, — 
 
 If therewith I might serve you or save from shame, 
 
 So set my heart to you-ward : now all this 
 
 Is nothing, and lo ! some god has sent a cloud 
 
 To rest between us, and darkened our delight, 
 
 That whatso' wave of fate roll in, at least 
 
 We have done with happiness, we two I think 
 
 For ever. Let us bid farewell to joy 
 
 Now dead and buried ; yet, if thou judge me right. 
 
 We need not part from honour, but take her home 
 
 J
 
 24 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 To be our chiefest and most cherished guest 
 
 On the empty throne of pleasure ; and she shall bring 
 
 Fair peace, that is her fellow ; and we may live 
 
 To comfort each the other; and Corinth too, 
 
 Our country, with her favour shall almost 
 
 Make light the burden of impending hours, 
 
 And with her benediction, when we die. 
 
 Console us, who have suffered for her sake. 
 
 Demariste. 
 Snake ! thou art subtle-tongued, but yet I know 
 What venom, for all the musical sweet hiss. 
 Lurks in thy lying and detested mouth. 
 Think'st thou to lure me too with honied words. 
 Monster ! fresh-taught by thy most hideous act, 
 Then shut me in the dark of horrid jaws, 
 One more unnatural victim ? Out, vile worm ! 
 Crawl hence, lest my foot crush thee in thy slime ! 
 Nay, an' thou wilt have answer, thou shalt hear : 
 O virtuous, all, professing hypocrite ! 
 O spider, hanging from thy dustythreads, 
 To snare the unwary with fine sophistries ! 
 O specious pseudo-patriot, robed in fair 
 Tyrannicidal cloak of fratricide ! 
 Most tender cut-throat, who couldst scarcely kill 
 Thine only brother, so wondrous deep the love 
 Thou barest him ! have thou thy meed of me.
 
 A Street in Corinth. ' 25 
 
 Because thou art traitor to thy race and name, 
 
 Yea, to all kindred of humanity. 
 
 Cruet as a beast, flint-hearted, in thy wrath 
 
 Most deadly, because thou mad'st thyself a sword 
 
 Sheathed in dissimulation, sharp with hate, 
 
 To pierce thy brother, and thy lips gaped for him 
 
 And hot tongue thirsted till it drank his blood. 
 
 Therefore behold ! I, Demariste, I 
 
 The womb that bare thee and the breasts that reared, 
 
 The hands that nursed thee on my knees, the lips 
 
 That sang above thee sleeping, or hushed thy cry 
 
 With low sweet murmur of fond foolish words, 
 
 I and all these in me do here revoke 
 
 Each tender office, and bid thee take instead 
 
 A mother's malediction : be thou cursed. 
 
 As now thou art hated, as all springs of love 
 
 Are dried between us, and all sweet memories 
 
 Past like the shadow of a bird in heaven. 
 
 \Exit Demariste. 
 
 \st Semichorus. 
 Lo, women's love for strength is as the sea, 
 And as vexed waters inconsolable. 
 
 2nd Seviichorus. 
 But their wrath kindled is as raging fire 
 Before them, and men's hearts stubble and dry wood.
 
 26 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 I pray you, friends, be pitiful to her, 
 
 That hath much need of pity, and be not harsh 
 
 Or hasty of judgment upon her and me, 
 
 As though we had sinned of our own wilfulness 
 
 Each against other. But these things are not so. 
 
 Believe me of her whom late ye heard so curst, 
 
 So stormy of speech, proud and implacable, 
 
 No woman once m oregentle, no voice more mild, 
 
 Eyes full of meekness yoked with majesty, 
 
 Fondness with grave restraint. That was not she 
 
 Lightening and thundering in our eyes and ears ; 
 
 Whom sorrow hath severed from herself, till lo ! 
 
 Even as her love was once, so now her hate. 
 
 But witness, O ye gods ! I have not moved 
 
 Of my own will to grieve her, that no power 
 
 Less than omnipotent necessity 
 
 Had spurred me to that deed. I do not boast 
 
 The filial piety of past days — no more 
 
 Than merest acts of duty : nay, despite 
 
 Most bitter curses I am still constrained 
 
 To love her ; such a debt of tender care, 
 
 But half-remembered and requited never, 
 
 Even over and above the natural bond, 
 
 Man owes to her that bare him. 
 
 Now I go
 
 A Street in Corinth. 27 
 
 Hence with my griefs upon me : nevermore, 
 Corinth, in thy dear streets shall I be seen 
 Aftlong the eager crowds that throng thy quays, 
 On traffic bent or pleasure — never more 
 Go forth, loved city, when the trumpet sounds 
 To^onset from thy walls, and the sun strikes 
 On spear and helmet ; but far hence, alone. 
 Girt with intolerable woes I bend 
 My steps, an exile, with one hope, to be 
 Fprgotten, oh ! how blest, might I forget ! 
 And so farewell, and of your courtesy 
 Pray you be pitiful to her and me. 
 
 [Exit TiMOLEON. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 O dark, strange, swift, 
 Unfathomable mystery. 
 Thought-baffling, sight-outsoaring, 
 
 Of life's vicissitude ! 
 Past man's imagination 
 The endless alternation. 
 Wherewith light mortals drift 
 In helpless misery 
 From good to ill — from ill again to good. 
 Over the waves of Fate, 
 And think to find for their imploring
 
 28 Timoleojt : a Draviatic Poem. 
 
 Some quiet anchorage, 
 Safe from the tempest's rage, 
 When these abate, 
 Or on dry land a refuge from its roaring. 
 
 Alack ! for who shall turn a page 
 Of that sealed book voluminous. 
 Which lies 
 Within the shadowy lap of Destiny, 
 And marks the term of each of us, — 
 Stern chronicler of hours and days, — 
 And who 'neath Fortune's foot shall prostrate lie. 
 And who shall rise 
 Uncrushed by her rude buffetings, 
 Superior to all praise ? 
 
 There is no revelation of these things 
 From heaven, nor any end descried 
 Far off to earth's perplexity, 
 Nor any law to walk thereby. 
 
 Nor any light to guide : 
 The fierce brunt of outrageous opposites 
 
 Alarms on every side, 
 
 And with strange contraries 
 
 Mocks old experience. 
 
 Confounds all evidence,
 
 A Sti'eet in Corinth. 29 
 
 And fools the wisest and most practised sights. 
 And one that loves himself, and longs to live 
 ' Heaped round with golden luxuries, 
 And lacking time alone to thrive, 
 Dies on an instant presently ; 
 And one long weary of his breath, 
 With battle-toil forspent. 
 Or by cross blows of rudest accident 
 Crushed utterly, 
 Cries in his anguish upon death. 
 And cannot die. 
 
 Wherefore 'tis meet 
 That ye refrain the abundance of your lips 
 
 From all vain overflow. 
 With temperate outcome of shaqD words or sweet. 
 Seeing that the ends of Fate shall no man know ; 
 
 For loud words lash like whips, 
 Quick to recoil upon the utterer. 
 
 With backward-biting blow. 
 
 Bold deeds let no man grudge, 
 But bold speech, being barren of all men's thanks, 
 
 Bears fruit alone of sin : 
 
 Right vain it is to judge ; 
 Even as in batde for a bystander 
 Word-victory is no whit hard to win :
 
 30 Timolcon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 But if one stand amid the ranks, 
 when the arrow of unseen Fate comes hurtling in, 
 Who knows if he shall budge ? 
 
 Nathless we are sure, what else soe'er be taken, 
 
 And shut from sight, 
 There is that in all tempests shines unshaken, 
 
 A deathless light : 
 Who in prosperity being meek of spirit. 
 
 And clean of hands. 
 When the storm bursts on him is strong to bear it, 
 
 Rock-rooted stands. 
 And in the hurricane and most fierce commotion, 
 
 Of cataract skies, 
 Dares all its horrors with unquenched devotion. 
 
 Unflinching eyes, 
 Saith to the storm-fiend, ' Though thy name be legion. 
 
 Haste here to dwell. 
 Howl, and possess you your appointed region. 
 
 My heart, your hell : ' 
 To the lithe lightning, " Cease dumb rocks to shiver, 
 
 Shoot here, for I 
 Fear not the emptying of thy fiery quiver, 
 
 But fear to lie ; " 
 Who 'gainst all tides of tyrannous aggression, 
 
 Strikes manfully.
 
 A Street in Coidjtth. 31 
 
 Naked beneath the strong man's armed oppression, 
 
 Ne'er bowed the knee, 
 Shoots not defiance from proud hps profaning 
 
 Heaven's sovereign will, 
 Over himself and his own heart's complaining 
 
 Victorious still, 
 His name posterity shall set up for token 
 
 In doubtful days, 
 Him with songs sung or of the heart unspoken 
 , Shall all men praise.
 
 o 
 
 2 Tiuwleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — Timoleon's Solitary Retreat near Corinth. 
 After a lapse of twenty years. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 Thee first, high Lord of heaven, eternal Zeus, 
 The Saviour-God, I suppHcate, and next 
 Themis, Olympian Justicer supreme, 
 Sprung from the primal earth ; and I invoke 
 Dark Hecate, and the stupendous brows 
 Of Hades, and, coheirs of endless night, 
 Demeter mother and pale Persephone, 
 Thrones of the under-world. But chiefly thou, 
 Apollo, Purifier, thou Lord of light 
 And order, the bright bringer of the da}'. 
 Who for the Python slain erewhile didst vail 
 Thy godhead to the unconquerable king, 
 Thou who of old didst intercede to save 
 From the everlasting doom thy worshipper 
 Orestes, and didst cleanse him of a spot 
 More heinous, and blood shed at thy behest — 
 Have mercy, hearken, and judge my cause and me. 
 Nay, Lord, thou knowest ; thine universal eye, 
 That sweeps the immeasurable arc of heaven,
 
 Tinio icons Solitary Retreat. 2)2> 
 
 Beheld me from the first, and twice ten years — 
 Slow-crawling centuries of remorseless pain — 
 Hath- seen me in these unfrequented fields 
 A sufferer, silent. I grow gaunt and old, 
 And my wits craze with sorrow, and all my strength 
 Crumbles in premature decrepitude : 
 For I have ta'en a hurt within the soul. 
 That mocks all medicine of oblivious time, 
 Dealt by the sword of Fate, that circling seemed 
 To crown my head with glory before it fell, 
 Then smote, and brake within me, and grew to be 
 Bone of my bone, an evil graft of pain, 
 A wound inveterate, ineradicable. 
 As when the splendour of a sudden bolt 
 Splits darkness, and the clouds clap hands to see — 
 Day dawns, and silence deepens, but the stone 
 Wedg'd in the wounded heart-strings of the hills 
 Sticks fast, and cools there, and henceforth becomes 
 Part of the mountain which it maimed. Ah, me ! 
 The body's ills how easy to be borne ! 
 Rack, flame, disease, how light, how sufferable, 
 Match'd with this inward aching of the mind, 
 That knows no cure, no solace even in thought ! 
 For which way turning shall a soul find rest, 
 When all the universe is wrapt in storm 
 Blown from all quarters by all winds at once ? 
 
 4
 
 34 Timolcon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 What cloud-break cleaves that sky, what path may sa\-e, 
 
 Or what roof shelter from its fiery bale ? 
 
 But as the outpouring of red Vulcan's ^v^ath 
 
 Brims o'er from ^tna, and devastates the plain, 
 
 One sulphurous ocean fed by flaming streams. 
 
 So 'mid the fierce convulsion of my woe 
 
 I seem to float upon a gulf of fire, 
 
 Where past and present ills, and ills to be, 
 
 Melt altogether, and roll one burning lake 
 
 Of indistinguishable agony. 
 
 For day by day the irrevocable curse 
 
 Of a dead mother, like a blight from heaven, 
 
 Blasts me unseen, and all the ghostly troops 
 
 Of darkness, grim apparitors of Pain, 
 
 Have charge to torture me — mute mouthing shapes, 
 
 And incorporeal voices, and I am haled 
 
 By hands invisible, that rend my flesh 
 
 And pluck me by the beard ; and bat-like things, 
 
 Abominations spawn'd of Stygian slime, 
 
 With blood-stained talons and plumes dipped in hell, 
 
 Float past, and flap me with their inky vans. 
 
 But even these haste with hideous croak disma/d 
 
 In some dark den to hide them, at the approach 
 
 Of that blood-freezing horror and threefold pest 
 
 The Furies, daughters of primeval Night. 
 
 Shaped woman-wise are they with scales for skin,
 
 Timolcons Solitary Reti^eat. 35 
 
 Monstrous ! black-bodied, but of pale fungus-hue 
 
 Their faces ; and from each gaping nostril goes 
 
 A poisonous smoke that through the wholesome air 
 
 Spreads pestilence before them ; but they run 
 
 Bird-footed, and round their clammy shoulders cling — 
 
 A moving marvel of portentous hair — 
 
 Cc'-^ied serpents, as beneath each bristling brow 
 
 The loathed cunning of an aspick's eye 
 
 Leers through the sanguine ooze. So foul to tell, 
 
 To sight intolerable, these abhorred fiends 
 
 With faultless scent track out their human prey, 
 
 And rend his soul with fangs invisible. 
 
 Why then live on ? because death's hideousness 
 Affrights me, or desire of life allures? 
 Nay, but because, living, a man may cope 
 With misery, because, while breath remains, 
 Timoleon is not bondsman to despair : 
 Because one thought sustains me, that ye gods 
 Live, and that Justice tarries, but is not dead. 
 Nor fiend nor fury shall avail to damn 
 Whom his own heart upbraids not — but to die, 
 Self-driven a shadow to the realm of shades, 
 Were to fling conquest to these hounds of hell. 
 And sate their malice everlastingly. 
 
 But hark ! methought e'en now their ravenous cry 
 Smote on my wakeful ear : it is the hour
 
 36 Timoleon : a Drainaiic Poem. 
 
 They love to torture me, for all night long 
 They have fasted, and wax hungry for my pain. 
 Now vanish for a while the attendant shapes 
 That are their mute and slavish ministers, 
 Dreams and dumb horrors, that break up my sleep, 
 Or make it frightful, that the body's strength, 
 Worn by long battling with the powers of night. 
 May tremble at their torments. Hark ! again, 
 That savage bay triumphant on the trail ! 
 No help, no hiding ! the accursed spell 
 Binds me already, and the morning air 
 Grows faint with their pollution ere they come. 
 
 \^Enter the Furies. 
 
 \st Fury. 
 
 Once more, Timoleon, from the obscurest pit 
 Of hell's profound we come to wait on thee, 
 That have been too long absent. For thy sake 
 We have made tireless search, and from a place 
 So dark that none durst enter it but we. 
 So foul with noisome vapours, poisonous damps. 
 Drained through the pores of Tartarus drop by drop, 
 That we ourselves nigh sickened at the approach. 
 And Pluto's vaults beside it seemed bright homes 
 Of air and sunshine, we have groped, and bring 
 The first-fruit of its garnered floor to thee.
 
 Timoleons Solitary Retreat. 2>1 
 
 2tid Fury. 
 
 Thence, for thy will is stubborn, we return 
 
 Armed each with sevenfold horrors — ghastly pangs 
 
 Of keen remorse and impotent desires, 
 
 Of povyer to madden the mightiest God that sits 
 
 Throned on Olympus. See this dead man's skull. 
 
 Half choked with grave-dust that was once the brain ! 
 
 It is thy brother's ! In that cup we brewed 
 
 Last night a juice of magic potency, 
 
 That hath distilled a thousand years in hell. 
 
 And thou art first to taste it : if one drop 
 
 But pass into thy blood along the veins. 
 
 Thenceforth the accumulated agonies. 
 
 Which else through all thine after-life were spread 
 
 And parcell'd by the slow dividing hours. 
 
 Concentred in one mass shall fall on thee 
 
 That moment and for ever : matched with this 
 
 The bitterest hour that yet thy soul hath known. 
 
 Since first we triumphed in thy pains, shall seem 
 
 An ecstasy of bhss, more sweet than long 
 
 Deep slumber in the lap of Paradise. 
 
 yd Fury. 
 
 Moreover, that which thy rebellious heart 
 Yet dreams not of, self-hate and self-reproach 
 Shall shoot like fire along thy bones, and lick
 
 38 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 The life-springs round thy heart, till thou shalt yearn 
 More madly to escape thy cursed self, 
 Than shun the avenging plagues that visit thee. 
 We shall exult to see thee, and hear thy moans 
 Grow deeper hour by hour ; for we are they 
 Whose office is to punish and to purge 
 The mad breach of inviolable vows, 
 Rash-handed outrage and unnatural hate, 
 And loves unlawful, and whatso lifts a foot 
 To invade the sanctities of home and kin. 
 Woe to the sinner, upon whose wilful head 
 We pour the vials of treasured old revenge 
 For sins inexpiate ! His dear blood of life 
 Slowly we lap ; nor sleep shall overshade, 
 Nor wine-cup cheer him ; hungry he shall heap 
 The board with dainties, and yet loathe to taste ; 
 His thoughts shall sting like hornets ; till at last 
 From sheer amazement and distraction dire 
 No flight shall save him, and no God redeem. 
 Next, to the State partaker of his curse, 
 Unshrived of its pollution, we mete out 
 Rapine and lust and blood, all ills that spring 
 From hot swift acts of vengeance : then we drink 
 The shrieks of flaming cities, which fierce kings 
 Sack for their pastime, and unseen ride on 
 Upon the whirlwind above battling hosts,
 
 Timoleons Solitary Retreat. 39 
 
 To mad men's hearts with slaughter. Yea, no less, 
 When mounting Virtue from some envious height 
 Down-toppling swings into the blank abyss, 
 We spare not, nor we pity ; but as it rolls, 
 And plunging feels the sickening void beneath, 
 We loose each barrier, close each mouthed chasm, 
 Which else had hushed the thunder of its course 
 But half-way down to ruin. So Fate awards, 
 And Justice elder than the primal heavens. 
 Therefore behold ! our jealous watch we keep 
 Each morn by thee, the last grim forfeiture 
 Of life foretasting, as through finer pangs 
 Sifted we mark thee dwindling to despair. 
 Yet in thy fall defiant. O vain worm ! 
 Say must we teach thee with worse whips and stings. 
 Or wilt thou yield thee to the all-taming yoke, 
 And hie with us to hell, where thou must be 
 Our thrall and liegeman ? Lo ! what profits more 
 Thy stubborn tarriance ? for the hot blood-smell 
 Smokes in our nostrils, and the days on earth 
 Suffice not, till we measure out thy doom. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 Vile hags, the sight of you alone is hell. 
 And hell to sufi"er at your cursed decrees, 
 And smart beneath your scourges ; yet know I
 
 40 Tinwlcon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 One deeper hell that far outfathoms all — 
 To be yourselves and wield them. 
 
 It may be 
 Sometimes that in the amazement of my woe 
 Aghast, confounded, blind with agony, 
 I have raved out mad words of scalding hate 
 Against the gods, myself, and all the world. 
 It may be, for I know not ; but know ye 
 That whatso leaping fires of forked dismay 
 Rive me and rend, heave and convulse my frame, 
 Henceforth, let Reason hold her sovereign seat. 
 In one thing I defy you ; while I live 
 Ye shall not force my nature from itself 
 To blast me with your likeness : I shall still 
 Suffer and hate you, I Timoleon still 
 Cleave to mine own uprightness : yea, though men 
 Forget me, and all gods abandon, this 
 Mine innocency, despite these guilty spots. 
 Stands like a pillar when the roof-tree falls 
 In ashes : never shall my burning tongue. 
 Delirious with your torments, speak one word 
 Against the majesty of mine own soul, 
 No nor profane the vilest name on earth 
 With curses that are consecrate to you. 
 
 Ah ! me, that pang ! I never felt your power, 
 Loathed ones, till now. Yon horrid cup still brims
 
 Timoleons Solitary Retreat. 41 
 
 Untasted, yet your menace is fulfilled. 
 
 My bulk contains not the tumultuous throes, 
 
 That rage and swell for mastery, till methinks 
 
 I arn transformed to Suffering's self, and pass 
 
 Into the being of immortal Pain. 
 
 Fiends, ye may laugh ; but at this darkest hour 
 
 I faint not ; never further from your clutch 
 
 Was victory than now : some prophet-voice 
 
 In accents long unwonted whispering 
 
 Tells of deliverance nigh ; and I believe 
 
 These are the birth-pangs of new hope, that soon— 
 
 Ah ! God, these torments ! Help me to endure. 
 
 \st Fury. 
 Past prating now ! Come, sister, fetch the cup. 
 And thou wrench open his white quivering lips, 
 Whilst like a tender sick-nurse down his throat 
 I pour the medicine. 
 
 2nd Fury. 
 
 That were labour lost : 
 Wait till he waken from his swoon. 
 
 T^rd Fury. 
 
 Ay, wait 
 That he may taste each drop of bitterness. 
 And know its utter vileness to the dregs.
 
 42 Timokon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Chorus of Ftiries. 
 
 Come, dance we round the victim first ; 'tis rapture to 
 behold 
 
 The toil of our hard hunting crowned at last with victory : 
 
 More sweet than flesh of slaughtered swine, or ransom- 
 heap of gold, 
 
 Is strength that battles with despair, as fire with surging 
 sea. 
 
 Long-wooed, he yields to us at last : what charms with 
 
 ours can vie ? 
 Spout, fire and smoke ! writhe, serpent-locks ! let every 
 
 ringlet hiss : 
 His stifled groans are more to us than lover's softest 
 
 sigh, 
 Each drop of anguish on his brow more precious than a 
 
 kiss. 
 
 The eldest of all gods are we, and sprung from ancient 
 
 Night, 
 But blacker than our dam the task, stern Fate to us doth 
 
 give. 
 Who burn with unappeased desire for our eternal right 
 To tear the guilty after death, and track them while they 
 
 live. 
 
 . [ They continue dancing.
 
 Twtoleons Solitary Retreat. 43 
 
 {Enter ^schylus and Orthagoras m the distance. 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 The shadow of these trees is strangely dark. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 Ay, and the air is chill : some sudden fog 
 Hath muffled up the sun, a moment since 
 So fierce upon our foreheads. 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 Look ! behold him ! 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 
 Where ? 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 Stretched beneath yon cypress, whose old roots 
 Pillow his sunken head ! why, mark you not ? 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 I see the corpse of some poor wayfarer 
 By age and misery hunted to this spot, 
 Where both have left him. 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 Know you not that brow ? 
 And see ! the wan lips move, as though he prayed 
 In a great agony. Keep we close awhile, 
 And tarry till he rise or speak to us.
 
 44 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Chorus of Furies. 
 We thirst not for the righteous blood ; and those whom 
 
 headlong sin 
 By sudden storm of frenzy blown athwart our toils hath 
 
 cast, 
 Even such through purifying pains and lustral fires may 
 
 win 
 Deliverance of the avenging ones found merciful at last. 
 
 But who with rash rebellious hand and mad deliberate 
 
 mind 
 Hath seized the helm of violence and struck the shoals 
 
 of shame, 
 The curse, that was before the world, about his neck we 
 
 bind, 
 Nor know we any younger god shall ease him of the 
 
 same. 
 
 The clear light of his soul shall wane and wither in 
 
 eclipse ; 
 The full tide of the swelling heart shrink dwindled to a 
 
 thread, 
 The thought that burns for utterance turn to madness on 
 
 the lips ; 
 And dying none shall pity, no nor mourn for him when 
 
 dead.
 
 Timokons Solitary Retreat. 45 
 
 yEsCHYLUS. 
 
 How changed he is, and pale ! how colourless 
 His parted lips ! the eyelids yet are closed 
 UpCh their sheathed lightnings — all his face 
 Channell'd with time or tears ; those locks, that were 
 Like sunbeams saddened in dark water, now 
 White as in helpless age ! — Why doth he start, 
 Clenching both hands, and gaze so fearfully 
 On vacant air ? 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 
 Hush ! 'tis an awful place : 
 Keep silence, and regard him, for methinks 
 He sees some presence that we cannot see. 
 
 \st Fury. 
 Doth he now breathe and feel ? or is the blood 
 In his dull veins yet stagnant, and the spirit 
 Fast-lock'd in stony-eyed forgetfulness ? 
 
 2nd Fury. 
 We have o'er-chased our quarry : in such deep swoon 
 The soul finds cover, and, safe 'twixt life and death, 
 Makes void our effort and mocks at our revenge. 
 
 yd Fury. 
 The lamp of sense rekindling burns so faint 
 As for a puff to quench : till it revive. 
 Seek we elsewhere a task more profitable.
 
 46 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 1st Ftiry. 
 sisters, I scent a banquet of new blood 
 Blown hither from the wan Sicilian fields, 
 Dear home of fire-eyed Havoc. Hie we hence 
 Fast, fast, upon the hurricane's dark wing, 
 To hunt the victim down ! a tyrant there 
 Wades in the blood of his offenceless slaves. 
 And revels in their groans : crack, snaky whips, 
 And lash him into madness ! We'll be there 
 Before the axe now lifted has cut through 
 The cowering victim's tliroat : then, hither back 
 Returning, we may mend this broken task, 
 And glut our hunger in Timoleon's pain. 
 
 27id Fury. 
 First call some torturing shape to visit him 
 In our enforced absence. 
 
 ^rd Fiay. 
 
 'Tis well thought on : 
 We must not leave him idle. Hence ! away ! 
 
 \They vanish, 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 The sky grows brighter now ; we seem to breathe 
 More freely : 'tis as though some stifling weight 
 Of thunder brooding in a sulphurous cloud 
 At once were lifted from the upbounding air.
 
 Timoleon s Solitary Retreat. 47 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 His eyes are open, but he sees us not : 
 Some spell enchains them — he is going to speak ! 
 
 \E7iter the Curse of Demariste. 
 
 Timoleon. 
 Those fearful ones are vanish'd : what art thou ? 
 
 The Curse. 
 I am the embodied curse once pass'd on thee 
 By her that was thy mother ; and I am charged 
 On earth and under it, through life and death. 
 To cleave and fasten to thy guilty side 
 For ever. 
 
 Timoleon. 
 Thou art a lying phantom call'd 
 And conjured by the fiends that fashion'd thee 
 From hell, where they inhabit. If thou hast power 
 To blast me, speak again those awful words, 
 That still are burnt upon my memory ; speak, 
 And I will tremble. No, it vanishes ! 
 
 \Exit Curse. 
 But what new horror rises on my sight ? 
 
 \E71ter the Ghost (?/"Timophanes. 
 
 Can the impalpable void womb of air 
 Breed spectres at your will, and people space 
 With shadowy semblances of forms that were ?
 
 48 Timoleon : a Di^amatic Poem. 
 
 See ! see ! Timophanes ! in garb and mien 
 
 As when he met us on that fateful morn 
 
 Beneath the citadel ! Unhappy soul ! 
 
 If such thou art, I charge thee lay aside 
 
 That shape which is the token of thy sin 
 
 And mine undoing : with those blood-stained hands, 
 
 Hot cruel eyes, and crown-polluted brow, 
 
 Thou canst not even move me to regret. 
 
 \E,xit Ghost. 
 
 This was no offspring of a fevefd brain : 
 It made as though 'twould speak, when suddenly 
 A thrill of trembling seized its vapoury form. 
 And, as pursued by some o'ermastering fear, 
 Eyes all averted, and without a word. 
 It vanish'd as it came I 
 
 ^SCHYLUS, 
 
 His face is sad, 
 But has resumed its wonted majesty, 
 No longer horror-stricken. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 
 Nay, he smiles, 
 As to some loved one hoVring o'er him. 
 
 \Enter the Spirit of Liberty.
 
 Timoleon s Solitaiy Retreat. 49 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 Ah ! who is this with locks uncrown'd and lips unkiss'd 
 
 of kings ? 
 Who iG this Spirit, hither speeds with light upon her 
 
 wings ? 
 Love's rapture in her fearless eyes, from far she tra- 
 
 velleth, 
 As one who wist not of a world made desolate with 
 
 death. 
 
 The Spirit of Liberty. 
 My temple is not on the earth ; I roam through air and 
 
 sea; 
 A wanderer and without a land, my name is Liberty : 
 Men hunt me from the homes I bless; they desecrate 
 
 my shrine ; 
 But I come to thee, O well-belov'd, to claim and call 
 
 thee mine, 
 
 Timoleon. 
 Alas ! that thou should'st call in vain ! Thou speakest 
 
 to a slave 
 Whose chains are strong as adamant, whose dungeon as 
 
 the grave. 
 My soul is crush'd beneath a curse, and who shall set 
 
 me free ? 
 I may not cast my burden down, nor rise and follow 
 
 thee.
 
 50 Tinioleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 The Spirit of Liberty. 
 
 Thou wert not wont to fold thine arms, nor fain to hang 
 
 the head ; 
 When warriors waited on thy lips, not such the words 
 
 they said ; 
 Nor had ten thousand curses tamed the heart so cowed 
 
 and cold 
 Toward her who once thy worship was, who loved thee 
 
 from of old. 
 
 TlMOLEON, 
 
 Ah ! chide not, for thou dost not know the change of 
 
 time and fate. 
 The fire that fell, the sword that slew, her love which 
 
 turned to hate; 
 There is no balm to heal, no word of solace to be said : 
 Would God she had travailed ere her time, and died, 
 
 and borne me dead ! 
 
 The Spirit of Liberty. 
 
 Have I not grieved in all thy grief ? not wept thy woes 
 
 to see ? 
 My child, even mine, my youngest-born, what help have 
 
 I but thee? 
 What need but for their sorrow's sake Avho battle still 
 
 with wrong ? 
 For they that strike for Liberty must toil and tarry long.
 
 Timolcons Solitary Retreat. 5 i 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 cast thine arms about my neck ! O teach my limbs to 
 
 stand ! 
 
 1 cannot sleep but in thine arms, nor walk but with thy 
 
 hand ; 
 
 my new mother ! I am fain thy new-born son to be ; 
 But who shall break the bands of hell, that hold me still 
 
 from thee ? 
 
 The Spirit of Libe7-iy. 
 
 1 touch thee with my gentle wand ; I call thee by thy 
 
 name : 
 Timoleon ! rise ; thy fetters fall ; thy fears are put to 
 
 shame ; 
 My priest and champion thou shalt be ; and I to guard 
 
 and guide 
 Am still, though hidden from thy sight, for ever at thy 
 
 side. 
 
 \She vanishes. 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 See, now he rises ! and the old battle-light 
 Burns on his features ! 'Tis as when some rock 
 Out-frowns a tempest, that has all day long 
 Rolled up the thunder of ten thousand waves, 
 And boomed against his bases, but at eve, 
 Flush'd with disastrous sunset, grimly smiles 
 Defiance to the untamed and treacherous sea. 
 
 5*
 
 5 2 Tii7ioleon : a Dramatic Poejn. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 Let us go forward and unfold to him 
 The purport of our coming ; in his eyes 
 I read glad welcome, and a joyful ' yes ' 
 To Corinth's high commission. 
 
 \They advance towards him. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 O my friends ! 
 With what auspicious omen hath this hour 
 Leapt from the lap of time to comfort me 
 With your sweet presence ! Do you know me still, 
 Changed as I am, and love me ? years and grief. 
 That wrought this ruin on my frame, have made 
 No havoc of my heart : give me your hands — 
 Nay, both together ; since I clasped them thus, 
 I tell you I have made such inward proof 
 Of sorrow's fierce caresses, I have served 
 A term so bitter at her sobering craft, 
 That till this moment, with rare interval 
 And seldom respite, had my dearest friend 
 Brought me vast tidings of invasion quelled, 
 Or mighty armies mustering to o'erthrow 
 Some slaughter-house of tyrants, and set up 
 A fallen freedom, I should scarce have heard, 
 Much less made answer or regarded him.
 
 Tinioleo7LS Solitary Retreat. 53 
 
 Nay, ye had found me one brief hour agone 
 
 Feast-master sitting at no cheerful board, 
 
 The unwiUing host of such strange visitors 
 
 As riiight have marred your welcome. But rejoice, 
 
 For now the gods have sent you as a sign^ 
 
 That these are foiled for ever. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 
 Every word 
 Thou utterest, like sweet sunshine, turns some flower 
 Of hope to ripeness of fulfilled desire. 
 
 y^SCHYLUS. 
 
 I never looked to see such happiness, 
 
 Or hear these comfortable words from thee. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 Come rest we on yon bank ; the shadows there 
 Are coolest ; you have travelled far afoot, 
 And must be hot and weary with the way. 
 
 .^SCHYLUS. 
 
 Nay, for the bearer of good news or ill 
 Runs swiftly, and his feet forget to tire. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 Pray you, what news ? I am as one long dead 
 Raised up to hear it. Tell me by degrees 
 From the beginning, nowise suddenly.
 
 54 Timolcon : a Drmnatic Poem. 
 
 -^SCHYLUS. 
 
 'Tis old old news, too common to be new, 
 Nor like to startle thine accustomed ear ; 
 It needs no sheltering avenues of speech 
 To preface in these days dark deeds of blood, 
 And piteous cries for succour. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 Ah ! say on, 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 Thou knowest that Dionysius reigns again 
 Two years in Syracuse. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 I knew it not. 
 But deemed that since Callippus, he who slew 
 Dion, had perished by the selfsame sword, 
 The State, now sceptreless and made a prey 
 To general rapine and fierce rival feuds, 
 Lay festering in a swamp of anarchy. 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 So for six years it miserably endured, 
 
 When, as foul insects on a poor maimed beast 
 
 Fasten and feed, and swarm about its sore. 
 
 Draining the life-blood, till to make an end 
 
 Down swoops some famished vulture — so these men,
 
 Timoleoiis Solitary Retreat. 55 
 
 Lewd parasites and lawless mercenaries, 
 
 Robbed, hacked, and pilled, till half the strength was 
 
 sucked 
 From out poor Sicily, when she and they 
 Together, torn and quivering in the clutch. 
 Became one morsel for his ravenous maw. 
 
 Then waxed yet grosser his insatiate greed, 
 And from the coals of never-quenched desire. 
 Fanned by this gust of fortune, leapt a flame 
 So bloody that beside its baleful light 
 The torch-fire of each lesser tyranny 
 Shrunk into darkness. Corinth heard and mourned 
 The voice of her child's anguish ; for a sound 
 Confused and frightful, echoes of deep groans. 
 And savage laughter, and imploring shrieks. 
 Mingled with ocean's uproar, and went forth 
 Among the nations. But the third day since 
 Came tidings of clear colour, and withal 
 This message of entreaty — " Syracuse, 
 Down-trod by tyrants even to the dust. 
 To Corinth her own mother cries for aid. 
 And vengeance on the oppressor." He that spake 
 Made all hearts sick with horror, all eyes wet 
 For pity, as, diving in deep gulfs of sin, 
 With nets of silk-meshed utterance he drew forth 
 The abominations of that foul abyss.
 
 56 Timoleon : a Di'ainatic Poe7n. 
 
 Yea, and some doubted of the things they heard, 
 So monstrous grew the tale, as was unrolled 
 The crimeful record of his rank excess — 
 His catlike cunning and mad tiger-thirst 
 For bloodshed^ his luxurious appetite. 
 In brutish instinct and ungoverned lust 
 Out-grovelling all before him. Furthermore 
 To make despair more desperate, even to blight 
 The opening bud of young rebellion, 
 Like a dark living cloud upon their shores, 
 Dread foes to freedom and fair Sicily, 
 The Punic hosts were gathering. To be brief. 
 This woeful chronicle and sad appeal 
 So moved the heart of Corinth, that next morn 
 Before the assembled State's high majesty. 
 The people with one shout consenting cried 
 To send the wished-for succour. 
 
 Timoleon. 
 
 That was well : 
 Whom chose they to command and marshal them ? 
 
 yEsCHYLUS. 
 
 That question probes a wound thyself must heal, 
 Or perish Syracuse ! for when the shout 
 Ceased, and the Archons to the crowd set forth 
 Some leader for their choice, each hero named
 
 Timoleons Solitary Retreat. 57 
 
 Forbad them, and no captain of them all 
 
 In such a cause, so hopeless, against such odds, 
 
 Durst gird him to the danger. Then was heard 
 
 A voice, from whence I know not, no man knew, 
 
 Which 'mid the silence like a trumpet rang 
 
 And cried ' Timoleon ! ' and with such a roar 
 
 As though the elements of air and sea 
 
 Commingling in one crash made sudden league 
 
 To ravage and o'erride the continent, 
 
 So from that multitude of tongues poured forth 
 
 An inundation of tempestuous sound. 
 
 That broke in thunder, as they caught the cry, 
 
 And tossed it to the clouds — •' Timoleon ! ' 
 
 Timoleon {after a pause). 
 
 This is the last time I shall watch the sun 
 Go down behind Cyllene to the sea, 
 And flood these fields with splendour, which I loved, 
 Despite of all my suffering. Let us rise : 
 How calm it is and cool ! and how the breeze 
 Fills with contagious freedom all my soul ! 
 Enter, my friends, for ye have fasted long 
 Since morn ; and thou, Orthagoras, presently 
 Do sacrifice for us ; I think indeed 
 The gods are favourable, and have heard my prayer. 
 And I am fain to worship.
 
 58 Tinioleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 
 'Tis most meet 
 We pay these solemn rites, and then to rest ; 
 For ere to-morrow from the ^gean wave 
 Flush the proud forehead of the citadel, 
 We should be gone. 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 Set we not forth to-night ? 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 To-night. 
 
 So, false ones, ye are foiled at last, 
 And the sweet vision triumphs, and is true !
 
 59 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene II. — The Market-place in Corinth. 
 
 [Etiter Citizens. 
 ist Citizen. 
 Neighbour, good speed ! Whence come you? 
 
 27id Citizen. 
 
 From Lechseum. 
 
 xst Citizen. 
 Is aught there rumoured of the expedition ? 
 
 2nd Citizen. 
 
 The air is rife with floating hearsay tales 
 
 Of such diverse complexions as to match 
 
 The tints and tissues of men's hopes and fears — • 
 
 Frail threads by each from native fancy spun, 
 
 And dyed with his heart's colour. In one morn 
 
 I have heard news should make one drunk with tears, 
 
 And mad with exultation : first, our ships 
 
 Are sunk or taken, and Timoleon slain ; 
 
 Next, by a storm they're scattered ; now, 'tis sure
 
 6o Thnoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 The Carthaginian fleet holds all the strait, 
 
 And lets them from the passage ; and, once more. 
 
 These have been wonderfully put to flight, 
 
 And Syracuse delivered, in less time 
 
 Than had sufficed the speed of Argo's prow 
 
 To dance us back the tidings. 
 
 \st Citizen. 
 
 Holds that news 
 Of the Leontine tyrant, Hiketas ? 
 'Tis said he hath joined Carthage, and broke off 
 Our friendship on some hollow vain pretence. 
 
 2nd Citizen. 
 
 Yea, shall the oppressor strike for liberty? 
 Or shall a snake's lip kiss thee, and not sting ? 
 His mouth dropped sweetness, that fond Syracuse 
 Might suck the sugared venom, and himself 
 Devouring the vile pest she groans beneath, 
 And greeted as deliverer, might therewith 
 Be taken to her heart and so strike home. 
 
 Countryman. 
 
 Ha ! therefore crew this cock his challenge-note 
 So loudly, and clapped wings till all the roost 
 'Gan wonder, that himself anon might strut 
 The Dionysian dunghill !
 
 The Mai'ket-place in Cormth. 6i 
 
 ist Citizen. 
 
 'Tis a quest 
 Of wild adventure and nigh desperate hope, 
 Timoleon is embarked on. 
 
 Countryman. 
 
 Well, I know not ; 
 Such fair occasion is a savoury mess 
 For your king-killer, but withal served up 
 Too hot for the eating : little blame, say I, 
 Our generals feared to scald their hands in it. 
 
 xst Citizen. 
 Against such odds 'twill be a miracle 
 If e'er they dint the sands of Sicily ; 
 So may the gods befriend them ! 
 
 Woman. 
 
 Yea^ 'tis like 
 All gods will aid the murderer of his kin, 
 And cursed by his own mother, or give strength 
 Of battle to the hands that strike with his. 
 
 2nd Citizen. 
 
 Good dame, bethink thee ; were the deed undone. 
 Which thou reprov'st so sharply, Corinth now 
 Were even as Syracuse, and all we here 
 Either sad exiles, or mewed up in chains
 
 62 Ttmoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 To serve a master's pleasure — yea, thyself, 
 Free mother of a freeman's sons no more, 
 From thy slave's bosom giving suck to slaves. 
 
 \st Citizen. 
 Women are mothers first, then citizens. 
 
 Woma7i. 
 And men turn monsters, being citizens. 
 What ! was there none to pull the despot down, 
 But — heaven defend us from such citizens ! — 
 A man must knife his brother? I tell you still, 
 The high gods will avenge it, both on him 
 And us and on all Corinth ; for by that stain 
 We and the cause we fight for are accursed. 
 And so farewell, fair citizens. \Exit. 
 
 Cou7itryman. 
 
 Good lack ! 
 She lows so loudly for a neighbour's calf, 
 Pray heaven her own 'scape slaughtering, or mfithinks 
 Her horns will clear a passage. Were I lord 
 Timoleon, in good sooth I'd rather meet 
 Whole hosts of tyrants than a fly-stung herd 
 Of gadding wives. 
 
 \st Citizen. 
 
 Soft-hearted is sharp-tongued : 
 But men think deep what women talk abroad.
 
 The Market-place in Corinth. G^, 
 
 Sirs, wot you well, the general voice is now 
 Timoleou's, and, let victory light on him, 
 His onlyj and for ever ; but if he fail, 
 There are who hold 'twere better he should rot 
 In Syracusan dungeons, than come home 
 To face his friends in Corinth. 
 
 2nd Citizen. 
 
 ' Thou sayest well : 
 
 For dogs are dogs, and to be torn of beasts 
 No cleanly death ; but 'twere the viler fate, 
 If choice were given, to be devoured of those 
 One's hand has saved and fostered. 
 
 {Enter a Soothsayer. 
 Soothsayer. 
 
 ■ Masters all. 
 What moody business sets your brows afrown ? 
 Out on such ominous eyes ! this is a time 
 Of joyful expectation. 
 
 2nd Citizen. 
 
 By thy looks 
 Thou art of those who from strange mysteries 
 Of earth and heaven, or in the heart of beasts, 
 Can pluck divine foreknowledge, and by the light 
 Of an enthusiast mind have power to read 
 Dark regions of the unexplored ' to be.'
 
 64 Tiuiolcoii : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 What therefore we may hear and thou canst tell, 
 Whether foreboding of our hopes or fears, 
 Delay not to unfold. 
 
 Soothsayer. 
 
 I can but speak 
 What all the world has heard, though some have scoffed, 
 Deeming them idle tales, how that the gods, 
 By solemn portents and peculiar signs, 
 Unequalled in our age, surpassed in none. 
 Vouchsafed to smile on our departing arms, 
 And shower their favours on Timoleon. 
 
 2nd Citizen. 
 
 Something we heard — no constant clear report, 
 But such vague rumour as, from mouth to mouth 
 Bandied, and buzzed into the credulous ear 
 Of idle multitudes, breeds monstrous forms. 
 Ten thousand in a moment : but if aught 
 Thou holdst for certain, or thyself hast seen. 
 Say on, thou shalt have eager audience. 
 
 Countryman. 
 Ay, speak ; I warrant 'tis a wondrous tale. 
 
 Soothsayer. 
 Know then, ere yet our musters were equipped, 
 While Corinth rang with warlike gathering,
 
 The Market-place in Corinth. 65 
 
 Tiuioleon to the sacred Delphic shrine 
 
 Made pilgrimage ; nor ever entered there 
 
 Within the secret of its dim recess 
 
 A head more holy, a heart more reverent, 
 
 Of each due ordinance and solemn rite 
 
 A more devout observer. As wont is. 
 
 After prayer said and sacrifices done, 
 
 His feet drew nigh that ancient chasm profound 
 
 Fast by the earth's firm centre, whence exhaled. 
 
 The ascending vapour impregnates the brain 
 
 Of the throned priestess, till her frantic lips 
 
 In riddles hard of labyrinthine speech 
 
 Utter the gods' oracular response. 
 
 Thither he came, the dread prophetic voice 
 
 Attending, in that shrine whose awful air 
 
 Simmers with secrets from the eternal deep, 
 
 If haply its dark bosom might illume, 
 
 As thunder-clouds fiash on the murk of night. 
 
 The far-off" issue of his great emprise. 
 
 But as he stooped to enter, and bowed down 
 
 Prostrate in adoration, lo ! a wreath 
 
 Of conquest, broidered with triumphal crowns 
 
 And images of victory, from the wall 
 
 Down-fluttering fell, and, 'lighting as he rose, 
 
 Circled the breadth of his heroic brow.
 
 66 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Coimtrymian. 
 I never heard the like ! 
 
 2tid Citizen. 
 
 Such signs as these 
 Portend momentous issues, do they not ? 
 And greatness, and a man beloved of heaven ? 
 
 Soothsayer. 
 Ay, if the sacred art diviners use 
 Err not, and heaven be true. But have ye heard 
 That dream the priestess of Persephone 
 Dreamed ere they put to sea ? For as she slept, 
 In the first watch when slumber is most deep, 
 Lo ! at her side the goddess ! a pale form 
 Shrouded in shadowy mist, whose floating folds 
 Caught glory from the moonlight ! There she stood 
 Silent, one hand upon her brow, and one 
 Pointing to seaward ; and she fixed on her 
 The yearning of those eyes whose rapt regard 
 Rules Erebus, remembering Sicily. 
 Then in no earthly accent, with like voice 
 To subterranean thunder she began — 
 "I am Persephone, that have uprisen 
 From the dread couch of Dis, and for awhile 
 Resigned my seat of gloomy sovereignty, 
 To visit the bright fields I loved on earth, 
 To visit and avenge them. Lo ! to-night
 
 The Market-place in Corinth. 67 
 
 Over the pearl path that the moonbeams make, 
 A twofold godhead with your fleet shall glide, 
 Demeter and Persephone : we will give 
 Clear tokens of our presence ; and doubt not 
 Er.i iii all conflicts we will guard the head 
 And nerve the hand that strikes for Sicily." 
 
 So spake she, nor withheld the promised sign ; 
 For at the dead and darkest of the night 
 With freshening breeze our ships stood out to sea 
 Past Elis and Zakynthus, when behold ! 
 The heavens were rent asunder, and bright flame 
 Shot from the zenith down, a meteor-sheaf 
 Of splendours, that took shape, and streamed and spread, 
 And in the semblance of a sacred torch 
 Blazed high above them on toward Italy. 
 
 2nd Citizen. 
 Whence learned ye this great wonder ? 
 
 Soothsayer. 
 
 From the lips 
 Of certain islanders — a coasting-crew — 
 Leucadians, who thus far upon their way 
 Convoyed them, and returned to tell the tale. 
 
 \st Citizen. 
 Are ye so sure it burned not angerly, 
 Charged hot with baleful menace, for a sign 
 Terrific, not triumphant ? 
 
 6 *
 
 6S Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Soothsayer, 
 
 Hear that shout ! 
 2nd CitizeJi. 
 What is't they cry? Corinth ! Timoleon ! 
 Some stirring news is toward ! I see a crowd 
 Panting and straining in the hopeless track 
 Of a swift runner who is hard at hand. 
 
 \Ente7' a Herald. 
 All. 
 What tidings, herald, of Timoleon ? 
 
 Herald. 
 For them that love him not bad news enow. 
 
 Soothsayer. 
 The gods be thanked ! 
 
 ist Citizen. 
 
 Nay, boast not till ye know. 
 Marked you the phrase "> no word of Corinth yet ; 
 Good news belike for them that love not her. 
 
 2nd Citizen. 
 Nay, for this message is indeed the breath 
 And very heart-beat of my hope ; but thou — 
 
 Countryman. 
 Wast born to croak in Syracusan fens, 
 Foul skies or fine. Come, honest messenger, 
 Give, an breath serve, a sample of thy news.
 
 The Market-place in Cormth. 69 
 
 Herald. 
 For all your jars, good hap from first to last, 
 Luck and fair deeds and favourable gods 
 My tidings tell. In brief, our General hath. 
 Despite all disadvantage — time, and place, 
 Cross currents of opposing circumstance. 
 And treacherous friendship, and designing foe — 
 Ay, wgrse than all, grazed by the rankling tooth 
 Of sidelong hate and harsh opinion — 
 Though matched with all these odds, hath none the less 
 From fortune's bough plucked off the topmost wreath. 
 And first, arrived at Rhegium, we were hailed 
 By Carthaginian envoys with cold words 
 From Hiketas — " His arms had ta'en the town, 
 Franked up the tyrant in his citadel. 
 And well-nigh ended at one stroke the war. 
 Our ships, no longer serviceable, might. 
 Nay must, all shadow of offence apart, 
 Sail homeward " — which to enforce, a Punic fleet 
 Of twice our strength lay ready. Timoleon heard. 
 Feigning a forced content : nor urged he aught, 
 Save that in public they set forth the terms 
 Before the Rhegian elders. Hereupon 
 The assembly met ; the city-gates were barred ; 
 And thus, with Rhegium's eloquence to aid. 
 Whose mimic zeal still fanned the mock debate,
 
 70 Tivioleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Outwitting once the sly Phoenician, 
 We seized the hour, stole forth, and one by one, 
 Timoleon last, the more to cloak his vvile, 
 Regained our ships, and so to Sicily. 
 
 There entertained us Tauromenium's lord, 
 Andromachus ; whence, after two days' rest, 
 On to Adranum by forced march till night ; 
 For faction there waxed clamorous, and men stood 
 Half for Timoleon, half for Hiketas. 
 Nine hours we toiled afoot ; the fierce sun smote 
 Sore on our armed heads till darkness fell ; 
 Then onward still through darkness ! but at length. 
 Some score of furlongs from the town, our van 
 Halted, beholding in the plain far off 
 Torch-lights and bivouac-fires, and on the wind 
 Hearing the hum and murmur of a host, 
 That 'mid the tumult of encampment keeps 
 Slack ward, and recks not of a coming foe. 
 
 Here those that led took counsel, and the most 
 Bade halt till morning, and repose our strengths, 
 Faint with long fast and travel : but the chief 
 Cried out, " On ! on ! One brave brief effort more 
 Flings you with tenfold vantage on a foe 
 To-morrow thrice your power, to-night your prey 
 Cumbered with half-pitched tents, amid their stuff 
 Caught unawares and feasting." With that word
 
 The Market-place in Corinth. 71 
 
 He' seized his buckler, and strode on before, 
 
 Nor durst a man gainsay him : but as he spake 
 
 So it befell ; for ere the moon was risen, 
 
 Wit|i a great shout we burst upon their flank, 
 
 Down-bearing all before us : fast they fled — 
 
 As from Parnassus the sonorous north 
 
 Shrieks down the mountain hollows to break with power 
 
 Op Delphi, and takes her forests by the hair. 
 
 And drives the leaves in a whirlwind — so sped they, 
 
 Swept with a sudden horror of shadoAvy forms 
 
 From forth the howling darkness, the strewn ranks 
 
 Of Hiketas : some we surprised in sleep, 
 
 Their last, some feasting, all of war's alarm 
 
 Secure and heedless ; so the camp, the town. 
 
 Great store of captives, and much spoil was ours. 
 
 2nd Citizen. 
 
 AVhere be the tongues of his accusers now ? 
 As mute in mouth as safe in sheath the swords 
 They lacked the heart to draw. 'Tis the best news 
 Our age hath heard. 
 
 Herald. 
 
 A better crowns that best ; 
 For at the point of onset, when our shout 
 First slew the silence, lo ! the temple-doors 
 Oped of the god Adranus, and his spear
 
 72 Timolcon: a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Quivered in all its length, and drops of sweat 
 
 Started and trickled from its stony pores 
 
 Down to the pavement, while stark horror seized 
 
 The priestess wondering what these things should mean. 
 
 But, after, no man doubted (for his name 
 
 'Gan to be noised more loudly, and what signs 
 
 Had erst foretold him famous) that hereby 
 
 The god gave token of his grace, and hailed 
 
 Timoleon as deliverer. From that day 
 
 The terror of his arm filled Sicily, 
 
 That many sought our friendship, chief of these 
 
 Mamercus, lord of Catana, beside 
 
 A score of lesser townships : but the top 
 
 And pinnacle of fortune's yet to tell ; 
 
 For Dionysius in the Ortygian hold 
 
 Shut fast, and now nigh hopeless to unbind 
 
 The girdle of his threefold enemy, 
 
 Corinthian, Carthaginian, Leontine, 
 
 Heard of Adranum's victory, and sent. 
 
 Scorning the yoke of conquered Hiketas, 
 
 An embassage to meet us, there and then 
 
 Surrendering unsolicited himself. 
 
 Treasure and fortress, arms and equipage 
 
 Into Timoleon's hand : nor asked he more 
 
 Than transport safe to Corinth, there to live 
 
 Henceforth unchallenged of his liberty.
 
 The Market-place in Corinth. 73 
 
 2nd Citizen. 
 Which proffered terms were taken ? 
 
 ^ Herald. 
 
 Ere I loosed 
 From shore, four hundred veterans of our host 
 Watched from Ortygia's bastion, having stole 
 Safe through the leaguer's lines ; and he whose wrath 
 Was like a volcano kindled, and whose breath 
 Blew deadlier from his nostrils than the blast 
 Of pestilence on Syracuse, even he, 
 This monster-despot in one hour become 
 A sign for lips to shoot at, and a mark 
 For Folly's outthrust finger, shall be seen 
 Walking in Corinth's streets, weak, poor, despised. 
 Unkinged, and no man trembling at his frown. 
 
 \st Citizen. 
 
 These are great tidings, herald, but methinks, 
 
 Though praise still weds the prosperous, rightly judged. 
 
 More due to feats of fortune than of war ; 
 
 Yet time may mend that verdict : howsoe'er. 
 
 It boots not him to triumph, who through some trick 
 
 And slippery practice of his nimbler wit 
 
 Hath tried one happy fall : the worst is yet 
 
 To cope with, when fast-locked with equal grip
 
 74 Timoleo7t : a Drmitatic Poem. 
 
 They tug together, and overmatched he feels 
 The sinewy foeman's ever-tightening strain, 
 And plies the shift that serves no second turn. 
 
 2nd Citizen. 
 Sir, sir, I like not your philosophy : 
 O'envise is one with foolish. Pray you, cease : 
 'Tis sage-like, doubtless, with judicial frown 
 And air-poised chin, on dexterous finger-tip 
 To weigh the world's experience — but we prate 
 Idly : vouchsafe us, herald, of our friends 
 Some further news — where lies Timoleon's power ? 
 Whom doth Ortygia's garrison obey ? 
 
 Herald. 
 
 Neon is captain in the Citadel 
 
 With thrice eight hundred men — the more part those 
 
 Who yielded with the despot — and there lies 
 
 Blockaded, for the Carthaginian fleet 
 
 Fills the great harbour : and the city itself, 
 
 Tycha, Neapolis, Epipolae, 
 
 And Arcadina and all the fens are held 
 
 By Hiketas and Mago. For the rest, 
 
 Timoleon hath led back the main array, 
 
 And tarries at Adranum, till the State 
 
 Grant him some increase of his power, for which 
 
 He prays your willing voices.
 
 The Market-place in Coinnth. 75 
 
 Citize?is. 
 
 He shall have them ; 
 Yea, ^nd hath earned them well. 
 
 1st Citizen [aside). 
 
 Ay, go your ways, 
 Light straw-chips blown round corners of the streets, 
 Till some thwart current cross ye ! shout his name, 
 Swear by Timoleon, sweat and die for him. 
 No more of fratricide ! 'tis patriot now, 
 Tyrannicide, deliverer ! Well, let be : 
 Go, help him win ! send all your succours forth ; 
 Be flattered, fooled ; then rid you as ye may 
 Of your deliverer, gaping to behold 
 Tyrannicide turned tyrant. 
 
 Soothsayer. 
 
 Ye do well 
 To laud this man, who is worthy of your loves, 
 Being pure and perfect-hearted, toward all men 
 Reproveless, and for mastery of his hand 
 Strong, and a mighty leader. Let who will 
 Go forth with him and conquer • for the proud 
 Beneath his feet are stubble, but him all gods 
 Prosper, and make his counsel to prevail.
 
 76 Thnoleon : a Di'amatic Poem. 
 
 ACT 11. 
 
 Scene W\.—A Street in Corinth. 
 Time, early tnoniing. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Ho ! give ear and come forth at the voice of our 
 calhng ! 
 Ho ! awake ye, by slumber possessed ! 
 Ye who dwell in the land where the water-floods falling 
 Mingle murmurs from east shore and west : 
 Naught appalling 
 We bear in our bosom to utter, who summon you forth 
 from your rest. 
 
 On the rock of your god, lo ! the sunlight is burning 
 
 Newly risen, springing swift from the sea ! 
 But with brighter new birth to your sister returning, 
 Long-fettered, at last to be free : 
 With what yearning 
 Of soul have I watched, have I waited, O dawn of her 
 freedom, for thee !
 
 A Street in Corinth. J J 
 
 But, ' behold ! him who robed himself red with the 
 slaughters 
 Of sons whom her bosom had borne, 
 Witll the garment of slavery girdled her daughters, 
 And with moanings from night until morn, 
 Winds and waters 
 Waft safe to his uttermost refuge of anguish and exile 
 and scorn ! 
 
 With the seed of the serpent from of old she had 
 striven ; 
 In the folds of his might she had lain ; 
 And she cried to the earth, but no answer was given, 
 Nor none succoured her calling in vain. 
 Till from heaven 
 Fell a bolt that was born of a woman, and slew it, and 
 behold it was slain ! 
 
 Not with pomp on his path, not with triumph or 
 treasures. 
 Not with victims to torture or slay, 
 Not with singing of songs or with treading of measures. 
 Shall a king come to Corinth to-day : 
 All the pleasures. 
 The lusts and fruition of kingship, are past a::d are 
 perished for aye.
 
 78 Timoleon : a Dra7natic Poem. 
 
 With the joy of the lyre dies the Hght of the jewel ; 
 
 All the garlands lie withered and stark : 
 But the hate is still strong in the heart of the cruel, 
 Though the house of his feasting be dark : 
 Yea for fuel 
 It shall pierce through body and spirit, and bum to the 
 uttermost spark. 
 
 And the fox from the north laying wait for the 
 plunder, 
 And the lion-cub ready to rend, 
 Let them flee upon ships o'er the sea-waves that 
 sunder, 
 Ere they fall by the swords that defend, 
 Ere they founder 
 Thrust down to the depths of the ocean, and brought to 
 a terrible end. 
 
 For in dreams I beheld, and one rose to deliver ; 
 
 Round his loins was for girdle a chain ; 
 
 And the voice of his mouth made the mountains to 
 quiver, 
 
 At the sound thereof armies were slain ; 
 
 And a river 
 
 Ran deep from the storm of the battle, and red with an 
 
 ominous rain.
 
 A Street in Corinth. 79 
 
 Yea,- 'the cruel shall cease; their foundation shall 
 crumble ; 
 From of old 'twas revealed to the wise ; 
 They that stablish their throne on the necks of the 
 humble, 
 Drunk with vanity, feasted with lies. 
 When they stumble, 
 The staff of their pride shall not aid them; they aie 
 fallen ; they shall not arise. 
 
 O fair city of freemen, by tyrant untaken, 
 
 Resting safe 'neath the rock of thy might, 
 Lift thy voice ! for thy sister, even she the forsaken, 
 Long captive, left sighing for the light, 
 Doth awaken 
 To more than the day's reappearing, and from shades 
 that were darker than night. 
 Corinthian Jf^oman. 
 O beloved ! my heart throbs for wonder : 
 What is this? what new theme that ye sing? 
 C/iorus. 
 'Tis of chains that are broken in sunder, 
 Which we cast round the neck of a king. 
 
 Corinthimi Wofnan. 
 Nay, what jubilant strains for sad ditties? 
 What smiles for old tears that ye shed?
 
 8o Timoleon : a D^'amatic Poem. 
 
 Chorus. 
 'Tis for Syracuse, saddest of cities, 
 Rearisen from the gates of the dead. 
 
 Corinthian IVoman. 
 Are ye wanton that mock at your sorrow, 
 Ere the tide of its anguish be turned ? 
 
 Chorus. 
 In the east marked ye not the new morrow ? 
 Looking westward was naught ye discerned ? 
 
 Co'inthian Woman. 
 How should dawn melt the mist of my doubting? 
 How should Hope set her sign in the sky ? 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 By the voices of them that are shouting, 
 Lo ! the hour of deliverance is nigh !
 
 8i 
 
 ACT 11. 
 
 Scene IV. — The Market-place in Corinth. 
 Time, afeiv hojirs later. 
 
 r 
 
 Stranger, 
 I TAKE my stand here by the oyster-stall. 
 
 Citizen. 
 And I with you ; 'tis excellently chosen : 
 The main crowd surges toward us, and behind, 
 Those narrowing streets will check them, and the stream 
 Of adverse comers. Howsoe'er it fall, 
 Needs must the wealth and jetsam of the tide 
 Drift hither and be stranded. 
 
 Stranger. 
 
 Well, stand firm ! 
 By Heracles ! that child were best abed ; 
 They'll trample it to death ! Softly, I say ; 
 So, lift him o'er the shoulders. Where 's its mother ? 
 Woman, what scenes are these for wide-eyes here 
 To be abroad in ? Let him stand by me 
 Upon the bench. 
 
 7
 
 82 Timolcon: a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Woman. 
 
 There, there, the gods forgive me ! 
 A father, sir, yourself — I'll warrant ye. 
 But who'ld ha' judged sane folk would jostle so 
 To stare at a mere monster ? 
 
 Stranger. 
 
 That's the lure : 
 Look you, I live my life some threescore year, 
 Kind, temperate, honest, of a good report, 
 And none so curious casts a glance at me. 
 But let me rob my father, boil my child, 
 Or carve my wife to collops — from that hour 
 'Twill cost you a bruised foot and aching ribs 
 To meet me in the market. 
 
 Citizen. 
 
 Hist ! I say : 
 Read no more lectures, friend philosopher. 
 Or have Diogenes for auditory. 
 
 Stranger. 
 Him of Sinope? 
 
 Citizen. 
 
 Just in front : you see 
 The slouching shoulders .? there ! his face half turns —
 
 The Market-place in Corinth. 83 
 
 Skin laVa-colour like a dead volcano — 
 Cross under-lip — its fellow warping back 
 Cuts furrows in the cheek. Pray notice him. 
 
 Stranger. 
 It is a sour and frost-pinched countenance. 
 
 Citizen. 
 Yet, should he shift full front, beneath that bush 
 There burns an eye, you'ld haply feel the glance of, 
 Ay, and the man behind you. 
 
 Stranger. 
 
 We're in luck. 
 Is't likely he'll accost him ? 
 
 Citizen. 
 
 Time will show. 
 
 Look ! there 's a stir to leftward ! yon black wave 
 
 Should vomit forth some wonder — How it boils ! 
 
 Now then on tip-toe ! that must be the man ! 
 
 \Enter Dionysius, with the crowd. 
 
 DiONYSIUS. 
 
 Friends, I come hither not upon compulsion, 
 But in assured regard of your fair faiths. 
 With a whole skin and with a mind to keep it, 
 Not to be pulled, so please you, limb from limb 
 
 7*
 
 84 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Piecemeal — a service which Timoleon's pikes 
 With cleanher, more convenient despatch 
 Had rendered for the asking. 
 
 Citizen. 
 
 'Twas a boon, 
 I wonder was not offered out of hand. 
 
 Stranger. 
 
 Mayhap your General searched his memory, 
 And called to mind an old deliverance wrought — 
 A certain tyrant slain upon a time — 
 And how ye dealt with the deliverer ; 
 Thinking 'not twice shall they cry out on blood ; 
 Their pity shall live with them.' 
 
 DiONYSIUS. 
 
 Oh ! these knaves ! 
 'Tis a flesh-mountain ! nay, a chain of them 
 Piled each on other ! Here's a mother's son 
 Outgaping ^tna for Empedocles ! 
 Sir — you're a soldier — use your privilege 
 Of oath and thrust to clear some halberd-space 
 For lungs to breathe by ; or your poor sport in me 
 Were like to end with what 'twould feed upon. 
 
 [^ space is cleared.
 
 The Market-place in CojHntk. 85 
 
 I £Kank you, friends ; your welcome is so warm, 
 It robs me of my breath. Forgive me, sirs, 
 If till this moment some ill-masked surprise 
 At the profuseness of your courtesy — 
 Our island-manner lacks abandonment — 
 Mixed with the feelings of a fallen man, 
 Withheld me somewhat from your kind embraces, 
 Which no less nearly touch me, that the joy 
 Of their supportment jeopardies my life. 
 Believe me, ne'er on Syracusan soil 
 Did such fair numbers press to wait on me. 
 
 A Merchant. 
 
 I have heard say you were too prodigal, 
 Too thoughtless-lavish of your subjects' lives : 
 True they were bondsmen and a barren breed ; 
 But things worth having are worth husbanding. 
 And for much traffic in the murderer's trade 
 Thrift is a virtue that commends itself 
 
 DiONYSIUS. 
 
 Your free Corinthian censure sticks and stings ; 
 Our courts breed none so thorny : but alas ! 
 Good counsel comes belated ; yet methinks 
 ' Live and let live ' may be the people's cry. 
 But with a tyrant 'tis ' let live and die,'
 
 86 Twioleo7t : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 A Voice. 
 Down with the monster ! 
 
 A Bysia?ider. 
 
 Nay, what's left of him 
 Can down no deeper ; 'tis an upward step 
 From life's worst thrall to death's enfranchisement. 
 
 Voice. 
 What bondage holds the tyrant while he breathes ? 
 
 Bystajtder. 
 A threefold fetter of lust, fear, and shame. 
 
 A Second Voice. 
 Why, then, forbear and lay no hands on him ; 
 Wouldst raise him to the rank of honest corpse ? 
 
 A Third Voice. 
 Rank enough then, I'se warrant ! 
 
 Diogenes. 
 
 Fishmonger, 
 
 Have you no purple-fish for majesty? 
 
 Fishmofiger. 
 Here are good oysters, an it please your wisdom. 
 
 Soldier. 
 And here 's a sword-fish, he 's right welcome to, 
 Fresh from the cutler — draws rare purple-dye.
 
 The Market-place in Corinth. 87 
 
 Diogenes. 
 Give me an oyster, fellow ; I would read. 
 
 ^' Third Voice. 
 
 Read from an oyster .? 
 
 A Fourth Voice. 
 
 Ay, an it be open. 
 
 Diogenes [opening oyster). 
 States are like oysters : this rough outer wall, 
 Or sheltering casket, is the Constitution, 
 Framed to protect the floating life within, 
 Our Body Politic, which left naked else 
 To prowling neighbours or anarchic storms. 
 Being so volatile and watery-weak. 
 Must perish in the great sea-wildernesses. 
 Thus far thrive all : but silently there forms 
 Upon the polished concave an opaque 
 Yet shining drop, that hardens to the shell — 
 A taint, a tumour — ' tyranny ' we'll call it : 
 And fungus-like this fair deformity 
 Usurps the vital office all for show. 
 Starves what it lives by, and luxuriates 
 Upon the general leanness, till at length. 
 All powers of life exhausted, there remains 
 The cold dead splendour of a heartless pearl.
 
 88 Tiinoleo7t : a Dramatic Poc7n. 
 
 DiONYSIUS. 
 
 More eloquent than just : sir, give me leave 
 To patch your fancy-fine comparison 
 With some poor rags of old experience. 
 This fair disease, which fastens to the shell 
 Of the sick fish, bred ever from within, 
 And waxing ever an insatiate sore, 
 I liken to the lust of liberty, 
 Who sits white-throned upon the market-places. 
 Drinking the blood of them that serve her best. 
 Then drops the diver godlike from above — 
 Your tyrant, mark you — to the dim sea-depth 
 Plunging, lifts oyster to the upper air. 
 Slits casket open, feasts upon his find, 
 Putting what else were useless to fair use, 
 And plucks me forth your pearl of liberty 
 To shine upon his finger. 
 
 Third Voice. 
 
 Great Hephaestus ! 
 This fellow lacks not mettle. 
 
 Fourth Voice. 
 
 Nay, 'tis ever 
 Your brazen forehead fits the golden crown. 
 
 DiONVSIUS. 
 
 'Tis easy for you thus to jeer at me : 
 
 Ye are the stronger, and I needs must yield :
 
 The Market-place in Corinth. 89 
 
 An'd yet methinks — your patience for a while — 
 
 'Twere not so hard, if balance should be struck, 
 
 And from the offending scale all odds removed, 
 
 As weight of birth and bent of circumstance, 
 
 In the main trespass of my grave offence 
 
 To prove you guilty in a near degree. 
 
 All men, I think, love power ; then why not I ? 
 
 I5 wealth to all men precious ? then to me ; 
 
 Beauty and wit and mirth and adulation 
 
 Even a mean man may despise from far ; 
 
 But being present they appear so sweet 
 
 As hardly shall the wisest part from them. 
 
 I will be frank, I follow mine o^n lust ; 
 
 So do not ye the same ? — I tyrannized ; 
 
 Are ye not tyrants, now at least, to me ? 
 
 Thou cynic- censor, have with thee I say 
 
 For a right comrade of mine ancient craft, 
 
 Nay master, ere my prenticehocd began ! 
 
 For prithee since what hour of yesterday 
 
 Hast thou not absolutely set thy yoke 
 
 Upon the weaker, or that rod, thy mouth, 
 
 Lash'd with the terrors of sharp-wounding words, 
 
 Not pitilessly wielded ? Yea, thou art 
 
 More peremptory with thy cloudy brows 
 
 To o'ercast pleasure, and turn smiles to frowns 
 
 And mirth to sadness, than the inexorable
 
 90 Timoleon: a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 And despot darkness of a winter's night. 
 
 Dost thou not sit within thy palace-tub 
 
 Sending a thousand gloomy couriers forth — 
 
 Sour looks and sullen thoughts and humorous spleen — 
 
 Thine arbitrary instruments, to kill 
 
 All rebel joys, that band them in revolt 
 
 Against thy vile usurped authority? 
 
 CitizeJi. 
 See how his heart brims o'er with holy zeal, 
 Moistening his eyelid with a virtuous tear ! 
 
 Diogenes. 
 An tears from such a droughty source should fall. 
 Be Afric's desert henceforth full of springs. 
 And rain-showers from clear skies no prodigy. 
 
 DiONYSIUS. 
 
 Hadst thou the substance of the thing thou claim'st, 
 The sovereign eye, the soul's pre-eminence, 
 To sway the passions, awe the thoughts of men, 
 Out-shouldering now the base and pigmy crowd 
 That flouts the brokeng gods it bowed before, 
 Thou hadst been what thou art not, great enough 
 Of thine abundant grace to pity me. 
 
 Diogenes. 
 Pity thee, I ! thou spot ! thou sepulchre ! — 
 Wert thou not meaner than the least and lowest
 
 The Market-place in CoiHntk. 91 
 
 Of all'the thousands thou hast soiled or slain, 
 
 Or if wrong-doing and suffering weighed as one 
 
 To purchase this pure medicine of the soul, 
 
 This pity, and didst thou claim it for that thou 
 
 Art what thou art, not other than thou wert. 
 
 Then wert thou pitiable, and more than these. 
 
 As by thy vileness thou art wretcheder. 
 
 But jiow- — O heavens ! — because thou art clean cut off 
 
 From the ioul savour of thy former sin, 
 
 In whose corrupt abominable embrace 
 
 Festering thou layest, because thou art no more tied 
 
 To a dead carcase in a stagnant fen, 
 
 But canst arise and cleanse thyself and go. 
 
 Dost thou claim pity ? Dost thou sigh for this 
 
 ' Ah me ! the heavy change ? ' I tell thee truth. 
 
 The gods in heaven could wield no blacker bolt. 
 
 Nor man mete worthier doom, than thee to drive 
 
 Back to thine old pollution, saying, ' O swine ! 
 
 What doest thou in the sheep-fold, where white sheep 
 
 Feed in fair grass, not garbage ? Out on thee ! 
 
 Back to thy slush, and wallow ! ' 
 
 As for these 
 And me, the judgment of thy slanderous tongue, 
 To thine own damning, thus far craves response, 
 Because thou hast taken a thin weak thread of tnith, 
 And twisted it with lies about, to bear
 
 92 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 A weight which singly 'twould have snapt withal. 
 
 And first, all proper discrepance of creed 
 
 I waive, take stand upon this lower ground. 
 
 That all men aim at pleasure ; for as there yawns 
 
 Wide space in separate heavens 'twixt star and star, 
 
 Which from the vast remoteness of our earth 
 
 Do seem contiguous fires, so viewed with thee 
 
 Antisthenes and Plato shine as peers 
 
 Twinned by the huger distance. Wherefore note. 
 
 It is not as Diogenes I speak, 
 
 ' Scorn pleasure, seek the good ; ' but here and thus 
 
 Alighting off that prouder pedestal, 
 
 On your own premise I will prove you lie. 
 
 Let pleasure therefore be the general goal : 
 There are more pleasures in the world than one. 
 Or, let me say, more semblances of her. 
 More lusts and more ambitions, and of these 
 Some that debase not, others that debase. 
 A man may thirst for wisdom or for wine, 
 May burn for knowledge or for neighbour's wife. 
 Aspire to serve the state or sink to enslave. 
 Such mere divergence widening to the gulf 
 'Twixt demigod and — Dionysius : 
 One dog-like hunts to earth his grovelling prey. 
 Skulks in dark corners, and devours it there. 
 One like a new-beaked eagle, plumed king,
 
 The Market-place in Corinth. 93 
 
 Mou'rtts to his pastime on the morning cloud. 
 'Tis not that fools alone do pleasure seek, 
 But that the wise man knows her when he sees, 
 And follows not, but shuns, her counterfeit. 
 
 To thee came wisdom once with open lips 
 To learn thee of true pleasure : what didst thou 
 But cast her forth with curses from the door ? 
 Ye^, this know all, that thou the king of fools, 
 Turning deaf ears on Plato, didst suspect 
 And spurn him from thee — beast and blind ! — as if 
 A mole should to the sheltering mountain say, 
 ' O mountain ! though by thee all creatures live. 
 And though thy giant sides up-slope to heaven, 
 I have burrowed in thee, but have found no light ; 
 Thou art a burden; go : I banish thee.' 
 
 DiONYSIUS. 
 
 You press too hotly, ply too cross a fence : 
 How might I hope your naked point to foil, 
 Who did but thrust for sport with blunted edge ? 
 Yet one pass let me parry : Round a king 
 Range ever those masked faces painted ' friend,' 
 That live by flattery, flourish on deceit, 
 Gross parasites, who serve for what they suck. 
 No loyal service, apes of loyalty. 
 That brook not the shrewd searching wind of truth
 
 94 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 To blow upon them, lest it chance to pluck 
 
 The frippery from their falseness. How should such 
 
 Consort with Plato, sit at the same board ? 
 
 A demigod with jugglers cheek by jowl ! 
 
 Yet once I sought him, once was wholly his, 
 Abjured all error, loved philosophy, 
 And lived it, for a season : these it was 
 Whose clamorous hate and whispered envyings 
 Half forced and half beguiled me — ' Lo,' said they, 
 ' For all his lopping of thy leaves and boughs, 
 Digs but for Dion this wise gardener ; 
 And thee the crooked and earth-darkening oak, 
 With hollow trunk albeit, a world of shade. 
 He will up-root, pluck down, and plant instead 
 This upstart poplar, whose pinched girth shall give 
 Scarce foothold for a fowl to roost upon.' 
 So, sirs, was I seduced from my best friend. 
 'Tis true of all men, rulers most of all, 
 Our best, worst, actions are but half our own. 
 As when the ram goes battering, they that push 
 Are parcels of the weight they seem to wield, 
 And each partakes the engine's impetus : 
 When the whole body 's sick, the head will swim — 
 ' Vertigo ' — 'tis the common bane of kings ; 
 Yet 'twere fools' doctrine but to blame the head. 
 
 Too much methinks of this : I am not here
 
 The Mm^ket-place in Corinth. 95 
 
 To prop the old up, but to prove the new : 
 
 Henceforth shall no man shake me by the robe, 
 
 Nor call me tyrant ; yet look I to find 
 
 Mirth and contentment : flung from Fortune's back 
 
 I will e'en trudge it patiently afoot, 
 
 Let who will mount the runaway. Thus far 
 
 May Plato's wisdom profit us. 
 
 Diogenes. 
 
 Amen. 
 
 \_Exit, the crowd now dispersing. 
 
 DiONYSIUS. 
 
 This grave discourse, it seems, has somewhat thinned 
 Our audience, and the streets begin to clear. 
 — Ho ! there 's a friendly face ! Old guest of mine. 
 Turn host, and take me home with thee to dine. 
 
 \Exit. 
 
 Citizen. 
 
 Well, friend, what think you ? setting man by man, 
 Who showed the greatest of this company ? 
 
 Stranger. 
 How if I answered Dionysius ? 
 
 Citizen. 
 There clings an air of grandeur to the man.
 
 96 Titnolcon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 That proves how mere a rag is royalty, 
 When such a slave can wear it. 
 
 Stranger. 
 
 Life for life 
 
 I know of course what each of us would say ; 
 
 But should it hang upon this morning's test, 
 
 Which steel 's the tougher, one alone was bent : 
 
 Wise words are easy • but 'tis no slight proof 
 
 To spring back straightly from so sharp a strain, 
 
 And ne'er betray the pressure. 
 
 Citizen. 
 
 Swords of lead 
 
 Do herein ape the temper of true steel, 
 
 Being bent or straightened by an infant's touch. 
 
 Look you, there go the children with their crowns 
 
 To cast on Ares' altar ! and to-night 
 
 There will be feasting toward with dance and song 
 
 Praising Timoleon and his victory : 
 
 That man, believe me, will not shun the show ; 
 
 From some safe corner he'll be there to see, 
 
 Gaze on the glancing ankles, cup in hand. 
 
 And long to lead the revellers — out upon it ! 
 
 One that would feast at his own funeral ! 
 
 Most pliant-tempered truly ! — shall we go ? 
 
 Child. 
 Mother !
 
 The Market-place in Corinth. 97 
 
 Woman. 
 Now, little Timon, hand in hand, 
 Come, quickly ! 
 
 ■•;■ Child. 
 
 Mother, who was that poor man ? 
 
 Woman. 
 One that was rich, child, cruel, and a king : 
 A musj; not pity such. 
 
 Child. 
 
 An 't be not wicked, 
 I hope that some one will be kind to him, 
 
 \Exeunt.
 
 98 Twioleon: a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — The Fens before Syracuse. 
 
 Corinthian soldiers fishifigfor eels, 
 
 isf Cor. Soldier. 
 
 'Tis very merciful of the gods and Hiketas to give us 
 such good sport. 
 
 2nd Cor. Soldier. 
 
 The gods are indeed manifestly with us ; for if this 
 same Hiketas had not been fooled by them to go gadding 
 after Timoleon out of Acradina into Catana, and if our 
 good captain Neon had not thereupon leapt out of 
 Ortygia into Acradina, and if the aforesaid Hiketas had 
 not hereupon doubled and turned back from Catana, 
 alwithstanding he was but three parts there, and too lag 
 to save me Acradina — 
 
 \st Cor. Soldier. 
 
 Why then thou wouldst never have talked this lumping 
 eel into a tangle with my hook ; for at the third ' if,' 
 being choleric at thy tediousness, I whips smartly up, 
 and there a had him fast by the belly. 'Fore Zeus, 'tis 
 a lively fellow, and wraggles like a Carthaginian.
 
 The Fens before Syracuse. 99 
 
 2«^ Cor. Soldier. 
 How like a Carthaginian ? 
 
 4' T-st Cor. Soldier. 
 
 Thou art but a clod-poll to ask it. What ! canst not 
 by this time perceive that Mago doth suspect a taste of 
 iron in the bait that Hiketas hath thrown him, and would 
 fain extirpate himself, and off again to Carthage ? But 
 whereas this eel — may it perish foully — but ties itself the 
 tighter by its kickings, our slippery friend yonder will 
 dance himself off the barb to better purpose. I tell thee 
 they are all sworn worshippers to the god of running 
 away. Canst thou not prognosicate ? Canst thou not 
 smell the future .? 
 
 2tid Cor. Soldier. 
 
 Nay, I was ever content with the living present, though 
 to-morrow should be the death of me,- come what will, as 
 is like enough it may. 
 
 1st Cor. Soldier. 
 A shrewd answer : but certes, comrade, though thou art 
 not learned of augury, nor hast the virtue of a reconnoi- 
 tring nose, yet canst thou make shift to trust the hearing 
 of thine own ears. 
 
 2nd Cor. Soldier. 
 
 Yea, by Pan, I will measure mine own ears with any 
 
 8 -
 
 I oo Tinwleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 man's, be he man or beast ; but how if thy tongue play 
 flilse with mine ears, and stab them with a lying thrust, 
 when they chance to look another way? The tongue is 
 a long weapon and a wicked. 
 
 \st Cor. Soldier. 
 
 And if it be, are not thine ears tall enow to stand up 
 against it, and do they not look all ways together, being 
 moreover two to one ? But see ! here comes a party of 
 our good friends the enemy : now will I broach them, 
 and thou shalt suck wisdom — 
 
 [Enter Greek Mercenaries of Hiketas. 
 
 — Welcome, worthy antagonists ! Is there to be no 
 knocking of heads together, no evacuation of the fleshly 
 fortress for a season ? 
 
 \st Mercenary. 
 
 Ay, we ^be suffered to rest from killing for the nonce, 
 an it please Timoleon. 
 
 \st Cor. Soldier. 
 
 Well, 'tis a fine day, and I grudge not that thou 
 shouldst live it out. Fishing hath not half the peril of 
 fighting, let alone the question of them that have no 
 quarrel, and the same flesh and blood.
 
 The Fens before Syracuse. loi 
 
 2nd Mercenary. 
 Sir, 'tis a parlous game and very pitiful ; but a soldier 
 lives to till, and a must needs kill to live. 
 
 \st Cor. Soldier. 
 Ay, but not his o\\vl neighbours, look ye. If you that 
 serve Hiketas take up against us that are Timoleon's men, 
 you crack our crowns to-day and your own to-morrow. 
 
 \st Mercenary. 
 How prove ye that, by Bacchus ? 
 
 \st Cor. Soldier. 
 Marry, are not all we Greeks and the natural friends 
 of Greeks ? 
 
 \st Mercenary. 
 Yea. 
 
 \st Cor. Soldier, 
 
 Are not all Carthaginians barbarians and the natural 
 enemies of Greeks ? 
 
 \st Mercmary. 
 Why, yea. 
 
 \st Cor. Soldier. 
 
 Therefore are ye helping your natural enemies against 
 your natural friends — a swift conclusion, and yet quick 
 to come at, that even a heavy-armed foot-soldier like 
 thyself may follow and overtake it.
 
 I02 Timoleoii : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 \st Mercenary. 
 
 Nay, then, by the limp of the fire-god, your conclusion 
 
 must be lame. But how if our natural enemies become 
 
 unnaturally our friends ? for in good sooth we serve 
 
 Hiketas, and the Carthaginians fight for us, not we for 
 
 them. 
 
 \st Cor. Soldier. 
 
 I pray the gods pardon them that made thee ; since to 
 
 forge so thick a pate, where there be no brains, is sheer 
 
 wasting of a good skull. Dost thou with sincerity believe 
 
 that all this host swam hither from the pillars of Heracles 
 
 to set up Hiketas ? 
 
 \st Mercenary. 
 
 Nay, that a cannot tell. 
 
 \st Cor. Soldier. 
 
 As like to set up thee. Harkee, friend, when they have 
 conquered us with your help, they will cast you off with- 
 out it, as thou shalt see me serve this fishing-gear anon, 
 for all it hath helped me to a good belly-full. 
 
 2nd Mercenary. 
 By Hermes, 'twere a scurvy bargain, but I've heard it 
 
 whispered. 
 
 isf Cor. Soldier. 
 
 Yea, and there's worse comes after ; for verily, as our 
 
 Captain saith, with those foreign rascals the word hath 
 
 still been 'left foot Sicily, right foot Hellas,' and this
 
 The Fens before Syracuse. 103 
 
 same three-cornered island — what is it but the barbican 
 of our own country yonder ? 
 
 ^, 2nd Cor. Soldier. 
 
 Well, well, pity it were that a place made so excellent 
 for our defence should fall into the hands of the bar- 
 barians. 
 
 2nd Mercenary. 
 
 So i^ were indeed, so it were. 
 
 \st Cor. Soldier. 
 Rather than give them Sicily, ye ought to wish there 
 were many Sicilies 'twixt them and us. 
 
 \st Mercenary. 
 Marry and shall, by Artemis ; 'tis very just. 
 
 \st Cor. Soldier. 
 Well then, do ye digest this matter, an ye can stomach 
 the flavour on't, and serve out the like measure to your 
 mates : Timoleon is a kind general no less than a victo- 
 rious. Farewell ; to-morrow mayhap we meet as comrades. 
 
 Merce7iaries. 
 Very like, very like ; farewell, we thank ye for your 
 
 good fellowship. 
 
 \Exe21nt Mercenaries. 
 
 1st Cor. Soldier. 
 
 So, wag tongues and work spell, suspicion sucks hither 
 
 the power of Hiketas, and scares me home the wary 
 
 Mago to Carthage and crucifixion.
 
 1 04 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene II. — A Chamber in the Citadel of Ortygia. 
 
 Deinarchus, Isias, Demaretus, Neon, seated in council, 
 await the arrival of Timoleon. 
 
 Deinarchus. 
 Was ever yet such hopeless-seeming task 
 So fondly dared, so fortunately done ? 
 Corinth will not believe it. 
 
 Demaretus. 
 
 Yestermorn 
 Two mighty powers colleaguing overawed 
 And penned us in our suburbs : now, to-night, 
 One by mad panic is dispersed, and one 
 Driven from his fastness by our fierce assault 
 Leaves all the field unchallenged. 
 
 Neon. 
 
 'Twill be said 
 The gods, and not Timoleon, won the day. 
 
 Deinarchus. 
 Indeed the common sort do so regard him 
 As the elected instrument of heaven ;
 
 The Citadel of Ortygia. 105 
 
 He doth affect communion with the gods ; 
 And much portentous rumour noised abroad 
 Hath holp confirm them in their phantasy. 
 
 •» Neon. 
 
 I would ye had seen him lead the main array 
 This morning o'er Anapus : it were strange 
 But ye had shared their fond credulity. 
 
 Demaretus. 
 I and Deinarchus from Epipolge 
 Were part beholders — for the northern slopes 
 Scarce checked our onset — how he stormed the town, 
 Scaling the heights to southward. 
 
 ISIAS. 
 
 On the east 
 I met but feigned resistance ; all the brunt 
 And heat of this day's action fell to him. 
 
 Deinarchus. 
 Methinks the foe was conquered ere we joined, 
 The war-heart in them numbed and frozen quite 
 By Mago's cold desertion. 
 
 Demaretus. 
 
 In success 
 Lies still the crown of honour : Mago fled 
 As fearing Hiketas was false to him 3
 
 1 06 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 For this man's fortune so turns all to gain, 
 His very foes appear his pensioners, 
 And their worst plots but masks of amity. 
 
 ISIAS. 
 
 How think ye he will use what he hath won ? 
 
 Demaretus. 
 
 As who casts treasure to the squandering sea : 
 
 Ah ! much I fear he'll yield the gripe of power 
 
 And hard-earijed harvest of our conquering arms 
 
 To the weak fingers of a scrambling mob, 
 
 Till license grow more sick than tyranny. 
 
 Ye know me, friends, no tyrant's man am I, 
 
 But flocks need shepherding, when wolves are by. 
 
 Deinarchus. 
 
 For our own sakes we must not suffer it : 
 What ! foil the wrestler, and refuse the prize ! 
 
 Neon. 
 His conscience is so fine a colander, 
 'Twill ne'er sift heaps for pride to perch upon ; 
 The very dust of honour scarce gets through. 
 Much less the coarse stuff of ambition. 
 But see ! he comes : we shall know more anon. 
 
 [Enter Timoleon.
 
 The Citadel of Ortygia. 107 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 Brave comrades, hail ! and Corinth's thanks to each ; 
 
 I dare anticipate her just award 
 
 For the great labours of this happy day : 
 
 So far as any man have praise herein, 
 
 It shall be shared by all indifferently ; 
 
 Our threefold venture was thrice fortunate, 
 
 Noif no man failed in aught : yet, if the palm 
 
 Of all this conflict were assigned to one, 
 
 I'd say 'tis Neon's, whose expedient zeal 
 
 Falling at vantage on the eastern ports 
 
 First gave us foothold for to-day's exploit ; 
 
 Hereto will all assent : for my part I 
 
 Abjure all merit save of duty done. 
 
 So plain I trace the handiwork of heaven : 
 
 For, first, the weight of half our enterprise 
 
 Was lifted from us with no help of ours — 
 
 We woke, and it had vanished ! now to-night, 
 
 The very topmost of our hope is scaled, 
 
 And not one slain to sigh for ! add to this 
 
 The scattered powers of conquered Hiketas 
 
 Break their allegiance, and turned back from flight 
 
 Do hourly flock to us. 
 
 Neon. 
 
 Lord General, 
 To one whose fame is bruited through the world
 
 1 08 Timoleon : a Di^amatic Poem. 
 
 Our weak additions are a thing of course, 
 
 And needs must seem superfluous ; from the heart 
 
 Nathless we greet thy triumph. 
 
 Deinarchus. 
 
 But that I dread 
 The verdict of presumption, I would urge 
 That no misprisal of thy proper worth, 
 No self-abatement, fearing to be great, 
 Seduce thee from thine office, to forego 
 The trust which heaven itself commits to thee. 
 
 Timoleon. 
 
 Ye shall not find me backward ; at this hour, 
 When all are wearied, and night wears apace, 
 And every eye but ours is slumber-bound, 
 I ask ye hither and trespass on your rest. 
 To apprise you of my purpose, that hereby. 
 Measuring the scope and working of my mind, 
 Ye might not blame its suddenness : meanwhile 
 Ye have conjectured something of my thought — 
 Your faces tell the tale : 'tis briefly this : — • 
 To-morrow morn the public criers shall go 
 Their circuit of the city, to proclaim 
 Freedom in Syracuse ; I reinstate 
 In the full rights of old enfranchisement 
 Without distinction all her citizens :
 
 The Citadel of Ortygia. 109 
 
 The -broken fabric of the commonwealth — 
 
 That ancient model framed by Diodes — 
 
 With help of wisest State-artificers 
 
 Shall' be with all expediency repaired : 
 
 Next, that I may not for one single day 
 
 Be damned in men's opinion, while they view 
 
 This time-dishonoured hold of gloomy power, 
 
 I herewithal invoke, who can, to aid 
 
 With axe and bar, who will, with mere main strength, 
 
 Its demolition, that to dust may come 
 
 The Dionysian fortress ; in its stead 
 
 A common hall for judgment shall be reared, 
 
 First need of a free people. Furthermore, 
 
 Because the ways are desolate, and Despair 
 
 Sits gaping in the market, and rich men 
 
 Are not, but slaiai or banished, I invite 
 
 From all far countries the returning steps 
 
 Of exiles, whencesoe'er of Italy, 
 
 Or Hellas, or of utmost ocean-lands, 
 
 My heralds may convene them : and, lest these 
 
 Redeem not her impoverishment, that wealth 
 
 Once more may traffic in her silent streets 
 
 And fertilize her furrows, we will seek 
 
 Strange settlers to our city ; there shall gleam 
 
 White sails of foreign men from over sea, 
 
 And Corinth shall conduct them, shall with pomp
 
 no Tiinoleon : a Di^amatic Poem. 
 
 Her ancient Syracuse inaugurate 
 Anew, with happier omen than of old. 
 
 t 
 
 Deinarchus. 
 My lord, we trusted rather to have learnt 
 Thyself wouldst brace thee to the yoke of power ; 
 The ox is loosed and out, that would not draw, 
 But the wain stirs not, and the mire is deep. 
 
 Demaretus. 
 Sir, we have heard your hope for Syracuse ; 
 Such consummation is far off as yet, 
 Though all desire it, no man more than I. 
 The broken limb needs binding ere it hold. 
 Nor call for crutch to help the body's weight ; 
 One starved from childhood, penned in poisonous air, 
 Arrives not at man's stature, though he chance 
 To light on a large house with food enough. 
 
 Neon. 
 
 Yet if the vigour of new blood might be 
 Drawn from health's very centre, and infused 
 Into the sickly vessels, who'ld despair 
 Of renovation and organic growth ? 
 
 Demaretus. 
 Wait then : though thought o'erleap the interval. 
 In act 'tis vain to anticipate a cure.
 
 The Citadel of Ortygia. 1 1 1 
 
 Consider, sir, how worthless and how slight, 
 
 How destitute of counsel as of power. 
 
 Are they whom thou deliveredst from what foes, 
 
 How manifold and mighty ! These are fled 
 
 But for a moment, a brief interval, 
 
 Which should be spent in arming Syracuse 
 
 Against their fierce renewals : 'tis a time 
 
 For stern compulsion, not for compliments, 
 
 For 'martial training and the soldiers' law, 
 
 For him, whose sword hath rescued, to bear rule, 
 
 Not bandy with the shifting populace. 
 
 By perilous degrees this height was clomb. 
 
 To be abandoned now ! Sir, bear with me, 
 
 I know not by what argument thou seek'st 
 
 To undo all thy labour : dost thou say 
 
 This city's weak, beset by enemies. 
 
 Therefore I raze her bastion of defence ? 
 
 Her people helpless as a gasping shoal 
 
 Caught in some wave-scooped hollow, therefore I, 
 
 On whose flood only they can ride to sea. 
 
 Do ebb and leave them ? Were 't not that cold fear 
 
 Mates with Timoleon as hoar-frost with fire 
 
 By heaven I'ld think that he, whom warrior's bulk 
 
 Could ne'er make tremble, was o'ercome at last, 
 
 Out-daunted by the shadow of a shame.
 
 1 1 2 Timoleon : a Dj'amatic Poem. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 Thy counsel lacks not Aveight, but in the main 
 'Tis shot beside the mark ; thou dost confound 
 With lawful aid usurped authority : 
 Not seizing this must I withhold the other ? 
 Who thrusts me from mine office ? I am still 
 Defender of this people ; more than that, 
 Though Corinth's self command, I cannot be. 
 Thou say'st their foes are imminent : more need 
 That these find something worthier to defend 
 Than chains and degradation, and hereto 
 Of one they trust, to help them : but in truth 
 Who'ld speak of trust, while such a monstrous ' fie ! 
 Stands up to contradict him ? which being down, 
 Then first they'll know the rapture to be free. 
 And learn to do as freemen. O they have had 
 Their fill of tyrants — will no more of them : 
 But should I force their loyalty, what gain ? 
 To be suspected, sure, betrayed, as like, — 
 For tyranny breeds traitors — and at last 
 To leave them where I found them, and give place 
 To some more vile adventurer, having made 
 No breach i' the cursed circle. — But enough, 
 I overtask your patience : and yet stay ; — 
 The rest have spoken, or I know their minds; 
 But what saith Isias ?
 
 The Citadel of Ortygia. 113 
 
 ISIAS. 
 
 I crave pardon, sir ; 
 I am but a plain soldier, no wise skilled 
 (An I offend not with the phrase) to crack 
 Such nuts as these, nor aught indeed but skulls ; 
 Indifferent apt to govern or obey, 
 Where trumpets sound and armies are afield, 
 I^J^or loth to lead my fellows to the breach. 
 And having stormed to keep it : but for the broil 
 Of civil factions and the war of words — 
 Your learned wranglings who shall make the laws, 
 And whether one shall wrench, or all evade, — 
 I care not for such chamber-chivalry, 
 Nor shall not meddle with it : so being asked 
 Whether I count it wisdom, having won, 
 To keep the prize or yield it, this or that, 
 I square my answer to the soldier's rule. 
 That serves me for a better, 'might is right.' 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 Sirs, I have heard your counsels ; naught remains, 
 But that I scrutinise their weight, and act 
 By what the scale determines. — Now to rest. 
 
 The Generals. 
 Good-night, my lord.
 
 1 1 4 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 Good-night. 
 
 \Exai7it Generals 
 
 —So Dion fell, 
 Seduced by such-like arguments, a man, 
 Who marred the perfect picture of a life 
 By one black smutch at ending. More than he 
 None loathed the vice of greatness ; yet he dreamed 
 Of arbitrary power, as 'twere a garb, 
 Which, made for base men, might take shape to fit 
 The limbs of noble action : so he doffed 
 The saving robe of honour, and did on 
 The poison that consumed him. 
 
 True it is 
 There have been upright rulers, loyal kings, 
 Princes yet patriots — but the time is o'er — 
 Who not by sufferance, but with heart's consent 
 Of all men, pioneered the pathless way 
 To freedom ; such as deemed 'twas pitiful 
 Being base-hearted to be born a king, 
 Much more by force to usurp it ; who girt on 
 Their kinghood as a panoply of proof, 
 Sworn leaders of a service fraught wiih pain, 
 Not idly, as the badge of insolence 
 And all misdoing. Yea, 'tis a noble dream —
 
 The Citadel of Ortygia. 115 
 
 To stabilsh judgment and do equity, 
 To raise the humble, not to override them, 
 Nursing the weak Hmbs of ^n infant state ; 
 To flash upon men's darkness Hke the dawn, 
 And so to soar above reproachful cloud, 
 Distorting fog of envy, and all taint 
 Of earthly attribute, as now at length 
 Arrived the empyreean of pure fame — 
 Ah ! what ? — to sink below the horizon's rim, 
 Droop nightward, and yield up the reins of day 
 To the chance hand and heady charioting 
 Of some rash Phaethon, to plunge in fire 
 Or wrench the fixed pole ! — 
 
 Ho ! there, who knocks ? 
 
 \Etiter Lysias, a soldier, bearing a letter. 
 
 Lysias. 
 My lord, as one kept watch upon the wall 
 Some half-hour since, pacing it up and down, 
 He spied this letter dropped upon his path. 
 As 'twere from heaven. 
 
 TiMOLEON {glancing at it). 
 
 Or, say, cast up from hell ? 
 
 \^IIe reads. 
 ' To great Timoleon, our deliverer. 
 Certain chief citizens of Syracuse 
 
 9-
 
 1 1 6 Thnolcon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Send loyal salutation, and withal 
 
 Wait but the signal to declare themselves 
 
 Obedient vassals to his sovereign power, 
 
 Being ready to yield up, or, at a word. 
 
 Surprise and bind the movers of the mob. 
 
 To crush the dangerous and forestall sedition.'- 
 
 ... So this craves instant action. — Lysias ! 
 
 Lysias. 
 My lord ! 
 
 TiMOLEON, 
 
 Take thou this proclamation ; 
 See it be cried at dawn through Syracuse, 
 And bid our captain of the watch come hither 
 This to the late commander of the fort — 
 All useful arms and properties of war 
 To be transported hence three hours ere noon. 
 Yet tarry — of what temper is the night ? 
 
 Lysias. 
 
 The night was passionate and scowling-dark, 
 But it is past, my lord. 
 
 • TiMOLEON. 
 
 In truth so soon ? 
 How day forgets us in these gloomy walls ! 
 < Yon window should look east : uncurtain it ;
 
 The Citadel of Ortygia. 1 1 7 
 
 I- tell thee 'tis no stale or common sight — 
 The birth-dawn of a people. 
 
 ., Lysias. 
 
 f 
 
 ■"k Behold! my lord, 
 
 As 'twere a ship on fire far out to sea. 
 
 TiMOLEON. 
 
 Behold ! indeed. Ay, Lysias, thou wert right ; 
 Put out my glimmering lamp : the sun is risen !
 
 1 1 8 TimoUon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene III. — The Market-place of Syracuse. 
 
 Sa'eral months have elapsed since the events of the last 
 
 scene. 
 
 \st Citizen. 
 'Tis twelve hours since these runagates arrived 
 With their ill news, and no fresh tidings yet. 
 
 2nd Citizen. 
 Silence proves nothing ; but I fear the worst. 
 
 yd Citizen. 
 
 And I, till worst be proved, will hope for best. 
 What ! after all these months of prosperous toil 
 Since Hiketas was ousted — all things changed, 
 Old ills abolished, and old laws revived, 
 Exiles returned, and thousands come from far 
 To colonise and traffic, thrive and till, 
 When, for the poor foul trampled worm that was. 
 Stands up transformed, the queen of commonwealths. 
 This fair and virgin city — then, what then 
 Bid me believe these half-fed hireling knaves !
 
 The Market-place of Syracuse. 119 
 
 These sweepings of the shambles ! who rush in, 
 Their swords unbloodied, and with fear-forged tales, 
 * Timoleon conquered, Carthage at the gates ! ' — 
 The gods in heaven had laughed for scorn to hear. 
 
 \st Citizen. 
 Why, bravely said ; thou putt'st new heart in me : 
 I could believe these rascals mutinied, 
 And ran before the battle. 
 
 2nd Citizen. 
 Just as like : 
 So had their looks spoke truer than their tongues. 
 
 yd Citizen. 
 The clamouring for arrears too jumps with that. 
 
 2nd Citizen. 
 I'll not despair till sundown : afterward — 
 
 A Thurian Merchant. 
 Would God we had ne'er set sail from Italy ! 
 The harrying of those cursed Lucanians 
 Were as a happy windfall weighed with this. 
 Where was the conflict rumoured ? 
 
 \st Citizen. 
 
 Some few miles 
 Westward of Agrigentum, if 'tis true,
 
 1 20 Timoleon : a Di'amatic Poem. 
 
 The billowy hosts of Carthage like a flood 
 
 Foamed round and overwhelmed them : these escaped 
 
 As broken spars or driftwood. 
 
 2nd. Citizen. 
 
 While you speak, 
 Here are more remnants of the wreck washed in. 
 What news, good fellows ? 
 
 \Enter Mercenaries. 
 
 J si AToxcnary. 
 
 No news, till we be paid ; 
 We list not such good fellowship, nor fight 
 For smooth-coined phrases, but the current gold. 
 What ! we have served ye long enough for naught, 
 Poured out our sweat for your fine promises, 
 Who still have kept us fasting. By the gods ! 
 We'll have our rightful wages, and till then 
 Ye may go starve for tidings. 
 
 The other Mercenaries. 
 
 Fairly spoke. 
 
 }^rd Citizen. 
 Hark hither, friend : if ye must sell the news 
 Your lives should pay for bearing, and we must buy 
 The knowledge of our losses, take this gold 
 As earnest of the gage I offer here 
 That ye shall have your asking.
 
 The Market-place of Syracuse. 121 
 
 ._ \st Mercenary. 
 
 'Tis a bite 
 To stop the mouth of one man, but eked out 
 Among us all — no, no, we claim our own. 
 
 2,rd Citizen. 
 To-morrow, sirs, shall ye be satisfied. 
 
 \st Mercenary. 
 Why then to-morrow shall ye learn the worst. 
 
 \st CitizeJi. 
 Friends, be not obdurate : but yestermorn 
 To 'quit your claim a levy was decreed ; 
 And by to-night 'twill be contributed. 
 Ye shall be paid to-morrow. 
 
 \st Mercenary. 
 
 Do ye swear it ? 
 
 \st Citizen. 
 Though every statue from his pedestal 
 Be plucked, and sold for the mere marble's worth. 
 Now what thing know ye of Timoleon ? 
 
 \st Mercenary. 
 The last, I trow, that ever shall be known. 
 
 \st Citizen. 
 How ! is he dead ?
 
 12 2 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 1st Mercenary. 
 
 Ye may not doubt of it. 
 
 yd Citizen. 
 Marked any that he fell ? 
 
 ist Mercenary. 
 
 No need of that, 
 Where one man meets a thousand. 
 
 2nd Citizen. 
 
 O brave heart ! 
 How sped the rest ? 
 
 1st Mercenary. 
 
 We tarried not to see. 
 
 3;v/ Citizen. 
 Why fared ye then so long upon your road, 
 That a whole day ye lag behind the van ? 
 
 ist Afercenary. 
 Caught in the meshes of the mountain-ways, 
 When midnight was one blot, we lost the track. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 Wot ye of one who marched afield with ye, 
 A brave Corinthian leader, ^schylus ? 
 
 ist Mercenary. 
 Hope not for his or any man's return.
 
 The Market-place of Syraaisc. 123 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 Return he would not, save with victory. 
 
 \st Mercenary, 
 
 Plague on this droughty talking ! Come, my mates, 
 Here 's pelf enough to make a merry night, 
 And many's the goodly cask, ere morning come. 
 Shall leak itself the lighter. \_Exeunt. 
 
 ' 1st Citizen. 
 
 I pray heaven 
 Your sour lips turn the sweet wine vinegar. 
 To rot ye and corrode those coward bones. 
 
 2,rd Citizen. 
 
 Had we but fifty hoplites left behind. 
 
 There's baser vintage should have flowed to-night. 
 
 2 fid Citizen. 
 
 Alack ! these heavy tidings ! trust ye them ? 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 From far, from across the sea. 
 From the land of my sojourning, 
 I flew with a swallow's speed 
 
 On the winds of spring ; 
 Weary of waiting as she, 
 
 When gales impede, 
 Beating up in the teeth of the storm on wounded wing.
 
 124 Timoleon: a Di-aniatic PoefU. 
 
 Corinthian Women. 
 Ah, friends ! though gentle seemed the breath of June, 
 Short was your summer ; the north wind found ye soon. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 O sweet was the sight of home 
 From the prow of the plunging ship ! 
 The beat of our hearts made rhyme 
 
 With the oar-blades' dip : 
 Scaling the pendulous foam, 
 
 Or poised sublime. 
 Yet we shuddered no more at the curl of ocean's lip. 
 
 Corinthian Women. 
 
 O me, my heart ! and better had it been 
 To have sunk under and be no more seen ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Forgot was the house of shame, 
 With the tale of the tears we shed, 
 Forgotten the long sad flight, 
 
 And the foreign bed : 
 Nothing of miserj'^ came 
 
 To mar delight, 
 And the rapture hereof was alone remembered.
 
 The ]\Iarkct-place of Syractise. 125 
 
 Corinthian Women. 
 But now thine outstretched arms appeal the skies, 
 And tears are gathering in those altered eyes. 
 
 ■*" Chorus. 
 
 I said, ' Lo ! the hour is come, 
 ^V e have sighed for and sorrowed long : ' 
 I filled the triumphant street 
 With a sound of sons: : 
 High rose the jubilant hum, 
 Where youthful feet 
 Wove a welcome of youth to that old and exiled throng. 
 
 Corinthian Women. 
 The mirth is hushed, the voice of pleasure mute ; 
 I hear a dolorous strain, without the lute. 
 
 Cho7-us. 
 As one that hath late put by 
 The reproach of a barren bed, 
 Who travailing brought forth fate. 
 
 And a babe born dead. 
 Even so bitterly I 
 
 With hope waxed great 
 Weep the loss of my longing, and am not comforted. 
 
 Corintiiian ■ Women. 
 She cries on comfort, but 'tis hard to teach, 
 Though one gat wisdom and the gift of speech.
 
 126 Timolcon : a Draviatic Poem. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 O ye faint-hearted and wantons of your woe ! 
 Why set ye forward to espouse Despair, 
 Who hath not pHghted troth Avith ye, nor sent 
 To bear you to his bridal : get ye in. 
 Prevent not his approaching, lest ye hear 
 Most shameless among women. 
 
 Chonis. 
 
 Man, thou liest : 
 To that grim bridegroom I am bound this day. 
 And no man shall divorce us. 
 
 Corinthian Women. 
 
 'Tis the sign 
 Of a sick cause that totters to its end. 
 When wrath arises betwixt friend and friend. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 Put ye no trust in the diviner's dream ? 
 
 Chorus. 
 Dreams may dissemble, but the event is sure. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 No knot so firm but time untangles it 
 
 Chorus. 
 But swifter ply the shears of Destiny.
 
 The Market-place of Syracuse. 1 2 7 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 Think ye to teach, Avho lack the skill to learn ? 
 
 Chorus. 
 Thy wit was clear, but God hath darkened it. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 There is, that shall approve thy wisdom vain. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Why, call aloud then ! let him hear and help. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 It shall repent thee when thine eyes behold. 
 
 Chorus. 
 This were a marvel, if slain men should live. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 More marvellous, I wot, that God should lie. 
 
 Chorus. 
 1 know no counsel but to wait the end. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 Mine eyes are full of seeing ! mine ears of sound ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 His fate were happiest being blind and deaf 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 The soughing of wind i' the pines !
 
 128 Timoleon: a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Alack ! fond heart, 
 Here is no forest, and the streets are still. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 
 They bow themselves! they are broke! the storm! the 
 storm ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 Some whirlwind of distress hath caught his soul. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 The roof of heaven is rent with jags of fire ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 Ye hear him how he raves and heeds us not. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 And from the green earth steams a sanguine sweat ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 I tremble ; 'tis the likeness of my dream ! 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 Their wheels stick fast ; the war-steeds plunge in vain ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 Oh, for a man's strength ! with male hands to fight ! 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 On foot they fly, their shields behind them flung !
 
 The Market-place of Syracuse. 129 
 
 • Chorus. 
 
 The white-orbed shields ! the splendour of the spoil ! 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 But therfrude spear-point pricks them shamefully. 
 
 Chorus. 
 My heart mistrusts him, yet the tale is sweet. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 The dead lie heaped ; but who shall bury them ? 
 
 Chorus. 
 Remains there none to deck the funeral-pyre ? 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 Dark forms I see like phantoms come and go, 
 No pious hands that pay the dues of woe. 
 
 Chorus. 
 What seeking else ? or who the seekers ? say : 
 Do men ply traffic with cold breathless clay ? 
 
 Ortjiagoras. 
 For trophied arms they quest and captive gold : — 
 Pale grows the vision — lo ! my tale is told ! 
 
 Cori/ithian Women. 
 Thine art prevails not with her sore distress : 
 Behold her still cast down and comfortless. 
 
 Chorus. 
 That comfortable word, which lacks belief, 
 But fans to headier height the fires of grief. 
 
 10
 
 130 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Corinthian Wonieti. 
 Lift up thine eyes ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 On what new woes to look ? 
 
 Corinthian IFomen. 
 Of joy I spake. 
 
 Chorus. 
 All joys have I forsook. 
 
 Corinthian Women. 
 Oh, lift thine eyes ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 Behold ! they are earth's to keep. 
 
 Corinthian Womai. 
 Yet lift them. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Nay, they have no more tears to weep. 
 
 Corinthia7i Women. 
 Weep thou thy fill ; for joy shall find thee tears. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Dost thou too mock ? 
 
 Corinthian Women. 
 
 I mock but idle fears.
 
 The Market-place of Syracuse. i 3 1 
 
 T^rd Citizen. 
 Oh, lady, look ! where one comes footing fast ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 Worst n^'ws weighs heaviest ; therefore lags he last. 
 
 T^rd Citizen. 
 His brows are bound with wreaths of victory ! 
 
 Corinthian Women. 
 They shout, they sob, they clasp their hands on high. 
 
 [Enter a Herald. 
 Chorus. 
 Life is too solemn for such shows as this. 
 Three tragic pieces I protagonist 
 In mine own person, without mask, have played, 
 Sad flight, sad exile, and most sad return : 
 Now when for laughter at the close they call, 
 I have no heart to end with jollity. 
 Sirrah ! doth wine or madness make thee bold 
 To flaunt thy follies in the eye of grief? 
 
 Herald. 
 Wet cheeks ! rent raiment ! and disordered hair ! 
 Strange greeting for so glad a messenger ! 
 If good news set thee weeping, I am gone ; 
 And God send one shall help thee to thy wits. 
 
 I o '■'■
 
 132 Tmiolcon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 2,rd Citizeti. 
 
 Stay, friend : ill tidings have out-travelled thine, 
 
 And such foul breath of evils falsely blown 
 
 As with their sorrow she is half-distraught. 
 
 Speak comfort, if thou canst : thou knowest her need. 
 
 Herald. 
 Timoleon lives, and rides in triumph nigh. 
 
 Cho?'us. 
 O wise physician I all my hurt is healed, 
 And with no mightier medicine than a word. 
 
 Herald. 
 He hath cut the flower of Carthage to the root. 
 
 Chorus. 
 O heart ! in grief thou wert all too garrulous ; 
 Be hushed awhile, and hearken to thy joy. 
 
 2,rd Citizen. 
 When, where, and how was this great mar\ el wrought ? 
 If strength suffice thee to tell out the tale. 
 
 Herald. 
 'Tis nine days since upon a misty dawn 
 We trod the silent summits of the height 
 That over-frowns Krimesus : a thick cloud 
 Clung to the valley-side, but from beneath 
 No doubtful din ascended — a dull roar 
 Monotonous, as of moving multitudes.
 
 The Market-place of Syracuse. 133 
 
 And frequent clamour, and the clash of arms, 
 
 And war-steeds fiercely neighing. Long time we lay 
 
 Aware yet unbeholding, till at length 
 
 The vapour-veil up-torn showed brokenly 
 
 Armed spaces quick with tongues of angry light, 
 
 And a wide region populous with war. 
 
 O then the life of our great enterprise 
 
 Stood on the peril of a razor's edge ; 
 
 For Tkrasius and his thousand mercenaries 
 
 Even by the fear of that appalling front, 
 
 Without a stroke, confounded, hied them home ; 
 
 Whom doubtless more were following, had not he, 
 
 Timoleon, with a shout so loud, it seemed 
 
 As if a god spake in him, seized his spear 
 
 And charged impetuous, as the mighty mass. 
 
 Surprised amidst their crossing, stood half this 
 
 Half that side of the river : fierce the shock, 
 
 At spear-length first, but after, when no thrust 
 
 Could rive those monstrous shields and plates of mail. 
 
 Foiling their fence, we pressed betwixt the files 
 
 In sword to sword encounter. There fell down. 
 
 With huge arms cumbered, and no space to play, 
 
 The pride and flower of Carthage ; yet the weight 
 
 Of sevenfold odds rolled forward from their rear 
 
 Had haply still o'erborne us, when there pealed 
 
 A crash through heaven that split the firmament,
 
 1 34 Thnolcon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 And from the east drove up a furious wind, 
 
 With spouting clouds and hurricanes of hail, 
 
 That scourged the foemen's faces. Back they reeled 
 
 Blinded, and sinking in the miry slough, 
 
 Whence none arose who fell ; and checked by these 
 
 Precipitately flying, the ranks behind. 
 
 Mixed in disastrous onset friend with friend, 
 
 Broke, and were hurled into one common heap 
 
 Trampling and trampled ; while to bar their flight 
 
 The ^\Tath-fed river reared his taAATiy mane 
 
 With wide jaws oped upon them : in they rushed 
 
 Pricked on by frenzy and the following spear. 
 
 Till o'er the torrent dammed and bridged with dead 
 
 We swept to spoil and slaughter. 
 
 Hark ! I hear 
 
 A trumpet I 'tis the vanguard at the gates : 
 
 Who with the general, make what speed I might, 
 
 Have pressed me close at heel. Full soon ye'll hear 
 
 From worthier lips no worser tale than mine. 
 
 Cho7-us. 
 
 In all thine utterance there is naught to mend, 
 Save that it comes too quickly to an end. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 
 Hail ! mouthpiece of a land delivered ! 
 
 Wert thou struck dumb for ever, thou hast said.
 
 The Market-place of Syracuse, 135 
 
 Chorus. 
 O fount of sacred Hope ! 
 That in the careful breast 
 Dost with sweet solace spring, 
 * To thee I sing. 
 
 Not from the cloven crest 
 And haunted slope 
 Of old Parnassus more divinely gush 
 Castalia's waters, when the moonlit wave 
 
 Winds on through midnight's virgin hush 
 Down to the Delphian cave. 
 More deep thou art and inexhaustible 
 Than sorrow's salty well 
 Up-bubbling ever at thy side 
 Brackish and hot, 
 Whose source like hers is not 
 From tortured solitudes supplied 
 Rent by volcanic fires 
 Through bitter ashes of burnt-out desires, 
 
 But from fair fertile regions brought 
 Of vital impulse and heroic thought. 
 O thou sweet saving gift ' 
 To every child of death 
 An inborn dower, 
 Whose taste is immortality, 
 Yet native as his breath !
 
 136 Timolcon: a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Unloosed by thee 
 The fatal firm-set barriers fade and shift 
 Before his dosing eyes ; 
 Yet none the less 
 Into the heavy air of rank excess 
 
 Thou canst not rise, 
 Nor send thy healing shower ; 
 There are who foul thee at the fountain-head 
 
 With poison-weeds of sloth ; 
 And rootless pride and envy's rotten growth 
 Choke up thy bed : — 
 Let this at last be said, 
 Where truth and constant courage bend 
 Their yoked necks to the steep of fate, 
 Thou dost the failing limbs invigorate, 
 And guid'st brave effort to a glorious end. 
 
 Orthagoras. 
 Peace ! ye : the glad procession draws anigh. 
 And lo ! the Archons come to welcome him. 
 
 [Enter Timoleon, ^schylus, and other officers, 
 with soldiers bearing trophies of victory. 
 
 Timoleon. 
 Men of this city, ye behold us here 
 Returned with triumph and fulfilled of spoil. 
 The kind gods favouring, and our task achieved.
 
 The Market-place of Syracuse. . 137 
 
 Therefpre to Fortune first a shrine I vow, 
 On whose high wall these trophies shall be hung, 
 And round about them be the record writ 
 With what great wonders she amazed and quelled 
 The vaunting host that dreamed our overthrow. 
 For never yet were myriads like to them 
 By mortal thousands vanquished ; but the earth 
 Brake up beneath them, and heaven was bowed above — 
 Rain, fire, and wind, and darkness ! and we heard 
 The sound of unseen armies, and behold ! 
 A light of swords in the air which no man drew, 
 That leapt, and swept, and smote them that they fell ! 
 And some were trampled where no war-hooves trod, 
 Like grass bent back beneath the blustering south ! 
 Wherefore be glad and give ye praise to heaven, 
 Seeing that for these things may no man be praised ; 
 For God was wroth and slew them. But henceforth 
 Be shamed who fear for Syracuse : we bring 
 The helms and bucklers of ten thousand slain — 
 Phoenician marvels delicately done, 
 Wrought in with gold and silver ; for there lay 
 Their mightiest and most honourable, nor shall 
 The viler remnant haste them to return, 
 Who fled from that day's fighting. 
 
 Lo I ye now, 
 The righteous consummation and full end
 
 138 Timoleon : a D^'amatic Poem. 
 
 Of that which heaven appointed ! that whereto 
 My days of life were lengthened, when to live 
 Was but a burden, that of all men born 
 I might be richest, Avho was wTetchedest, 
 And, who was banned, a blessing : for I see 
 Beyond my hope my noblest hope fulfilled — 
 A city free that wept in servitude, 
 And peopled that was empty, prosperous folk 
 Where misery sat moping, and just laws, 
 And patience to abide them ; and therewith 
 From ruinous heaps arising I behold 
 Her desecrated temples, and in haunts 
 Of old dilapidation and decay 
 New homes of fair contentment. Nay, nor here 
 Only, but elsewhere through this altered isle 
 Our help hath wrought a healing, that wherein 
 Of all her cities raged the tyrant-brood. 
 That purple plague is ended, and behold ! 
 For brute oppression and barbaric lust 
 The reign of law^s Hellenic ! 
 
 Yet there lives, 
 That till this hour hath baffled fate and doom, 
 Even Hiketas, who with the invader leagued, 
 Untaught of old disasters, burned at length 
 To woo belated victory ; but him 
 His Leontines, made bold by Carthage crushed,
 
 The Market-place of Syracuse. 139 
 
 Gat heart to seize, and bound, and hither hale 
 To Syracuse — that man must die the death. 
 
 Next, for the recreant pack, those fangless curs. 
 Swift-footed, clamorous-tongued, which yelped and fled 
 At' scenting of the quarry, these shall whine 
 Henceforth in stranger-kennels, where the land 
 Brings forth but vermin ; for not such the breed, 
 Men hunt the boar with here in Sicily, 
 
 What more remains ? I am an old man now, 
 And have been lustier than ye see to-day. 
 Though for my years full lusty ; and I would fain - 
 Reap, ere death come, the harvest of my hand, 
 And taste my life's fulfilment ; for I know, 
 Without vainglory or swelling thoughts of pride, 
 That me the gods did fashion to this end 
 Not all as others, but on an anvil forged, 
 And, fanned with sevenfold blasts of love and hate, 
 Tried me and tempered for a sword of proof 
 To work their will to youward. I do think 
 I have performed their bidding, and have walked 
 Before you all uprightly, and that herein 
 Ye will acquit me, as my heart acquits. 
 Of wrongful dealing or injurious aim. 
 For private ends toward any. If this be so, — 
 Nay, friends, what need of weeping ? — then would I, 
 Who ne'er till now played beggar, crave of you,
 
 1 40 Timoleon : a Dramatic Poem. 
 
 Yet not in guerdon, but of your good will, 
 One boon at my beseeching. 
 
 Archon. 
 
 Sir, 'tis thine : 
 Ask what thou wilt ; do with us as thou wilt. 
 Be that thou wilt ; none here shall say thee nay. 
 
 Timoleon. 
 Do ye confirm the privilege ? 
 
 People. 
 
 All, all ! 
 
 Timoleon. 
 Then thus with thanks I claim it : from this hour 
 I cast away the burden of command. 
 With all its envious honours, and here stand. 
 Of my free choice and with the people's will, 
 Plain citizen of Syracuse — How, sirs ! 
 So soon ye grudge me of your gift ? so soon 
 Shrink from your plighted promise ? Nay, 'tis best 
 What need we spears at home, no broils abroad ? 
 Were more foes yet to cope with, well ye wot 
 I had not stuck to serve you ; but let be ; 
 My wars are waged ; and not from gathering years, 
 But through derived weakness of the blood, 
 My sight fast fails me, and darkness draws apace : 
 Shall one lack eyes and lead ye ? surely no. 
 But I will live my residue of days
 
 The Market-place of Syracuse. 141 
 
 Unfeared among my fellows ; and with me twain, 
 A valiant soldier and a prophet sage, 
 Orthagoras here and yEschylus my friends, 
 Withoiji whose friendship ye had scarce been free. 
 And if hereafter, as might well befall 
 Through stress of doubt or danger, ye should need 
 The sober insight of dehberate age 
 To clear false issues, or appraise the claims 
 Of high-contending faction, then perchance 
 These eyeless footsteps some good hand will guide 
 To the great chamber where your burghers sit 
 For parley ; and I will hearken their debate ; 
 And in the assembly shall my voice be raised. 
 To cheer or chide you, as an old man may. 
 And so — come darkness ! I'll make shift to see 
 The dawn of freedom upon Sicily. 
 
 Corinthian Women. 
 What mean ye, sisters, thus to laugh and weep ? 
 
 \st Seniichorus. 
 Sing out for an end of woe ! 
 The days of sorrow are done. 
 
 2nd Seniichorus. 
 But the light of the sun is low ; 
 And darkness covers the sun.
 
 POEMS, 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES RH0ADE3. 
 
 LONDON : MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 1870. 
 
 ©pinions! of tl&c Pregist. 
 
 " The bent of Mr. Rhoades's imagination seems to lie almost entirely 
 towards a region not much frequented by the most popubr poetry of the 
 day — the region of vague emotional susceptibility, of nameli;ss spiritual 
 upliftings — 'Ahnungen' — which bespeak an Infinite peopled with un- 
 realised images and unfulfilled desires. It is a region of pure aspiration, 
 not of immediate or objective experience, though the gateways into it 
 lie through the immediate impressions of experience ; some organic sen- 
 sation or some object of the surrounding world raising in the mind the 
 suggestion or revelation of that other world, by an agency which what 
 psychology can explain ? Images so revealed, and desires so suggested, 
 float dispersedly before the mind in groups of no more than incidental 
 association, and do not get collected and combined by the reason into 
 definite thoughts or chains of thought ; and the resulting state of con- 
 sciousness is that which finds in music its highest and most appropriate 
 expression. This vague or musical mood is one, it is true, cliaracteristic 
 of young rather than of mature poets in general ; and, taken together 
 with his imitativeness in the matter of poetical form, might be construed 
 as merely indicating that Mr. Rhoades is an immature writer and no 
 more. Yet we think his readers will feel with us that this construction 
 would be unfair in view of the self-consciousness which in his case at- 
 tends this mood, and of the sort of success which sometimes falls to his 
 attempts at fetching home in articulate forms to himself and us these 
 fugitive moments of the being." — Pall Mall Gazette, Sept. 20, 1870. 
 
 "There is a good deal of thought scattered through these poems. 
 .... The main springs of inspiration to which they owe their birth 
 would seem to be that feeling for external nature, as for something al- 
 most human, and that religious sense of a something behind and above 
 nature, which are so characteristic of much of the poetry and thought 
 of the age."^2cotsman, Aug. 26, 1870.
 
 Poems, by yames Rhoades. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE VV.KSS—C07!tinued. 
 
 " If any one will read Mr. Rhoades' poetry he will soon see that there 
 IS a great deal in it to admire — much sweetness — much grace — a good 
 deal of fine thought finely expressed in melodious verse. ... It is 
 difficult to particularise any of the poems ; all of them have a quiet 
 beauty of their own. . . . The sonnets .... are often rich in thought 
 and beautiful in expression. . . . Mr. Rhoades concludes his volume 
 with a dialogue betwixt Lady Jane Grey and Feckenham, a Catholic 
 priest. It is managed with much skill, and conducted on Lady Jane 
 Grey's side with great force and power." — Edinburgh Courant, Feb. 2, 
 1871. 
 
 " In Mr. Rhoades' poems, however, we notice at once characteristics 
 which remove them far away from the elegant ephemera which flutter 
 for a few weeks in the sunshine of subscribers' patronage, and then pass 
 away to the populous limbo of disappointed verse-makers. Mr. Rhoades 
 has evidently lived and worked in the best atmosphere of poetical 
 influences. . . . We quote a few stanzas from a beautiful poem on the 
 old theme of the English daisy, which has already been glorified both 
 by Wordsworth and Tennyson. The second stanza .... contains a 
 certain ambiguity of expression, otherwise this little poem, as a whole, 
 .... is not unworthy of either of the great masters who have already 
 touched with reverent hand the same flower. . . . We would direct 
 particular attention to some of the sonnets, many of which have a 
 subtle and delicate beauty and a nearness to nature that are refreshing. " 
 — Glasgow Herald, July 26, 1870. 
 
 " Some of the sonnets, especially, possess great power of imagery, 
 and an elegance of diction rarely surpassed." — Examiner, July 16, 187c. 
 
 " The author of these poems .... is generally clear, has high and 
 noble thoughts, loves nature, takes broad views of men and things, has 
 a fine ear for music, knowledge, culture, a rare wealth of language, and 
 that which complements all these gifts and acquirements— poetic inspi- 
 ration. Not being sensational, he will not be so popular as some poets, 
 but he must command respect, and will, I believe, win his way to a high 
 place among the -poQls."— Hertfordshire Mercury, July, 1870. 
 
 UNWIN DROTHF.RS, PRINTERS, CHILWORTH A.ND LONDOK.
 
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