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 .^ill. Ulll 1 I.KO// ,
 
 bV the, same author. 
 
 THE COLLECTED WORKS OF WALTER 
 
 SAVAGE LANDjOR; 
 
 A 
 
 Imaginary Conversations : 
 
 
 Interviews of Boccaccio 
 
 First, Second, and Third 
 
 
 and Petrarca. 
 
 Series. Completed and 
 
 4. 
 
 Pericles and Aspasia. 
 
 Enlarged. 
 
 5. 
 
 Minor Prose Pieces. 
 
 Citation and Examination 
 
 (5. 
 
 Hellenics. 
 
 of William Shakspeare, 
 
 7. 
 
 Gebir. 
 
 touching Deer SteaUng. 
 
 8. 
 
 Tragedies, and Scenes. 
 
 Tlie Pentameron ; or 
 
 9. 
 
 Miscellaneous Poems. 
 
 In Two Vols. Medium 8w., p^we 32s. cloth. 
 II. 
 
 POEMATA ET INSCRIPTIONES. 
 
 NOVIS AUXIT 
 
 SAVAGIUS LANDOR. 
 
 EDWARD MOXON, DOVER STREET.
 
 HELLENICS.
 
 THE 
 
 HELLENICS 
 
 OF 
 
 WALTER SAVAGE LANDOE. 
 
 ENLARGED AND COMPLETED. 
 
 LONDON: 
 KDWAKD MOXON, DOVER STREET. 
 
 MDCCCXLVn.
 
 LONDON : 
 BRADBURT INI) EVANS, rBINTERS, WnilKTRIARS.
 
 
 TO 
 
 POPE PIUS IX. 
 
 Never until now, most holy father! did i hope oe desire to offer 
 
 MY homage to any POTENTATE ON EAHTH ; AND NOW I OFFER IT ONLY TO 
 THE HIGHEST OF THEM ALL. 
 
 THERE WAS A TIME WHEN THE CULTIVATORS OF LITERATURE WERE PER- 
 MITTED AND EXPECTED TO BEING THE FRUIT OP THEIR LABOUR TO THE 
 VATICAN. NOT ONLY WAS INCENSE WELCOME THERE, BUT EVEN THE HUMBLEST 
 PRODUCE OP THE POOREST SOIL. 
 
 VERBENAM, PUERI, PONITE THURASUE. 
 
 IF THOSE BETTER DAYS ARE RETURNING, WITHOUT WHAT WAS BAD OR EXCEP- 
 TIONABLE IN THEM, THE GLORY IS DUE ENTIRELY TO YOUR HOLINESS. YOU 
 HAVE RESTORED TO ITALY HOPE AND HAPPINTESS ; TO THE REST OF THE WORLD 
 HOPE ONLY. BUT A SINGLE WORD FROM YOUR PROPHETIC LIPS, A SINGLE 
 MOTION OF YOUR EARTH-EMBRACING ARM, WILL OVERTURN THE FIRMEST SEATS 
 OF INiariTY AND OPPRESSION. THE WORD MUST BE SPOKEN ; THE ARM MUST 
 WA^-E. WH.\T DO WT; SEE BEFORE US? IP WE TAKE THE BEST OF RULERS 
 UNDER OUR SUR^^;Y, WTi FIND SELFISHNESS AND FRIVOLITY : IF W^ EXTEND 
 THE VIEW, INGRATITUDE, DISREGARD OF HONOUR, CONTEMPT OF HON-ESTY, 
 BREACH OF PROMISES : ONE STEP YET BEYOND, AND THERE IS COLD-BLOODED 
 IDIOCY, STABBING THE NOBLES AT HOME, SPURNING THE PEOPLE EVERYWHERE, 
 AND VOIDING ITS CORROSIVE SLAVER IN THE FAIR FACE OF ITALY. IT IS 
 BETTER TO LOOK NO FARTHER, ELSE OUR EYES MUST BE RIVETED ON FROZEN 
 
 86C760
 
 SKA8 OF BLOOD SUPKRPUSED WITH BLOOD FUESll FLOWING. THK SAME FERO- 
 CIOUS ANIMAL LEAVES THE IMPRESSION OF ITS BROAD AND HEAVY FOOT ON 
 THE SNOW OF THE ARCTIC CIRCLE AND OF THE CAUCASUS. AND IS THIS INDEED 
 ALL THAT EUROPE HAS BROUGHT FORTH, AFTER SUCH LONG AND PAINFUL 
 THROES? II,VS SHE ENDURED HER MARATS, HEE ROBESPIERRES, HER BUONA- 
 PARTES, FOR THIS? GOD INFLICTED ON THE LATTER OF THESE WRETCHES HIS 
 TWO GREATEST CURSES ; UNCONTROLLED POWER AND PERVERTED INTELLECT ; 
 AND THEY WEItE TWISTED TOGETHER TO MAKE A SCOURGE FOR A NATION 
 WHICH REVELLED IN EVERY CRIME, BUT ABOVE ALL IN CRUELTY. ri' WAS 
 INSUFFICIENT. SHE IS NOW UNDERGOING PROM A WEAKER HAND A 5IORE 
 IGNOMINIOUS PUNISHMENT, PURSUED BY THE DERISION OF EUROPE. TO SAVE 
 HER HONOUR, SHE PRETENDED TO ADMIRE THE COURAGE THAT DECIMATED HER 
 CHILDREN : TO SAVE HER HONOUR, SHE NOW PRETENDS TO ADMIRE I HE 
 WISDOM THAT IMPRISONS THEM. CUNNING IS NOT W^SDOM ; PREVARICATION IS 
 NOT POLICY ; AND (NOVEL AS THE NOTION IS, IT IS EQUALLY TRUE) ARMIES 
 ARE NOT STRENGTH : ACRE AND WATERLOO SHOW IT, AND THE FLAMES OF 
 THE KREMLIN AND THE SOLITUDES OF FONTAINEBLEAU. ONE HONEST MAN, ONE 
 WISE MAN, ONE PEACEFUL MAN, COMMANDS A HUNDRED MILLIONS, WITHOUT A 
 BATON AND WITHOUT A CHARGER. HE WANTS NO FORTRESS TO PROTECT HIM : 
 HE STANDS HIGHER THAN ANY CITADEL CVN RAISE HIM, BRIGHTLY CONSPI- 
 CUOUS TO THE MOST DISTANT NATIONS, GOd'S SERVANT BY ELECTION, GOD's 
 IMAGE BY BENEFICENCE. 
 
 WALTER SAVAGE LANDOK.
 
 It is hardly to be expected that ladies and gentlemen 
 will leave on a sudden their daily promenade, skirted 
 by Turks and shepherds and knights and plumes and 
 palfreys, of the finest Tunbridge manufacture, to look at 
 these rude frescoes, delineated on an old wall high up, 
 and sadly weak in coloring. As in duty bound, we can 
 wait. The reader (if there shoidd be one) will remember 
 that Sculpture and Painting have uever ceased to be 
 occupied with the scenes and figures which we ventm-e 
 once more to introduce in poetry, it being our belief 
 that what is becoming in two of the Fine Arts is not 
 quite unbecoming in a third, the one which indeed gave 
 birth to them.
 
 vn 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 THRASYMEDES AND EUNOE ...... 1 
 
 DRIMACOS . . . . . . . . . . 6 
 
 THERON AND ZOE ........ 12 
 
 TO CORINTH . . . . . . . . . 17 
 
 LYSANDER, ALCANOR, AND PHANOE . . . . .19 
 
 HYPERBION . . . . . . . . . . 22 
 
 tCARIOS AND ERIGONE ....... 24 
 
 THE HAMADRYAD . . . . . . . . 30 
 
 ACON AND RHODOPE ; OR, INCONSTANCY . . . .45 
 
 SOPHOCLES TO POSEIDON . . . . . . . 50 
 
 ENALLOS AND CYMODiMEIA ...... 52 
 
 THE DEATH OF ARTEMIDORA . . . . . 60 
 
 MENEIACS AND HELEN AT TROY . . . . .61 
 
 CHRYSAOR . . . . . . . . . . 66 
 
 IPHIGENEIA AND AGAMEMNON ...... 76 
 
 THE DEATH OF CLYTEMNESTRA . . . . . . 79
 
 Vlll 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 TllK MADNESS OF ORESTES ... 
 
 THE I'ilAYER OF ORESTES .... 
 
 THE SHADES OP AGAMEMNON AND OP IPHIGENEIA 
 CIII'II) AND I'AN ...... 
 
 THK ALTAR OF MODESTY .... 
 
 THE ESPOUSALS OF POLYXENA 
 
 KRVOPE ........ 
 
 OOllYTHOS ....... 
 
 PAN AND PITYS ..... 
 
 COKESOS AND OALLIRHOE ..... 
 
 OATILLTJS AND SALIA ..... 
 
 THE CHILDREN OP VENUS .... 
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES .... 
 
 SILENUS ....... 
 
 REGENERATION ...... 
 
 PAGE 
 
 82 
 86 
 89 
 101 
 108 
 122 
 133 
 139 
 170 
 178 
 188 
 211 
 218 
 272 
 274
 
 HELLENICS. 
 
 I. THRASYMEDES AND EUNOE. 
 Who will away to Athens with me ? who 
 Loves choral songs and maidens crown 'd with flowers, 
 Unenvious ? mount the pinnace ; hoist the sail. 
 I promise ye, as many as are here, 
 Ye shall not, while ye tarry with me, taste 
 From unrinsed barrel the diluted wine 
 Of a low vineyard or a plant ill-pruned, 
 But such as anciently the ^gean isles 
 Pour'd in libation at their solemn feasts : 
 And the same goblets shall ye grasp, embost 
 With no vile figures of loose languid boors. 
 But such as Gods have lived with and have led.
 
 2 HELLENICS. 
 
 The sea smiles bright before us. What white sail 
 Plays yonder ? what pursues it ? Like two hawks 
 Away they fly. Let us away in time 
 To overtake them. Arc they menaces 
 "\Vc hear ? And shall the strong repulse the weak, 
 Enraged at her defender ? Hippias I 
 Art thou the man ? 'Twas Hippias. He had found 
 His sister borne from the Cecropian port 
 By Thrasymedes. And reluctantly ? 
 Ask, ask the maiden ; I have no reply. 
 
 " Brother ! brother Hippias ! 0, if love, 
 If pity, ever toucht thy breast, forbear ! 
 Strike not the brave, the gentle, the beloved, 
 My Thrasymedes, with his cloak alone 
 Protecting his own head and mine from harm." 
 " Didst thou not once before," cried Hippias, 
 Regardless of his sister, hoarse with wrath 
 At Thrasymedes, " didst not thou, dog-eyed. 
 Dare, as she walkt up to the Parthenon, 
 On the most holy of all holy days, 
 In sight of all the city, dare to kiss 
 Her maiden cheek ? "
 
 THRASYMEDES AND EUNOE. 
 
 " Ay, before all the Gods, 
 Ay, before Pallas, before Artemis, 
 Ay, before Aphrodite, before Here, 
 I dared ; and dare again. Arise, my spouse I 
 Arise ! and let my lips quaff purity 
 From thy fair open brow." 
 
 The sword was up. 
 And yet he kist her twice. Some God withheld 
 The arm of Hippias ; his proud blood seeth'd slower 
 And smote his breast less angrily ; ho laid 
 His hand on the white shoulder, and spake thus. 
 " Ye must return with me. A second time 
 Offended, will our sire Peisistratos 
 Pardon the aflfront ? Thou shouldst have askt thyself 
 This question ere the sail first flapt the mast." 
 " Already thou hast taken life from me ; 
 Put up thy sword," said the sad youth, his eyes 
 Sparkling ; but whether love or rage or grief 
 They sparkled with, the Gods alone could see. 
 Peirajeus they re-entered, and their ship 
 Drove up the little waves against the quay, 
 Whence was thrown out a rope from one above, 
 
 b2
 
 4 HELLENICS. 
 
 And Hippias caught it. From the virgin's waist 
 Her lover dropt his arm, and bkisht to think 
 He had retaiu'd it there in sight of rude 
 Irreverent men : he led her forth, nor spake. 
 Hippias walkt silent too, until they reacht 
 The mansion of Peisistratos her sire. 
 Serenely in his sternness did the prince 
 Look on them both awhile : they saw not him, 
 For both had cast their eyes upon the ground. 
 " Are these the pirates thou hast taken, son ? " 
 Said he. " Worse, father ! worse than pirates they, 
 Who thus abuse thy patience, thus abuse 
 Thy pardon, thus abuse the holy rites 
 Twice over." 
 
 " Well hast thou performed thy duty," 
 Firmly and gravely said Peisistratos. 
 " Nothing then, rash young man ! could turn thy heart 
 Fi'om Eunoe, my daughter ? " 
 
 " Nothing, sir. 
 Shall ever turn it. I can die but once 
 And love but once. Eunoe ! farewell ! 
 " Nay, she shall see what thou canst bear for her."
 
 THRASYMEDES AND EUNOE. 5 
 
 " father ! shut me in my chamber, shut me 
 In my poor mother's tomb, dead or alive, 
 But never let me see what he can bear ; 
 I know how much that is, when borne for me." 
 " Not yet : come on. And lag not thou behind. 
 Pirate of virgin and of princely hearts ! 
 Before the people and before the Goddess 
 Thou hadst evinced the madness of thy passion, 
 And now wouldst bear from home and plenteousness. 
 To poverty and exile, this my child. " 
 Then shuddered Thrasymedes, and exclaim'd, 
 " I see my crime : I saw it not before. 
 The dauohter of Peisistratos was born 
 Neither for exile nor for poverty, 
 Ah ! nor for me ! " He would have wept, but one 
 Might see him, and weep worse. The prince unmoved 
 Strode on, and said, " To-morrow shall the people. 
 All who beheld thy trespasses, behold 
 The justice of Peisistratos, the love 
 He bears his daughter, and the reverence 
 In which he holds the highest law of God." 
 He spake ; and on the morrow they were one.
 
 6 HELLENICS. 
 
 II. DRIMACOS. 
 In Crete reign 'd Zeus and Minos ; and there sprang 
 From rocky Chios (hut more years between) 
 Homer. All ! who near Homer's side shall stand ? 
 A slave, a slave shall stand near Homer's side. 
 Come from dark ages forth, come, Drimacos ! 
 
 gems of Ocean, shining here and there 
 Upon his vest of ever-changeful green, 
 Richer are ye than wide-spred continents, 
 Richer in thoughtfid men and glorious deeds. 
 Drimacos was a slave ; but Liberty 
 By him from Slavery sprang, as day from night. 
 Intolerable servitude o'erran 
 The isle of Chios. They whose sires had heard 
 The blind man, and the muse who sat beside, 
 Constant, as was the daughter to the king 
 Of Thebes, and comforting his sunless way, 
 Yea, even these bore stones within their breasts. 
 Buying by land or capturing by sea. 
 And torturing limbs fashioned like their own. 
 Limbs like the Gods' they all fell down before.
 
 DRIMACOS. 
 
 But Zeus had from Olympus lookt oblique, 
 Then breath'd into the breasts of suffering slaves 
 Heroic courage and heroic strength, 
 And wisdom for their guidance and support. 
 Drimacos he appointed to coerce 
 The pride of the enslaver, and to free 
 All those who labored and were heavy-laden 
 With griefs, not even by the avenging Gods 
 Inflicted, wrongs which men alone inflict 
 On others, when their vices have scoopt out 
 A yoke far more opprobrious for themselves. 
 From field to field the clang of arms was heard ; 
 Fires from the rocks and the hill-tops by night 
 Collected all the valiant, all the young, 
 Female and male, stripling and suckling babe. 
 By mother (then most fond) not left behind. 
 But many were o'ertaken ; many dropt 
 Faint by the road ; thirst, hunger, terror, seiz'd 
 Separate their prey. Among the fugitives, 
 In the most crowded and the narrowest path 
 That led into the thickets on the hill. 
 Was Amymone with her infant boy,
 
 HELLENICS. 
 
 Eiarinos. She pray'd the Gods, nor pray'd 
 
 Inaudible, although her voice had fail'd. 
 
 On Driraacos she call'd by name ; he heard 
 
 The voice ; he turn'd his head, and cried aloud : 
 
 " Comrades ! take up yon infant from the arms 
 
 That sink with it ; and help the mother on." 
 
 Far in advance was he ; all urged amain ; 
 
 All minded their own household, nor obey'd. 
 
 But he rusht back amid them till he reacht 
 
 The mother, who had fallen under-foot. 
 
 Trampled, but not relinquishing her hold. 
 
 Scarcely was space to stoop in, yet he stoopt 
 
 And rais'd what feebly wail'd among men's legs, 
 
 And placed it on his head, that the fresh air 
 
 Might solace it : soon it began to play. 
 
 To pat the hair of some, of some the eyes, 
 
 Unconscious that its mother's soul had fled. 
 
 The dust rose lower, for the sultry day 
 
 Was closing, and above shone Hesperus 
 
 Alone. On mossy banks within the brake 
 
 The men threw down their weapons snatcht in haste. 
 
 Impenetrable woods received their flight.
 
 DRIMACOS. 
 
 And shelter 'd and conceal' d them from pm'suit. 
 
 There many years they dwelt ; nor only there, 
 
 But also in the plains and in the towns 
 
 Fought they, and overthrew the wealthier race, 
 
 And drove their cattle off and reapt their grain. 
 
 Drimacos, strong in justice, strong in arms, 
 
 Prompt, vigilant, was everywhere ohey'd. 
 
 He profFer'd the proud Chiots, half-subdued, 
 
 Repression of invaders, in return 
 
 For their repression of invaders too, 
 
 And corn and wine and oil enough for all. 
 
 And horned victims to avenger Zeus. 
 
 But plenteousness and sloth relaxt his hold 
 
 Upon a few, men yearning to partake 
 
 The vices of a city : murmurs rose 
 
 And reacht the ear of Drimacos, and reacht 
 
 The wealthy towns and their impatient lords. 
 
 Rewards were offered for the leader's head, 
 
 And askt perhaps ere offered. When he found 
 
 Ingratitude so nigh and so alert, 
 
 He listened calmly to the chiefs around. 
 
 His firm defenders ; then replied :
 
 10 HELLENICS. 
 
 " My friends ! 
 Already in the days of youth ye watcht 
 Over the common-weal, hut now your eyes 
 And mine too want repose. Fear not for me, 
 But guard yourselves. The Gods who placed me here 
 Call me away, not you." 
 
 They heard, and went, 
 Sorrowing. Then call'd he unto him the youth 
 Eiarinos, who two whole years had fought 
 Beside him, and fought well. 
 
 " Eiarinos ! 
 I may have saved thy life ('tis said I did) 
 In infancy : it now behoves me, boy, 
 To give thee substance such as parents give. 
 Alas ! 'tis wanting : nought is in the house 
 Save arms, as thou Avell knowest ; hut those men 
 Who left me now, had talkt with thee before. 
 And there are marks along thy cheek which tears 
 Leave upon maiden's cheeks, not upon men's. 
 
 Eiarinos spake not, but threw his arms 
 Around his guardian's neck and shook with grief. 
 " Thou shalt not be quite destitute, my son ! "
 
 DRIMACOS, 11 
 
 Said he, " Thou knowest what reward awaits 
 
 Him who shall bring my bead within the town. 
 
 Here! strike! let never traitor grasp the gold." 
 
 Forward he held the hilt and lowered his brow. 
 
 " Bequeathest thou to parricidal hand, 
 
 father ! that accursed gold ? " cried he. 
 
 And ran against the portal, blind with tears. 
 
 But the calm man now caught his arm, and said, 
 
 " Delay may bring on both what comes for one. 
 
 Inevitable is my death : at least 
 
 Promise me this one thing, Eiarinos, 
 
 And I release thee : swear that, when I die, 
 
 Thou wilt, against all adversaries, bear 
 
 My head to those who seek it, pledge of peace." 
 
 Calmer, but sobbing deep, the youth replied, 
 
 " When Zeus the liberator shall appoint 
 
 The pastor of the people to depart, 
 
 His will be done ! if such be his and thine." 
 
 He lowered his eyes in reverence to the earth ; 
 
 And Drimacos then smote into his breast 
 
 The unaccepted sword. The pious youth 
 
 Fell overpowered with anguish, nor arose
 
 12 HELLENICS. 
 
 Until the elders, who had gone, rcturn'd. 
 They comforted the orphan, and implored 
 He would perform the duty thus enjoined. 
 Nor Muse, nor Memory her mother, knows 
 The sequel : but upon the highest peak 
 Of Chios is an altar of square stone 
 Roughened by time, and some believe they trace 
 In ancient letters, cubit-long, the words 
 Drimacos and Eiarinos and Zeus. 
 
 III. THERON AND ZOE. 
 
 Zoe. Changed ? very true, Theron, I am changed. 
 
 Theron. It would at least have been as merciful 
 To hold a moment back from me the briar 
 You let recoil thus sharply on my breast. 
 Not long ago, not very long, you own'd 
 With maiden blushes, which became your brow 
 Better than corn-flower, or that periwinkle 
 Train 'd round it by a very careful hand, 
 A long while trimming it (no doubt) and proud 
 Of making its blue blossom lauo;h at me.
 
 THERON AND ZOE. 13 
 
 Zoe. I could laugh too. What did I own ? It seems 
 (It was so little) you have quite forgot. 
 
 Theron. That, since we sate together day hy day, 
 And walkt together, sang together, none 
 Of earliest, gentlest, fondest, maiden friends 
 Loved you as formerly. If one remained 
 Dearer to you than any of the rest. 
 You could not wish her greater happiness . . 
 
 Zoe. Than what ? 
 
 Theron. I think you never could have said it . . 
 I must have dreamt it . . 
 
 Zoe. Tell me then your dream. 
 
 Theron. I thought you said . . nay, I will swear you 
 said . . 
 More than one heard it . . that you could not wish 
 The nearest to your heart more perfect joy 
 Than Theron 's love. 
 
 Zoe. ' Did I ? 
 
 Theron. The Gods in heaven 
 
 Are witnesses, no less than woodland Gods, 
 That you did say it. how changed ! no word. 
 No look, for Theron now !
 
 14 HELLENICS. 
 
 Zoe. Girls often say 
 
 More than they mean : men always do. 
 
 Theron. By Pan I 
 
 Who punishes with restless nights the false, 
 Hurling the sleeper down the precipice 
 Into the roaring gulph, or letting loose 
 Hounds, wolves, and tigers after him, his legs 
 Meanwhile tied not quite close, hut just apart, 
 In withy hands . . hy him I swear, my tongue, 
 Zoe ! can never utter half my love. 
 Retract not one fond word. 
 
 Zoe. I must retract 
 
 The whole of those. 
 
 Theron. And leave me most unblest ! 
 
 Zoe. I know not. 
 
 Theron. Heed not, rather say. Farewell. 
 
 Zoe. Farewell. I will not call you back again. 
 Go, Theron ! hatred soon will sear your wound. 
 
 Theron. Falsehood I hate : I can not hate the false. 
 
 Zoe. Never ? Then scorn her. 
 
 Theron. I can scorn myself.
 
 THERON AND ZOE. 15 
 
 And will ; for others are preferr'd to me ; 
 The untried to the tried. 
 
 Zoe. You said farewell. 
 
 Theron. Again I say it. 
 
 Zoe. Now I can believe 
 
 That you, repeating it, indeed are gone. 
 Yet seem you standing where you stood hefore. 
 Hath Pan done this ? Pan, who doth such strange 
 thiuo-s. 
 
 Theron. Laugh me to scorn : derision I deserve : 
 But let that smile . . let it he less sweet ! 
 Sorrowful let me part, hut not insane. 
 
 Zoe. I know some words that charm insanity 
 Before it can take hold. 
 
 Theron. Speak them ; for now 
 
 Are they most wanted. 
 
 Zoe. I did say, 'tis true. 
 
 If on this soHd earth friend dear enough 
 Remain'd to me, that Theron is the youth 
 I would desire to bless her. 
 
 Theron. To avoid 
 
 My importunity ; to hear no more
 
 16 HELLENICS. 
 
 The broken words that spoilt our mutual song, 
 The sobs that choakt my flute, the humidity 
 (Not from the lip) that gurgled on the stops. 
 
 Zoe. I would avoid them all ; they troubled me. 
 
 Theron. Now then, farewell. 
 
 Zoe. I will do all the harm 
 
 I can to any girl who hopes to love you ; 
 Nor shall you have her. 
 
 Theron. Vain and idle threat ! 
 
 Zoe. So, Theron ! you would love then once again ? 
 
 Theron. Never ; were love as possible and easy . . . 
 
 Zoe. As what ? 
 
 Theron. As death. 
 
 Zoe. Theron ! once indeed 
 
 I said the words which then so flatter'd you, 
 And now so pain you. Long before my friends 
 Left me through envy of your fondness for me, 
 No, not the dearest of them could I bear 
 To see beloved by you. False words I spake. 
 Not knowing then how false they were. 
 
 Tlieron. Speak now 
 
 One that shall drown them all.
 
 TO CORINTH. 17 
 
 Zoe. My voice is gone. 
 
 Why did you kiss me, if you wislit to hear it ? 
 
 IV. TO CORINTH. 
 Queen of the double sea, beloved of him 
 Who shakes the world's foundations, thou hast seen 
 Glory in all her beauty, all her forms ; 
 Seen her walk back with Theseus when he left 
 The bones of Sciron bleaching to the wind, 
 Above the ocean's roar and cormorant's flight, 
 So high that vastest billows from above 
 Show but like herbage waving in the mead ; 
 Seen generations throng thy Isthmian games, 
 And pass away ; the beautiful, the brave, 
 And them who sang their praises. But, Queen, 
 Audible still, and far beyond thy cliff's, 
 As when they first were utter 'd, are those words 
 Divine which praised the valiant and the just ; 
 And tears have often stopt, upon that ridge 
 So perilous, him who brought before his eye 
 The Colchian babes, " Stay ! spare him ! save the 
 last! 
 
 c
 
 18 HELLENICS. 
 
 Medea ! Is tliat blood ? again ! it drops 
 From my imploring hand upon my feet ! 
 I will invoke the Eumcnides no more, 
 I will forgive thcc, bless thee, bend to thee 
 In all thy wishes, do but thou, Medea, 
 Tell me, one lives." " And shall I too deceive ? " 
 Cries from the fiery car an angry voice ; 
 And swifter than two falling stars descend 
 Two breathless bodies ; warm, soft, motionless. 
 As flowers in stillest noon before the sun, 
 They lie three paces from him : such they lie 
 As when he left them sleeping side by side, 
 A mother's arm round each, a mother's cheeks 
 Between them, flusht with happiness and love. 
 He was more changed than they were, doomed to show 
 Thee and the stranger, how defaced and scarr'd 
 Grief hunts us down the precipice of years, 
 And whom the faithless prey upon the last. 
 To give the inertest masses of our earth 
 Her loveliest fonns, was thine ; to fix the Gods 
 Within thy walls, and hang their tripods round 
 With fruits and foliage knowing not decay.
 
 LYSANDER, ALCANOR, ' AND PHANOE. 19 
 
 A nobler work remains : thy citadel 
 
 Invites all Greece : o'er lands and floods remote 
 
 Many are the hearts that still beat high for thee : 
 
 Confide then in thy strength, and unappall'd 
 
 Look down upon the plain, while yokemate kings 
 
 Run bellowing where their herdsmen goad them on. 
 
 Instinct is sharp in them and terror true, 
 
 They smell the floor whereon their necks must lie. 
 
 V. LYSANDER, ALCANOR, PHANOE. 
 
 Lysander. Art thou grown hoarse by sitting in the sun 
 Of early spring, when winds come down adrift 
 To punish them they find asleep at noon ? 
 
 Alcanor. Hoarse I am not, but I am tired of song, 
 Therefore do I retire, where, without pipe, 
 The goat-foot God brought all the nymphs to sit 
 Half-way up Majnalos. If she I love 
 Will follow me, I swear to thee by him, 
 Bitter to those who slight him or forswear, 
 Thou shalt hear something sweet, do thou but stay. 
 
 Lysander. Lysander well can stay, do thou but sing. 
 
 c2
 
 20 HELLENICS. 
 
 Alcanor. But not unless a Nymph or Nympli-likc maid 
 Will listen. 
 
 Lt/sander, Hero comes PhaniJe. Thou art pale. 
 Sing : Phanoe ! bid him sing. 
 
 Phanoe. By Artemis ! 
 
 I bade him never more repeat my name. 
 And if he disobeys me . . . 
 
 Lysander. Hush ! 'twere ill 
 
 To call down vengeance upon those who love : 
 And he hath sworn by Pan that he will sing 
 If thou wilt follow him up Majnalos. 
 
 Phanoe. He may snatch off my slipper while I kneel 
 To Pan, upon the stone so worn aslant 
 That it is difficult to kneel upon 
 Without my leaving half a slipper loose. 
 Little cares he for Pan : he scarcely fears 
 That other, powerfuUer and terribler, 
 To whom more crowns are offered than to Zeus, 
 Or any God beside, and oftener changed. 
 In spring we garland him with pointed flowers. 
 Anemone and crocus and jonquil. 
 And tender hyacinth in clustering curls ;
 
 LYSANDER, ALCANOR, AND PHANOE. 21 
 
 Then with sweet-breathing mountain strawberi-y ; 
 Then pear and apple blossom, promising 
 (If he is good) to bring the fruit full-ripe, 
 Hanging it round about his brow, his nose, 
 Down even to his lips. When autumn comes. 
 His russet vine-wreath crackles under grapes : 
 Some trim his neck with barley, wheat, and oat ; 
 Some twine his naked waist with them : and last 
 His reverend head is seen and worshipt through 
 Stiff narrow olive-leaves, that last till spring. 
 Say, ought I not to fear so wild a boy. 
 Who fears not even him ! but once has tried 
 By force to make me pat him, after prayers ? 
 How fierce then lookt the God ! and from above 
 How the club reddened, as athirst for blood ! 
 Yet, fearing and suspecting the audacious, 
 Up Msenalos I must, for there my herd 
 Is browsing on the thorn and citisus 
 At random. 
 
 Lymnder. He hath not endured thy frown, 
 But hm-ries ofi". 
 
 Plianoe. And let him.
 
 22 HELLENICS. 
 
 Lysandcr. Captious Tan 
 
 On one or other may look evil-eyed. 
 
 Phanoe. I mind my Goddess, let him mind his God. 
 
 Away she went, and as she went she sang. 
 Brief cries were heard ere long, faint and more faint. 
 Pan ! was it thou ? was it thou, Artemis ? 
 FroUcsome kids and hard goats glassy-eyed 
 Alone could tell the story, had they speech. 
 The maiden came not back : but, after rites 
 Due to the goat-foot God, the pious youth 
 Piped shrilly forth and shook off all his woe. 
 
 VI. HYPERBION. 
 Hyperbion was among the chosen few 
 Of Phoobus ; and men honored him awhile, 
 Honoring in him the God. But others sang 
 As loudly ; and the boys as loudly cheer'd. 
 Hyperbion (more than bard should be) was wroth, 
 And thus he spake to Phccbus : " Hearest thou, 
 Phoebus ! the rude rabble from the field.
 
 HVPERBION. 23 
 
 Who swear that they have known thee ever since 
 
 Thou feddest for Admetus his white bull ? " 
 
 " I hear them," said the God. " Seize thou the first, 
 
 And haul him up above the heads of men, 
 
 And thou shalt hear them shout for thee as pleas'd." 
 
 Headstrong and proud Hyperbion was : the crown 
 
 Of laurel on it badly cool'd his brow : 
 
 So, when he heard them singing at his gate, 
 
 While some with flints cut there the rival's name, 
 
 Rushino; he seized the sono-ster at their head : 
 
 The sono-ster kickt and struo-o-led hard, in vain. 
 
 Hyperbion claspt him round with arm robust, 
 
 And with the left a hempen rope uncoil'd, 
 
 Whereon already was a noose : it held 
 
 The calf until its mother's teat was drawn 
 
 At morn and eve ; and both were now afield. 
 
 With all liis strength he pull'd the wretch along. 
 
 And haid'd him up a pine-tree, where he died. 
 
 But one night, not long after, in his sleep 
 
 He saw the songster : then did he beseech 
 
 Apollo to enlighten him, if perchance 
 
 In what he did he had done aught amiss.
 
 24 HELLENICS. 
 
 " Thou hast done well, Ilyperbion ! " said the God, 
 
 " As I did also to one Marsyas 
 
 Some years ere thou wert born : but better 'twere 
 
 If thou hadst miderstood my words aright, 
 
 For those around may harm thee, and assign 
 
 As reason that thou wentcst past the law. 
 
 My meaning was that thou shouldst hold him up 
 
 In the high places of thy mind, and show 
 
 Thyself the greater by enduring him." 
 
 Downcast Hyperbion stood : but Phoebus said 
 
 " Be of good cheer, Hyperbion ! if the rope 
 
 Is not so frayed but it may hold thy calf, 
 
 The greatest harm is, that, by hauling him. 
 
 Thou hast chafed, sorely, sorely, that old pine ; 
 
 And pine-tree bark will never close again." 
 
 VII. ICARIOS AND ERIGONE. 
 Improvident were once the Attic youths. 
 As (if we may believe the credulous 
 And testy) various youths have been elsewhere. 
 But truly such was their improvidence.
 
 ICARIOS AND ERIGONE. 25 
 
 Ere Pallas in compassion was their guide, 
 
 They never stowed away the fruits of earth 
 
 For winter use ; nor knew they how to press 
 
 Olive or grape : yet hospitahty 
 
 Sate at the hearth, and there was mirth and song. 
 
 Wealthy and generous in the Attic land, 
 
 learios ! wert thou ; and Erigone, 
 
 Thy daughter, gave with hearty glee the milk, 
 
 Buzzing in froth beneath unsteddy goat, 
 
 To many who stopt near her ; some for thirst, 
 
 And some to see upon its hack that hand 
 
 So white and small and taper, and await 
 
 Until she should arise and show her face. 
 
 The father wisht her not to leave his house, 
 
 Nor she to leave her father ; yet there sued 
 
 Fi-om all the country round both brave and rich. 
 
 Some, nor the wealthier of her wooers, drove 
 
 Full fifty slant-brow'd kingly-hearted swine, 
 
 Reluctant ever to be led aright, 
 
 Race autocratical, autochthon race, 
 
 Lords of the woods, fed by the tree of Jove. 
 
 Some had three ploughs ; some had eight oxen ; some
 
 26 HELLENICS. 
 
 Had vines, on oalj, on maple, and on elm, 
 
 In long and straight and gleamy avenues. 
 
 Which would have tired you had you reacht the end 
 
 Without the unshapcn steps that led heyond 
 
 Up the steep hill to where they lean'd on poles. 
 
 Yet kind the father was, and kind the maid. 
 
 And now when winter blew the chaff about, 
 
 And hens pursued the grain into the house, 
 
 Quarrelsome and indignant at repulse, 
 
 And rushing back again with ruffled neck, 
 
 They and their brood ; and kids blinkt at the brand, 
 
 And bee-nosed oxen with damp nostrils, lowered 
 
 Against the threshold, stampt the dogs away ; 
 
 Icarios, viewing these with thoughtful mind. 
 
 Said to Erigone, "Not scantily 
 
 The Gods have given us these birds and these 
 
 Short-bleating kids, and these loose-hided steers. 
 
 The Gods have given : to them will we devote 
 
 A portion of their benefits, and bid 
 
 The youths who love and honor us partake : 
 
 So shall their hearts, and so shall ours, rejoice." 
 
 The youths were bidden to the feast : the flesh
 
 ICARIOS AND ERI60NE. 27 
 
 Of kid and crested bird was plentiful ; 
 
 The steam hung on the rafters, where were nail'd 
 
 Bushes of savory herbs, and figs and dates ; 
 
 And yellow-pointed pears sent down long stalks 
 
 Throue-h nets wide-mesht, work of Erigone 
 
 When night was long and lamp yet unsupplied. 
 
 Choice grapes Icarios had ; and these, alone 
 
 Of all men in the country, he preserv'd 
 
 For festive days ; nor better day than this 
 
 To bring them from beneath his reed-thatcht roof. - 
 
 He mounted the twelve stairs with hearty pride, 
 
 And soon was heard he, breathing hard : he now 
 
 Descended, holding in both arms a cask, 
 
 Fictile, capacious, bulging : cork-tree bark 
 
 Secured the treasure ; wax above the mouth, 
 
 And pitch above the wax. The pitch he brake, 
 
 The wax he scraped away, and laid them by. 
 
 Wrenching up carefully the cork-tree bark, 
 
 A hum was heard. " What ! are there bees within ? " 
 
 Euphorbas cried. " They came then with the grapes," 
 
 Replied the elder, and pour'd out clear juice 
 
 Fragrant as flowers, and wrinkled husks anon.
 
 28 HELLENICS. 
 
 " The ghosts of grapes ! " cried Phanor, fond of jokes 
 
 Within the house, but ever abstinent 
 
 Of such as that in woodland and alone, 
 
 Where any sylvan God might overhear. 
 
 No few were saddcn'd at the ill-omen'd word, 
 
 But sniffing the sweet odour, bent their heads. 
 
 Tasted, sipt, drank, ingurgitated : fear 
 
 Flew from them all, joy rusht to every breast. 
 
 Friendship grew warmer, hands were join'd, vows sworn. 
 
 From cups of every size, from cups two-ear 'd. 
 
 From ivy-twisted and from smooth alike. 
 
 They dash the water, they pour in the wine, 
 
 (For wine it was) until that hour unseen. 
 
 They emptied the whole cask, and they alone ; 
 
 For both the father and the daughter sate 
 
 Enjoying their delight. But when they saw 
 
 Flusht faces, and when angry words arose 
 
 As one more fondly glanced against the cheek 
 
 Of the fair maiden on her seat a2)art. 
 
 And she lookt down, or lookt another way 
 
 Where other eyes caught hers, and did the hke. 
 
 Sadly the sire, the daughter fearfidly,
 
 ICARIOS AND ERI60NE. 29 
 
 Upon each other fixt wide-open eyes. 
 
 This did the men remark, and, bearing signs 
 
 Different, as were their tempers, of the wine, 
 
 But feehng each the floor reel under him, 
 
 Each raging with more thirst at every draught, 
 
 Acastor first (sidelong his step) arose. 
 
 Then Phanor, then Antyllos : 
 
 " Zeus above 
 Confound thee, cursed wretch !" aloud they cried, 
 " Is this thy hospitality ? must all 
 Who love thy daughter perish at a blow ? 
 Not at a blow, but hke the flies and wasps." 
 Madness had seiz'd them all. Erigone 
 Ran out for help : what help ? Before her sprang 
 Mcera, and howl'd and barkt, and then return'd. 
 Presaging. They had dragg'd the old man out 
 And murder'd him. Again flew Mcera forth, 
 Faithful, compassionate, and seized her vest, 
 And drew her where the body lay, unclosed 
 The eyes, and rais'd toward the stars of heaven. 
 
 Raise thine, for thou hast heard enough, raise thine
 
 30 HELLENICS. 
 
 And view Bootes bright among those stars, 
 Brighter the Virgin : Mcera too shines there. 
 But where were the Eumenides ? Repress 
 Thy anger. If the clear calm stars above 
 Appease it not, and blood must flow for blood, 
 Listen, and hear the sequel of the tale. 
 Wide-seeing Zeus lookt down ; as mortals knew 
 By the woods bending under his dark eye. 
 And huge towers shuddering on the mountain-top, 
 And stillness in the valley, in the wold. 
 And over the deep waters all round earth. 
 He lifted up his arm, but struck them not 
 In their abasement : by each other's blow 
 They fell ; some suddenly ; but more beneath 
 The desperate gasp of long-enduring wounds. 
 
 VIII. THE HAMADRYAD. 
 Rhaicos was born amid the hills wherefrom 
 Gnidos the light of Caria is discern'd. 
 And small are the white-crested that play near, 
 And smaller onward are the pui'ple waves.
 
 THE HAMADRYAD. 31 
 
 Thence festal choirs were visible, all crown 'd 
 
 With rose and myrtle if they were inborn ; 
 
 If from Pandion sprang they, on the coast 
 
 ^^^lere stern Athene rais'd her citadel, 
 
 Then olive was entwined with violets 
 
 Cluster' d in bosses, regular and large ; 
 
 For various men wore various coronals, 
 
 But one was their devotion ; 'twas to her 
 
 Whose laws all follow, her whose smile withdraws 
 
 The sword from Ares, thunderbolt from Zeus, 
 
 And whom in his chill caves the mutable 
 Of mind, Poseidon, the sea-king reveres. 
 And whom his brother, stubborn Dis, hath pray'd 
 To turn in pity the averted cheek 
 Of her he bore away, with promises, 
 Nay, with loud oath before dread Styx itself, 
 To give her daily more and sweeter flowers 
 Than he made drop from her on Enna's dell. 
 Rhaicos was looking from his father's door 
 At the long trains that hastened to the town 
 From aU the valleys, like bright rivulets 
 Gm-frhnw with o-ladness, wave outrunning wave,
 
 32 HELLENICS. 
 
 And thought it hard he might not also go 
 And offer up one prayer, and press one hand, 
 He knew not whose. The father call'd him in 
 And said, " Son Rhaicos ! those are idle games ; 
 Long enough I have lived to find them so." 
 And here he ended, sighing . . as old men do 
 Always, to think how idle such games are. 
 " I have not yet " thought Rhaicos in his heart, 
 And wanted proof. 
 
 " Suppose thou go and help 
 Echion at the hill, to bark yon oak 
 And lop its branches off, before we delve 
 About the trunk and ply the root with axe : 
 This we may do in winter." 
 
 Rhaicos went ; 
 For thence he could see farther, and see more 
 Of those who hurried to the city-gate. 
 Echion he found there, with naked arm 
 S wart-hair 'd, strong-sinew'd, and his eyes intent 
 Upon the place where first the axe should fall : 
 He held it upright. " There are bees about, 
 Or wasps, or hornets," said the cautious eld,
 
 THE HAMADRYAD. 33 
 
 " Look sharp, son of Thallinos !" The youth 
 Inclined his ear, afar, and warily, 
 And cavern 'd in his hand. He heard a huzz 
 At first, and then the sound grew soft and clear, 
 And then divided into what seem'd tune, 
 And there were words upon it, plaintive words. 
 He turn'd, and said, " Echion ! do not strike 
 That tree : it must be hollow ; for some God 
 Speaks from within. Come thyself near." Again 
 Both turn'd toward it : and behold ! there sat 
 Upon the moss below, with her two palms 
 Pressing it, on each side, a maid in form. 
 Downcast were her long eyelashes, and pale 
 Her cheek, but never mountain-ash display 'd 
 Berries of colour like her lip so pure, 
 Nor were the anemones about her hair 
 Soft, smooth, and wavering like the face beneath. 
 " What dost thou here ?" Echion, half-afraid. 
 Half-angry, cried. She lifted up her eyes, 
 But nothing spake she. Rhaicos drew one step 
 Backward, for fear came likewise over him. 
 But not such fear : he panted, gaspt, drew in
 
 34 HELLENICS. 
 
 His breath, and would have turn'd it into words, 
 But could not into one. 
 
 " send away 
 That sad old man ! " said she. The old man went 
 Without a warning from his master's son. 
 Glad to escape, for sorely he now fear'd. 
 And the axe shone behind him in their eyes. 
 
 Ham. And wouldst thou too shed the most innocent 
 Of blood ? no vow demands it ; no God wills , 
 
 The oak to bleed. 
 
 Bhaicos. Who art thou ? whence ? why here ? 
 
 And whither wouldst thou go ? Among the robed 
 In white or saiFron, or the hue that most 
 Resembles dawn or the clear sky, is none 
 Array 'd as thou art. What so beautiful 
 As that gray robe which cHngs about thee close, 
 Like moss to stones adhering, leaves to trees, 
 Yet lets thy bosom rise and fall in turn. 
 As, toucht by zephyrs, fall and rise the boughs 
 Of graceful platan by the river-side. 
 
 Hamadryad. Lovest thou well thy father's house ? 
 
 Bhaicos. Indeed
 
 THE HAMADRYAD. 35 
 
 I love it, well I love it, yet would leave 
 For thine, where'er it be, my father's house, 
 With aU the marks upon the door, that show 
 My growth at every birth-day since the third, 
 And all the charms, o'ei-powering evil eyes, 
 My mother nail'd for me against my bed. 
 And the Cydonian bow (which thou shalt see) 
 Won in my race last sin-ing from Eutychos, 
 
 Hamadryad. Bethink thee what it is to leave a home 
 Thou never yet hast left, one night, one day. 
 
 Rhaicos. No, 'tis not hard to leave it ; 'tis not hard 
 To leave, maiden, that paternal home. 
 If there be one on earth whom we may love 
 First, last, for ever ; one who says that she 
 WiU love for ever too. To say which word. 
 Only to say it, sm-ely is enough . . 
 It shows such kindness . . if 'twere possible 
 We at the moment think she would indeed. 
 
 Hamadryad. Wlio taught thee all this folly at thy age ? 
 
 BJiaicos. I have seen lovers and have learnt to love. 
 
 Hamadryad. But wilt thou spare the tree ? 
 
 Rhaicos. My father wants 
 
 d2
 
 36 HELLENICS. 
 
 The bark ; the tree may hold its place awhile. 
 
 Ham. Awhile ? thy father numbers then my days ? 
 
 Ehaicos. Arc there no others where the moss beneath 
 Is quite as tufty ? Who would send thee forth 
 Or ask thee why thou tarriest ? Is thy flock 
 Anywhere near ? 
 
 Hamadryad. I have no flock : I kill 
 Nothing that breathes, that stirs, that feels the air. 
 The sun, the dew. Why should the beautiful 
 (And thou art beautiful) disturb the source 
 Whence springs all beauty ? Hast thou never heard 
 Of Hamadryads ? 
 
 Rhaicos. Heard of them I have : 
 
 Tell me some tale about them. May I sit 
 Beside thy feet ? Art thou not tired ? The herbs 
 Are very soft ; I will not come too nigh ; 
 Do but sit there, nor tremble so, nor doubt. 
 Stay, stay an instant : let me first explore 
 If any acorn of last year be left 
 Within it ; thy thin robe too ill protects 
 Thy dainty limbs against the harm one small 
 Acorn may do. Here s none. Another day
 
 THE HAMADRYAD. 37 
 
 Trust me : till then let me sit opposite. 
 
 Hamadryad. I seat me ; be thou seated, and content. 
 
 Mhaicos. sight for gods ! Ye men below ! adore 
 The Aphrodite. Is she there below ? 
 Or sits she here before me ? as she sate 
 Before the shepherd on those highths that shade 
 The Hellespont, and brought his kindred woe. 
 
 Ham. Reverence the higher Powers ; nor deem amiss 
 Of her who pleads to thee, and would repay . . 
 Ask not how much . . but very much. Rise not : 
 No, Rhaicos, no ! Without the nuptial vow 
 Love is unholy. Swear to me that none 
 Of mortal maids shall ever taste thy kiss, 
 Then take thou mine ; then take it, not before. 
 
 Rhaicos. Hearken, all gods above ! Aphrodite ! 
 Here ! let my vow be ratified ! 
 But wilt thou come into my father's house ? 
 
 Hamadryad. Nay : andof mine I cannot give thee part. 
 
 Rhaicos. Where is it ? 
 
 Hamadryad. In this oak. 
 
 Rhaicos. Ay ; now begins 
 
 The tale of Hamadryad : tell it through.
 
 38 HELLENICS. 
 
 Hamadryad. Pray of thy father never to cut down 
 My tree ; and promise him, as well thou mayst. 
 That every year he shall receive from me 
 More honey than will buy him nine fat sheep. 
 More wax than he will burn to all the gods. 
 Why fallest thou upon thy face ? Some thorn 
 May scratch it, rash young man ! Rise up ; for shame ! 
 
 Rhaicos. For shame I can not rise. pity me ! 
 I dare not sue for love . . but do not hate ! 
 Let me once more behold thee . . not once more, 
 But many days : let me love on . . unloved ! 
 I aimed too high : on my own head the bolt 
 Falls back, and pierces to the very brain. 
 
 Hamadryad. Go . . rather go, than make me say I love. 
 
 Ehaicos. If happiness is immortality, 
 (And whence enjoy it else the gods above ?) 
 I am immortal too : my vow is heard . , 
 Hark ! on the left . . Nay, turn not from me now, 
 I claim my kiss. 
 
 Hamadryad. Do men take first, then claim ? 
 Do thus the seasons run their com-se with them ?
 
 THE HAMADRYAD. 39 
 
 Her lips were seal'd ; her head sank on his breast. 
 'Tis said that laughs were heard within the wood : 
 But who should liear them? . . and whose laughs? and why? 
 
 Savoury was the smell and long past noon, 
 Thallinos ! in thy house ; for marjoram 
 Basil and mint, and thyme and rosemary, 
 Were sprinkled on the kid's well roasted length, 
 Awaiting Rhaieos. Home he came at last, 
 Not hungry, but pretending hunger keen, 
 With head and eyes just o'er the maple plate. 
 " Thou seest but badly, coming from the sun. 
 Boy Rhaicos I " said the father. " That oak's bark 
 Must have been tough, with little sap between ; 
 It ought to run ; but it and I are old." 
 Rhaicos, although each morsel of the bread 
 Increast by chewing, and the meat grew cold 
 And tasteless to his palate, took a draught 
 Of gold-bright wine, which, thirsty as he was, 
 He thought not of, until his father fill'd 
 The cup, averring water was amiss, 
 But wine had been at all times pour'd on kid . . 
 It was religion.
 
 40 HELLENICS. 
 
 He, tlius fortified, 
 Said, not quite boldly, and not quite abasht, 
 " Father, that oak is Jove's own tree : that oak 
 Year after year will bring thee wealth from wax 
 And honey. There is one who fears the gods 
 And the gods love . . that one " 
 
 (lie blusht, nor said 
 What one) 
 
 " has promist this, and may do more. 
 Thou hast not many moons to wait until 
 The bees have done their best : if then there come 
 Nor wax nor honey, let the tree be hewn." 
 
 " Zeus hath bestow'd on thee a prudent mind," 
 Said the glad sire : " but look thou often there, 
 And gather all the honey thou canst find 
 In every crevice, over and above 
 What has been promist ; would they reckon that ? " 
 
 Rhaicos went daily ; and the nymph as oft, 
 Invisible. To play at love, she knew. 
 Stopping its breathings when it breathes most soft. 
 Is sweeter than to play on any pipe. 
 She play'd on his : she fed upon his sighs :
 
 THE HAMADRYAD. 41 
 
 They pleased her when they gently waved her hair, 
 
 CooKng the pulses of her purple veins, 
 
 And when her absence brought them out, they pleased. 
 
 Even among the fondest of them all, 
 
 What mortal or immortal maid is more 
 
 Content with giving happiness than pain ? 
 
 One day he was returning from the wood 
 
 Despondently. She pitied him, and said 
 
 " Come back ! " and twined her fingers in the hem 
 
 Above his shoulder. Then she led his steps 
 
 To a cool rill that ran o'er level sand 
 
 Through lentisk and through oleander, there 
 
 Bathed she his feet, lifting them on her lap 
 
 When bathed, and drying them in both her hands. 
 
 He dared complain ; for those who most are loved 
 
 Most dare it ; but not harsh was his complaint. 
 
 " thou inconstant ! " said he, " if stern law 
 
 Bind thee, or will, stronger than sternest law, 
 
 0, let me know henceforward when to hope 
 
 The fruit of love that grows for me but here." 
 
 He spake ; and pluckt it from its pliant stem. 
 
 " Impatient Rhaicos ! why thus intercept
 
 42 HELLENICS. 
 
 The answer I would give ? There is a bee 
 
 Whom I have fed, a hee who knows my thoughts 
 
 And executes my wishes : I will send 
 
 That messager. If ever thou art false, 
 
 Drawn by another, own it not, but drive 
 
 My bee away : then shall I know my fate. 
 
 And . . for thou must be wretched . . weep at thine. 
 
 But often as my heart persuades to lay 
 
 Its cares on thine and throb itself to rest. 
 
 Expect her with thee, whether it be morn 
 
 Or eve, at any time when woods are safe." 
 
 Day after day the Hours beheld them blest. 
 And season after season : years had past, 
 Blest were they still. He who asserts that Love 
 Ever is sated of sweet things, the same 
 Sweet things he fretted for in earlier days, 
 Never, by Zeus ! loved he a Hamadryad. 
 
 The nights had now grown longer, and perhaps 
 The Hamadryads find them lone and dull 
 Among their woods ; one did, alas ! She called
 
 THE HAMADRYAD. 43 
 
 Her faithful bee : 'twas when all bees should sleep, 
 And all did sleep but hers. She was sent forth 
 To bring that light which never wintry blast 
 Blows out, nor rain nor snow extinguishes. 
 The light that shines from loving eyes upon 
 Eyes that love back, till they can see no more. 
 
 Rhaicos was sitting at his father's hearth : 
 Between them stood the table, not o'erspred 
 With fruits which autumn now profusely bore. 
 Nor anise-cakes, nor odorous wine ; but there 
 The draft-board was expanded ; at which game 
 Triumphant sat old Thallinos ; the son 
 Was puzzled, vext, discomfited, distraught, 
 A buzz was at his ear : up went his hand, 
 And it was heard no longer. The poor bee 
 Return 'd (but not until the morn shone bright) 
 And found the Hamadi-yad with her head 
 Upon her aching wrist, and show'd one wing 
 Half-broken off, the other's meshes marr'd, 
 And there were bruises which no eye could see 
 Saving a Hamadryad's.
 
 44 HELLENICS. 
 
 At this sight 
 Down fell the languid brow, both hands fell down, 
 A shriek was carried to the ancient hall 
 Of ThaUinos : he heard it not ; his son 
 Heard it, and ran forthwith into the wood. 
 No bark was on the tree, no leaf was green, 
 The trunk was riven through. From that day forth 
 Nor word nor whisper sooth'd his ear, nor sound 
 Even of insect wing : but loud laments 
 The woodmen and the shepherds one long year 
 Heard day and night ; for Rhaicos would not quit 
 The solitary place, but moan'd and died. 
 
 Hence milk and honey wonder not, guest, 
 To find set duly on the hoUow stone.
 
 ACON AND RHODOPE. 45 
 
 yC IX. ACON AND RHODOPE; OR, INCONSTANCY. 
 The Year's twelve daughters had in turn gone hy, 
 Of measured pace tho' varying mien all twelve, 
 Some froward, some sedater, some adorn'd 
 For festival, some reckless of attire. 
 The snow had left the mountain-top ; fresh flowers 
 Had withered in the meadow ; fig and prune 
 Hung wrinkling ; the last apple glow'd amid 
 Its freckled leaves ; and weary oxen blinkt 
 Between the trodden corn and twisted vine, 
 Under whose bunches stood the empty crate, 
 To creak ere long beneath them carried home. 
 This was the season when twelve months before, 
 gentle Hamadryad, true to love ! 
 Thy mansion, thy dim mansion in the wood 
 Was blasted and laid desolate : but none 
 Dared violate its precincts, none dared pluck 
 The moss beneath it, which alone remain'd 
 Of what was thine. 
 
 Old Thallinos sat mute 
 In solitary sadness. The strange tale
 
 46 HELLENICS. 
 
 (Not until Rliaicos died, but then the whole) 
 Echiou had related, whom no force 
 Could ever make look back upon the oaks. 
 The father said " Echiou ! thou must weigh, 
 Carefully, and with stcddy hand, enough 
 (Although no longer comes the store as once !) 
 Of wax to burn all day and night upon 
 That hollow stone where milk and honey lie : 
 So may the Gods, so may the dead, be pleas 'd ! 
 Thallinos bore it tliither in the morn. 
 And lighted it and left it. 
 
 First of those 
 Wlio visited upon this solemn day 
 The Hamadryad's oak, were Rhodope 
 And Aeon ; of one age, one hope, one trust. 
 Graceful was she as was the nymph whose fate 
 She sorrowed for : he slender, pale, and first 
 Lapt by the flame of love : his father's lands 
 Were fertile, herds lowed over them afar. 
 Now stood the two aside the hollow stone 
 And lookt with stedfast eyes toward the oak 
 Shivered and black and bare.
 
 ACON ANB RHODOPE. 47 
 
 " May never we 
 Love as they loved ! " said Aeon. She at this 
 Smiled, for he said not what he meant to say, 
 And thought not of its bliss, but of its end. 
 He caught the flying smile, and blusht, and vow'd 
 Nor time nor other power, whereto the might 
 Of love hath yielded and may yield agam, 
 Should alter his. 
 
 The father of the youth 
 Wanted not beauty for him, wanted not 
 Song, that could lift earth's weight from off his heart, 
 Discretion, that could guide him thro' the world, 
 Innocence, that could clear his way to heaven ; 
 Silver and gold and land, not green before 
 The ancestral gate, but purple under skies 
 Bending far ojff, he wanted for his heir. 
 
 Fathers have given life, but virgin heart 
 They never gave ; and dare they then controU 
 Or check it harslJy ? dare they break a bond 
 Girt roimd it by the holiest Power on high ? 
 
 Aeon was grieved, he said, grieved bitterly. 
 But Aeon had complied . . 'twas dutiful !
 
 48 HELLENICS. 
 
 Crush thy own heart, Man ! Man ! but fear to wound 
 The gentler, that relies on thee alone, 
 By thee created, weak or strong by thee ; 
 Touch it not but for worship ; watch before 
 Its sanctuary ; nor leave it till are closed 
 The temple-doors and the last lamp is spent. 
 
 Rhodope, in her soul's waste solitude, 
 Sate mournful by the dull-resounding sea, 
 Often not hearing it, and many tears 
 Had the cold breezes hardened on her cheek. 
 Meanwhile he sauntered in the wood of oaks. 
 Nor shun'd to look upon the hollow stone 
 That held the milk and honey, nor to lay 
 His plighted hand where recently 'twas laid 
 Opposite hers, when finger playfully 
 Advanced and pusht back finger, on each side. 
 He did not think of this, as she would do 
 If she were there alone. 
 
 The day was hot ; 
 The moss invited him ; it cool'd his cheek, 
 It cool'd his hands ; he thrust them into it 
 And sank to slumber. Never was there dream
 
 ACON AND RHODOPE. 49 
 
 Divine as his. He saw the Hamadryad. 
 
 She took him by the arm aud led him on 
 
 Along a valley, where profusely grew 
 
 The smaller lilies with their pendent bells, 
 
 And, hiding under mint, chill drosera, 
 
 The violet shy of butting cyclamen. 
 
 The feathery fern, and, browser of moist banks, 
 
 Her offspring round her, the soft strawberry ; 
 
 The quivering spray of ruddy tamarisk. 
 
 The oleander's light-hair 'd progeny 
 
 Breathing bright freshness in each other's face. 
 
 And graceful rose, bending her brow, with cup 
 
 Of fragrance and of beauty, boon for Gods. 
 
 The fraoTance fiU'd his breast with such delight 
 
 His senses were bewildered, and he thought 
 
 He saw again the face he most had loved. 
 
 He stopt : the Hamadryad at his side 
 
 Now stood between ; then drew him farther off : 
 
 He went, compliant as before : but soon 
 
 Verdure had ceast : altho' the ground was smooth, 
 
 Nothing was there delightful. At this change 
 
 He would have spoken, but his guide represt
 
 so HELLENICS. 
 
 All questioning, and said, 
 
 " Weak youth ! what brought 
 Thy footstep to this wood, my native haunt, 
 My life-long residence ? this bank, where first 
 I sate with him . . the faithful (now I know, 
 Too late !) the faithful Rhaicos. Haste thee home ; 
 Be happy, if thou canst ; but come no more 
 Where those whom death alone could sever, died.'' 
 
 He started up : the moss whereon he slept 
 Was dried and withered : deadlier paleness spred 
 Over his cheek ; he sickened : and the sire 
 Had land enough ; it held his only son. 
 
 X. SOPHOCLES TO POSEIDON. 
 The colours of thy waves are not the same 
 Day after day, Poseidon ! nor the same 
 The fortunes of the land wherefrom arose 
 Under thy trident the brave friend of man. 
 Wails have been heard from women, sterner breasts 
 Have sounded with the desperate pang of grief. 
 Grey hairs have strown these rocks : here ^Egeus cried, 
 
 " Sun! careering over Sipylus,
 
 SOPHOCLES TO POSEIDON. 51 
 
 If desolation (worse than ever there 
 Befell the mother and those heads her own 
 Would shelter when the deadly darts flew round) 
 Impend not o'er my house in gloom so long, 
 Let one swift cloud illumin'd by thy chariot 
 Sweep off the darkness from that doubtful sail." 
 
 Deeper and deeper came the darkness down ; 
 The sail itself was heard ; his eyes grew dim ; 
 Ilis knees tottered beneath him, but availed 
 To bear him till he plunged into the deep. 
 
 Sounds fifes ! there is a youthfulness of sound 
 In your shriU voices : sound again, ye lips 
 That Mars delights in. I will look no more 
 Into the time behind for idle goads 
 To stimulate faint fancies : hope itself 
 Is bounded by the starry zone of glory. 
 On one bright point we gaze, one wish we breathe. 
 
 Athens ! be ever as thou art this hour, 
 Happy and strong, a Pericles thy guide.
 
 52 HELLENICS. 
 
 XI. ENALLOS AND CYMODAMEIA. 
 A vision came o'er tlirec young men at once, 
 A vision of Apollo : each had heard 
 The same command ; each followed it ; all three 
 Assembled on one day before the God 
 In Lycia, Avhere he gave his oracle. 
 Bright shone the morning ; and the birds that build 
 Their nests beneath the column-heads of fanes 
 And caves of humbler habitations, dropt 
 From under them and wheel'd athwart the skv, 
 When, silently and reverently, the youths 
 Marcht side by side up the long steps that led 
 Toward the awful God who dwelt within. 
 Of those three youths fame hath held fast the name 
 Of one alone ; nor would that name survive 
 Unless Love had sustain 'd it, and blown off 
 With his impatient breath the mists of time. 
 " Ye come," the God said mildly, " of one will 
 To people what is desert in the isle
 
 ENALLOS AND CYMODAMEIA. 53 
 
 Of Lemnos. But strong men possess its shores ; 
 
 Nor shall you execute the brave emprize 
 
 Unless, on the third day from going forth, 
 
 To him who rules the waters ye devote 
 
 A ™-2;in, cast into the sea alive." 
 
 They heard, and lookt in one another's face, 
 
 And then bent piously before the shrine 
 
 With prayer and praises and thanksgiving hymn, 
 
 And, after a short silence, went away, 
 
 Taking each other's hand and swearing truth. 
 
 Then to the ship in which they came, return'd. 
 
 Two of the youths were joyous, one was sad ; 
 
 Sad was Enallos ; yet those two by none 
 
 Were loved ; Enallos had already won 
 
 Cymodameia, and the torch waa near. 
 
 By night, by day, in company, alone. 
 
 The image of the maiden fiU'd his breast 
 
 To the heart's brim. Ah ! therefore did that heart 
 
 So sink within him. 
 
 They have sail'd ; they reach 
 Their home again. Sires, matrons, maidens, throng 
 The plashing port, to watch the gather 'd sail.
 
 ■>1 HELLENICS. 
 
 And who springs first and farthest upon shore. 
 
 Enallos came the latest from the deck. 
 
 Swift ran the rumour what the God had said, 
 
 And fearfiil were the maidens, who before 
 
 Had urged the sailing of the youths they loved. 
 
 That they might give their hands, and have their homes. 
 
 And nurse their children ; and more thoughts perhaps 
 
 Led up to these, and even ran before. 
 
 But they persuaded easily their wooers 
 
 To sail without them, and return again 
 
 When they had seiz'd the virgin on the way. 
 
 C}Tnodameia dreamt three nights, the three 
 
 Before their fresh departure, that her own 
 
 Enallos had been cast into the deep. 
 
 And she had saved him. She alone embarkt 
 
 Of all the maidens, and unseen by all, 
 
 And hid herself before the break of day 
 
 Among the cloaks and fruits piled high aboard. 
 
 But when the noon was come, and the repast 
 
 Was call'd for, there they found her. Not quite stern, 
 
 But more than sad, Enallos lookt upon her. 
 
 Forebodings shook him : hopes rais'd her, and love
 
 EXALLOS AXD CYMODAMEIA. .1 
 
 Warni'd tbe clear cheek while she wiped off the spray. 
 
 Kindly were all to her and dutiful ; 
 
 And she slept soundly mid the leaves of figs 
 
 And vines, and far as far could be apart. 
 
 Now the third morn had risen, and the day 
 
 Was dark, and gusts of wind and hail and fogs 
 
 Perplext them : land they saw not yet, nor knew 
 
 Where land was lying. Sudden lightnings blazed, 
 
 Thunder-claps rattled round them. The pale crew 
 
 Howl'd for the victim. " Seize her, or we sink." 
 
 maid of Pindus ! I would linger here 
 To lave my eyelids at the nearest rill, 
 For thou hast made me weep, as oft thou hast, 
 Where thou and I, apart from Hnng men, 
 And two or three crags higher, sate and sang. 
 Ah ! must I, seeing ill my way, proceed ? 
 And thy voice too, Cymodameia ! thine 
 Comes back upon me, helpless as thyself 
 In this extremity. Sad words ! sad words ! 
 " save me ! save ! Let me not die so young ! 
 Loving you so ! Let me not cease to see you ? " 
 Thou claspedest the youth who would have died
 
 56 nELLENICS. 
 
 To have done less than save thee. Thus he prayed. 
 
 " God ! who givest light to all the world, 
 
 Take not from me what makes that light most blessed I 
 
 Grant me, if 'tis forbidden me to save 
 
 This hapless helpless sea-devoted maid, 
 
 To share with her (and bring no cm*ses up 
 
 From outraged Neptune) her appointed fate ! " 
 
 They wrung her from his knee ; they hurl'd her down 
 
 (Clinging in vain at the hard slippery pitch) 
 
 Into the whitening wave. But her long hair 
 
 Scarcely had risen up again, before 
 
 Another plunge was heard, another form 
 
 Clove the strait line of bubbling foam, direct 
 
 As ringdove after ringdove. Groans from all 
 
 Bm-st, for the roaring sea ingulpht them both. 
 
 Onward the vessel flew ; the skies again 
 
 Shone bright, and thunder roll'd along, not wroth. 
 
 But gently murmuring to the white-wing'd sails. 
 
 Lemnob at close of evening was in sight. 
 
 The shore was won ; the fields markt out ; and roofs 
 
 Collected the dun wings that seek house-fare ; 
 
 And presently the ruddy -bosom 'd guest
 
 ENALLOS AND CYMODAMEIA, 57 
 
 Of winter, knew the doors : then infant cries 
 
 Were heard within ; and lastly, tottering steps 
 
 Pattered along the image-stationed hall. 
 
 Ay, three full years had come and gone again. 
 
 And often, when the flame on windy nights 
 
 Suddenly flicker 'd from the mountain-ash 
 
 Piled high, men pusht almost from under them 
 
 The bench on which they talkt about the dead. 
 
 Meanwhile beneficent Apollo saw 
 
 With his bright eyes into the sea's calm depth, 
 
 And there he saw Enallos, there he saw 
 
 Cymodameia. Gravely-gladsome light 
 
 Environed them with its eternal green : 
 
 And many nymphs sate round : one blew aloud 
 
 The spiral shell ; one drew bright chords across 
 
 Shell more expansive ; tenderly a third 
 
 With cowering lip hung o'er the flute, and stopt 
 
 At will its dulcet sob, or waked to joy ; 
 
 A fourth took up the lyre and pincht the strings. 
 
 Invisible by trembling : many rais'd 
 
 Clear voices. Thus they spent their happy hours. 
 
 I know them all ; but all with eyes downcast,
 
 58 HELLENICS. 
 
 Conscious of loving, have entreated nie 
 
 I would not utter now their names above. 
 
 Behold, among these natives of the sea 
 
 Tlicre stands but one young man : how fair ! how fond ! 
 
 Ah ! were he fond to them ! It may not be ! 
 
 Yet did they tend him morn and eve ; by night 
 
 They also watclit his slumbers : then they heard 
 
 His sighs, nor his alone ; for there were two 
 
 To whom the watch was hateful. In despair 
 
 Upward he rais'd his arms, and thus he prayed. 
 
 " Phoebus ! on the higher world alone 
 
 Showerest thou all thy blessings ? Great indeed 
 
 Hath been thy favour to me, great to her ; 
 
 But she pines inly, and calls beautiful 
 
 More than herself the Nymphs she sees around, 
 
 And asks me ' Are they not more beautiful ? ' 
 
 Be all more beautiful, be all more blest. 
 
 But not with me ! Release her from the sight ; 
 
 Restore her to a happier home, and dry 
 
 With thy pure beams, above, her bitter tears ! " 
 
 She saw him in the action of his prayer. 
 Troubled, and ran to soothe him. From the ground.
 
 ENALLOS AND CTMOBAMEIA. 59 
 
 Ere she had claspt his neclf, her feet were borne. 
 
 Pie caught her robe ; and its white radiance rose 
 
 Rapidly, all day long-, through the green sea. 
 
 Enallos loost not from that robe his grasp, 
 
 But spaun'd one ancle too. The swift ascent 
 
 Had stunn'd them into slumber, sweet, serene. 
 
 Invigorating her, nor letting loose 
 
 The lover's arm below ; albeit at last 
 
 It closed those eyes intently fixt thereon, 
 
 And stil as fixt in dreaming. Both were cast 
 
 Upon an island till'd by peaceful men 
 
 And few . . no port nor road accessible . . 
 
 Fruitful and green as the abode they left, 
 
 And warm with summer, warm with love and song. 
 
 'Tis said that some, whom most Apollo loves, 
 
 Have seen that island, guided by his light ; 
 
 And others have gone near it, but a fog 
 
 Rose up between them and the lofty rocks ; 
 
 Yet they relate they saw it quite as well, 
 
 And shepherd-boys and credulous hinds believe.
 
 (50 HELLENICS. 
 
 XII. THE DEATH OP ARTEMIDORA. 
 " Artemidora ! Gods invisible, 
 While thou art lying faint along the couch, 
 Have tied the sandal to thy slender feet 
 And stand beside thee, ready to convey 
 Thy weary steps where other rivers flow. 
 Refreshing shades will waft thy weariness 
 Away, and voices like thy own come near 
 And nearer, and solicit an embrace." 
 
 Artemidora sigh'd, and Avould have prest 
 The hand now pressing her's, but was too weak. 
 Iris stood over her dark hair unseen 
 While thus Elpenor spake. He lookt into 
 Eyes that had given light and life erewhile 
 To those above them, but now dim with tears 
 And wakefidness. Again he spake of joy 
 Eternal. At that word, that sad word, Joy, 
 Faithful and fond her bosom heav'd once more : 
 Her head fell back : and now a loud deep sob 
 Swell'd thro' the darken 'd chamber ; 'twas not hers.
 
 MENELAUS AND HELEN AT TROY. Gl 
 
 XIII. MENELAUS AND HELEN AT TROY. 
 An old attendant deprecates and intercepts his vengeance. 
 
 Men. Out of my way! Off! or mysword may smite thee, 
 Heedless of venerable age. And thou, 
 Fugitive ! stop. Stand, traitress, on that stair . . 
 Thou mountest not another, by the Gods ! 
 Now take the death thou meritest, the death 
 Zeus who presides o'er hospitality. 
 And every other god whom thou hast left. 
 And every other who abandons thee 
 In this accursed city, sends at last. 
 Turn, vilest of vile slaves ! turn, paramour 
 Of what all other women hate, of cowards. 
 Turn, lest this hand wrench back thy head, and toss 
 It and its odom-s to the dust and flames. 
 
 Helen. Welcome the death thou promisest ! Not fear 
 But shame, obedience, duty, make me turn. 
 
 Menelaus. Duty ! false harlot ! 
 
 Helen. Name too true ! severe
 
 62 HELLENICS. 
 
 Precursor to the blow that is to fall, 
 It should alone suffice for killinir me. 
 
 Menelaus. Ay, weep : be not the only one in Troy 
 Who wails not on this day . . its last . . the day 
 Thou and thy crimes darken with dead on dead. 
 
 Helen. Spare ! spare ! let the last that falls be me ! 
 There are but young and old. 
 
 Menelaus. There are but guilty 
 
 Where thou art, and the sword strikes none amiss. 
 Hearest thou not the creeping blood buzz near 
 Like flies ? or wouldst thou rather hear it hiss 
 Louder, against the flaming roofs thrown down 
 Wherewith the streets are pathless ? Ay, but vengeance 
 Springs over all ; and Nemesis and Ate 
 Drove back the flying ashes with both hands. 
 I never saw thee weep till now : and now 
 There is no pity in thy tears. The tiger 
 Leaves not her young athirst for the first milk. 
 As thou didst. Thine could scarce have claspt thy knee 
 If she had felt thee leave her. 
 
 Helen. my child ! 
 
 My only one ! thou livest : 'tis enough ;
 
 JIENELAUS AND HELEN AT TROT. 63 
 
 Hate me, abhor me, curse me . . these are duties . . 
 Call me but Mother in the shades of death ! 
 She now is twelve years old, when the bud swells 
 And the first colours of uncertain life 
 Beffin to tino-e it. 
 
 Menelaus {aside). Can she think of home ? 
 Hers once, mine yet, and sweet Hermione's ! 
 Is there one spark that cheer'd my hearth, one left, 
 For thee, my last of love ! 
 
 Scorn, righteous scorn 
 Blows it from me . . but thou mayst . . never, never. 
 Thou shalt not see her even there. The slave 
 On earth shall scorn thee, and the damn'd below. 
 
 Helen. Delay not either fate. If death is mercy, 
 Send me among the captives ; so that Zeus 
 May see his offspring led in chains away. 
 And thy hard brother, pointing with his sword 
 At the last wretch that crouches on the shore, 
 Cry, " She alone shall never sail for Greece ! " 
 
 Menelaus. Hast thou more words ? 
 
 Her voice is musical 
 As the young maids who sing to Artemis :
 
 64 IIELLENICS. 
 
 How glossy is that yellow braid my grasp 
 Seiz'd and let loose ! Ah ! can then years have past 
 Since but the children of the Gods, like them, 
 Suffer not age. 
 
 Helen ! speak honestly, 
 And thus escape my vengeance . . was it force 
 That bore thee off? 
 
 Helen. It was some evil God. 
 
 Menelaus. Helping that hated man ? 
 
 Helen, How justly hated ! 
 
 Menelaus. By thee too ? 
 
 Helen. Hath he not made thee unhappy ? 
 
 do not strike. 
 
 Menelaus. Wretch ! 
 
 Helen. Strike, but do not speak. 
 
 Menelaus. Lest thou remember me against thy will, 
 
 Helen. Lest I look up and see you wroth and sad, 
 Against my will ; ! how against my will 
 They know above, they who perhaps can pity. 
 
 Menelaus. They shall not save thee. 
 
 Helen. Then indeed they pity 
 
 Menelaus. Prepare for death.
 
 MENELAUS AND HELEN AT TROY. 65 
 
 Helen. Not from that liaiid : 'twould pain you. 
 
 Menelails. Touch not my hand. Easily dost thou drop it! 
 Helen. Easy are all things, do but thou command. 
 Menelails. Look up then. 
 
 Helen. To the hardest proof of all 
 
 I am now hidden : bid me not look up. 
 
 Menelw'/s.- She looks as when I led her on behind 
 The torch and fife, and when the blush o'ersprad 
 Her girlish face at tripping in the myrtle 
 On the first step before the wreathed gate. 
 Approach me. Fall not on thy knees. 
 
 Helen. The hand 
 
 That is to slay me, best may slay me thus. 
 I dare no longer see the light of heaven, 
 Nor thine . . alas I the Hght of heaven to me. 
 Menelails. Follow me. 
 
 She holds out both arms . . and now 
 Drops them again . . She comes . . WTiy stoppest thou ? 
 
 Helen. Menelaus ! could thy heart know mine. 
 As once it did . . for then did they converse, 
 Generous the one, the other not unworthy . . 
 Thou would St find sorrow deeper even than guilt.
 
 C6 HELLENICS. 
 
 Menelaiis. And must I lead licr by the liand again ? 
 Nought shall persuade me. Never. She draws back . . 
 The true alone and loving sob like her. 
 Come, Helen ! \^He takes her hand. 
 
 Helen. Oh ! let never Greek see this ! 
 
 Hide me from Argos, from Amyclai hide me, 
 Hide mc from all. 
 
 Menelaiis. Thy anguish is too strong 
 
 For me to strive with. 
 
 Helen. Leave it all to me. 
 
 Menel. Peace! peace! Thewind,Ihope,isfairforSparta. 
 
 XIV. CHRYSAOR. 
 Come, I beseech ye, Muses ! who, retired 
 Deep iu the shady glens by Helicon, 
 Yet know the realms of Ocean, know the laws 
 Of his wide empire, and throughout his court 
 Know every Nymph, and call them each by name ; 
 Who from your sacred mountain see afar 
 O'er earth and heaven, and hear and memorise
 
 CHRYSAOR. 67 
 
 The crimes of men and counsels of the Gods ; 
 Sing of those crimes and of those counsels, sing 
 Of Gades sever'd from the fruitful main, 
 And what befeU, and from what mighty hand, 
 Chrysaor, wielder of the golden sword. 
 'Twas when the high Olympus shook with fear, 
 Lest all his temples, all his groves, be crusht 
 By Pelion piled on Ossa : but the sire 
 Of mortals and immortals waved his arm 
 Around, and all below was wild dismay : 
 Again ; 'twas agony : again ; 'twas peace. 
 Chrysaor stil in Gades tarrying, 
 Hurl'd into ether, tinging, as it flew. 
 With sudden fire the clouds roimd Saturn's throne, 
 No pine surrendered by retreating Pan, 
 Nor ash, nor poplar pale : but swoln with pride 
 Stood towering from the citadel ; his spear 
 One hand was rested on, and one with rage 
 Shut hard, and firmly fixt against his side ; 
 His frowning visage, flusht with insolence, 
 Rais'd up obHque to heaven. " thou," he cried, 
 " Whom nations kneel to, not whom nations know, 
 
 F 2
 
 fi3 HELLENICS. 
 
 Hear me, and answer, if indeed thou canst, 
 The last appeal I deign thee or allow. 
 Tell me, and quickly, why should I adore, 
 Adored myself by millions ? why invoke. 
 Invoked with all thy attributes ? Men wrong 
 By their prostrations, prayers, and sacrifice, 
 Either the gods, their rulers, or themselves : 
 But flame and thunder fright them from the Gods ; 
 Themselves they can not, dare not, they are ours ; 
 Us, dare they, can they, us ? But triumph, Jove ! 
 Man for one moment hath engaged his lord, 
 Henceforth let merchants value him, not kiniis. 
 No ! lower thy scepter, and hear Atrobal, 
 And judge aright to whom men sacrifice. 
 ' My children,' said the sage and pious priest, 
 ' Mark there the altar ! though the fumes aspire 
 Twelve cubits ere a nostril they regale, 
 'Tis myrrh for Titans, 'tis but air for Gods.' 
 Time changes, Nature changes, I am changed ! 
 Fronting the furious luster of the sun, 
 I yielded to his piercing swift-shot beams 
 Only when quite meridian, then abased
 
 CHRYSAOR. 69 
 
 These orbits to the ground, and there survey 'd 
 My shadow : strange and horrid to relate ! 
 My very shadow almost disappear'd ! 
 Restore it, or by earth and hell I swear 
 With blood enough will I refascinate 
 The cursed incantation : thou restore, 
 And largely ; or my brethren, all combined, 
 Shall rouse thee from thy lethargies, and drive 
 Far from thy cloud-soft pillow, minion-prest, 
 Those leerino; lassitudes that follow Love." 
 
 The smile of disappointment and disdain 
 Sat sallow on his pausing lip half-closed ; 
 But, neither headlong importunity 
 Nor gibing threat of reed-propt insolence 
 Let loose the blast of vengeance : heaven shone bright. 
 And proud Chrysaor spurn'd the prostrate land. 
 But the triumphant Thunderer, now mankind 
 (Criminal mostly for enduring crimes) 
 Provoked his indignation, thus besought 
 His trident-sceptered brother, triton-borne. 
 " Neptune ! cease henceforward to repine.
 
 70 HELLENICS. 
 
 They are not cruel, no ; the Destinies 
 
 Intent upon their loom, unoccupied 
 
 With aught beyond its moody murmuring sound, 
 
 Will neither see thee weep nor hear thee sigh : 
 
 And wherefore weep, Neptune, wherefore sigh ! 
 
 Ambition ? 'tis unworthy of a God, 
 
 Unworthy of a brother ! I am Jove, 
 
 Thou Neptune : happier in uncitied realms. 
 
 In coral hall or grotto samphire-ceil 'd, 
 
 Amid the song of Nymphs and ring of shells 
 
 Thou smoothest at thy will the pliant wave 
 
 Or liftest it to heaven. I also can 
 
 Whatever best beseems me, nor for aid 
 
 Unless I loved thee, Neptune, would I call. 
 
 Though absent, thou hast heard and hast beheld 
 
 The profanation of that monstrous race, 
 
 That race of earth-born giants ; one survives ; 
 
 The rapid-footed Rhodan mountain-rear' d 
 
 Beheld the rest defeated ; stil remain 
 
 Scatter 'd throughout interminable fields, 
 
 Sandy and sultry, and each hopeless path 
 
 Choakt up with crawling briars and bristling thorns,
 
 CHRYSAOR. 71 
 
 The flinty trophies of their foul disgrace. 
 Chrysaor, wielder of the golden sword, 
 Stil hails as brethren men of stouter heart, 
 But, wise confederate, shuns Phlegrgean fields. 
 No warrior he, yet who so fond of war, 
 Unfeeling, scarce ferocious ; flattery's dupe. 
 He fancies that the gods themselves ai"e his ; 
 Impious, but most in prayer. Now re-assert 
 Thy friendship, raise thy trident, strike the rock, 
 Sever him from mankind." Then thus replied 
 The Nymph-surrounded monarch of the main. 
 
 " Empire bemoan I not, however shared, 
 Nor Fortune frail, nor stubborn Fate, accuse : 
 No ! mortals I bemoan ! when Avarice, 
 Ploughing these fruitless furrows, shall awake 
 The basking Demons and the dormant Crimes, 
 Horrible, strong, resistless, and transform 
 Meekness to Madness, Patience to Despair. 
 Wiiat is Ambition ? what but Avarice ? 
 But Avarice in richer guise array'd. 
 Stalking erect, loud-spoken, lion-mien'd. 
 Her brow uncrost by care, but deeply markt.
 
 72 HELLENICS. 
 
 And darting downward 'twixt her eyes hard-lasht 
 
 The wrinkle of command. Could ever I 
 
 So foul a fiend, so fondly too, caress ? 
 
 Judge me not harshly, judge me by my deeds." 
 
 Though seated then on Afric's further coast. 
 Yet sudden at his voice, so long unheard, 
 (For he had grieved and treasured up his grief) 
 With short kind greeting meet from every side 
 The Triton herds, and warm with melody 
 The azure concave of their curling shells. 
 Swift as an arrow, as the wind, as light, 
 He glided through the deep, and now arrived, 
 Lept from his pearly beryl-studded car. 
 Earth trembled : the retreating tide, black-brow'd. 
 Gather 'd new strength, and rushing on, assail'd 
 The promontory's base : but when the God 
 Himself, resistless Neptune, struck one blow. 
 Rent were the rocks asunder, and the sky 
 Was darken'd with their fragments ere they fell. 
 Lygeia vocal, Zantho yellow-hair'd, 
 Spio with sparkling eyes, and Beroe
 
 CHRYSAOR. 73 
 
 Demure, and sweet lone, youngest-born, 
 Of mortal race, but grown divine by song. 
 Had lie seen playing round her placid neck 
 The sunny circles, braidless and unbound, 
 ! who had call'd them boders of a storm ! 
 These, and the many sister Nereids, 
 Forgetful of their lays and of their loves. 
 All unsuspicious of the dread intent, 
 Stop suddenly their gambols, and with shrieks 
 Of terror plunge amid the closing wave ; 
 Yet, just above, one moment more appear 
 Their darken'd tresses floating in the foam. 
 Thrown prostrate on the earth, the Sacrilege 
 Rais'd up his head astounded, and accurst 
 The stars, the destinies, the gods ; his breast 
 Panted from consternation and dismay, 
 And pride untoward on himself o'erthrown. 
 From his distended nostrils issued gore 
 At intervals, with which his wiry locks. 
 Huge arms, and bulky bosom, shone beslimed : 
 And thrice he call'd his brethren, with a voice 
 More dismal than the blasts from Phlegethon
 
 74 nELLEXICS. 
 
 Below, that urge along ten-tliousand ghosts 
 Wafted loud-wailing o'er the fiery tide. 
 But answer heard he none : the men of might 
 Who gather'd round him formerly, the men 
 Whom frozen at a frown, a smile revived, 
 W^ere far : enormous mountains interposed. 
 Nor ever had the veil-hung pine out-spred 
 O'er Tethys then her wandering leafless shade ; 
 Nor could he longer under winter stars 
 Suspend the watery journey, nor repose 
 Whole nights on Ocean's billowy restless bed ; 
 No longer, bulging through the tempest, rose 
 That bulky bosom ; nor those oarlike hands. 
 Trusted ere mortal's keenest ken conceived 
 The bluest shore, threw back opposing tides. 
 Shrunken mid brutal hair his violent veins 
 Subsided, yet were hideous to behold 
 As dragons panting in the noontide brake. 
 At last, absorbing deep the breath of heaven, 
 And stifling all within his deadly grasp, 
 Struggling and tearing up the glebe to turn, 
 And from a throat that, as it throbb'd and rose.
 
 CHRYSAOR. 75 
 
 Seem'd shaking ponderous links of dusky iron, 
 Uttering one anguish-forced indignant groan, 
 Fired with infernal rage, the spirit flew. 
 
 Nations of fair Hesperia ! lo o'erthrown 
 Your peace-emhracing war-inciting king ! 
 Ah ! thrice twelve years and longer ye endured, 
 Without one effort to rise higher, one hope 
 That heaven would wing the secret shaft aright, 
 The abomination : hence 'twas Jove's command 
 That many hundred, many thousand more, 
 Freed from one despot, yet from one unfreed, 
 Ye crouch unhlest at Superstition's feet. 
 Her hath he sent among ye ; her the pest 
 Of men below and curse of Gods above : 
 Hers are the last worst tortures they inflict 
 On all who bend to any king but them. 
 Born of Sicanus in the vast abyss 
 Where never light descended, she survived 
 Her parent ; he omnipotence defied. 
 But thunderstruck fell headlong from the clouds ; 
 She, though the radiant ether ovei-power'd 
 Her eyes, accustom'd to the gloom of night.
 
 76 HELLENICS. 
 
 And quencht their lurid orbs, Religion's helm 
 Assuming, vibrated her Stygian torch, 
 Til thou, Astrtea I though behind the sire's 
 Broad cgis, trcmblcdst on thy heavenly throne. 
 
 XV. IPHIGENEIA AND AGAMEMNON. 
 Iphigeneia, when she heard her doom 
 At Aulis, and when all beside the king 
 Had gone away, took his right-hand, and said, 
 " father ! I am young and very happy. 
 I do not think the pious Calchas heard 
 Distinctly what the Goddess spake. Old-age 
 Obscures the senses. If my nurse, who knew 
 My voice so well, sometimes misunderstood 
 While I was resting on her knee both arms 
 And liitting it to make her mind my words. 
 And looking in her face, and she in mine. 
 Might not he also hear one word amiss, 
 Spoken from so far off, even from Olympus ? " 
 The father placed his cheek upon her head.
 
 IPHIGENEIA AND AGAMEMNON. 77 
 
 And tears dropt down it, but tlie king of men 
 
 Replied not. Then the maiden spake once more. 
 
 " father ! sayst thou nothing ? Hear'st thou not 
 
 Me, whom thou ever hast, until this hour, 
 
 Listen 'd to fondly, and awaken'd me 
 
 To hear my voice amid the voice of birds. 
 
 When it was inarticulate as theirs, 
 
 And the down deadened it within the nest ? " 
 
 He moved her gently from him, silent stil. 
 
 And this, and this alone, brought tears from her, 
 
 Altho' she saw fate nearer : then with sighs, 
 
 " I thought to have laid down my' hair before 
 
 Benignant Artemis, and not have dimm'd 
 
 Her polisht altar with my virgin blood ; 
 
 I thought to have selected the white flowers 
 
 To please the Nymphs, and to have askt of each 
 
 By name, and with no sorrowful regret. 
 
 Whether, since both my parents will'd the change, 
 
 I might at Hymen's feet bend my chpt brow ; 
 
 And (after these who mind us girls the most) 
 
 Adore our own Athena,* that she would 
 
 * Pallas Athena was the patroness of Argos.
 
 78 HELLENICS. 
 
 Regard me milcUy with her azure eyes. 
 
 But, father ! to see you no more, and see 
 
 Your love, father ! go ere I am gone . ." 
 
 Gently he moved her off, and drew her hack, 
 
 Bending his lofty head far over her's, 
 
 And the dark depths of nature heaved and burst. 
 
 He turn'd away ; not far, but silent stil. 
 
 She now first shudder 'd ; for in liim, so nigh, 
 
 So long a silence seem'd the approach of death. 
 
 And like it. Once again she rais'd her voice. 
 
 " father ! if the ships are now detain 'd. 
 
 And all your vows move not the Gods above, 
 
 When the knife strikes me there will be one prayer 
 
 The less to them : and purer can there be 
 
 Any, or more fervent than the daughter's prayer 
 
 For her dear father's safety and success ? " 
 
 A groan that shook him shook not his resolve. 
 
 An aged man now enter' d, and without 
 
 One word, stept slowly on, and took the wrist 
 
 Of the pale maiden. She lookt up, and saw 
 
 The fillet of the priest and calm cold eyes.
 
 THE DEATH OF CLYTEMNESTRA. 79 
 
 Then turn'd she where her parent stood, and cried 
 " father ! grieve no more : the ships can sail." 
 
 XVI. THE DEATH OF CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 ORESTES AND ELECTRA. 
 
 Electra. Pass on, my brother ! she awaits the wretch, 
 Dishonorer, despoiler, mm'derer . . . 
 None other name shall name him . . . she awaits 
 As would a lover . . 
 
 Heavenly Gods ! what poison 
 O'erflows my lips ! 
 
 Adul tress ! husband- slayer ! 
 Strike her, the tigress ! 
 
 Think upon our father . . 
 Give the sword scope . . think what a man was he, 
 How fond of her ! how kind to all about, 
 That he might gladden and teach us . . how proud 
 Of thee, Orestes ! tossing thee above 
 His joyous head and calling thee his crown. 
 Ah ! boys remember not what melts our hearts
 
 80 HELLENICS. 
 
 And marks them evermore ! 
 
 Bite not thy lip, 
 Nor tramp as an iinsteddy colt the ground, 
 Nor stare against the wall, but think again 
 How better than all fathers was our father. 
 Go . . 
 
 Orestes. Loose me then ! for this white hand, Electra, 
 Hath fastened upon mine with fiercer grasp 
 Than mine can grasp the sword. 
 
 Electra. Go, sweet Orestes ! 
 
 I knew not I was holdins; thee . . Avenge him ! 
 {Alone.) How he sprang from me !. 
 
 . . Sure, he now has reacht 
 The room before the bath . . 
 
 The bath-door creaks ! 
 . It hath creakt thus since he . . since thou, father ! 
 Ever since thou didst loosen its strong valves. 
 Either with all thy dying weight, or strength 
 Agonised with her stabs . . 
 
 What plunge was that ? 
 Ah me ! 
 
 . . What groans are those ?
 
 THE DEATH OF CLTTEMNESTRA. 81 
 
 Orestes {returning.) They sound through hell 
 
 Rejoicing the Eumenides.* 
 
 She slew 
 Our father ; she made thee the scorn of slaves ; 
 Me (son of him who ruled this land and more) 
 She made an outcast . . . 
 
 Would I had been so 
 For ever ! ere such vengeance . . . 
 
 Electra. that Zeus 
 
 Had let thy arm fall sooner at thy side 
 Without those drops ! Ust ! they are audible . . 
 For they are many . . from the sword's point falling. 
 And down from the mid blade ! 
 
 Too rash Orestes ! 
 CoiUdst thou not then have spared our wretched mother? 
 
 Orestes. The Gods could not. 
 
 Electra. She was not theirs, Orestes. 
 
 * An ancient scholiast has recorded that the name of Eumenides was 
 given to ti.ese Goddesses after the expiation of Orestes. But Catullus (called 
 the learned by his countrymen) represents Ariadne invoking them by this 
 appellation long before the Trojan war. The verses are the most majestic 
 in the Roman language. 
 
 Eumenides ! quarum anguineis redimita capillis 
 
 Frons expirantes prseportat pectoris iras, 
 
 Hue, hue adventate ! &c.
 
 82 HELLENICS. 
 
 Orestes. And didst not thou . . 
 
 Electra. 'Twas I, 'twas I, who did it ; 
 
 Of our unhapplest house the most unhappy ! 
 Under this roof, by every God accurst, 
 There is no grief, there is no guilt, but mine. 
 
 Orestes. Electra ! no ! 
 
 'Tis now my time to suffer . . 
 Mine be, with all its pangs, the righteous deed. 
 
 XVII. THE MADNESS OF ORESTES. 
 
 ORESTES AND ELECTRA. 
 
 Orestes. Heavy and murdei*ous dreams, my Electra, 
 
 Have dragged me from myself. 
 
 Is this Myeenai ? 
 
 Are we . . . are all who should be ... in our house ? 
 
 Living ? unhurt ? our father here ? our mother ? 
 
 Why that deep gasp ? for 'twas not sigh nor groan. 
 
 She then . . . 'twas she who fell ! when ? how ? beware I 
 
 No, no, speak out at once, that my full heart 
 
 May meet it, and may share with thee in all . . 
 In all . . . but that one thinn:.
 
 THE MADNESS OF ORESTES. 83 
 
 It was a dream. 
 We may share all. 
 
 They live ? both Hve ? 
 
 say it ! 
 
 Electra. The Gods have placed them from us, and 
 there rolls 
 Between us that dark river . . . 
 
 Orestes. Blood ! blood ! blood ! 
 
 1 see it roll ; I see the hand above it, 
 Imploring ; I see her. 
 
 Hiss me not back, 
 Ye snake-hair 'd maids ! I will look on ; I will 
 Hear the words gurgle thro' that cursed stream, 
 And catch that hand . . that hand . . which slew my father! 
 It can not be .... how could it slay my father ? 
 Death to the slave who spoke it ! . . . slay my father ! 
 It tost me up to him to earn a smile, 
 And was a smile then such a precious boon, 
 And royal state and proud affection nothing ? 
 Ay, and thee too, Electra, she once taught 
 To take the sceptre from him at the door . . 
 
 g2
 
 84 HELLENICS. 
 
 Not the bath-door, not the bath-door, mind that ! . . 
 And place it in the vestibule, against 
 The spear of Pallas, where it used to stand. 
 Where is it now ? methinks I missed it there. 
 How we have trembled to be seen to move it ! 
 Both looking up, lest that stern face should frown 
 Which always gazed on Zeus right opposite. 
 ! could but one tear more fall from my eyes, 
 It would shake off those horrid visages 
 And melt them into air. 
 
 I am not yours. 
 Fell Goddesses ! A just and generous Power, 
 A bright-hair 'd God, directed me. 
 
 And thus 
 Abased is he whom such a God inspired ! 
 
 [After a pause.) 
 Into whose kingdom went they ? did they go 
 Together ? 
 
 Electra. Oh ! they were not long apart. 
 
 Orestes,. I know why thou art pale ; I know whose head 
 Thy flower-like hands have garlanded ; I know
 
 THE MADNESS OF ORESTES. 85 
 
 For whom thou hast unhraided all thy love. 
 He well deserves it .... he shall have it all. 
 Glory and love shall crown thee, my brave sister ! 
 Electra. I am not she of Sparta. Let me live 
 (If live I must, Orestes !) not unnamed 
 Nor named too often. Speak no more of love, 
 Ill-omen 'd and opprobrious in this house . . 
 A mother should have had, a father had it, 
 
 may a brother let it dwell with him. 
 Unchangeable, unquestioned, solitary, 
 Strengthened and hallowed in the depths of grief ! 
 Gaze not so angrily . . I dare not see thee, 
 
 1 dare not look where comfort should be found. 
 
 Orestes. I dare and do behold them all day long, 
 And, were that face away so like my mother's, 
 I would advance and question and compell them . . 
 They hear me and they know it. 
 
 Electra. Hear me too, 
 
 Ye mighty ones ! to me invisible ! 
 And spare him ! spare him ! for without the Gods 
 He wrought not what he wrought : And are not ye 
 Partakers of their counsels and their power ?
 
 36 HELLENICS. 
 
 spare the son of him whom ye and they 
 Sent against Ilion, to perform your will 
 And bid the rulers of the earth be just. 
 
 Orestes. And dare they frighten thee too? frighten thee? 
 And bend thee into prayer ? 
 
 Off, hateful eyes ! 
 Look upon me, not her. 
 
 Ay, thus ; 'tis well. 
 Cheer, cheer thee, my Electra ! 
 
 I am strong, 
 Stronger than ever . . steel, fire, adamant . . 
 But can not bear thy brow upon my neck, 
 Can not bear these wild writhings, these loud sobs. 
 By all the Gods ! I think thou art half-mad . . . 
 
 1 must away . . follow me not . . stand there ! 
 
 XVIII. THE PRAYER OF ORESTES. 
 
 Orestes. king Apollo ! God Apollo ! God 
 Powerful to smite and powerful to preserve ! 
 If there is blood upon me, as there seems,
 
 TIIE PRAYER OF ORESTES. 37 
 
 Purify that black stain (thou only canst) 
 
 With every rill that bubbles from these caves 
 
 Audibly ; and come willing to the work. 
 
 No ; 'tis not they ; 'tis blood ; 'tis blood again 
 
 That bubbles in my ear, that shakes the shades 
 
 Of thy dark groves, and lets in hateful gleams. 
 
 Bringing me . . what dread sight I what sounds abhorr'd ! 
 
 What screams ! They are my mother's : 'tis her eye 
 
 That through the snakes of those three furies glares. 
 
 And makes them hold their peace that she may speak. 
 
 Has thy voice bidden them all forth ? There slink 
 
 Some that would liide away, but must turn back. 
 
 And others like blue lightnings bound along 
 
 From rock to rock ; and many hiss at me 
 
 As they draw nearer. Earth, fire, water, all 
 
 Abominate the deed the Gods commanded ! 
 
 Alas ! I come to pray, not to complain ; 
 
 And lo ! my speech is impious as my deed ! 
 
 PRIESTESS OF APOLLO. 
 
 Take refuge here amid our Delphian shades, 
 troubled breast !
 
 88 HELLENICS. 
 
 Here the most pious of Mjccnai's maids 
 
 Shall watch thy rest 
 And wave the cooling laurel o'er thy brow, 
 
 Nor insect swarm 
 Shall ever break thy slumbers, nor shalt thou 
 
 Start at the alarm 
 Of boys infesting (as they do) the street 
 
 With mocking songs, 
 Stopping and importuning all they meet, 
 
 And heaping wrongs 
 Upon thy diadem'd and sacred head, 
 
 Worse than when base 
 ffigisthus (shudder not I) his toils outspred 
 
 Around thy race. 
 Altho' even in this fane the fitful blast 
 
 Thou may'st hear roar, 
 Thy name among our highest rocks shall last 
 
 For evermore. 
 
 Orestes. A calm comes over me : life brings it not 
 With any of its tides : my end is near. 
 Priestess of the purifying God
 
 THE SHADES OF AGAMEMNON AND IPHIGENEIA. 89 
 
 Receive her ! * aud when she hath closed mine eyes, 
 Do thou (weep not, my father's child !) close hers. 
 
 XIX. THE SHADES OF AGAMEMNON AND OF 
 IPHIGENEIA. 
 
 IpMyeneia. Father ! I now may lean upon your hreast, 
 And you with unreverted eyes will grasp 
 Iphigeneia's hand. 
 
 We are not shades 
 Surely ! for yours throbs yet. 
 
 Aud did my blood 
 Win Troy for Greece ? 
 
 Ah ! 'twas ill done to shrink, 
 
 But the sword gleam'd so sharp, and the good priest 
 Trembled, and Pallas frown'd above, severe. 
 
 Agamemnon. Daughter ! 
 
 Iphigeneia. Beloved father ! is the blade 
 Again to pierce my bosom ? 'tis unfit 
 For sacrifice ; no blood is in its veins ; 
 
 * Pointing to his =ister.
 
 .'»0 HELLENICS. 
 
 No God requires it Iicrc ; here are no wrongs 
 
 To vindicate, no realms to overthrow. 
 
 You are standing as at Aiilis in the fane, 
 
 With face averted, holding (as before) 
 
 Mj hand ; but yours burns not, as then it burn'd ; 
 
 This alone shows that we are with the Blest, 
 
 Nor subject to the sufferings we have borne. 
 
 I will win back past kindness. 
 
 Tell me then, 
 Tell how my mother fares who loved me so, 
 And griev'd, as 'twere for you, to see me part. 
 Frown not, but pardon me for tarrying 
 Amid too idle words, nor asking how 
 She prais'dus both (which most ?) for what we did, 
 
 Agam. Ye Gods who govern here ! do human pangs 
 Reach the pure soul thus far below ? do tears 
 Spring in these meadows ? 
 
 Iphigeneia. No, sweet father, no . . 
 
 I could have answered that ; why ask the Gods ? 
 
 Agamemnon. Iphigeneia ! my child ! the Earth 
 Has gendered crimes unheard-of heretofore, 
 And Nature may have changed in her last depths,
 
 THE SHADES OF AGAMEMNON AND IPHIGENEIA. 91 
 
 Together with the Gods and all their laws. 
 
 Iph. Father ! we must not let you here condemn ; 
 Not, were the day less joyful : recollect 
 We have no wicked here ; no king to judge. 
 Poseidon, we have heard, with bitter rage 
 Lashes his foaming steeds against the skies. 
 And, laughing with loud yell at winged fire 
 Innoxious to his fields and palaces. 
 Affrights the eagle from the sceptred hand ; 
 While Pluto, gentlest brother of the three 
 And happiest in obedience, views sedate 
 His tranquil realm, nor envies theirs above. 
 No change have we, not even day for night 
 Nor spring for summer. 
 
 All things are serene, 
 Serene too be your spirit ! None on earth 
 Ever was half so kindly in his house, 
 And so compliant, even to a child. 
 Never was snatcht your robe away from me. 
 Though going to the council. The blind man 
 Knew his good king was leading him indoors 
 Before he heard the voice that marshall'd Greece.
 
 .02 HELLENICS. 
 
 Therefore all prais'd you. 
 
 Proudest men themselves 
 In others praise humility, and most 
 Admire it in the scepter and the sword. 
 Wliat then can make you speak thus rapidly 
 And briefly ? in your step thus hesitate ? 
 Are you afraid to meet among the good 
 Incestuous Helen here ? 
 
 Agamemnon. ! Gods of IIcll ! 
 
 Ijj/iigeneia. She hath not past the river. 
 
 We may walk 
 With our hands linkt nor feel our house's shame. 
 
 Agamemnon. Never mayst thou, Iphigeneia, feci it ! 
 Aulis had no sharp sword, thou wouldst exclaim, 
 Greece no avenger . . I, her chief so late, 
 Through Erebos, through Elysium, writhe beneath it. 
 
 IpMgeneia. Come, I have better diadems than those 
 Of Argos and Mycenai : come away. 
 And I Avill Aveave them for you on the bank. 
 You Avill not look so pale when you have walkt 
 A little in the grove, and have told all 
 Those sweet fond words the widow sent her child.
 
 THE SHADES OF AGAMEMNON AND IPHIGENEIA. 93 
 
 Agamemnon. Earth! I suifered less upon thy shores ! 
 {Aside.) The bath that bubbled with my blood, the blows 
 That spilt it (0 worse torture !) must she know ? 
 Ah ! the first woman coming from Mycenai 
 Will pine to pour this poison in her ear. 
 Taunting sad Charon for his slow advance. 
 Iphigeneia ! 
 
 Iphigeneia. Why thus turn away ? 
 Calling me with such fondness ! I am here, 
 Father ! and where you are, wiU ever be. 
 
 Agam. Thou art my child; yes, yes, thou art my child. 
 All was not once what all now is ! Come on. 
 Idol of love and truth ! my child ! my child ! 
 [Alone.) Fell woman ! ever false ! false was thy last 
 Denunciation, as thy bridal vow ; 
 And yet even that found faith with me ! The dirk 
 Which sever'd flesh from flesh, where this hand rests. 
 Severs not, as thou boastedst in thy scofi's, 
 Iphigeneia's love from Agamemnon : 
 The wife 's a spark may light, a straw consume. 
 The daughter's not her heart's whole fount hath quencht, 
 Tis worthy of the Gods, and Uves for ever.
 
 94 HELLENICS. 
 
 IpMgeneia. What spake my father to the Gods above 
 
 Unworthy am I then to join in prayer? 
 
 If, on the last, or any day before, 
 
 Of my brief course on earth, I did amiss. 
 
 Say it at once, and let me be unblcst ; 
 
 But, my faultless father ! why should you ? 
 
 And shun so my embraces ? 
 
 Am I wild 
 
 And wandering in my fondness ! 
 
 We are shades ! 
 
 Groan not thus deeply ; blight not thus the season 
 
 Of full-orb 'd gladness ! Shades we are indeed, 
 
 But mingled, let us eel it, with the blest. 
 
 I knew it, but forgot it suddenly, 
 
 Altho' I felt it all at your approach. 
 
 Look on me ; smile with me at my illusion . . 
 
 You are so like what you have ever been 
 
 (Except in sorrow I) I might well forget 
 
 I could not win you as I used to do. 
 
 It was the first embrace since my descent 
 
 I ever aim'd at : those who love me live. 
 
 Save one, who loves me most, and now would chide nie.
 
 THE SHADES OF AGAMEMNON AND IPHIGENEIA. 95 
 
 Agamemnon. We want not, Iphlgenela, we 
 Want not embrace, nor kiss that cools the heart 
 With purity, nor words that more and more 
 Teach what we know from those we know, and sink 
 Often most deeply where they fall most light. 
 Time was when for the faintest breath of thine 
 Kingdom and life were little. 
 
 Iphigeneia. Value them 
 
 As little now. 
 
 Agamemnon. Were life and kingdom all ! 
 
 Iph. Ah ! by our death many are sad who loved us. 
 The little fond Electra, and Orestes 
 So childish and so bold ! that mad boy ! 
 They will be happy too. 
 
 Cheer ! king of men ! 
 Cheer ! there are voices, songs. . Cheer! arms advance. 
 
 Agam. Come to mc, soul of peace ! These,these alone. 
 These are not false embraces. 
 
 Iphigeneia. Both are happy ! 
 
 Agamemnon. Freshness breathes round me from some 
 breeze above. 
 What are ye, winged ones ! with golden urns ?
 
 yC HELLENICS. 
 
 Tlie Hours, descending. 
 
 The Hours. To each an urn we bring. 
 Earth's purest gold 
 Alone can hold 
 The lymph of the Lethean spring. 
 We, son of Atreus ! we divide 
 The dulcet from the bitter tide 
 
 That runs athwart the paths of men. 
 No more our pinions shalt thou see. 
 Take comfort ! We have done with thee, 
 And must away to earth again. 
 
 (.Ascending.) 
 
 Where thou art, thou 
 
 Of braided brow. 
 Thou cull'd too soon from Argive bow'rs, 
 Where thy sweet voice is heard among 
 The shades that thrill with choral song, 
 None can regret the parted Hours.
 
 THE SHADES OF AGAMEMNON AND IPHIGENEIA. 97 
 
 Chorus of Argives. 
 Maiden ! be thou the spirit that breathes 
 
 Triumph and joy into our song ! 
 Wear and bestow these amaranth-wreaths, 
 
 Iphigeneia ! they belong 
 To none but thee and her who reigns 
 (Less chaunted) on our bosky plains. 
 
 SemicJiofUs. 
 Iphigeneia ! 'tis to thee 
 Glory we owe and victory. 
 Clash, men of Argos, clash your arms 
 To martial worth and virgin charms. 
 
 Other Semichorus. 
 Ye men of Arc;os ! it was sweet 
 To roll the fruits of conquest at the feet 
 Whose whispering sound made bravest hearts beat fast 
 This we have known at home, 
 But hither we are come 
 To crown the king who ruled us first and last. 
 
 H
 
 98 HELLENICS. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Father of Argos ! king of men ! 
 
 We chaunt the hymn of praise to thee. 
 
 In serried ranks we stand again, 
 
 Our glory safe, our country free. 
 
 Clash, clash the arms we bravely bore 
 
 Aeainst Scamander's God-defended shore. 
 
 Semichorus. 
 
 Blessed art thou who hast repell'd 
 Battle's wild fury, Ocean's whelming foam ; 
 
 Blessed o'er all, to have beheld 
 Wife, children, house avenged, and peaceful home ! 
 
 Other Semichorus. 
 We too, thou seest, are now 
 Among the happy, though the aged brow 
 From sorrow for us we could not protect. 
 Nor, on the polisht granite of the well 
 Folding our arms, of spoils and perils tell, 
 Nor lift the vase on the lov'd head erect.
 
 THE SHADES OF AGAMEMNON AND IPHIGENEIA. 99 
 
 Semichorus. 
 What whirling wheels are those behind ? 
 What plumes come flaring through the wind, 
 Nearer and nearer ? From his car 
 He who defied the heaven-horn Powers of war 
 Pelides springs : Dust, dust are we 
 To him, king, who bends the knee, 
 Proud only to be first in reverent praise of thee. 
 
 Other Semichorus. 
 Clash, clash the arms ! None other race 
 Shall see such heroes face to face. 
 We too have fought ; and they have seen 
 Nor sea-sand grey nor meadow green 
 Where Dardans stood against their men . . 
 Clash ! lo Paean ! clash again ! 
 Repinings for lost days repress . . 
 The flames of Troy had cheer 'd us less. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Hark ! from afar more war-steeds neigh, 
 
 H 2
 
 100 HELLENICS. 
 
 Thousands o'er thousands rush this way. 
 Ajax is yonder ! ay, behold 
 The radiant arms of Lycian gold ! 
 Arms from admiring valour won, 
 Tydeus ! and worthy of thy son. 
 'Tis Ajax wears them now ; for he 
 Rules over Adria's stormy sea. 
 
 He threw them to the friend who lost 
 (By the dim judgment of the host) 
 Those wet with tears which Thetis gave 
 The youth most beauteous of the brave. 
 In vain ! the insatiate soul would go 
 For comfort to his peers below. 
 Clash ! ere we leave them all the plain, 
 Clash ! lo Pajan ! once again !
 
 CUPID AND PAX. 101 
 
 XX. CUPID AND PAN. 
 Cupid saw Pan stretcht at full length asleep. 
 He snatclit the goatskin from the half-covered limbs, 
 And, now in this place now in that twitcht up 
 A stiff curv'd hair : meanwhile the slumberer 
 Blew from his ruddy breast all care about 
 His flock, all care about the snow, that hung 
 Only where creviced rocks rose bleak and high, 
 And felt . . what any cork-tree's bark may feel. 
 His hemlock pipe lay underneath his neck : 
 But even this the wicked boy stole out, 
 And unperceived . . save that he twinkled once 
 His hard sharp ear, and laid it down again. 
 " Jupiter ! is there any God" said Love, 
 " Sluggish as this prick-ear one ! verily 
 Not thy own wife could stir or waken him." 
 
 Between his rosy lips he laid the pipe 
 And blew it shrilly : that loud sound did wake 
 The sleeper : up sprang then two ears at ouce 
 Above the grass ; up sprang the wrathful God 
 And shook the ground beneath him with his leap.
 
 102 
 
 HELLENICS 
 
 But quite as quickly and much higher sprang 
 The audacious boy, deriding him outright. 
 " Down with those arrows, wicked imp ! that bow, 
 Down with it ; then what canst thou do ? " 
 
 " What then, 
 Pan, 1 can do, soon shalt thou see . . There ! there ! " 
 
 He spake, and threw them at Pan's feet : the bow, 
 The golden bow, sprang up again, and flowers 
 Cradled the quiver as it struck the earth. 
 " 'Twould shame me." 
 
 " In my conflicts shame is none, 
 Even for the vanquisht : check but wrath : come on : 
 Come, modest one ! close with me, hand to hand." 
 
 Pan rolled his yellow eyes, and suddenly 
 Snatcht (as a fowler with his net, who fears 
 To spoil the feathers of some rarer bird) 
 Love's slender arm, taunting and teasing him 
 Nearer and nearer. Then, if ne'er before, 
 The ruddy color left his face ; 'tis said 
 He trembled too, like one whom sudden flakes 
 Of snow have fallen on, amidst a game 
 Of quoits or ball in a warm day of spring.
 
 CUPID AND PAN. 103 
 
 " Go ! 0-0 ! " the Arcadian cried " and learn respect 
 To betters, at due distance, and hold back 
 Big words, that suit such littleness but ill. 
 Why, anyone (unless thou wert a God) 
 Would swear thou hast not yet seen thrice five years, 
 And yet thou urgest . . nay, thou challengest 
 Me, even me, quiet, and half-asleep. 
 Off! or beware the willow-twig, thy due." 
 
 Now shame and anger seized upon the boy ; 
 He raised his stature, and he aim'd a blow 
 Wliere the broad hairy breast stood quite exposed 
 Without the goatskin, swifter than the bird 
 Of Jove^i or than the lightning he has borne. 
 Wary was the Arcadian, and he caught 
 The coming fist : it burnt as burns the fire 
 Upon the altar. The wise elder loost 
 His hold, and blew upon his open palm 
 From rounded cheeks a long thin breath, and then 
 Tried to encompass with both arms the neck 
 And waist of the boy God : with tremulous pulse 
 He fain would twist his hard long leg between 
 The smoother, and trip up, if trip he might.
 
 '04 HELLENICS. 
 
 The tenderer foot, and fit and fit ao-ain 
 The uncertain and insatiate grasp upon 
 A yielding marble, dazzling eye and brain. 
 He could not wish the battle at an end, 
 No, not to conquer ; such was the delight ; 
 But glory, ah deceitful glory, seized 
 (Or somewhat did) one born not to obey. 
 When Love, unequal to such strength, had nigh 
 Succumbed, he made one effort more, and caucht 
 The horn above him : he from Aready 
 Laugh t as he tost him up on high : nor then 
 Forgot the child his cunning. While the foe 
 Was crying " Yield thee," and was running o'er 
 The provinces of conquest, now with one 
 Now with the other hand, their pleasant change. 
 Losing and then recovering what they lost. 
 Love from his wing drew one short feather forth 
 And smote the eyes devouring him. Then rang 
 The rivers and deep lakes, and groves and vales 
 Throughout their windings. Ladon heard the roar 
 And broke into the marsh : Alphiius heard 
 Stymphalos, Masnalos (Pan's far-off home).
 
 CUPID AND PAN. 105 
 
 Cyllene, Pholoe, Parthenos, who stared 
 
 On Tegea's and Lycseosis affright. 
 
 The winged horse who, no long while before, 
 
 Was seen upon Parnassus, bold and proud, 
 
 Is said (it may be true, it may be false) 
 
 To have slunk down before that cry of Pan, 
 
 And to have run into a shady cave 
 
 With broken spirit, and there lain for years, 
 
 Nor once have shaken the Castilian rill 
 
 With neigh, or ruffling of that mighty mane. 
 
 " Hail, conqueror ! " cried out Love : but Pan cried out 
 
 Sadder, " Ah never shall I see again 
 
 My woodland realm ! ah never more behold 
 
 The melting snow borne down and rolled along 
 
 The whirling brook ; nor river full and large, 
 
 Nor smooth and purple pebble in the ford, 
 
 Nor white round cloud that rolls o'er vernal sky, 
 
 Nor the mild fire that Hesper lights for us 
 
 To sing by, when the sun is gone to rest. 
 
 Woe ! woe ! the bhnd have but one place on earth. 
 
 And blind am I . . blind, wander where I may ! 
 
 Spare me ! now spare me, Cupid ! 'Twas not I
 
 106 HELLENICS. 
 
 Began the contest ; 'tis not meet for me 
 
 First to ask peace ; peace, peace is all I ask ; 
 
 Victory well may grant tliis only boon." 
 
 Then held he out his hand ; but knowing not 
 
 AVliether he held it opposite his foe, 
 
 Huge tears ran down both cheeks. Love grew more mild 
 
 At seeing this, and said . . 
 
 " Cheer up ! behold 
 A remedy ; upon one pact applied, 
 That thou remove not this light monument 
 Of my success, but leave it there for me." 
 
 Amaranth was the flower he chose the first ; 
 'Twas brittle and dropt broken ; one white rose 
 (All roses then were white) he softly prest ; 
 Narcissusses and violets took their turn. 
 And lofty open-hearted lilies"their's, 
 And lesser ones with modest heads just rais'd 
 Above the turf, shaking alternate bells. 
 The slenderest of all myrtle twigs held these 
 Together, and across both eyes confined. 
 Smart was the pain they gave him, first applied : 
 He stampt, he groan'd, he bared his teeth, and heaved
 
 CUPID AXD PAX. 107 
 
 To nostril the broad ridges of his lip. 
 After a while, however, he was heard 
 To sinff aa;ain ; and better rested he 
 Among the strawberries, whose fragrant leaf 
 Deceives with ruddy hue the searching sight 
 In its late season : he grew brave enough 
 To trill in easy song the pliant names 
 Of half the Dryads ; proud enough to deck 
 His beauty out . . down went at last the band- 
 Renewed were then his sorrow and his shame. 
 He hied to Paphos : he must now implore 
 Again his proud subduer. At the gate 
 Stood Venus, and spake thus. 
 
 " Why hast thou torn 
 Our gifts away ? No gentle chastisement 
 Awaits thee now. The bands my son imposed. 
 He would in time, his own good time, remove. 
 goat-foot ! he who dares despise our gifts 
 Rues it at last. Soon, soon another * wreath 
 Shall bind thy brow, and no such flowers be there." 
 
 * After the death of Pitys he wore the pine.
 
 108 HELLENICS. 
 
 XXI. THE ATTAR OF MODESTY. 
 Where turns the traveler from Sparta's gate 
 And looks toward Elisis old citadel, 
 Where the first ford runs with white rill across, 
 Close by Eurotas was an altar rais'd 
 To Modesty. 'Twas hither Leda brought 
 Helen, whom Theseus lately bore away. 
 And thus reproved her, where none heard beside. 
 " daughter ! how couldst thou have left thy home, 
 Thy parents, thy twin-brothers, bright as stars ? 
 With what persuasion could have toucht thy heart 
 That Theseus ? Surely neither bland nor chaste, 
 Nor even young. Me one more great allured 
 Among the swans, in semblance of a swan ; 
 Then did that cruel petulant deride. 
 And more derided he the more I blusht ; 
 Whom when I chidcd, he assumed a tone 
 Of grief, and whined and muttered Ah poor thing I 
 Sad work with Leda ! How ashamed was I ! 
 Once I was passing by the wrestler's ring . . 
 Not very near . . he slanted out his lips
 
 THE ALTAR OF MODESTY. 109 
 
 Into a beak-like form ; another time 
 
 He made short twitters from a hollow reed ; 
 
 Another, down his shoulders he drew wings 
 
 And shook (the wretch !) as any swan might shake. 
 
 Bad ! but how bad grant Heaven thou hast not known ! 
 
 Come ; here the place is proper ; tell me all." 
 
 Then Helen , . yet some sighs she first breath 'd forth . . 
 
 " If the false guest who ran away with me 
 
 Was very bad, Pirithous was worse ; 
 
 For he had talkt and sung of me before, 
 
 And rais'd me over all our Spartan maids, 
 
 And, wild with rapture, shown me to his friend. 
 
 ! I wiU never dance again near him 
 
 To celebrate Diana's festival." 
 
 " Talk to me now of Theseus, and none else," 
 
 Said Leda. She obeyed, and thus went on. 
 
 " Praising the joyous life in Cecrops-land, 
 
 And brides and maidens with gold grasshoppers 
 
 Among their hair embraided, he preferr'd 
 
 The simple hair of Helen over gold. 
 
 The men are brave at Athens, brave are they 
 
 But gentle too : Pallas, however stern,
 
 no UELLEXICS. 
 
 On them looks never sternly ; and each Grace 
 Chastens their little faults and smiles them down. 
 Then there are harps and dances that shake off 
 The olives their white blossom ; then are there 
 Theatricals all autumn, taught by him 
 Who conquered India, and whose sole command 
 Was that all mortals upon earth be blest. 
 Theseus said he was wretched ; and his voice 
 Proved it . . he pled for pardon ; as 'twere he 
 Who did the harm ; as 'twere a crime to grieve. 
 I was not very cruel, I confess ; 
 Enough to seem a little so ; enough 
 To look unpltying of his sighs and prayers. 
 Then said I, ' Who would ever try the flame 
 Of love, when under friendship's cooler shade 
 He might repose, and there hear all commend 
 Himself, and one whose courage fixt his choice 
 To run with, ride, swim, wrestle, and converse. 
 There is Pirithdus now , . young, ardent, prompt 
 At anything with you : him you may make 
 Your very counterpart . . more apt than I 
 For arms, and more compliant to your will.
 
 THE ALTAR OF MODESTY. Ill 
 
 Such was that youth in beauty who was borne 
 
 From Ida by the tawny bird of Jove, 
 
 Such he who perisht by Apollo's quoit. 
 
 But never can you hope for praise with me. 
 
 Never to conquer or compose my fears 
 
 Then he. ' Not always, Helen, is the ear 
 
 Inclined to praise ; not always is the breast 
 
 Vacant to friendship. Often have the maids 
 
 Of Sparta turn'd this friendship into blame. 
 
 Soon in Pandion's city shalt thou see 
 
 How warm the lover when so warm the friend.' 
 
 ' But they do say, Theseus, they do say, 
 
 That you once left behind you in that ile 
 
 Famed for its hundred cities, one you loved. ' 
 
 And now, sweet mother, hear his own reply 
 
 In refutation of that ill report. 
 
 We know how cruel Minos is, we know 
 
 The law imposed on Athens he subdued. 
 
 Theseusis mother would have sent him here 
 
 To free him from that law; but uncompel'd 
 
 Sailed Theseus to Jove's birth-place ; there he slew 
 
 The monster : Ariadne gave the thread
 
 112 HELLENICS. 
 
 That guided him : ho show'd no perfidy 
 
 To Ariadne, but his heart was doom'd 
 
 For Helen : yes, his last and only care 
 
 Should Helen be : by all the Gods above. 
 
 Ever propitious to him, she alone 
 
 The man, who won so many, should possess, 
 
 And marble house, and hills of honeycombs. 
 
 Ah mother ! Avhy say more ? My cunning nurse, 
 
 Who knows the whole, hath surely told you all ; 
 
 For when I lay disrobed along the couch. 
 
 One knee thrown over it, that creature stoopt 
 
 Peering (she trod on my loose hair) then spat, 
 
 And turn'd away, and claspt her hands and cried, 
 
 ' Jupiter ! thou hast saved thine own from shame ! 
 
 A miracle ! a miracle ! beyond 
 
 All miracles ! The madman ! Hero he ? 
 
 He kill the Minotaur. I well believe 
 
 He left the virgin upon Dia's shore ; 
 
 What could he else ? Descenerate aQ;e ! to rear 
 
 No better man than Hercules and him !' " 
 
 The scornful speech of that old crone, retold, 
 Gladdened the heart of Leda, and sweet tears
 
 THE ALTAR OF MODEST?. li; 
 
 Fell from her eyes as the dense cloud dissolved. 
 
 " And now" said she " since all turns out less ill 
 
 Than might have happened, learn how better far. 
 
 While thou wert absent, fared a wiser maid. 
 
 The sacred torch in order due was borne 
 
 Before Ulysses and Penelope. 
 
 Icarius, tho' their love he had approved 
 
 And call'd his daughter's chosen from his home, 
 
 Tho' above all men prudent, and expert 
 
 In war by sea and land, and tho' his ile 
 
 Rose up securely from the rocks and waves, 
 
 Icarius felt how sad and sorrowful 
 
 Is the departure of a child we love. 
 
 \Miile those of his own age were seated by, 
 
 The feast was well enough : 'twas not amiss 
 
 To Hnk the present and the past with flowers 
 
 And cool the brow with ivy : then came sleep 
 
 With mild and genial influence over him. 
 
 But in the morning, when he sees the wreaths 
 
 Hang hmber round the cups and from the doors, 
 
 And when he hears the neighing of the steeds 
 
 That shake them, and remarks the servants run
 
 114 HELLENICS. 
 
 Hither and thither, grief (til then remote) 
 Strikes on his temples, and his ears sob loud, 
 And his knees, tottering under him, give way." 
 " How piteous, poor Icarius ! " Helen cried, 
 " How cruel was Ulysses ! " 
 
 " One alone 
 Is cruder," said Leda, " she who leaves 
 The fondest parent for a stranger's arms ; 
 And but one parent wretcheder than he . . 
 The parent of that daughter." Then she askt 
 Why Helen fled : but Helen turn'd aside 
 The question, and " Heaven grant Penelope 
 May be a blessing to her father yet I " 
 At this ambiguous wish did Leda smile. 
 And with one finger pat that pretty face. 
 And draw the chin from forth the neck it prest. 
 Helen then, looking round her, gravely said, 
 " I will confess the whole, for I perceive 
 You have no mind to ask me such odd things 
 As that old woman did ; she must be crazed. 
 Unless she took me for a lion's cub 
 Would she have whispered, ' didst thou bite the wretch ? '
 
 THE ALTAR OF MODESTY. 115 
 
 Then nods and winks, and winks and nods again, 
 Words without meaning, meaning without words. 
 Such manners, my sweet mother, may hecome 
 Poor sister Clytemnsestra, never me : 
 Never, when any hurt me, did I bite 
 Or scratch ; I only trembled as, when all 
 The strings of harp or lyre are swept at once. 
 Water runs trembling to the vase's rim." 
 Leda had listened with her cheek prest down 
 Against the turf, dreading to lift her eyes, 
 And nipt unconsciously the tough grass-blades. 
 " He did not hurt thee then ? " said she. 
 
 " Nor wish 
 To hurt me," said the maiden ; " that he swore ; 
 Nay, he protected me with arms and breast." 
 " Gods ! Goddesses ! " cried Leda, " what a tale, 
 wretched one, is this ! go on, go on, 
 Extine;uish fear Avith anguish . . tell the whole. 
 Not even the modest are from blame exempt. 
 But thine, how great is thine ! If harsh and stern 
 Thy sister Clytemuaestra would rebuke 
 The audacious boys, and swell against their games,
 
 116 HELLENICS. 
 
 Thou wouldst hear all they said and turn again, 
 And ask them what they meant ; when they had said, 
 Make them repeat it, and repeat the worst 
 Thyself, and toss it back to them, and laugh. 
 Something of sad there may be and severe 
 In modesty at times, but there is power 
 To quell it, and the brow whereon it hung 
 Shows that serenity which shines from heaven." 
 Urged to confess, the daughter thus went on : 
 " A grove there is, not very far away. 
 But hidden from us by the town and hill, 
 A guUey runs aside it, which the rains 
 May fill in winter, but in sxunmer-time 
 Its course is dark with moss and crumbling mould. 
 The winds had thrown a rough old tree across 
 Whose bark and branches form'd an easy road. 
 He saw it, Theseus did, and lept (and made 
 Me leap too) from the car : he seated me 
 Upon the grass : afraid that I might fear. 
 He tried my bosom Avith such patient hand 
 And took such gentle care of me, lest damp 
 (The herbs were very damp there) or a stone
 
 THE ALTAR OF MODESTY, 117 
 
 Or broken stick should hurt me ". . 
 
 Leda's breath 
 Wafted more quickly now her daughter's hair 
 Across the shoulder. " Nemesis will come 
 Unless thou truly, fully, dost relate • 
 This horrid story." 
 
 " To repeat the whole 
 Is difficult . . the way, the wood . . beside 
 The seizure, the recovery . . these disturb 
 My memory ; then my brothers, and their steeds, 
 Shaking the harness that creakt thick with brass. 
 Angry was Theseus . . gentle just before . . 
 Rein'd in the horses, bounded from the car, 
 And call'd down curses on his luckless head, 
 First to himself, then louder . . bade me go . . 
 Bade me stop where I was. Now other steeds 
 Advancing, 
 
 " ' Hush ! ' he whispered ' Not a word ! * 
 The coursers of the Twins aside of his 
 Rear'd (puU'd up fiercely close to us) and chafed 
 The foaming bits. Javelins are level'd ! ' Stop ! 
 Stop, robber ! we have arms, and thou hast none.'
 
 118 HELLENICS. 
 
 Then lay they hands upon him, swift as stars 
 
 That swell and struggle with a running stream. 
 
 Their hands with open hand he turn'd aside, 
 
 And ' Boys ! what would ye ? Think ye me afraid 
 
 Of javelin ? I respect your tender age, 
 
 Your parent's more advanced one I revere. 
 
 Take back your sister in her purity ; 
 
 I know by signs and tokens, to ray vows 
 
 Heaven is averse.' He paus'd, and they abstain'd. 
 
 Then, rolling here and there his restless eyes, 
 
 ' And must the youthful Menelaiis wed 
 
 Affianced Helen ? Beardless boys attract 
 
 Wan withering age : but firmer manhood best 
 
 Pleases the tenderer and more feeling maid ; 
 
 Theseus might Helen. Why should fortune thwart ? 
 
 Why should not Menelaiis take for bride 
 
 Tall Clytemnsestra ? fair enough, and more 
 
 Befitting that wild Argos, that coarse man.' 
 
 Then said he, with wet cheek, 
 
 " ' Prometheus ! bear 
 The pouncing bird and bloody rock ; endure. 
 Endure it all ; well mayst thou : lightnings strike
 
 THE ALTAR OF MODESTY. 119 
 
 Th}^ sleepless eyes, eternal beaks devour 
 
 Thy breast, thy liver, that but heave for them, 
 
 Yet thou hast never seen another man 
 
 Step to the chamber of thy soul's beloved.' " 
 
 It shamed the maiden to relate the first. 
 The second part it pain'd her to relate, 
 But every word she told, and every sigh ; 
 Which, lest the mother should remark, she prayed 
 To hear about Ulyssessis return. 
 Leda thus interwove it with advice. 
 " Whomever Love hath rightly joined, on those 
 Life showers down golden days, and every hour 
 Is bridal. Thou art young, and young the man 
 Who seeks thee in espousal. Think how far 
 Chaste love excels unchaster, and become 
 A new Penelope. Her father ill 
 Endured to lose her ; it was grief to say 
 Farewell ; and he had said it : first he turn'd 
 His face and bent it weeping to the wall, 
 Then rais'd it ; for he heard the feet of steeds 
 Distinctly . . indistinctly where the road 
 Was paved no longer and was farther ofi". 
 His spirit then broke down ; he rusht away.
 
 120 HELLENICS. 
 
 Weaker with hurry, both iu step and sight. 
 He speeded ; he came up to them ; for soon 
 Slackened his pace Ulysses, thus to hear 
 Better the voice of her he bore away. 
 Icarius, panting heavily, exclamed, 
 ' Return her to me ! I did give . . 'tis true . . 
 My treasure to thy prayers . . but then, then 
 1 was not childless ; nor so deaf wert thou. 
 Many there are who may please thee ; but one. 
 One only, is the comfort of my age ; 
 Give, give her back . . or both return with me.' 
 Ulysses heard, and drew the reins in tight. 
 Gently the bride received her sire, and wept 
 Receiving him : her arm embraced his neck. 
 And tenderest kisses cool'd his throbbing breast. 
 The bridegroom then bespakc him. 
 
 " ' Sparta long 
 Detained me, long and willingly ; but home 
 Now calls me back ; I have a father there, 
 A land, a people ; there too I have Gods 
 Protectors, whom it were a sin to leave.' 
 
 " ' If thou art pious,' cried the father, ' here 
 Display thy piety, and yield my child.'
 
 THE ALTAR OF MODESTY. 121 
 
 " ' Be hers the choice' he answered. 
 
 "At that word 
 Penelope cast on the ground her eyes ; 
 Her right-hand held his garment ; she bent low 
 To hide the anguish of her sobbing breast. 
 ' Choose !' said the father. ' Think who bore thee! think 
 Of me thy father ! think, and pity me ! ' 
 Tortured as was that bosom while he spoke, 
 Silent for ever as she would remain. 
 Yet when Ulysses added, 
 
 " ' Speak, my own 
 Penelope ! ' she lowered her face, she prest 
 A closer arm around her father's neck, 
 But, covering with her veil her tearful eyes, 
 IncUned her own upon the lover's breast. 
 Happier and prouder was the sire that day ; 
 He entered with firm step his house again, 
 And other fathers envied him ; they rais'd 
 Amid the chaunting of our youths and maids 
 (Why wert thou absent, Helen ?) rais'd of turf 
 An altar dedicate to Modesty*"
 
 122 HELLENICS. 
 
 XXII. THE ESPOUSALS OF POLYXENA. 
 
 " In Troy, virgin, shall thy blood remain, 
 And last beyond Achilles thy espoused." 
 So sang the Fates together ; and their song 
 Now from Apollo's mouth Polyxena, 
 Led by her mother to the shrine, received. 
 The mother chided with long speech her dread, 
 Opening before her many happy days ; 
 But none of them saw she : grave Hecuba 
 Wondered that one so pious could despair. 
 
 " How, when thus deigns Apollo to confirm 
 His oracle with omens ! What large light 
 Smiles over heaven ! and sweeter breathes the air 
 Since thy return, sweet as it was before. 
 Lo ! the flowers rise thro' the first dust of spring 
 As if no enemy had trodden them. 
 And often by one bramble are two graves 
 United o'er the slayer and the slain : 
 Such and so many are the signs of peace." 
 
 " I see, I feel it," sighed Polyxena. 
 " Even that dust which now the tepid breeze
 
 THE ESPOUSALS OF POLYXENA. 123 
 
 Blows over us, once lived with Trojan blood, 
 And that blood's moisture fed these very flowers. 
 
 sun ! thou shinedst with no other light 
 When the Achaian keels first scraped our shores, 
 With lio-ht no other when Achilles shook 
 
 Our walls with war-cry, car, and clattering arms, 
 Alas ! and with no other when our Gods 
 Departed, and left Hector maim'd and dead." 
 Saddened at this, the mother then exclamed 
 " Why have I broken silence ? On this day 
 
 1 had ceast weeping for my children slain, 
 For now Pelidesis fierce valour comes 
 
 To save us, not to crush us ; and dost thou. 
 
 Impious ! hold back ? nor see om- Gods return'd ? 
 
 Ruling o'er kings, with ancient wealth elate. 
 
 And hastening to show Asia, Avon at last, 
 
 United to Mycenai, and restore 
 
 Helen, in vain by adverse Mars opposed, 
 
 Atrides would far rather him for son 
 
 Than all those glories, all that wealth and power. 
 
 Iphigeneia did not thus refuse 
 
 W^hen he was drawn reluctantly to arms,
 
 124 HELLENICS. 
 
 Intact his shining shield : the goddess-born, 
 
 The born to procreate a race of gods 
 
 Thou wavcst from thee. She pour'd forth her blood 
 
 That Troy might fall not, that thy hand might save. 
 
 But thou hast gathered up the random words 
 
 My poor Cassandra utters : thou hast fears, 
 
 And fearest not Achilles ! " 
 
 Then submiss 
 Replied the daughter. 
 
 " If the Gods command 
 My marriage, as indeed they do command. 
 Or even my slavery, to them I bow ; 
 There is no hardship, there is no disgrace ; 
 But, mother, let me weep ; my parent's will. 
 Since they do not relent, I must obey. 
 I must be given up to him whose car 
 Drag'd Hector, drag'd stil breathing, thro' the sands 
 We tread on, where we promise faith and love, 
 And praise the Gods for this. Pity my grief ; 
 It never can diminish. Can the Gods 
 Themselves, who see and bid and do such things. 
 Show me one joy my broken heart may hold ?
 
 THE ESPOUSALS OF POLTXENA. 125 
 
 tombs ! thou before me, which the last 
 Of friendship twined with brittle cypress-leaves, 
 Wither 'd and shed, and prest the turf close round ! 
 And all ye others, numberless, that draw 
 The short thin grass about more recent bones ! 
 Ye are the boundaries of weal and woe. 
 But we have promist if Apollo wills . . 
 Ensue but peace from it ! . . Enough ! my troth 
 Is plighted . . Mother ! mother ! I comply." 
 
 Then Hecuba, and gaspt with grateful tears. 
 " My last-born child ! my life's last, only, hope ! 
 What joy, how intermitted, do thy words 
 Restore ! Believe me, my beloved one, 
 Not what thou fanciest is thy valiant spouse. 
 The fates and fortunes of an aged king, 
 The roof that Gods have dwelt beneath, now touch 
 His generous bosom, deeplier stil thy youth 
 And beauty : these perhaps, and these alone, 
 Have made him ask what else he might have seiz'd. 
 Beside he fear'd (he could not fear that thou 
 Wouldst be, as was Briseis, unavenged) 
 He fear'd lest thou by lot shouldst be transfer 'd
 
 12G HELLENICS. 
 
 To that proud tyrant as his lawful prize ; 
 For sure enough his prescient mind foresaw 
 The fall of Ilion and . . forgive me, Heaven ! 
 Foi- uttering it . . Palladium he derides, 
 And dreads not any God since Hector slain." 
 
 Beneath the hill where stand the towers of Troy 
 The open plain buzzed all the way with crowds, 
 From the warm channel of the stony brook 
 Quite to the brakes of Ida ; tired of fight, 
 Yet resolute, if need, to fight again ; 
 But hoping now, from every omen, peace. 
 Mixt with the Dardans in Apollo's fane 
 The Achaian chieftains divers thoughts revolved. 
 One blamed iEacides, Atrides one. 
 Many the downfall of the town delaid. 
 Many saw treachery, hid from the unwise, 
 And some smelt treasure stealthily received 
 And knew whose tent 'twas under. 
 
 To that fane 
 Went Priam and the consort of his i-ealm. 
 There followed these, but followed slow, thro' grief 
 At many losses in each house, his friends
 
 THE ESPOUSALS OF POLYXEXA. 127 
 
 And kindred, and that progeny erewhile 
 
 So numerous and so prodigal of life : 
 
 His veil'd stepdaughters closed the stately train, 
 
 Led veil'd not long ago for no such hour : 
 
 Alone, at home, to while that horn* away, 
 
 Andromache, oft chided by her child, 
 
 Sate, and turn'd slow the spindle, sorrowing. 
 
 Meantime how many hearts are throbbing quick 
 
 To see so many famous men so nigh. 
 
 And know those arms and faces, ill discern'd 
 
 Amid the whirl of war. Onward they press 
 
 And onward ; then halt suddenly ; some fear 
 
 Lurks with them stil ; they call it pious awe, 
 
 And, better to dissemble, crouch before 
 
 The feet and altar of their placid God. 
 
 Polyxena, for whom they all make way, 
 
 Grasps, without knowing it, the hand she dreads. 
 
 Beauteous, more beauteous even than she . . surpast 
 
 By Helen only, in that snow-white brow 
 
 And eyes before whose light ApoUo's feU, 
 
 Rushes with shriU loud shout thro' friend and foe, 
 
 Cassandra.
 
 128 HELLENICS. 
 
 Sileut, trembling, stood they all, 
 As if some God had entered ; she alone 
 Conld speak ; and thus (words not her own) she spake. 
 '* Hopest thou, sister I sister ! happy days 
 Awaiting thee ? Look thou at Troy, behold 
 The work of Neptune and Apollo, Ti-oy, 
 Ramparts and towers that Pallas dwells within. 
 I see them totter under arms and flames. 
 And Simois and Xanthus swift with blood. 
 Behold ! the ruin comes when war hath ceast. 
 And Gods and sons of Gods walk slow Avith wounds. 
 flower ! which yonder fierce Thessalian hand 
 Is plucking, on what altar art thou laid ? 
 Why blaze so the Siga3an shores, the torch 
 TJnkindled yet ; those rocks of Tenedos, 
 Why throw they back again that trailing light ? 
 Fly ! let us fly I Citheron, and the towers 
 Chaonian, the Ceraunian rocks, the strand 
 Of AcheliJus (hear !) reverberate 
 The clamour, the loud plaint of Ilion. 
 Behold the monster scale the walls, and champ 
 The marble manger ! hear his voice ! his voice
 
 THE ESPOUSALS OF POLYXEXA. 129 
 
 la human ! Why delay ? What idle words ! 
 Rise, my parents ! my kindred, rise ! 
 Turn from the realms of Thrace your sight away ! 
 Whither, Polydoros, callest thou ? 
 What does that shady cornel show and hide ? 
 Why, as they drop and bound and roll along. 
 Tinkle the loose stones from that recent tomb ? 
 Ah me, who can not drown such sights in tears 
 Nor scatter them in madness ! Sweet espoused 
 Sister ! who sittest with thine arms unbound 
 That thy pure bosom may receive the sword, 
 To me hold forward, while thou canst, those arms. 
 And give undying love one long embrace. 
 Save, save her, Pyrrhos ! By thy father's shade ! 
 Guiltless is she ! Spare ! Dying I implore, 
 And will implore it, in, and after, death." 
 Utterinor these words, her handmaids closed around 
 And took her to the cool and quiet gloom 
 Of her own chamber. In the fane meanwhile 
 A buz is heard. An arrow shd unseen 
 Amid the tumult, and so far transfixt 
 The sinew of Achilles in the heel
 
 130 HELLENICS. 
 
 That the brass barb clankt on the marble floor. 
 
 The chiefs around him saw him bend and glare 
 
 Terrific ; then they saw the shaft, and then 
 
 A globe of blood. They seize their spears ; they tear 
 
 Vervain and olive (now no sign of peace) 
 
 From every helm, and throw and stamp them down. 
 
 Nor would they now hear Priam, scattering dust 
 
 On his thin hair, nor would they mind the spouse. 
 
 Sinking as if in death : no, nor did he, 
 
 Her wooer, aid, or ask for aid himself. 
 
 He saw his hour draw nigh, and brought to mind 
 
 Predictions, but coerced the rising wrath 
 
 Of those around, and gave these last commands. 
 
 " Peace ! 'tis my will. Let never mortal dare 
 
 Avenge Achilles : from this blood hath sprung 
 
 One worthy to avenge it, one alone. 
 
 Alcimos and Automedon ! return 
 
 And keep my Myrmidons within the camp. 
 
 Lest they should lose obedience and due awe 
 
 Of those whose orders bear no dreadful mark. 
 
 Diomed ! Ajax ! leave me ; leave a frame 
 
 Unequal to the weakest thing alive.
 
 THE ESPOUSALS OF POLTXENA. 131 
 
 No ; leave me not : bear me away : let none 
 
 Who hate or fear me, see me and rejoice. 
 
 Ah ! must the flocks and herds of humbled Troy 
 
 Tread on my bones and pasture on my tomb ? 
 
 Cease, whosoe'er thou art, cease thou whose tears 
 
 Drop hot upon my shoulder ! Fain my eyes 
 
 Would look on thee, but they are turn'd to iron. 
 
 And may not know again thy friendly face. 
 
 Fate calls for me. Take from my neck your arms ; 
 
 They weary me ; they weigh me down ; worn out, 
 
 With heavy languor's deadly bale consumed. 
 
 I grieve not that Larissa holds the bones 
 
 Of my forefathers in their quiet graves ; 
 
 I grieve not for my mother in the halls 
 
 Of Tethys, from the power of Death exempt ; 
 
 I srieve that Ilion should be thus avenged 
 
 o 
 
 Without her thousands fallen round me slain. 
 
 " Dark art thou, standing o'er my head, Death I 
 Most bitter is this wound ; it smites my heart. 
 Open the turf afresh, remove the stone 
 And the black fragments of the boughs above ; 
 The urn that holds Patroclos, now shall hold 
 
 k2
 
 132 HELLENICS. 
 
 Achilles : then push from the shore my barks, 
 And, if your great Atrides grant you leave, 
 Bring back from Pthia (now at play perhaps 
 With some new armour, and in hopes to share 
 His father's glory, not to hold his place) 
 My own brave boy, predestined to bring down 
 That ruin which the Pelian shaft prepared. 
 
 " Hear ye my voice ? or fall my words in vain 
 Attempts to reach you ? Troubled so my mind, 
 I do not know what wishes I exprest 
 Or what I left unuttered. Far from you 
 Be such oblivion . . of a dying friend ! 
 And now that Orcos hurries me away, 
 My shade may all the greater shades receive 
 And all the lesser fear ! 
 
 " Farewell, farewell, 
 My far-off Pyrrhos ! Ah ! what care shall guide 
 Thy youth ? in thee what Chiron shall rejoice ? 
 No hand of father to applaud thy lyre. 
 Thy javelin, or thy chariot, known and hail'd 
 By all beholders in the foremost dust."
 
 DRYOPE. 133 
 
 XXIII. DRYOPE. 
 Famous and over famous ffita reign'd 
 Dryops : him beauteous Polydora bare 
 To the river-god Sperchios : but above 
 Mother and sire, far brighter in renown, 
 Was Dryope their daughter, the beloved 
 Of him who guides thro' heaven his golden car. 
 Showering his light o'er all things, he endues 
 All things with colour, grace and song gives he, 
 But never now on any condescends 
 To lower his shining locks ; his roseate lips 
 Breathe an ambrosial sigh on none but her. 
 He follows that shy Nymph thro' pathless ways, 
 Among the willows in their soft grey flowers, 
 In their peel'd boughs odorous, and amid 
 The baskets white and humid, incomplete : 
 He follows her along the river-side, 
 Soft to the foot and gladdened by the breeze ; 
 He follows where the Nereids watch their fords 
 While listen the Napsean maids around. 
 Tending one day her father's sheep, she heard
 
 ]34 HELLENICS. 
 
 A flute in the deep valley ; then a pipe ; 
 
 And soon from upright arms the tymhrel trill 'd. 
 
 Dryads and Hamadryads then appcar'd, 
 
 And one among them cried to her aloud 
 
 " Knowest thou not the day when all should sing 
 
 Pcean and lo Pcean ? Shunnest thou 
 
 The lord of all, whom all the earth adores, 
 
 Giver of light and gladness, warmth and song ? 
 
 And wiliest thou that Dryops stand ahove 
 
 Admetos ? from thy sight thus banishing 
 
 And shutting from thy fold the son of Jove." 
 
 She, proud and joyous at the gay reproof, 
 Stood silent. They began the dance and games. 
 And thus the day went on. When evening came 
 They sang the hymn to Delios. Nigh the seat 
 Of Dryope, among the tufts of grass, 
 A lyre shone out ; whose can it be, they ask ; 
 Each saw the next with her's upon her knee ; 
 Whether Theano's or Autoncie's gift, 
 Dryope takes it gratefully, and trills 
 The glimmering strings : and now at one she looks, 
 Now at another, knowingly, and speaks
 
 DRYOPE. 135 
 
 (As If It heard her) to it, now on lap 
 And now on bosom fondly laying It. 
 Behold ! a snake, a snake, it glides away. 
 They shriek : and each one as she sate reclined 
 Throws her whole body back. Striving to rise, 
 Autonde prest upon a fragile reed 
 Her flattened hand, nor felt it : when she saw 
 The blood, she suckt the starting globe, and sought 
 The place it sprang from. Hither, thither, run 
 The maidens. But the strings, and tortoise-shell 
 That held them at due distance, are instinct 
 With life, and rush on Dryope, too slow 
 To celebrate the rites the sires had taught 
 And Dellos had ordaln'd. One whom the flight 
 Left nearest, turn'd her head, stil flying on. 
 Fearful til pity overcame her fear. 
 And thus she cried aloud. 
 
 ' ' Look back ! look back ! 
 See how that creature licks her lips, her eyes, 
 Her bosom ! how it seizes ! how it binds 
 In the thick grass her struggles ! Where is now, 
 Where Is Apollo proud of Python slain ?
 
 13C HELLENICS. 
 
 Whether she sinn'd thro' silliness or dread, 
 Poor inexperienced girl ! are snakes to teach ? 
 Are they fit bonds for love ? can fear persuade ? 
 Phcebus ! come hither ! aid us ! Ah, what now 
 Would the beast do ? how swells his horrid crest ? ' 
 Various and manifold the dragon brood. 
 Some urge their scales along the ground, and some 
 Their wings aloft, some yoked to fiery cars. 
 And some, tho' hard of body, melt in air. 
 
 Callianira now was brave enouo-h 
 To stop her flight : on the first hill she rais'd 
 Her eyes above the brambles, just above. 
 And caught and held Diaule at her side, 
 Who, when she stopt her, trembled more and more. 
 But arguments are ready to allay 
 Her terror ; all strong arguments, like these. 
 " Are there not many things that may deceive 
 The sight at first ? might not a lizard seem 
 A dragon ? and how pleasant in hot days 
 To hold a lizard to the breast, and tempt 
 Its hai'mless bitinf}:s with the finger's end ! 
 Dragon or lizard, rare the species is.
 
 DRYOPE. 137 
 
 What ! are they over . . Dryope's alarms ? 
 
 She treats it like a sister. Lo ! her hand 
 
 Upon its neck ! and, far as we are off, 
 
 Lo ! how it shines ! as bright as any star. 
 
 Vainly exhorts she, first Autonoe, 
 
 And then Diaule, to come on ; alone 
 
 She ventures ; vainly would they call her back. 
 
 And now again the creature is transform 'd. 
 Lizard nor serpent now, nor tortoise-shell 
 Chelys, is that which pui-ple flutters round. 
 And which is whiter here and darker there. 
 Like violets drifted o'er with shifting hail. 
 Golden the hair that fluctuates upon neck 
 None of its own. A bland etherial glow 
 Ran over and ran thro' the calmer maid. 
 At last her fellow Nymphs came all around, 
 And Delios stood before them, manifest 
 No less to them than to his Dryope : 
 For with a radiant nod and arm outstretcht 
 He call'd them back ; and they obey'd his call. 
 He lookt upon them, and with placid smile 
 Bespake them, drawing close his saffron vest.
 
 138 HELLENICS. 
 
 Their eyes were lower 'd before him as they stopt 
 Into his presence ; well they knew what fears 
 He shook throughout the Dryads, when he gave 
 His steeds and chariot to his reckless son, 
 When the woods crasht and perisht under him, 
 And when Eridanos, altho' his stream 
 Flows down from heaven, saw its last ripple sink. 
 Well they remembered how Diana fled 
 Among the woods and wilds, when mightier bow 
 Than hers was strung, and Python gaspt in death. 
 Potent of good they knew him, and of ill. 
 And closed the secret in their prudent hearts. 
 At first they would have pitied the hard fate 
 Of Dryope ; but when she answered not 
 The words of pity, in her face they lookt 
 Stealthily. 
 
 Soft the moisture of her brow. 
 Languid the luster of her eyes ; a shame 
 Rosier and richer than before sufi'used 
 Her features, and her lips were tinged with flame 
 A God inspired, and worthy of that God. 
 Each had her little question ; but she stopt
 
 CORTTHOS. 139 
 
 As tho' she would reprove : at this they ply 
 
 Joke after joke, until they bring her home. 
 
 All they had known they would make others know, 
 
 But they had lookt too near and seen too well, 
 
 And had invoked the God with dance and hymn ; 
 
 Beside, Diana would have sore avenged 
 
 Her righteous brother, who deals openly 
 
 With mortals, and few facts from them conceals. 
 
 Dryope soon became Andrsemon's wife, 
 And mother of Amphissos. Every spring 
 They chaunt her praises ; her's, who trill 'd so well 
 The plectron of Apollo ; in the vale ; 
 Of her own shady (Eta do they sing. 
 
 XXIV. CORYTHOS. 
 (Enone had been weeping, but her tears 
 The bitter blast had dried ; for on the top 
 Of Ida stood she, on that pale short grass 
 Where the wind whirl'd the pine-cones, rolling them 
 Along their narrow and hard-pointed leaves.
 
 140 HELLENICS. 
 
 Hence she beheld the temples and the town 
 
 Of Dardanos, now fated, and discern 'd 
 
 The house of him she loved : then from the woods 
 
 She call'd out Corythos ; and thus slie spake. 
 
 " Go, my child, go. Within the walls of Troy 
 One is there who will love and cherish thee, 
 Thee, but without thy mother ! Yes, there lives 
 Thy father . . but how short a time to live 
 Alas ! he knows not : for from Lemnos comes 
 In safety Philoctetcs, and he brings 
 Those arrows with him, those of Hercules, 
 By which the Fates have sung that he must fall. 
 Unwelcome thou wilt not be (for no son 
 Hath she) to Helen, if that head so dear 
 Thou rescuest from perdition : he himself 
 May not perhaps forget those days serene 
 That shone on him and me ; may not forget 
 How once the poplar bore upon its bark 
 Two names united. If unmindful now. 
 Unmindful he will cease to be at sight 
 Of thee : if bad the husband, he will be 
 The better father for that very cause,
 
 CORYTHOS. 141 
 
 And own he owes his life to Corythos, 
 To thee, deserted Corythos ! his son." 
 
 Embracing him, she mingled with embrace 
 Kisses and tears ; and then consign 'd him, loth, 
 To an old guide . . but often called him back. 
 Repeating the same orders ; to avoid 
 The sail-white waters and the secret bays, 
 And every place where Grecian might abide. 
 
 They winde their way down the steep braky road. 
 Then, when their voices she could hear no more, 
 Nor see the birds their shouts and stones had scared, 
 Tm-n'd she her face, and this lone plaint began I 
 
 " Aerial mountains ! woods, where Gods reside. 
 And Corythos was cradled I you I see. 
 But him I see no longer, to these eyes 
 Dearer than light ! Before him Paris went 
 And never more return 'd : no love remains 
 For me, no pledge of love ! Not only lost 
 Are former joys, but lost is also he 
 Who brought them back to me, by step, by mien, 
 By play, by prattle, and could half-persuade 
 That nothing was amiss or ought to grieve me.
 
 142 HELLENICS. 
 
 Him too I now am parted from, and yield 
 
 Almost without reluctance, tlio' the sole 
 
 Calmer and comforter of every pang, 
 
 That happier days he his than have heen mine. 
 
 Yet all things (how can I helieve my eyes ?) 
 
 Appear the same as ever : Xanthos flows, 
 
 And Simois, in the morning light as clear. 
 
 And Tencdos seems only one vast rock 
 
 Upon the w^hitening reflux of the waves. 
 
 In form too and in features I myself 
 
 Remain the same ; for age can not consume 
 
 Nor change them. Ah, sad thouo-lit ! how fugitive 
 
 The gifts I catch at ! Like the snow beneath 
 
 A southern wind, thy form, ffinone, wanes 
 
 And wastes, unhappy ! in the sight of him 
 
 Thou holdest ever lovely, ever dear. 
 
 " How easy it is to mow down the bloom 
 Of life, and sow the open breast with cares ! 
 How soon, when faith is shaken, youth is shed ! 
 Irrevocable days bear heavily 
 Upon the sinking heart, but heavier far 
 The future anguish of the fondly loved.
 
 CORYTHOS. 143 
 
 " Asterope ! my sister ! happy thou 
 In .thy espousals ! Can then CEsacos 
 Be kin to Paris ? brother ? But the one 
 The mild Arisbe bore, the other sprang 
 From Hecuba, a violent River's child. 
 I envy not the happy ones alone. 
 But even the wretched who have left the light 
 Of upper air ; the maiden whose stern sire 
 Hath turn'd the torch of Hymen from her path, 
 And widow on whose bridal bed there hung 
 The withering garlands. Grief that death has brought 
 Time in the course of nature bears away. 
 
 " Where Nile throws open his wide chamber, strewn 
 With lotus ; where, to sight insuperable, 
 The holy Ganges rolls his stream from high. 
 If Memnon's mother rise before the sun 
 To weep for him ; if ye too, ye Nymphs 
 Of ocean ! have beheld how great the grief 
 Of Thetis ; how, when Glaucos would advise. 
 She fled from comfort, fled from Triton's song 
 And Doris and her daughters who sate round ; 
 If by the walls of Neptune all the maids
 
 144 HELLENICS. 
 
 And matrons wail'd at Hector's late-rais'd bier, 
 Stil Hector's was Andromache, as when 
 Their child was frightened at his nodding crest 
 And heroes fled before him : his was she 
 In death, nor severed from him by the tomb. 
 Deserves Qilnone then a harder fate ? 
 
 " What is my fault ? unless a fault it be 
 To sit secluded at the dens of beasts. 
 Where bear and wolf break slumbers just begun. 
 And where the mighty mother of the Gods 
 Drao's the reluctant lions to her wheels ; 
 
 O 
 
 Unless it be a fault to have remain 'd 
 
 So faithful to the faithless, nor have breath 'd 
 
 Complaint to other than the passing wind. 
 
 There are kind Gods who may deem otherwise. 
 
 Howe'er that happen, brighter be the days 
 
 Of Corythos, and nobler his pursuits 
 
 Than creeping to draw meshes round the nides 
 
 Of birds now mute, and gather'd close in fields 
 
 White with the steril stubble or hard snow. 
 
 Happier be thou, my child ! if Gods look down 
 
 On pious prayers, and children are exempt
 
 CORYTHOS. 145 
 
 From retribution for parental guilt." 
 
 Meanwhile the youth was looking up the walls 
 And wondering at their highth, and how they stood 
 Defiant of so long and fierce a war. 
 " But where is that old fig-tree ? where the spot 
 Whence Hector, my brave uncle, met in fight 
 Achilles ? where did Venus cast the cloud 
 Around my father ? " 
 
 And he siez'd the hand 
 Of his old guide each time he askt and heard. 
 Ascending up to Pergama, before 
 The gate an elder of the town he sees, 
 And asks him whereabout stands Priam's house. 
 His guide represses him, and says, 
 
 " We go 
 To Helen." 
 
 " Go then," cried the aged man, 
 " Readily may that fatal pest be found, 
 And none is wanted here to show the way." 
 
 Around his neck sprang the Idsean boy 
 And '* Blessed ! " cried he, " blessed be whoe'er 
 Thus deeply hates my mother's injurer.
 
 146 HELLENICS. 
 
 With mc most virtuous is it to abhor 
 
 Tliat Spartan. To none other house go I, 
 
 Thau the king's own, where with his father dwells 
 
 My father ; where the chaste Andromache 
 
 Bemoans her husband on the ground he trod ; 
 
 Where now a wanton one, who fears not Pan 
 
 Nor Jove himself, with nimble needle paints 
 
 For altars, none of theirs, fine tapestry, 
 
 Or plucks the harpstrings with a Sphynxis nail." 
 
 Many had seen and past them as they spake ; 
 One, 'twas a female, hesitated, stopt, 
 And askt them if from Ida they had seen 
 The Grecian ships departing ? were the winds 
 So fair ? and, while the elder she addrest. 
 She gazed upon the younger. He was toucht 
 To see her cheek grow pale and red by turns ; 
 Nor quite unmoved the elder : to himself 
 Said he " When beauty such as this shines forth 
 From Ilion, who would ever lend his ear 
 Even when a Goddess may have promist more ? " 
 
 Now saw the youth, who saw them not til now. 
 Maidens behind her, beauteous, with succinct
 
 CORYTHOS. 147 
 
 Vesture and braided hair ; graceful their form, 
 
 And modest their demeanour : not so quick 
 
 Bounded his bosom when the boar rusht out 
 
 Against the meshes, when the cornel spear 
 
 Hist on the bristles of his vaulted back. 
 
 The curv'd tusk gnasht, and the black blood boil'd o'er. 
 
 Whither they bent their way she now inquired. 
 
 The elder answered her. 
 
 " We bend our way 
 Where dwelt Assaracos, and Paris dwells." 
 Then she. 
 
 " The road is safer if I guide, 
 And you will easier see whom you require, 
 Soon coming homeward from the citadel : 
 For clamour there was heard at early dawn 
 Along the coast, and then a boat appear 'd, 
 And an old man stept out. Ulysses met 
 This stranger. Now, throughout the orchards, crofts. 
 And little gardens next the sandy beach, 
 The sailors gathered vervain, gathered bay. 
 And with fresh garlands every prow was trim'd. 
 Our leaders think this surely must denote 
 
 L 2
 
 148 HELLENICS. 
 
 Good Fortune, favorable oracles ; 
 
 And grant, ye Gods ! the anchors heave at last." 
 
 The old IdjEan shook his head, and spake. 
 " He who arrives is one they left behind, 
 Is Philoctetes ; and the arms he bears 
 Were once the arms of Hercules : the bow 
 Of Nessos, and the arrows dipt in blood 
 Of Hydra, come tohght the pyre of Troy." 
 
 Struck by his speech, the more she wisht to ask 
 The quicker stept she, and the more she urged 
 The maidens to step on : she flew, but lookt 
 On Corythos in flying. 
 
 Just below 
 The citadel a gorgeous palace stood ; 
 She enter' d, followed by the trembling maids ; 
 The Idseans followed slower. 
 
 As they pass 
 The house of Hector, they observe young girls, 
 Too young for foresight, thence less wretched yet, 
 And matrons calm, and widows unconsoled. 
 Bring honey to his Manes : and with these 
 They mourn, and shudder at the silent hall ;
 
 CORYTHOS. 149 
 
 Chilly and lying waste with Hector's death. 
 
 At last to Parisis abode they come. 
 Bidden to enter here, the spacious courts, 
 The lofty columns, the resplendent gods 
 Of brass and marble, the smooth steps and wide. 
 And the vast portals and resounding valves, 
 Strike them with admiration and with awe. 
 How many ivory statues breathe around ! 
 How many golden ! nor do fewer move 
 In the warm colours emulous of life. 
 To the Dictsean king had Dsedalos 
 Given a part of these ; his daughter gave 
 The same to Theseus ; Theseus gave the same 
 To Helen, when he hoped to bear her oft' 
 To pleasant Athens from her mother's side. 
 And she afi'orded no few scenes for art, 
 No few her mother. Here first recognized 
 The Idseans Helen. She in every game 
 Stood forth the fairest with her locks of gold, 
 While all the potent of the sea and sky 
 Gazed with proud smile benevolent ; but Jove 
 Above them all : complacently he watcht
 
 150 HELLENICS. 
 
 His progeny by water and by land 
 
 Whatever she was doing. Venus came 
 
 Close Kfter her, while upon high the swans 
 
 Archt their proud necks. Another time (so great 
 
 The skill which Venus only could inspire) 
 
 You would have thought them circling round and round . 
 
 There is a record in the courts of heaven, 
 Sometimes brought out and whispered on, that once 
 Among the reeds and cane-beds Jove assumed 
 The figure of a swan, and thus beguiled 
 Her mother Leda ; while the river swans. 
 To kindred strangers evermore averse, 
 Sate silent, and lookt all another way, 
 So fear'd they that surpassing one, and drave 
 The swimmer boys afar with threatening beaks 
 And swinging circuit of expanded vans. 
 Therefor 'twas his decree that none beside 
 Should draw her chariot on high days, when moved 
 By gift of hero or by prayer of God. 
 
 Tyndaris now told Paris all she knew 
 From the old shepherd, save what mother bore 
 The youth, and whose his beauteous face was like.
 
 CORYTHOS. 151 
 
 Such once was Alexander, then the guest 
 
 Of Sparta : hut not yet ten years of war 
 
 Had he encountered, not yet fled the sword 
 
 Of Diomed, inglorious and disgraced. 
 
 He now sate smiling at the tremulous tones 
 
 Of Helen ; and then smooth 'd her troubled brow, 
 
 Touching and kissing it : at last more grave 
 
 These words he uttered, and assumed his seat. 
 
 " That Philoctetes in a far-off ile 
 
 Rests at this moment on a fallen beech 
 
 His heavy wound : a bird's wing drives away 
 
 The bite of beast and insect. When he feels 
 
 Eade's or vulture's shadow over him, 
 
 He tries in vain to lift his weary lids 
 
 And cry so weak it drops into his breast. 
 
 He who thus suffers from a faithless friend. 
 
 Left on the shore to hunger and to thirst, 
 
 And hear the oars sound less and less distinct 
 
 At every stroke, and songs as they depart 
 
 Float on the summer air, so joyously 
 
 To them, to him so sadly, first and last, 
 
 Deploring that immedicable wound . .
 
 152 HELLENICS. 
 
 Arrow hath he dipt in Lernaean blood ? 
 But grant he land upon that very coast, 
 What ills, what dangers, menace us ? he sees 
 That chariot broken which drag'd Hector, sees 
 The tomb of Ajax, and may know again 
 The arms that Thetis vainly brought her son. 
 And this, Neptunian Troy ! the man is this 
 Who comes against thee now and works thy fall ; 
 'Tis time to turn our backs, to leave our homes, 
 Unshaken wall, unviolated fane, 
 Rais'd by Minerva, citadel which she 
 And Venus with her equally protects. 
 And over which (to Agamemnon's house 
 For ever hostile) in the light of day 
 Apollo hath been seen and hath been heard 
 Exhorting us, and scaring back the foe. 
 Ulysses, that great queller of our hosts, 
 Brings Philoctetes now ! now let us fly 
 Even to Mycenai : let us carry now 
 Within our quailing bosoms all those Gods 
 (Among the rest Palladium) who have stood 
 Stabile and strong against all former wars.
 
 CORYTHOS. 133 
 
 And to Diana let us sacrifice 
 
 Upon the summit of Ta'igetos. 
 
 Tiie rampire of the Achaians, true enough, 
 
 Is mingled with the yellow sea-shore sand, 
 
 Scattered the Myrmidons, the Dorian camp 
 
 Wide open : that is little : but behold 
 
 How fulminates against our feebleness 
 
 The stout successor of Achilles slain ! 
 
 When their own walls were standing round the Greeks, 
 
 When Juno exercised her vengeful sway 
 
 And arm'd the fist of Diomed, when safe 
 
 Behind his seven-fold shield their Ajax stood, 
 
 And the proud man of Nereid mother sprung 
 
 Loosen'd with blood the ^tionsean towers, 
 
 Such idle terrors with indignant soul 
 
 I would spurn from me. Are no gifts of heaven 
 
 Vouchsafed to me ? no Venus marks me out ? 
 
 And no Apollo breathes into my breast ? " 
 
 His boasts encouraged her, his scornful smile 
 Arous'd her and refresht. 
 
 Some days had past, 
 And Corythos grew wiUing to believe
 
 154 HELLENICS. 
 
 His step-darae was kind-hearted. Not alone 
 Her countenance, so bland and beautifid, 
 Rais'd her beyond all mortals : he admired 
 One who could place herself amid the low, 
 Could smile with them and weep with them, and view 
 On the same level all, herself above 
 All things the world's eternal walls contain. 
 Nor wonderful nor great could aught appear 
 To one so far supreme, nor would she turn 
 Her face from Irus at the feasts of Jove. 
 Corythos now she knew : he did not wish 
 Concealment of his origin, nor might 
 Such wish avail him when she saw him more. 
 The causes of his coming she inquu-ed, 
 And gave him courage as she gave her hand. 
 At first he was ashamed he could not hate 
 His step-dame ; now, that he had ever tried. 
 He hangs upon her words ; what words ! how sweet 
 In utterance ! from what high serenity 
 Of brow descending on his softened heart ! 
 " Ever too bold the brave and beautiful ! 
 Sighed she, " but even the stoutest well may start
 
 CORYTHOS. 155 
 
 At the close graves along the uneven sands, 
 
 The scattered bones whitening beneath their pyres 
 
 Where sharp winds flake them, and doom'd cypresses 
 
 That darken Ida's brow, to burn on more. 
 
 Surely 'tis sad enough were only joys 
 
 And pleasures torne away, without the tomb 
 
 With its cold shadows filling up their place. 
 
 Kind words she spake, and kinder deeds prepared. 
 But doubted when, how, where, she might surprise 
 Her Paris with his semblance in his child. 
 Rarely hath any beauteous mother borne 
 Progeny like herself : the gods who once 
 Have Ustened to the prayer, look seldom down 
 A second time upon their supplicant. 
 She thought of this ; she thought of one so young 
 As not to know her mother's flight ; and thick 
 Came forth her groans ; unconsciously the name 
 Of her first husband followed them. 
 
 " Ah why 
 Hath never messager rejoiced my ear 
 Telling me what thou art, Hermione ! 
 And how thy little playmate hath grown up.
 
 1.56 HELLENICS. 
 
 Orestes." 
 
 Seeking- how she might retain 
 The iiiisteddy love of Paris, oft she wisht 
 A son were hers like Corythos, resolved 
 To make him hers by gentle offices 
 And (if there be atonement) to atone 
 For what his mother suffered by her fault. 
 
 " Agclaos ! " she exclaimed, " thy cares 
 Have rear'd both sire and son : the fatal torch 
 Extinguisht thou hast seen, and now wouldst see 
 Him who was fancied to have brought it home, 
 Yet who, in Ilion saved, himself is safe. 
 But haste not, let his son repeat to him 
 His mother's words and have the first embrace." 
 
 " No counsel else " replied the aged man 
 " Did Cebren's daughter give me : but altho' 
 I may retrace the features so beloved 
 In childhood, ill may Paris recognise 
 Old Ageliios, in his wrinkled cheeks. 
 Grey temples, and that slow and spiritless 
 Movement where years are crowded upon years. 
 Perhaps he may not wish to see again
 
 CORYTHOS. 157 
 
 The once familial* who hath followed up 
 A better course than he : the royal heir 
 May need me not, yet Corythos stil needs 
 My help . . to fail him but in death alone." 
 
 Various the thoughts of Helen : she resolved 
 At last that Corythos should meet his sire 
 When Bacchus has thrown open the warm breast, 
 And when the harp is ringing, and the room 
 Round the high lamp is bright and jubilant. 
 Often she schem'd this interview : at length 
 The day is come. 
 
 The Trojans sing again 
 Gay songs, long intermitted, half-afraid 
 Lest skilful Paris gently reprehend 
 Words ill-remember' d, notes irregular ; 
 The times had deaden'd so the unworthy strings. 
 Now censers burning all around reflect 
 The images that hold them, images 
 Of youths whose left-hand holds long garments back ; 
 Scarlet and purple tapestry glows above 
 As if the sun had lighted it, and higher 
 Redden more dim the cedar's vaulted beams,
 
 i-'iii HELLENICS. 
 
 Thro' whose compartments had mimetic art 
 Displaid the deep clear azure, with its stars, 
 Where dwell in still serenity the Blest. 
 Along the hearth shoots forth a lambent flame ; 
 The house-hold Gods smile with it, Paris smiles, 
 And she, the heaven-descended, whom he loves. 
 The hearts of both with placid course and full 
 Joy overflows and every hour expands : 
 Hour more propitious than the present none 
 Could meet her wishes. Slight inquietude 
 There is in his delay. Sometimes she breaks 
 The thread of her discourse to list awhile, 
 Then takes it up uneven, then replies 
 Wide of the question she hath seem'd to hear. 
 Silence ! here enters Corythos ! He starts 
 At the broad splendour ; at the regal form 
 Of Paris now before him : to approach 
 His mighty sire he burns, but then draws back 
 His foot, and looks at Helen. This the prince 
 Observing . . this . . the bashfulness of youth . . 
 The step so suddenly withdrawn . . the breast 
 Heaving . . the brow disturb'd . . the voice extinct
 
 CORYTHOS. 159 
 
 No coloui- in the cheek . . uo name announced . . 
 No office . . but from graceful shoulders flowing 
 The very vest which Helen once had spun 
 For young Atrides, waiting his return, 
 In earlier days, when him alone she loved . . 
 These thins-s toaiether strike him with the force 
 Of thunderbolt : up springs he : on that vest 
 He siezes ; casts it from him ; with his sword 
 Smites the boy's neck, his face, his side ; spurns oft' 
 His hands to heaven appealing, and hears nought 
 But, struggling hard with blood, his dying groan. 
 
 Such the last day of Corythos ! the last 
 Of peace to Paris and that gentlest dame 
 Of stepdames. When she saw the youth sink down 
 And all the furies urging Paris on, 
 Her senses left her : on the ivory couch 
 Cold lay her limbs as though she lay in death. 
 Her husband's wrath heard not the groan profound 
 When his child roll'd before him and his eyes 
 Lookt up to him once more, swam, sank, and closed. 
 
 He bursts away and calls upon the Gods 
 AVho punish perjuries ; as if no God
 
 KiO HELLENICS. 
 
 Had noticed his ; as if 'twere very hard 
 Deceiver should be in his turn deceived. 
 When Ageliios heard the sad report, 
 Vengeance he called on Helen, vengeance call'd 
 On Paris : ashes o'er his head he heapt, 
 And, praying death may intercept him, bent 
 His homeward way. What should he there relate ? 
 Whose thanks bring back ? a parent's ? overjoyed 
 To find a son beyond all hope, a son 
 Long absent, latest, dearest, gift of her 
 He had deserted ! who, of him deprived, 
 Would miss his voice and face, all day, all night, 
 Sole solace of those long and weary hours. 
 But who, to turn aside the death she fear'd 
 For that most cruel father, bade the boy 
 Go seek him . . seek him in the stranger's house, 
 The base adulteress Avho had wrought her woe. 
 Grief, anger, virtue, shake his breast at once ; 
 Fain would he fly from Ida. 
 
 When the sire 
 Knew the sad truth, upon his son's cold cheek 
 A thousand kisses did his lips impress ;
 
 CORYTHOS. 16] 
 
 He expiated (if grief could expiate) 
 His crime with bitter grief, and built up high 
 A pile of cypress to receive the corse ; 
 And thus the lately found, by name (before 
 Unknown) in broken accents he bewail'd. 
 
 " Wept on no humble or unhonored bier. 
 Rest, my Corythos, that placid rest 
 Which life denied thee I " 
 
 Scai'ce hath he invoked 
 The shade by name before he separates 
 The ashes of the boughs and of the boy. 
 And these he places in a golden urn 
 Nigh his own chamber. Dark is all the house, 
 And silent all within it. He hath lost, 
 Utterly lost, his grace in Helen's eyes. 
 And thro' his tears and anguish none sees he 
 In Leda's daughter : both retort complaints. 
 And each-one's sorrow is the other's fault. 
 Again, he rushes forth on the remains 
 Of the Achaians ; his high crest again 
 Is seen above the combat, and that shield 
 He shakes which Thetis by her prayers obtain 'd 
 
 Id
 
 162 HELLENICS. 
 
 Of the fire-potent God, wherewith she arm'tl 
 
 To conquer Asia her disdainful son, 
 
 And from that conqueror Paris tore away. 
 
 Weary of glory, worne with grief, he sought 
 
 The place where recently he fill'd the urn 
 
 With hones, of grace and beauty now disrobed 
 
 And brittle to embraces, losing form 
 
 And substance (what small remnant they retain'd) 
 
 When the first tear fell and sank into them. 
 
 In the still sacredness of night, alone 
 
 Went he, the stars were shining oa the tomb. 
 
 And timidly and slowly he explored 
 
 With outspred hand if aught might yet remain 
 
 Of his lost child, and credulously seiz'd 
 
 Little black sticks, and bore them in his breast. 
 
 Greeks, as they roam'd along the shore, observ'd 
 
 His wanderings : these Ulysses had espied, 
 
 Epeus too, and, heavy with his wound 
 
 And catching the cool air with frequent gasp, 
 
 Paeantius. Round a high-piled tomb a trench 
 
 Was hollowed : hitherward they steal along 
 
 From the Sigaean sands, while yet the stars
 
 CORYTHOS. 163 
 
 Cast a scant light, and thro' the uneven ground 
 And the dim copses winde their secret way. 
 And here await they Paris, true at last, 
 And smiting in the anguish of his soul 
 A breast too long from pious love estranged. 
 
 What bowstring, from what archer's bow unstrung, 
 Rattles on belt or quiver ? Who cries out ? 
 None other voice responding. Hark ! he groans ; 
 He calls for enemy ; no aid he claims 
 Of friend ; but leaning on one elbow sits 
 Raging ; and often strikes his heel the ground. 
 
 Swift steps run back along the soft sea-shore : 
 For they who smote him in the shade of night, 
 By the command and with the auspices 
 Of Gods, had stolen on a man unarm'd 
 Without their helmets, cuirases, or shields. 
 He could not follow, for behind his knee 
 The arrow had gone thro' : with desperate twist 
 He tore it out, and from two apertures 
 The hissing blood sprang forth : he sinks ; he rolls 
 His limbs, he rolls his heavy eyes, all night, 
 In the red dew : he sees the city lamps
 
 164 HELLENICS. 
 
 Kindled ; he sees them all go out again 
 
 From the same spot. But when an iron light 
 
 Begins to peer o'er the cold plain, and wakes 
 
 From their brief sleep the tamer animals, 
 
 Thej of the household rise, and all around 
 
 In grove, in champain, seek their absent lord. 
 
 And, as if there the search should be the last. 
 
 At his son's tomb. The race that cheers the ear 
 
 Of Morning with its voice, and penetrates 
 
 With its bold breast the woodland stiff with frost, 
 
 And, watchful at the gate in life's extreme, 
 
 Is faithful to the wretched and the poor. 
 
 With eyes as languid on his languid eyes 
 
 Looks sorrowing down, and licks them unreproved. 
 
 When the last hour gleams feebly upon man 
 Not feebly rise the former : swift and thick 
 Do they crowd back with all the images 
 Of his misdeeds in clearest light reveal 'd. 
 Now manifest is every oracle, 
 Now Lacedscmon's awful Nemesis, 
 Now the red torch, now the right-hand that shakes 
 Its widening vapour over myriad graves,
 
 CORYTHOS. 165 
 
 To settle on the towers of Ilion. 
 
 But these all vanish. Thee alone he sees, 
 
 Daughter of Cebren ! thee, beneath that rock 
 
 Where strowed the winds thy nuptial couch with leaves, 
 
 Espous'd, deserted, childless ! Wliat avail. 
 
 Ah what ! the promises, the gifts, of Gods ? 
 
 A better, now he feels, was left in thee. 
 
 " Go, ye who once could serve me, go " said he 
 
 " And tell (Enone ye have seen me pierced : 
 
 Tell her it is not help I now beseech, 
 
 But pardon." 
 
 ^Mien the youths descried her home 
 Amid the innermost and highest wood, 
 And found it closed, and heard the wail within. 
 And saw tame stags raise up their antler 'd heads 
 Suddenly from the threshold, they prepared 
 To enter. 
 
 They repeat the last command 
 Of him who sent them. Young, and confident 
 In ready eloquence, they would adorn 
 The wings of Mercury with brighter plumes, 
 And utter as their lord's what time and place
 
 166 HELLENICS. 
 
 Forbade his uttering, and (more strongly) grief. 
 His former love do they commemorate, 
 And how (Enone was endowed with herbs 
 Potent to save. She lookt aside, and said 
 " I could not save my son ! nor did he ask 
 Who asks me now." And, as she turn'd away, 
 They heard the halls with sob and plaint resound. 
 Meanwhile four stout attendants bear the prince 
 Upon a plank of pliant ash, where rose 
 The sacred mansion of the Idfean Nymph. 
 And as they bear him thither, toiling up 
 The narrow path, often the loose round stones 
 Slip under them and shake him, often spring 
 The branches back and strike against his wound. 
 Not long was the delay, but long it seem'd 
 To him whose day was closing, and before 
 He could collect the features in his mind 
 Of her he sought so eagerly. They pass 
 Along the crevices of rocks where hang 
 The ivy-stems their rigid moss . . of rocks 
 Which the spear's point, in time gone-by, engraved 
 With tender verses round about linkt names ;
 
 CORYTHOS. 167 
 
 Labour of idle hunter, disinclined 
 
 To let that idleness pass soon away. 
 
 And into opener places they precede, 
 
 For feats remember 'd of prevailing strength, 
 
 And songs and dances and successful loves. 
 
 There Paris paus'd and wept, with both his hands 
 
 Closed o'er the face : the four who carried him 
 
 Placed on the evenest ground the future bier. 
 
 And they too, turning back their faces, wept. 
 
 The Nymph of Ida came not forth to them, 
 
 But on the threshold of the open door 
 
 She staid her footstep, that the tears might flow 
 
 Within the house unseen one moment more. 
 
 And now the son of Priam views again 
 His early realm, a realm so peaceable. 
 And sweet ffinone, then his only care ; 
 And now again, again, he hears the sighs 
 Which heave that faithful bosom : how diverse 
 From those he sigh'd to in the grot below ! 
 And slowly lifting to that face divine 
 His eyes, " How many and what years" he cried, 
 " Since Paris saw (Enone his beloved !
 
 168 HELLENICS. 
 
 Nothing of anger or complaint said she ; 
 For she liad prayed of the Eumenides, 
 Pew hours before, that the untimely end 
 Of Corythos their wrath should vindicate, 
 And that she might not, even if she will'd. 
 Be help to Paris in his hour of need. 
 Another prayer she added to these prayers. 
 With quivering lips, more anxiously, but fear'd 
 No God would grant it. 
 
 " Jupiter ! " she cried, 
 " And if there be another * who should hear 
 My last appeal . . grant me the gift of death." 
 
 Thunder was heard upon the left, and signs 
 Shone forth above her from the sky serene. 
 But when she saw that son and sire had fared 
 Alike, and that she might have saved the one. 
 She who alone could save him, she appeared 
 Cruel and merciless . . to him . . to both. 
 " No ; I deserve not, seek not, to prolong 
 My Hfe," said Paris, " Only let one urn 
 
 * She suppresses the name of Apollo her violater.
 
 CORYTHOS. 169 
 
 Unite us . . me, my Corythos ! " He spake 
 And held the urn toward her : this she caught, 
 Together with the faint and chilly hand 
 It had nigh dropt from. 
 
 Paris had but strength 
 To add these words, 
 
 " (Enone ! it was ours 
 To live united : they . . the Gods alone . . 
 Sundered us." 
 
 " But they sunder us no more" 
 Said she. " Behold ! the bridal hour is come, 
 Wherein no wretchedness, no falsehood is, 
 No separation. Ah ! restrain, restrain 
 Those groans ! Let me, my husband, die the first ! 
 Hear me . . the Gods have heard me . . unwithhel'd. 
 Give one embrace. 
 
 " Paris is now my own, 
 Mine, by sure auspices, eternally. 
 And do not thou in Pluto's house, my child, 
 Disdain the mother whom thy death brings down. 
 
 " Often the cruel gift that Venus gave 
 Gave me one comfort with it . . that my grief
 
 HELLENICS. 
 
 Could not cncrease ; and now I lose this one. 
 From Juno less had been the penalty, 
 Wroth as she was, than Venus now exacts 
 In the same Ida . , Venus, crown 'd by thee ! " 
 Iler fainting form the sister Nymphs receive. 
 And from its fountain bring the tepid stream ; 
 In vain ; then hasten to the mountain-top ; 
 And there her father Cebren takes the urn, 
 To hold fresh ashes gathered by his hand. 
 
 XXV. PAN AND PITYS. 
 
 Cease to complain of what the Gods decree, 
 
 Whether by death or (harder ! ) by the hand 
 
 Of one prefer'd thy loves be torne away. 
 
 For even against the bourn of Arcady 
 
 Beats the sad Styx, heaving its wave of tears, 
 
 And nought on earth so high but Care flies higher. 
 
 A maid was wooed by Boreas and by Pan, 
 Pitys her name, her haunt the wood and wild ; 
 Boreas she fled from ; with more placid eye 
 Lookt she on Pan ; yet eluded him, and said . .
 
 PAN AND PITYS. 171 
 
 " Ah why should men or clearer-sighted Gods 
 
 Propose to link our hands eternally ? 
 
 That which o'er raging seas is wildly sought 
 
 Perishes and is trampled on in port ; 
 
 And they where all things are immutable 
 
 Beside, even they, the very Gods, are borne 
 
 Unsteddily wherever love impels ; 
 
 Even he who rules Olympus, he himself 
 
 Is lighter than the cloud beneath his feet. 
 
 Lovers are ever an uncertain race. 
 
 And they the most so who most loudly sing 
 
 Of truth and ardour, anguish and despair, 
 
 But thou above them all. Now tell me, Pan, 
 
 How thou deceivedst the chaste maid of night 
 
 Cynthia, thou keeper of the snow-white flock ! 
 
 Thy reed had crackled with thy flames, and split 
 
 With torture after torture ; thy lament 
 
 Had fiU'd the hollow rocks ; but when it came 
 
 To touch the sheep-fold, there it paus'd and cool'd. 
 
 Wonderest thou whence the story reacht my ear ? 
 
 Why open those eyes wider ? why assume 
 
 The ignorant, the innocent ? prepared
 
 172 HELLENICS. 
 
 For refutation, ready to conceal 
 The fountain of Selinos, waving here 
 On the low water its long even grass, 
 And there (thou better may'st remember this) 
 Paved with smooth stones, as temples are. The sheep 
 Who led the rest, struggled ere yet half-shorn, 
 And dragged thee slithering after it : thy knee 
 Bore long the leaves of ivy twined around 
 To hide the scar, and stil the scar is white. 
 Dost thou deny the giving half thy flock 
 To Cynthia ? hiding tho' the better half, 
 Then all begrimed producing it, while stood 
 Well-washt and fair in puffy wooliness 
 The baser breed, and caught the unpracticed eye." 
 Pan blusht, and thus retorted. 
 
 " Who hath told 
 That idle fable of an age long past ? 
 More just, perhaps more happy, hadst thou been, 
 Shunning the false and flighty. Heard I have 
 Boreas and his rude song, and seen the goats 
 Stamp on the rock and lick the afi"nghted eyes 
 Of their young kids ; and thee too, then averse,
 
 PAN AND PITYS. 173 
 
 I also saw, Pitys ! Is thy heart, 
 
 To what was thy aversion, now incUned ? 
 
 BeHevest thou my foe ? the foe of all 
 
 I hold most dear. Had Cynthia been prefer 'd 
 
 She would not thus have taunted me : unlike 
 
 Thee, Pitys, she looks down with gentle glance 
 
 On them who suffer ; whether they abide 
 
 In the low cottage or the lofty tower 
 
 She tends them, and with silent step alike 
 
 And watchful eye their aking vigil soothes. 
 
 I sought not Cynthia ; Cynthia leau'd to me. 
 
 Not pleased too easily, unlovely things 
 
 She shuns, by lovely (and none else) detain'd. 
 
 Sweet, far above all birds, is philomel 
 
 To her ; above all scenes the Padan glades 
 
 And their soft-whispering poplars ; sweet to her 
 
 The yellow light of box-tree in full bloom 
 
 Nodding upon Cytoros. She delights 
 
 To wander thro' the twinkling olive-grove. 
 
 And where in clusters on Lycsean knolls 
 
 Redden the berries of the mountain-ash ; 
 
 In glassy fountain, and grey temple-top.
 
 174 HELLENICS. 
 
 And smooth sea- wave, wlicn Hesperus hath left 
 The hall of Tethys, and when liquid sounds 
 (Uncertain whence) are wafted to the shore . . 
 Never in Boreas." 
 
 " What a voice is thine ! 
 She said, and smiled. " More roughly not himself 
 Could sound with all his fury his own name. 
 But come, thou cunning creature ! tell me how 
 Thou couldst inveigle Goddesses without 
 Thinning thy sheepfold." 
 
 " What ! again" cried he 
 " Such tart and cruel twitting ? She received, 
 Not as helov'd, but loving me, my gift. 
 I gave her what she askt, and more had given, 
 But half the flock was all that she required ; 
 Need therefor was it to divide in twain 
 The different breeds, that she might make her choice. 
 One, ever meager, with broad bony front. 
 Shone white enough, but harder than goat's hair 
 The wool about it ; and loud bleatings fill'd 
 The plains it battened on . . for only plains 
 It trod ; and smelt . . as all such coarse ones smell.
 
 PAN AND PITYS. 17 = 
 
 Avarice urged the Goddess : she sprang forth 
 And took, which many more have done, the worse. 
 " Why shake thy head ? incredulous ! Ah why, 
 When none beheve the truth, should I confess ? 
 Why, one who hates and scorns the lover, love ? 
 Once thou reposedst on the words I spake. 
 And, when I ceast to speak, thou didst not cease 
 To ponder them, but with thy cool plump palm 
 Unconsciously didst stroke that lynx-skin down 
 Which Bacchus gave me, toucht with virgin shame 
 If any part slipt off and bai'ed my skin. 
 I then could please thee, could discourse, could pause. 
 Could look away from that sweet face, could hide 
 All consciousness that any hand of mine 
 Had crept where lifted knee would soon unbend. 
 Ah then how pleasant was it to look up 
 (If thou didst too) from the green glebe supine, 
 And drink the breath of all sweet herbs, and watch 
 The last rays rim along the level clouds, 
 Until they kindle into living forms 
 And sweep with golden net the western sky. 
 Meanwhile thou notedst the dense troop of crows
 
 17C HELLENICS. 
 
 Returuiug on one track and at one hour 
 In the same darkened intervals of heaven. 
 Then mutual faith was manifest, but glad 
 Of fresh avowal ; then securely lay 
 Pleasure, reposing on the crop she reapt. 
 
 " The oleaster of the cliff ; the vine 
 Of leaf pellucid, clusterless, untamed ; 
 The tufts of eytisus that half-conceal 'd 
 The craggy cavern, narrow, black, profound ; 
 The scantier broom below it, that betray 'd 
 Those two white fawns to us . . what now are they ? 
 How the pine's whispers, how the simpering brook's, 
 How the bright vapour trembling o'er the grass 
 Could I enjoy, unless my Pitys took 
 My hand and show'd me them ; unless she blew 
 My pipe when it was hoarse ; and, when my voice 
 Fail'd me, took up, and so inspired, my song." 
 
 Thus he, embracing with brown brawny arm 
 Her soft white neck, not far from his dcchned, 
 And with sharp finger parting her smooth hair. 
 He paus'd. 
 
 " Take now that pipe," said she " and since
 
 PAN AND PITYS. I77 
 
 Thou findest joyance in things past, run o'er 
 
 The race-course of our pleasures : first will I 
 
 The loves . . of Boreas I ahhor . . relate. 
 
 He his high spirit, his uprooted oaks, 
 
 And heaven confused with hailstones, may sing on : 
 
 How into thine own realms his breath has blown 
 
 The wasting flames, until the woods bow'd low 
 
 Then- heads with heavy groans, while he alert 
 
 Shook his broad pinions and scream 'd loud with joy. 
 
 He may sing on, of shattered sails, of ships 
 
 Sunk in the depths of ocean, and the sign 
 
 Of that wide empire from Jove's brother torn ; 
 
 And how beneath the rocks of Ismaros 
 
 Deluded he with cruel sport the dream 
 
 That brought the lost one back again, and heard 
 
 The Manes clap their hands at her return. 
 
 Always his pastime was it, not to shake 
 
 Light dreams away, but change them into forms 
 
 Horrific ; chm-1, from peace and truth averse. 
 
 What in such rival ever couldst thou fear ? ' ' 
 
 Boreas heard all she spoke, amid the brake 
 Conceal 'd : rage seiz'd him : the whole mountain shook.
 
 178 HELLENICS. 
 
 " Contenin'd ! " said he, and as he said it, split 
 
 A rock, and from the summit with his foot 
 
 Spm-n'd it on Pitys. Ever since, hencath 
 
 That rock sits Pan : her name he calls ; he waits 
 
 Listening, to hear the rock repeat it ; wipes 
 
 The frequent tear from his hoarse reed, and wears 
 
 Henceforth the pine, her pine, upon his brow. 
 
 XXVI. CORESOS AND CALLIRHOE. 
 
 The girls of Calydon now celebrate 
 The feast of Bacchus. Two whirl round and round 
 A rope entwined with flowers, and make the rest 
 Run into and leap over it by turns. 
 A playful one and mischievous pusht on 
 Her who stood nearest, laughing as her foot 
 Tript and her hair was tangled in the flowers. 
 Ah now, Callirhue ! burning shame flew up 
 Into thy face, nor could thy mother's prayer 
 Bring thee before the altar : now, 'tis said, 
 A tear roll'd down thy cheek, not quite exempt 
 From anger ; but thy hand conceal 'd thy face.
 
 CORESOS AND CALLIRHoE. 179 
 
 Coresos, rising from his lofty seat, 
 Came forward, and stood ravisht with her charms : 
 Coresos was it who then ruled the rites. 
 Beauteous, and skill 'd to praise his God in song. 
 Unhappy youth ! to see her in that hour ! 
 In any other had he seen her first. 
 She might have loved him as he now loved her, 
 And he, had never he beheld her shame 
 And tears at falling, might have lived and played 
 On idle pipe the vacant cares of love. 
 
 Neither the struggles of devoted goat 
 Nor the sweet wine they pour upon its horns 
 Engage his notice ; not the God himself. 
 Giver of joy, gives any joy to him : 
 Nor after, when short laugh is faintly heard 
 Among the bushes, and the star of eve, 
 Eve's star and Love's, alone is overhead. 
 And shrubs are shaken which no breezes shake. 
 Gave he his eyes to sleep, his limbs to rest. 
 Where the long grasses hung with dews malign. 
 Beneath an ilex sat he quite alone 
 And meditated much, forgetting all 
 
 N 2
 
 130 HELLENICS. 
 
 He fain would say to her ; her face itself 
 Was shaken in his memory by his throbs : 
 Vainly would he recall it ; up there comes 
 Another, less ingenuous, more in want 
 Of grace and beauty, not (alas ! ) of scorn. 
 
 Many the days he wooed her, and the nights 
 Many he mourn 'd that he had wooed in vain. 
 At last no longer could he see her near. 
 If barks the dog, she starts ; if stranger lift 
 The door-latch, up she springs ; the humid thread 
 She snatches from her mouth with trembling hand 
 And holds before her lips, and throws her hair 
 Back, which had fallen and hung loosely down 
 While close below the lintal slopes her ear. 
 If in the court she hears a louder step 
 She thinks him coming ; come, if one less loud. 
 The cane that long has quivered in the wind 
 Hardens ; the maiden thus who long has fear'd : 
 Callirhoe would not trust her mother once, 
 No, nor herself ; but now would gladly hear. 
 Alone or with her parent, him who sued ; 
 For she had sharpen 'd the bright point of speech
 
 CORESOS AND CALLIRHOE. 181 
 
 In readiness to pierce his open breast : 
 Nor slight is the offender's new oiFence 
 Thus to avoid it. 
 
 As the coral bends 
 Beneath the Erythraean sea, but grows 
 Harder and harder when it feels the air, 
 So did this virgin, soft and flexible 
 In her first nature. Shyness, which confused 
 Her features lately, now quite disappear 'd. 
 She minds not what men tattle, nor desires 
 Their ignorance of what she blusht to know ; 
 She laughs if any whisper in her ear 
 That he is coming, laughs to see him stop 
 Suddenly, thus (a long way off) observ'd. 
 Afar she would not wish him, would not wish 
 His folly less, his madness less. She trod, 
 And knew she trod, upon a sacred flame, 
 Unscared, contending with the mighty Gods, 
 And rendering their best gifts of no avail. 
 
 Ah ! in what region grows a dittany 
 To heal the wound Love's poison 'd barb hath left ? 
 He who with quiet bosom can sit down
 
 182 HELLENICS. 
 
 With wrongs like these cast into it, loves not ; 
 Nor he who fiercely bursts the bond at once. 
 
 Coresos siez'd her hand and threw it back 
 Disdainful, but sigh'd deeply, fixing fast 
 His looks upon her ; then more calmly spake. 
 
 " Callirhiie ! I no more bemoan to thee 
 The love thou spurnest : pity ask I none 
 For such a vain, such an unworthy grief. 
 Be sure the tear thou now despisest, falls 
 The last that I shall shed or thou shalt see. 
 And therefor in the hour of death it falls. 
 For look around thee how the plague devours 
 Men's festei'ed limbs ! how fly the old to learn 
 The will and oracles of heaven, and how 
 From the hill-tops look out for their return 
 Those who have given them the last embrace. 
 The blameless fall ; and shall the guilty stand ? 
 
 " Contemn 'd I was, and I deserv'd contempt. 
 But never it repents me that in youth 
 Those arts I cherisht which, if age had come, 
 Had given grace and dignity to age. 
 Tis not for me : upon my brow too soon
 
 CORESOS AND CALLIRHOE. 183 
 
 The crown thou placest ; and the flowers that deck 
 An altar near at hand to thee are sweet. 
 Worthy I was, Callirhoe ! then I sued ; 
 Unworthy am I now, and now retire, 
 Broken in spirit, pierced with arrows, aini'd 
 Less by my lurking foes (for these are few) 
 Than by the heartless levity of friends. 
 Once (let me boast it) I might beat them all 
 Where agile strength the wrestler's olive gave, 
 Or where the Gods bestow'd the gift of song, 
 Or, boon to me more precious ! in thy love. 
 Kings may hold prizes forth : the ores of earth, 
 The gems of ocean, may adorn small men 
 And make them marvels to more small below ; 
 The Gods alone on mortal can confer 
 Genius and beauty, the pure wealth of heaven. 
 Ah ! why do they to whom these gifts befall 
 Stand so apart ? ah why shouldst thou condemn 
 To moulder each in barrenness away ? 
 Beauty we worship in her high career, 
 But let her wane, and where the worshiper ? 
 And Genius, mournful Genius, unapproacht.
 
 184 HELLENICS. 
 
 Like Saturn from his lofty citadel, 
 Looks with an iron light down on a world 
 Torn from him." 
 
 While he speaks, there now return 
 The elders, with their temples filleted, 
 For mildness, virtue, piety, revered. 
 Besought and prone with purer hands to touch 
 The altar, and the wrath of heaven avert. 
 
 Callirhoe, whom the crowd call'd out by name. 
 Beheld them and turn'd pale, presaging ill : 
 Pale also turn'd Coresos, and endured 
 Yet worse his aching breast the ribald words 
 Flung by the people on the modest maid. 
 Forward he rusht to lead her from a throncc 
 Madden'd with rage against her. In his flight 
 Palsemon stopt him. 
 
 " Stay thy steps " cried he, 
 " And thou too, wretched maiden ! hear the Gods, 
 Whose sentence on thy crime I now repeat. 
 A-gainst thee shall the nation rise no more, 
 No more the dying virgin lift her eyes 
 Against thee, and no longer shall the torch
 
 CORESOS AND CALLIRHOE. 185 
 
 Where mothers crowd our funerals, bear thy name." 
 Coresos sprang to clasp the neck she turn'd, 
 And cried in loud devotion, 
 
 " Hail, sire 
 Who fillest with thy deity the groves 
 Of thy Dodona, and whose look benign 
 Hath given to the air and earth below 
 Health and serenity ! This maid henceforth 
 To me alone will be the source of pain. 
 More than lacchus whom I serve, and more 
 Than happiest dream could promise, is thy gift." 
 
 Troubled in mind, Palsemon shook his head . 
 And thus continued. 
 
 " Much art thou deceived 
 By such bright hopes, gentle youth ! Thyself 
 Shoudst see the future, favored by thy God ; 
 But thou thyself dost hold before thine eyes 
 Love's dazzling saffron vesture, and believe 
 That what is coming can be only Love. 
 
 " Step forward, ye young men ! for Jupiter 
 Calls on ye all, and honors thus his son 
 Of Semale begotten. Lead ye forth.
 
 18G HELLENICS. 
 
 Lead ye, a victim to appease his ire, 
 Callirhoe." 
 
 That loud sound ran thro' her heart, 
 Ran thro' her limhs, and swept their strength away. 
 Down fell she. But strong arms had now seiz'd hers 
 And drag'd her to the temple. 
 
 Sense return'd 
 At the close tramp of those who hurried by, 
 (Some to see only, some with zeal to pile 
 The altar), at the smoke of frankincense, 
 At the cold sprinkling of the sacred lymph 
 Upon her^ temples, and at (suddenly 
 Dropt, and resounding on the floor) the sword. 
 
 " Take it I " with tremulous voice Pala^mon said. 
 " This is thy office ; often on that head 
 Hast thou call'd down due vengeance from above : 
 Take, hold it, use it. Dost thou now reti-act ? 
 'Tis not permitted. To no prayer of thine 
 Our Gods grant this, but are resolved to show 
 That wrong 'd are they when men like thee are wrong'd. 
 If from the people one come forward, friend, 
 Relative, parent, willing to devote
 
 CORESOS AND CALLIRHOE. 187 
 
 His life instead of yon unhappy maid's, 
 Tliro' that man's blood the city shall receive 
 Safety ; for Jove thus reconciles his son." 
 
 Upon the trembling victim gazed the youth, 
 And with back-hand swept off a tear. 
 
 " Thy sire " 
 Said he " is dead : and others are content 
 To have stood higher in thy grace than I. 
 Look ! listen ! what light footsteps glide away ! 
 Now with firm breast, Callirhoe ! and fixt eye 
 I dare to look on thee. In father's stead, 
 In lover's stead, I stand ; and I perform 
 The sacred duty by the Gods imposed." 
 
 Cries, clamours, groans, rise, spread. They see the limbs 
 Of young Coresos on the earth ; and fear 
 Seizes them lest they tread that holy blood. 
 The temple moans aloud ; the city swarms 
 With rumours, and the groves and fields around. 
 Now 'tis reported that the youth has fallen 
 By his own hand to save the virgin ; now 
 That both were stricken by the fire of heaven. 
 With its own violence the crowd is swayed
 
 188 HELLENICS. 
 
 Hither and thither, thickening ; as the waves 
 Conglomerate under the propeUing storm. 
 
 XXVII. CATILLUS AND SALIA. 
 
 Catillus left his spear upon the steps 
 Of that old temple which from Ciminus 
 Looks o'er the lake and the dark ilexes. 
 Often his horse, standing alone before 
 The columns, starts at sights obscurely seen ; 
 Sometimes at roar of raging beast, sometimes 
 At bark that bursts and crackles from the cork. 
 Or at the rapid whirl of withered leaves 
 Wafted and rattling on his bridle-bit. 
 
 " Voltumna ! " pray'd the youth " reject not thou 
 My vows ! for Salia is my heart consumed ; 
 Nor does the sire or maiden disapprove ; 
 But there are ancient oracles that hold 
 The torch of Hymen back. Thou knowest well, 
 Goddess ! (for from thy own fane precede 
 These oracles) what menaces impend. 
 So great an evil be it mine to ward
 
 CATILLUS AND SALIA. 189 
 
 From both ! Yet how ? He who could all foresee, 
 
 Amphiarjius, he might have advised ; 
 
 But earth before him opened, and with flames 
 
 Enveloping his chariot, drank it in. 
 
 Where in far regions, famed Ismenos flows 
 
 He left his children and the light of day. 
 
 " The Tuscan shore a race of fugitives 
 Alights on. that they had come in guise 
 Of enemies ! not (as they say) of friends : 
 Because old seers have seen, old prophets sung 
 That under this the royal house should fall 
 And royal bride be wedded, to her sire's 
 And people's ruin. Clearly I discern 
 What Fate before had hidden ; nor retreat ; 
 Nor arms, wherever they may lead, refuse ; 
 Nor absence . . long, for ever ; nor the gulph 
 Of Styx, which all must pass ; nor, what is worse, 
 In other lands to wander ; be but thou 
 Mine for one day, Saha ! no one's else 
 And least of any one an exile's bride ! " 
 
 A hollow murmur shakes the beech-tree-tops ; 
 A voice is heard :
 
 1.00 HELLENICS. 
 
 " Of wretched fatlior, child 
 More wretched ! how wouldst thou have fled before, 
 If thou hadst ever known the curse to come ! " 
 It ceases : loudly, as the portal closed, 
 Resounded in their depths the woods profound. 
 
 The youth is sunk in prayer, and all again 
 Is silent, in the sky, the grove, the fane. 
 Nor could he see above him any bird 
 Whose flight should comfort him ; for right and left 
 Rose the huge branches, and afar the swans 
 Shone out serenely on the lake serene, 
 Soothing the under-wing with neck reverst. 
 He wishes not for fields of waving vine, 
 He wishes not for olive-boundary, 
 Planted when first the blindfold boy had drawn 
 The lot of each Pelasgian from the urn. 
 But he does wish for Salia, he does wish 
 To see Volsinii, blessed land, again. 
 Then of the king he thinks, and then revolves 
 Commands which both had given (and one with tears) 
 Unless Voltumna look with placid smile 
 Toward the couch of Hymen.
 
 CATILLUS AND SALIA. 191 
 
 Evening came : 
 He threw him on the ground ; he sought for dreams, 
 If haply sleep should calm his weariness, 
 Dreams that from sire and daughter may remove 
 The unknown peril that o'ershadows hoth. 
 
 Sharp was the splendour of the stars ; all heaven 
 Seem'd moving as it never yet had moved; 
 To mortal power insuperahle, fate 
 Bent easily hefore him ; every word 
 Of oracles had now grown plain enough ; 
 And he resolv'd to saA^e at once the king 
 And the king's daughter, do they what they would 
 And fear'd they all that ever could be fear'd. 
 
 Amid these thoughts his yielding senses sleep 
 Impresses : in his dream he hears the arms 
 Of guest and ravisher : he sees (can sight 
 Deceive him ?) Saha. With her own consent 
 Is she borne off? and, when her father calls 
 Pursuing her, disdains she to return ? 
 He starts, he raves, strikes with his brow the ground. 
 Springs up, and, siezing on the bridle, leaps 
 Into the saddle, and before 'tis dawn
 
 192 HELLENICS. 
 
 Reaches the city's outskirt. 
 
 Long the land 
 In peace had rested ; scanty was its watch ; 
 All knew the cordial youth who, strong of limb, 
 Joyous of countenance and prompt of speech 
 And large of liberality, and first 
 On foot or horseback, hurl'd the Argive spear ; 
 Strait went he onward where the palace stood. 
 And stationed under its first turret found 
 The friendly Periphas. 
 
 " I haste " he cried, 
 •' I haste to SaUa. Help me. That is nigh. 
 That which she fears, her father more than she, 
 And never may perhaps by arms avert : 
 Voltumna threatens it. Her father's love 
 May blind his eyes, but my love opens mine. 
 I bring the Goddesses own words, and these 
 The dreams she breath'd into my breast confirm." 
 
 Ever to Dian at the break of day 
 Did Salia bear her sacrifice : the gate 
 Was this thro' which she past into her grove 
 And little chapel.
 
 CATILLUS AND SALIA. I93 
 
 Thickly sound the hoofs 
 Of fretting horse beneath the turret's arch, 
 And the last light of lamp that hangs therefrom, 
 Crackling, now hides now shows the whiten'd iron. 
 AVhen casts the hind, with broken sleep morose, 
 The wooden collar round his ox'es neck 
 And rope athwart the horns, when one red line 
 Borders the dull horizon, and the fields 
 Under the drowsy skies lie indistinct, 
 There stands the royal maiden. 
 
 " Hence ! fly hence ! 
 Salia ! " cries CatUlus, " and believe 
 The Gods are now propitious." 
 
 At the word 
 On his high steed he lifts her, with a leap 
 Mounts, and redoubles with a rapid spur 
 His courser's speed. 
 
 " Tremble not " cried the youth : 
 " A time there was indeed for fear, when flight 
 Was none, and hope uncertain. From her shrine 
 Dian inclining to thy prayers and vows 
 Would, if she ever uttered oracle,
 
 ]Q4 HELLENICS. 
 
 Have bidden what Voltumna hath ordain'd. 
 
 The horse is quiet : see ! he frets no more : 
 
 And none are following. Is my arm too tight ? 
 
 Bends it unwelcome round thee ? Fcarest thou ? 
 
 Wouldst thou prohibit, wouldst thou chide, my fears ? 
 
 I loosen it. Why weep and sigh ? why doubt ? 
 
 In Tibur who should envy us a life 
 
 Of country peace ? To what ferocious man 
 
 Canst thou be there a prey ? what war molest 
 
 Thy father ? For no realm we fight ; we hold 
 
 The only realm we want. I leave behind 
 
 The Sabines and their ruler to enjoy 
 
 Untroubled peace. Instead of fields in dower, 
 
 Fields which suspicion everywhere surrounds 
 
 With the uncertain faith of hireling arms, 
 
 Be there for us the deep repose of woods, 
 
 Walls that have never heard the name of Mars, 
 
 Tibur, and those green pastures on the banks 
 
 Thro' which Pareusius winds his silvery stream. 
 
 Look back ; how widely spreads the space behind ! 
 
 Volsinii how remote ! the citadel 
 
 How reddening lower and lower with larger light ! "
 
 CATILLUS AND SALIA. 195 
 
 At this she raises up her eyes, not quite 
 Up to his eyes who speaks to her ; then looks 
 Back on her father's city ; then they fill 
 With gushing tears. 
 
 " Live, father ! live in peace ! 
 Voltumna claims me ; can then piety 
 Forbid, or any care obstruct my course ? 
 Follow I must the Goddess'es command. 
 The desart, the dense darkness of the woods, 
 The lake, with all their gloom and aU its own, 
 I would thro' Ufe inhabit, nor repine, 
 Let but the Fates grant tranquil days to thee ! " 
 
 Moved at her tenderness, Catillus said, 
 " Behold them granted ! and shall she whose prayers 
 Have won them for her parent, not rejoice ? 
 Voltumna well might choose thee for her own, 
 But she was silent ; nay, she gave commands 
 Right opposite ; she bade thee leave thy home, 
 Thy father's house : thou wisely hast obey'd, 
 And child so duteous she from far will hear. 
 Meanwhile an aged priestess keeps the fane, 
 One only : such its holiness, no time 
 
 o2
 
 196 HELLENICS. 
 
 Will over move it. Thou shalt see the dells 
 
 Of Tibur, the Albunean lake, its shades 
 
 And floating ilands, and (what oft thy Avish 
 
 Shuddering at all the terrors of the tale 
 
 Urged thee to see) the fissured rock, the rush 
 
 Of angry waters, and, where these subside, 
 
 Glens where is heard the song of Nymphs below. 
 
 There be our country, there our house, and there 
 
 Our early days and later ! All thy life 
 
 Must thou be happy in a father saved 
 
 And faith saved too : and no less happy he, 
 
 Obedient to the dictate of the Fates, 
 
 In that he gave not (tho'he wisht to give) 
 
 Salia to him who holds her to his heart." 
 
 Salia now calmer, bids him to repeat 
 All that Voltumna said. The Goddess 'es 
 Behest she thinks obscure, the danger clear ; 
 She sighs ; but piety distrusts not love. 
 Scarce the first hour of flight had past away 
 Before the father knew it. Idle time 
 He lost not in complaint, nor idle threats 
 Threw at the fugitive : he gave command
 
 CATILLDS AND SALIA. 197 
 
 Forthwith that chosen youths surround the woods 
 And moorlands of Capenus, occupy 
 Every hill-top, keep equal distances 
 At certain stations, and from each, right, left, 
 The subject land, wood, river, lake, survey. 
 He himself hastened onward, and before 
 Noontide he saw, not distant, to the east, 
 Eretus, its wide woodland overgrown 
 With speckled arbutus, and, farther on 
 And higher up, an ancient temple, white 
 In the sun's splendour, on its moimd apart : 
 Beyond it the Nomentan hills retired. 
 And now, inclosed by mountains, he approacht 
 The steep red banks and turbid stream profound 
 Of Tiber. Never had that stream been crost 
 By bridge of stone convex, or mountain pine. 
 Nor level boats in surging; series linkt 
 Made plain the way for horseman and for horse. 
 He bends, and raises in his hollow hand 
 The sacred water, and thus prays the God. 
 " father Tiber ! if thou hast preserv'd 
 Thy people quiet by religious awe ;
 
 LQR HELLENICS. 
 
 If thou bchoklest thy Apollo's hill 
 Soractc bound in duteous equity ; 
 Tf the Faliscians, righteous race, impress 
 The burning ember with unflinching heel ; 
 If, when the robber Cacus he had slain, 
 Alcidcs (which our sires have seen) washt off 
 That robber's blood in thy most clensing lymph ; 
 If stolen herds brought vengeance down on him 
 Whom none consorted with, no host receiv'd; 
 Shall I in vain implore thee for thy help 
 Against a wretch who robs his host of all, 
 Who carries off his child, his only child ? 
 Avenge me : give me only ('tis enough) 
 To swim in safety o'er thy rapid stream." 
 Thus praying, his huge spear he threw across ; 
 Wliereat the steed which bore him shrilly neigh' d, 
 Rear'd, and with hoof inverted scraped the turf, 
 And, call'd by name and patted and cheer'd on. 
 Sprang bravely down and clove the surging waves : 
 They bent beneath his lusty neck, they broke 
 At every breath his widening nostril breath'd. 
 And his rich trappings flasht fresh light around.
 
 CATILLUS AND SALIA. 199 
 
 In the late hour of eve the king surveys 
 The highths of Tibur ; to the walls he wends 
 Alone ; to Coras, and him only, cries 
 That he come out. 
 
 But Coras, when he knew 
 Afar Catillus bj his burnisht arms. 
 Ran from the rampart to embrace the king, 
 And said " Where is my brother ? " 
 
 Fiercelier burns 
 His rage at this, and 
 
 " Like a slave he fled ; 
 Nor shall it now avail thee to conceal 
 His flight ; thy walls shall show him in their flames. 
 Now let him arm . . a father calls, a guest, 
 Despoil'd, dishonor 'd . . let him arm before 
 The hospitable the avenging Jove 
 He thinks he may afi"ront, deceive, despise." 
 
 The brother stood astonisht : lifting up 
 Both hands to heaven, 
 
 " No brother is with me, 
 1 swear, and therefor lay aside thy wrath, 
 king ! and under happy auspices
 
 200 HELLENICS. 
 
 Await in peace and patience his return." 
 
 He answered not, but rudely ruslit away. 
 With angry looks the Argive nobles cried 
 " What, tyrant ! dost thou threaten war ? say first, 
 Proud as thy nation is of ancient fame, 
 Say when on Ciminus hath ever oak 
 Borne trophy ? While the fatten 'd heifer shakes 
 The flowery fillet and salt-sprinkled crown, 
 Po their round cheeks, well form'd for pufiing horns, 
 Turn into waxen whiteness at the approach 
 Of level 'd spears. If (faith of Gods and men !) 
 Thou darest threaten us with fire or sword. 
 We will not wait thee in our walls, but show 
 Thy city, and all cities leagued with thee. 
 How the proud Tuscans first cried out for peace." 
 
 The last late sunbeam of the summer sky 
 Had fallen, and with dew far superfused 
 The fuming meadows of Pareusius paled. 
 Par as the Albula and Latian plain. 
 When Tibur's citadel had sunk to view 
 The king alighted from his horse, and spent 
 A weary night beneath a peasant's roof.
 
 catillus and SALIA. 201 
 
 Near to Volsinii, with a clear cold stream * 
 
 There runs a rivulet and intercepts 
 
 The little rills that trickle thro' the grove, 
 
 And falls into the Tiber where it looks 
 
 Into the glades of Umbria ; 'twas this course 
 
 Catillus followed thro' its whole extent. 
 
 Here, where it join'd the Tiber, pusht he forth 
 
 A narrow skiff, tied with a twisted band 
 
 Of osier to the tree. The oar's smooth palm 
 
 Divided the broad water-leaves and won 
 
 An easy way. Now, while the waves it made 
 
 With gentle plash and pattering heav'd the bark, 
 
 Thou, Salia, sattest at thy lover's side 
 
 Stiller and calmer than that shady stream. 
 
 Catillus then would hoist his little sail, 
 
 That he might lay aside the oar, and hold 
 
 The rope which turn'ditas the river turn'd 
 
 Or the wind caught it, and that he might sit 
 
 On the same bench with Salia, and protect 
 
 From the hot sun her face beneath its shade. 
 
 He fear'd to pass where hinds might see and shout, 
 
 * Now called Fiume Chiaro.
 
 202 HELLENICS. 
 
 He fear'd all voices, most of all he fear'd 
 The irreverent Fesccnnine's immodest song. 
 
 Volsinii's firm allies, the Sabines held 
 That country where amid the flowers he rears 
 Runs Farfar, and that barrencr wherefrom 
 Himclla shrinks when Sirius strikes his stream. 
 So now he took the simple guise of hind 
 Who had gone early forth, and must return 
 To hail his household Deities at eve. 
 Rushes and reeds conceal'd his crest and spear. 
 Long was the way by land, by water long, 
 Nor would the youth, nor could he had he will'd, 
 Tell Salia how much farther they must go. 
 Her dread of any seeing her he calm'd. 
 Saying, 
 
 " Look up ! behold what scanty light 
 Sheds Hesper, how he swings upon the stream 
 Alone of all the stars, and what calm gloom 
 Propitious sits upon the brow of heaven." 
 They both weave sleepless dreams. In days to come 
 What will their pleasure be, if touch of hand 
 Kindles such fires ; if at one word^ one glance,
 
 CATILLUS AND SALIA. 203 
 
 Disperst is every doubt and every fear. 
 
 Ah ! be not wise, ye young ! but from bright days 
 Look into brighter : evermore believe : 
 Be this your wisdom. At the close of life, 
 We know too much ; we know we are deceiv'd. 
 
 Needless the story were in what converse 
 Hour followed hour ; what cultur'd lands, what wilds 
 Delighted them ; how many were the spots 
 In whose retirement they could spend their lives : 
 Needless to mention how, amid the pause, 
 A bough impending o'er the stream sometimes 
 Swept, ere they were aware, the vessel's side, 
 Startling and reddening her with girlish fright. 
 The youth too had liis fears, but held them in. 
 He fear'd if any silent matron stole 
 Down to the river-side, in quest of him 
 Her children cried for ere they went to bed : 
 He fear'd if suddenly a lamp-light burst 
 With Ions: effulgence from some cot unseen 
 Across the water, or a fisherman 
 Had crown'd his net with flame, and, dipt in pitch. 
 The feathery cane its finny prey allured.
 
 204 HELLENICS. 
 
 Onward they sail all night : when morn appears, 
 Seeing that friendly Tihur was heliind, 
 He leaves (in view, though distant) on his right 
 Seven far-famed hills, where stood the residence 
 Of king Evander, sprung from Arcady ; 
 Janus on one had rear'd a muniment, 
 And Saturn on another : he admired 
 How such vast works had ever heen destroy 'd. 
 Wonder may seize, hut can not long detain. 
 And least the young and ardent. Rowing hack, 
 Catillus rises on the oar and glides 
 Into his native land. 
 
 " mine ! " he cries, 
 '"' Mine surely now ! come, Salia, come, enjoy 
 In safety and by right our freedom here : 
 No Gods oppose us : we are here at home," 
 And as he speaks, swifter he plies the oar. 
 Soon helmets blaze above the copse ; men arm'd 
 And unarm 'd welcome him ; stout hinds belay 
 The laboring bark, tugging it where the wind 
 Baffles the sail ; then, smoking from afield. 
 Laborious oxen and stoiit-hearted steeds.
 
 CATILLUS AND SALIA. 205 
 
 But, tho' they aided, slower seem'd the hour 
 Than yesterday, when lay the oar athwart 
 And the loose sail flapt idly round the mast. 
 
 Both wisht to be alone again ; nor long 
 Abstain 'd Catillus (when the cliff began 
 To chafe the water and impede the way) 
 From ordering to haul the skiff ashore. 
 Alone then were they. He ascends the path. 
 The well-known path of the old wood ; he stops, 
 Here, lest the stones should hurt her ; here, because 
 The grass is softer than all grass beside ; 
 Here, because sunny hazles most invite ; 
 And here, because no serpent ever coils 
 Beneath the ashen shade. Such leisure-hour 
 Fatigue and sense of safety make more sweet. 
 
 " Up ! Saha ! one more hill we must ascend, 
 TMience Tibur, now thy own, thou mayst descry. 
 
 They reach the summit. What, across yon chasm, 
 Fixes the maid her eyes upon ? A breeze 
 Whitens the waving wUlows as they bend, 
 And ancient elms cast shadows long and dark, 
 And the lithe tendril of the vine unpruned
 
 206 HELLENICS. 
 
 Pats and springs up and pats again the stream. 
 What sees she from the summit there ? Avhy gaze ? 
 Why tremhle ? why turn pale ? 
 
 Bcliokl ! there stands 
 Her father ! 
 
 You might have beUev'd her knees 
 Had turn'd to marble. 
 
 " Wretched girl ! " he cried, 
 Whom dost thou fly from ? " 
 
 At that voice she starts. 
 Swifter and swifter hurried she along 
 And thought each step was slower than the last. 
 Ambiguous was it from the fields or town 
 Whether she tore the youth away (her hand 
 Holding his spear through terror at the wrath 
 Of sire and prophet) or his arm made firm 
 Her step precipitous : but she was first 
 Where the road narrowed, fit for one alone, 
 And he where, leaning down for her, his spear 
 Protruded helpt her up the rock abrupt. 
 
 Indignant Anius saw them from below 
 Receiv'd into the city's double gate
 
 CATILLUS AND SALIA. -207 
 
 With loud acclaim and trumpet's louder clang ; 
 And from the aerial citadel the girls 
 One to another show'd him, and with taunts 
 Bade him begone. 
 
 He rushes to the wood 
 Resounding o'er the river : but nor clash 
 Of cataract hears he, nor wild shout, nor dash 
 Roaring above, redoubled imderneath, 
 And far away thro' cavern'd rocks prolong'd : 
 Nor rage impels him now nor tears dissolve. 
 He only presses with both hands his brow. 
 
 Ah from what bitter source must flow the grief 
 Such scenes assuage not ! There he stood, nor saw 
 Pareusius whirl his torrent deep below, 
 
 Whence watery dust eternal intercepts 
 
 The light of heaven. Dark ilex, bright-hair 'd beech, 
 
 And, vainly fostering ever-fruitless vine, 
 
 The loftier elm, mass above mass, arise. 
 
 Among the branches thousand birds appear 
 
 To raise their little throats, but every song 
 
 Fast as it flows the roaring torrent drowns. 
 
 Some, by assiduous helpmate undetain'd.
 
 208 HELLENICS. 
 
 Fly from the eternal thunder of the waves ; 
 
 These . . leave them only sheltering hough, and moss 
 
 To soften for their young the nest they knit . . 
 
 Nor rains can chill nor thunders shake their love. 
 
 By rocks inclosed, sore fretting, and resolv'd 
 
 No force shall quell it, rushes the array 
 
 Of water, now imited, scattered now, 
 
 Again to rally : pale is overhead 
 
 The mountain, pale and trembling ; to its sides 
 
 The splasht herbs cling the closer : many a reed 
 
 Is there which never shall sigh forth the plaint 
 
 Of the lone shepherd, many a flower is there 
 
 On virgin bosom never to recline. 
 
 But numberless bright intermingled rays 
 
 Spring up, whence Jove and Phoebus raise an arch 
 
 Lofty and wide, and Iris dwells within. 
 
 Wrong, upon earth imperious, may o'erpower 
 And crush the mortal ; Virtue may stand back 
 Nor help him ; even the clemency of Heaven 
 May fail ; the urn, the ashes laid within. 
 Violence may scatter ; but on those who die 
 Thro' wretchedness, and undeservedly.
 
 CATILLUS AND SALIA. 209 
 
 Compassionate and faithful verse attends 
 And drives oblivion from the wasted tomb, 
 
 why, ye Gods ! why, in such lands as these, 
 Fairest of earth, and where ye chose to dwell, 
 Should burst forth anguish from a father's breast ? 
 Why from the guiltless Anius ? Who brought gifts 
 More gladly to your altars ? who more pure ? 
 In part he utter'd this, in part supprest ; 
 Then added, 
 
 " Here is piety ! and thus 
 Doth she requite her father ! Duteous, chaste, 
 Benevolent, all thought her ; and to all, 
 Excepting me, she was so ; I alone 
 Less than a stranger merited her love. 
 Now know I what (Oh ! lesson hard to learn 
 At all times ! liow much harder for the old !) 
 A daughter owes a father. 
 
 " my wife ! 
 If Libitina * had allow'd thy stay, 
 To see me so far left behind in love 
 (Our fond contention) thou hadst surely griev'd. 
 
 * Venus Libitina was an Etruscan Goddess. 
 P
 
 210 HELLENICS. 
 
 I took the mother's place. When any pain, 
 However slight, she suffered, could I rest ? 
 Or could I leave her couch ? 
 
 " Go, snatch the torch 
 Of Hymen, run, mingle thy song with theirs, 
 From tranquil brow draw down the saffron veil. 
 And be thy children, if they can, like thee. 
 If every other rite thou hast disdain' d. 
 If scorn 'd the dower a royal bride should bring, 
 If thro' three nations, shameless, thou hast fled. 
 Blame, blame thy parent for it. He provides 
 At least a victim for so blest a day." 
 
 He spake ; and from the woody mountain-top. 
 Where by the eternal battery of the waves 
 A way is cloven, cast himself. From rock 
 To rock he fell ; and all the dew that rose 
 Around was dimly reddened with his blood. 
 The fact is well recorded : while the name 
 Of old Pareusius few remember, thine 
 Anius, sounds for ever on that stream.
 
 THE CHILDREN OF VENDS. 211 
 
 XXVIII. THE CHILDREN OF VENUS. 
 Twain are the sons of Venus : one beholds 
 Our globe in gladness, while his brother's eye 
 Casts graver glances down, nor cares for woods 
 Or song, unworthy of the name of Love. 
 Nothing is sweet to him, as pure and cold 
 As rain and Eurus. 
 
 What dissension thus 
 Severed the beauteous pair ? Ambition did. 
 With heavy heart the elder bore that he 
 Whom often with an arrow in his hand 
 He saw, and whetstone under it, and knew 
 To spend the day entire in weaving flowers 
 Or drawing nets, as might be, over birds. 
 That he should have men's incense, he have shrines. 
 While only empty honour, silent prayer. 
 Was offered to himself. 
 
 On this he goes 
 And makes Silenus arbiter. The eld 
 With gentle speech would fain assuage his wrath ; 
 It rises but the higher : he bids him call 
 
 p2
 
 212 HELLENICS. 
 
 The Idalian to his presence, then decide. 
 
 With downcast eye, and drooping wing, and cheek 
 Suffused with shame, the httle one advanced, 
 And " Brother ! did you call me ? Then at last 
 The poor Idalian is not quite despised ? " 
 
 The kindly arbiter in vain attempts 
 To bring together two such potent hands. 
 "No" said the taller ; " I am here for this, 
 This only, that he learn, and by defeat. 
 What is my power." 
 
 Hereon Silenus, " Go ! 
 Kiss first : then both (but with no enemy) 
 In power and honour safely may contend." 
 
 The younger leaps upon the elder's neck 
 And kisses it and kisses it again : 
 The austerer could not, tho' he would, resist 
 Those rapid lips ; one kiss he did return, 
 Whether the influence of the God prevail'd, 
 Or whether 'tis impossible to stand 
 Repelling constantly a kindly heart. 
 But neither his proud words did he remitt 
 Nor resolution : he began to boast
 
 THE CHILDREN OF VENUS. 213 
 
 How with his radiant fire he had reduced 
 The ancient Chaos ; how from heaven he drove 
 The darkness that surrounded it, and drew 
 Into their places the reluctant stars, 
 And made some stand before him, others go 
 Beyond illimitable space ; then curb'd 
 The raging sea and chain'd with rocks around. 
 "Is not all this enough for you ? " exclamed 
 The brother ; " must my little realm be stript 
 Of every glory ? You will make me proud 
 In speech, refusing what is justly due. 
 Upon my birth the golden ether smiled. 
 What Chaos was I know not, I confess ; 
 I would let every star fly where it list. 
 Nor try to turn it : her who rules them all 
 I drew behind the Latmian cliiFs ; she prayed. 
 She promist ever to perform my will 
 Would I but once be friendly. 'Twas her first, 
 'Twas her last vow . . and it was made to me. 
 Now you alike inhabit the same heaven, 
 And she must know you, yet none other Love 
 Acknowledges save him whom you despise.
 
 214 HELLENICS. 
 
 To me what matter are the raging seas, 
 Curb'd or uncurh'd, in chains or out of chains ? 
 I penetrate the uttermost retreat 
 Of Nereus ; I command, and from the deep 
 Dolphins rise up and give their pliant hacks 
 For harps to grate against and songmen ride ; 
 And, when I will'd it, they have fondly wept 
 For human creatures human tears, and laid 
 Their weary lives down on the dry sea-sand. 
 Desert thou some-one, and he knows it not ; 
 Let me desert him, let me hut recede 
 One footstep, and funereal fire consumes 
 His inmost heart. 
 
 " The latest guest above 
 With basket overturn'd and broken thread 
 Lay lithe as new-mown grass before the gate 
 Of Omphale : a fondled whelp tug'd off 
 The lion-skin, and lept athwart his breast. 
 Vast things and wonderful are those you boast, 
 I would say nothing of the higher Powers, 
 Lest it might chafe you. How the world turns round 
 I know not, or who tempers the extremes
 
 THE CHILDREN OF VENUS. 215 
 
 Of heat and cold and regulates the tides. 
 
 I leave them all to you : give me instead 
 
 Dances and crowns and garlands ; give the lyre, 
 
 And softer music of the river-side 
 
 Where the stream laps the sallow-leaves, and breaks 
 
 The quiet converse of the whispering reeds : 
 
 Give me, for I dehght in them, the clefts 
 
 Of bank o'ergrown by moss'es soft deceit. 
 
 I wish but to be happy : others say 
 
 That I am powerful : whether so or not 
 
 Let facts bear witness : in the sun, the shade, 
 
 Beneath the setting and the rising stars 
 
 Let these speak out ; I keep them not in mind." 
 
 •' Scarce less thy promises" the other cried. 
 He smiled and own'd it. 
 
 " You will soon educe 
 Bolder assertion of important deeds 
 Who things terrestrial haughtily despise. 
 Decline your presence at the bhssful couch, 
 And boast you never make those promises 
 Which make so many happy, but with eye 
 Averted from them gaze into the deep,
 
 216 HELLENICS. 
 
 Yet tell me, tell me, solemn one, that swearest 
 By that dark river only, who compel'd 
 Pluto to burn amid the deepest shades. 
 Amid the windings of the Stygian stream 
 And panting Phlegcthon ? while barkt the dog 
 Three-throated, so that all his realm resounds. 
 And w/io {hei*e lies the potency) who made 
 The griesly Pluto please the captive bride ? 
 Mere sport ! If graver, better, things you want, 
 This is the hand, and this the torch it held 
 (You might have heard each drop the Danaid 
 Let fall, Ixion's wheel you might have heard 
 Creak, as now first without his groans it roll'd) 
 When the fond husband claspt Eurydice, 
 And the fond wife the earhest slain at Troy." 
 The arbiter embraced him : more composed 
 He turn'd toward the other and pronounced 
 This sentence. 
 
 " most worthy of thy sire 
 The Thunderer ! to thy guidance I committ 
 The stars (if he approve of it) and storms 
 And seas, and rocks coercing their uproar.
 
 THE CHILDREN OF VENUS. 217 
 
 If Amphitrite smile, if Neptune bend. 
 But, thou smaller one of lighter wing, 
 Source of the genial laugh and dulcet smile. 
 Who makest every sun shed softer rays, 
 And one sole night outvalue all that shine, 
 Who holdest back (what Jove could never do) 
 The flying Hours ! thou askest nought beyond ; 
 And this do I award thee. I bestow 
 On thee alone the gentle hand hand-link t . . 
 Thy truest bond . . on thee the flowers, the lyre. 
 The river's whispers which the reeds increase. 
 The spring to weave thy trophies, the whole year 
 To warm and fiU it with the balm of spring. 
 Only do thou" . . he whispered in the ear 
 Of Love, and blusht in whispering it . . " incline 
 lanthe . . touch her gently . . just the point . . 
 Nor let that other know where thou hast aim'd.'*
 
 218 HELLENICS. 
 
 XXIX. THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 
 Sing we the last of that man's clays who tore 
 From Troy its safeguard, not against the will 
 Of Pallas ; Pallas brought him safely home. 
 
 Be with us, daughter of Mnemosyne ! 
 Thou who, altho' thou visitest the abyss 
 Of Etna, where Enceladus is bound, 
 Tempestuous giant, mad with impotence. 
 And darest walk by Styx and Phlegethon, 
 Nor dreadest, bolt in hand, the Thunderer, 
 Yet froin Sorrento gazest with delight 
 On waves so softly voluble. To these 
 I also turn : I seek that shore alone 
 Where stiffens on high rocks the hoary moss. 
 Too close and hard for idle child to strip 
 Or singing-bird to twine round slender nest. 
 When mute the trumpet of Miscnus, mute 
 The Sybil's cave, when o'er Parthenope 
 Crumbles the bust and scarce her name remains. 
 Thou boldest up the deeds of glorious men 
 And followest their funerals with song.
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 219 
 
 Tell US then in what region sank to rest 
 Ulysses ; say, what did he, suffered he, 
 When he departed homeward from these shores ? 
 
 Ogygia's secret, Circe's festive, bower, 
 Faithless to hospitality, we leave. 
 And harp that Phoebus scorns, and woof unseen 
 Of Pallas, tho' its shuttle be of gold : 
 Better by far to mark how pure and firm 
 Connubial bonds in life and death are blest. 
 
 Jove pitied him who, after toils which man 
 Had never undergone, was guided now 
 By Pallas : he decreed in recompense 
 Penelope not only should retain 
 Her love and duty, but her youth and charms. 
 Many the marvels his eventful life 
 Had witnest ; this more marvelous than all 
 Was unobserv'd ; not through ingratitude ; 
 But such he ever thought her ; such she seem'd 
 In grace and beauty at all after-times 
 As when he left her to depart for Troy, 
 Or when he led her, with the fife before. 
 Under the garlands of her father's gate.
 
 220 HELLENICS. 
 
 That which the God now gave her seem'd her due, 
 
 Her property ; he never fear'd that age 
 
 Or fate could alter beauty such as hers. 
 
 He who sees all things saw the hero's mind. 
 
 The crowd of suitors own'd the miracle ; 
 
 And now the wretched men began to fear 
 
 Who rioted so loosely in the house. 
 
 How late their piety ! how scant their shame ! 
 
 How rapidly death's wide and downward road 
 
 Opens before them ! opens, yet unseen. 
 
 Indignant that Penelope had borne 
 So long their importunities and threats, 
 And that Ulysses had in vain escaped 
 Calypso's wiles and Circe's bristling caves. 
 In vain had brought the archer back to Troy 
 With arrows poison 'd in the hydra's blood, 
 The Sire to Venus " Highth of wickedness ! 
 Those suitors, once so patient, now abstain 
 Not even from the choicest of the herd, 
 Fatten'd, at his return, for us above : 
 Nor these alone the wretches would consume. 
 But their fierce lust burns fiercer from delay.
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 221 
 
 I doubt not . . beauty often counsels ill . . 
 
 If hope, if pleasure, give a brighter glow, 
 
 Or any deity her charms increase . . 
 
 I doubt not . . I fear greatly . . that, subdued 
 
 By ardent prayers she lend a patient ear. 
 
 The more I dread it lest Minerva's ire 
 
 Again be kindled : therefor I abstain, 
 
 As thou dost wisely, daughter, from offence. 
 
 Within twelve days 'tis destin'd he returns 
 
 For whom thou, "Venus, hast thro' wars and waves 
 
 Preserv'd the flame so vivid. Fate decrees 
 
 (What I could wish Fate never had decreed) 
 
 That the last comer carry off the prize, 
 
 Meeting her earliest on the twelfth day's morn. 
 
 A crowd of lovers shakes the faith of few, 
 
 He shakes it who stands back and waits his hour. 
 
 I hope she may not meet the better man 
 
 Than her Ulysses : if she should so meet 
 
 That better man, I would not he prevail." 
 
 Venus had listened to this wily speech 
 Fearing lest strong commands might follow it. 
 But when her father added nothing more
 
 222 HELLENICS. 
 
 She fancied she could over-reach the wise 
 And potent, and make Pallas feel her might. 
 
 No hesitation : thro' the air she flies, 
 She stands hefore Penelope asleep, 
 And thus, without awakening her. 
 
 " The first 
 In the twelfth morn who meets thee, shall be held 
 By thee in love unbroken, and subdue 
 Whatever enemy advances near." 
 
 Close to the bed she goes, and there she stops. 
 Admiring her own gifts : then to herself, 
 " If Paris had beheld thee . . but just then 
 Thy husband took thee from the Spartan land . . 
 I was wrong then . . I am much wiser now . . 
 But, had he seen thee, he, his house, his realm. 
 Had stil been safe ; no guest betraid, no wrath, 
 By armure ript from heroes drag'd thro' dust, 
 By temples sunk in ashes, by the wounds 
 Of Gods, and even their bloodshed, unappeas'd." 
 Gazing once more ere vanishing, she said 
 " How beautiful ! how modest ! " 
 
 When that morn
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 223 
 
 Advances, she repents the doom it brings, 
 
 And fears him angry whom she little fear'd 
 
 So gracious : now she wishes she may fail 
 
 In what she most desired : she blames her power 
 
 Of eloquence, to which Minerva's self 
 
 Must yield a victory greater than the last. 
 
 What should she do ? alas ! what had she done ? 
 
 Unduteous wishes she would now unwish. 
 
 Upon no land is rest for her ; no land 
 
 Can hide, not all Idalia shade her guilt, 
 
 Nor clouds of incense from a hundred shrines. 
 
 To heaven, where only there is peace, she flies. 
 
 Pity of Jove and pardon to implore. 
 
 With placid brow he heard his daughter plead. 
 
 Turning her eyes decorous from his face, 
 
 Distantly first she stood, then cast herself 
 
 Before his knees : he rais'd her and spake thus : 
 
 " Did not thy hand, my daughter, which of late 
 
 Covered with cloud Anchises' son, and led 
 
 To Africa, lead him whom thou hast blest, 
 
 Ulysses ? for already hath he past 
 
 His city -gate, unknown, and hath approacht
 
 224 HELLENICS. 
 
 The queen, a welcome unexpected guest. 
 See what your efforts, in a single day, 
 Applied with such discretion, can achieve I 
 Yea, I have granted . . if indeed thy power 
 Ilath any need of mine . . that lasting love 
 Unite the hrave and constant : but within 
 Thy rule this lies, when Juno hath approved. 
 Seldom with Juno art thou so agreed. 
 And seldom hast thou sanction 'd so her bonds. 
 Behold what feats conjointly ye perform ! 
 I too, by somewhat, slightly may assist. 
 Ulysses in the vigour of his youth 
 (Rejoice with me) shall flourish, and shall crush 
 All enemies he finds beneath his roof : 
 Moreover (and in this with me rejoice) 
 Beneath a calmer sky his day shall close.'' 
 Astonisht at these words the Goddess wept 
 Thro' very shame, and hated Pallas more. 
 
 Ah ! we must now away from gentle Gods, 
 The Muse forbidding us to look behind 
 Or tarry longer. I would not decline 
 To sing of shipwrecks, wanderings, battles fought
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 225 
 
 By one against so many, thro' the love 
 He bore his wife, fought under her defence 
 Who shatters with her segis arms unchaste : 
 For neither sons; hath fail'd me nor the blast 
 Of trumpet. Harder is the task, and sldll 
 Greater, to take from age its weariness, 
 To give slow years fresh movement, and bear up 
 Sorrows when friends and household Gods are far. 
 He must himself relate the larger part 
 Of what befell him : audience will he find 
 In Arpi ; there he hopes to close his hfe 
 With Diomed, short as that life may be. 
 
 Thither he came, unknown ; and there he saw 
 In a close valley near his narrow walls. 
 Enjoying young men's games, the generous king. 
 Pleas 'd he lookt on awhile, then took his seat 
 Among the elders, in the grass by holm 
 Oershadow'd ; and there sate he til the stars 
 Threw tremulous light among the dusky leaves 
 And over was the contest : then the prince 
 Distributed the prizes : when the last 
 Had been awarded, the Dulichian chief
 
 226 HELLENICS. 
 
 Bespakc him thus, from full and throbbing heart . 
 
 " Glorious in war we knew thee ; now in peace 
 Well hast thou garner 'd up what best befits 
 The armury of Mars against foul days, 
 And Themis best in her old house protects. 
 Few things are pleasant to my wearied eyes, 
 But this is pleasant. 
 
 " I have given help 
 Erewhile, and now I ask it : thou alone, 
 son of Tydeus ! hast deserv'd that Heaven 
 To all thy wants and wishes should incline." 
 
 He groan'd : more closely Diomed embraced 
 That brave and faithful breast : he yearn 'd to hear 
 What had befallen him the Greek most Greek. 
 
 From a huge bowl he casts its crown away 
 And pours out wine to Jupiter, then drinks 
 And gives it to the guest, and kindly jeers 
 His temperate draught, and bids the boys around 
 Fill it again while it is yet half-full. 
 The handmaids gather nigh : one brings the vase 
 Smoking with water pure ; another (white 
 From dewy meadow what herself had spun)
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 227 
 
 The soft loug napkin ; many more are charged 
 With baskets, such as Ceres smiles to see, 
 Full of her ffifts . . all anxious to behold 
 That equal chieftain whom their master loved. 
 From ash and pine high leaps the flame, to glad 
 A guest beneath chill mountain shade received. 
 Warm grew the heroes mid redundant bowls, 
 And life-like boar, and black and ridgy hoof 
 Announcing good old stag, and joke, the growth 
 Of generous cheer : but moments there were yet 
 When he of Ithaca could ill suppress 
 A sigh, a groan . . thus with blithe voice reproved. 
 
 " Do not too much lament that thou hast left 
 The chaste Penelope : it griev'd thee less 
 For Circe and Calypso, whom the gods 
 Endowed with deathless beauty like their own. 
 If cares which touch all mortals move thee so. 
 And children, and that ill-persuading heed 
 Of what is future or may never be, 
 If thou hast lost Telemachus in fio-ht 
 Or wreckt at sea in seeking thee, my hills 
 Will soon repair that loss, will soon rebuild
 
 228 HELLENICS. 
 
 Thy house again : lierc virgin manners dwell 
 
 In virgin bodies active fresh and firm. 
 
 Tender are women in a tender age, 
 
 The heart grows harder as the years advance. 
 
 One thing is constant with them : never laid 
 
 Is the dread specter of departed youth ; 
 
 By day, by night, it rises in its pride ; 
 
 And often wilt thou wonder, often grieve, 
 
 To see the necklace of a smooth round neck 
 
 From throat ferruginous hang thinly down. 
 
 Even the scorpion in its early day 
 
 Shows milky whiteness ; its pellucid breast 
 
 Quivers with gentle fiber ; take it up. 
 
 And its worst anger is quite innocent ; 
 
 But thou wouldst shake it off thee when its arms 
 
 Livid with venom varicate amain." 
 
 Ulvsses smiled in silence ; to his mind 
 ^giale * with Cyllabaros return 'd. 
 But Diomed continued, " What forbids 
 That we should now be comrades, we whom Mars 
 So soon united when we first bore arms ? 
 
 * jEgialc, the adulterous wife of Diomed.
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 229 
 
 If this my house and this my realm were closed, 
 
 Or not in common, to the man with whom 
 
 Dangers were ever common, day and night, 
 
 When, most sixccessful prest the Phrygian foe, 
 
 And the Gods lowered most angrily, hecause 
 
 Of Venus wounded and their pride abased, 
 
 I should be such a hoste as Polypheme   
 
 Or Polymnestor, nor deserve thy stay. 
 
 The aged Daunus bade the Hesperian hinds 
 
 Obey my scepter : I engaged to guard 
 
 Their cots and pastures with ffitolian arms : 
 
 On these conditions I became their king. 
 
 Hence the Salentine hills another race 
 
 Now holds, and all those regions where once reign'd 
 
 lapyx, sprung of Daedalus. 
 
 " In vain 
 From the Rutulian king came Venulus, 
 Swelling with recent war, and bearing high 
 His crest above its changes, to attract 
 My arms across the mountains, on a foe 
 Of other days, whose mother from my spear 
 Protected him. I envy not the dower
 
 230 HELLENICS. 
 
 Latinus gives him. That ho merited 
 
 Wide lands and royal bride even those confess 
 
 Who seldom do confess another's worth. 
 
 Yet fear I not the Dardan : far away 
 
 From countries over which his scepter sways, 
 
 We rear our castles upon rocks abrupt, 
 
 That, none oflfending us, offending none. 
 
 We may enjoy our own . . and unendower'd. 
 
 Remote from us be war and cause for war ; 
 
 And may that pious man his hands abstain. 
 
 Nor fancy fate hath given him whate'er 
 
 The plenteous fields of Italy produce, 
 
 But, above all, stop short in his career 
 
 Before it reach Messapiusis domain, 
 
 Bounding the lands of Daunus, our allie ; 
 
 Else he may see the gift of Vulcan hang 
 
 Against our temple-walls, and, vanquisht thrice, 
 
 May only have the comfort to believe 
 
 That, were even Hector living, he had fail'd. 
 
 Much has he ; let him have it. Trojan spoil 
 
 Procures for me the comforts of old-age : 
 
 Let those who list remember what I was,
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 231 
 
 The proud invader what I am shall see. 
 
 All I desire is to secure my throne 
 
 And give my people few and equal laws. 
 
 Nor does that people with ungrateful mind 
 
 Repay my cares ; nor sterile is our glehe, 
 
 Nor under influence of malignant star. 
 
 If from ffitolia far indeed remote, 
 
 If far away Evenus paces slow 
 
 Among rich pastures where the quoit sinks deep, 
 
 At least Atrides sways no scepter here." 
 
 Then spake Ulysses. 
 
 " Whence, illustrious son 
 Of Tydeus ! whence this hatred ? Of all Greeks 
 Never was one more duteous to his chief ; 
 A great man's no small praise ; may this be thine, 
 And leave to weaker an indocile rage." 
 
 Then smiled the founder of the Arpine walls. 
 " All thine's are bearable to him who rose 
 In valour equal to the first in rank. 
 Son of Laertes ! in those times I held 
 My peace, thou knowest ; valour was enough 
 For me ; worse men commanded. Do those men
 
 232 HELLENICS. 
 
 Restore our kingdoms ? Are wc not exiled 
 
 From our own fields, from our own household Gods ? 
 
 Did I petition ? askcst thou ? Compel'd 
 
 So far not oven the exile is, whose shade 
 
 Must wander under these Italian skies. 
 
 To ask, is buying at too high a price. 
 
 Let the spear bring me what is mine, or rest 
 
 For ever ! Can men's prayers avail when men 
 
 Themselves are nothing ! Should I try to move 
 
 The lofty whom my name could never reach ? 
 
 But, thou sprung from Mercury ! when praise 
 
 Descends from thee or any thy compeer. 
 
 The lost I seek, not, nor do things to come 
 
 The present quiet of my soul disturb. 
 
 " From Nei'itos a pinnace had arrived 
 And told us thou hadst to thy home return'd, 
 And found there those who had bemoan 'd thee lost, 
 Sometimes in forein lands, sometimes (as dreams 
 Or vague reports were prevalent) by death ; 
 Told us not only that thy aged sire 
 Thy boy and thy sweet partner thou hadst found, 
 But Overcome her suitors, slaying all.
 
 THE LAST OP ULYSSES. 233 
 
 Was it not pleasant to tbee, looking on, 
 To see the mistress and her maidens trip 
 Away to hide the sable vests they wore, 
 While there was time ; and the next morn to hear 
 How warm and pressing the domestic siege. 
 To hear the words and voices mockt so Avell ? 
 It did amuse ; and now it should console. 
 But tell me what good fortune (such is mine) 
 Restores thee to me ? Has the wrath of Heaven, 
 Or prepotence of Circe, been the cause 
 Of this last absence from thy native land ? " 
 With downcast eyes Ulysses thus replied. 
 " She, if she could, would not have done me ill. 
 She sprinkled my companions with her bane 
 And changed their figures : me, than bane or spell 
 More potent, love preserv'd. I am ashamed 
 To own it . . one whole year . . by love, by hope, 
 Bv all vain images her charms could raise . . 
 The fair Perseis my frail heart enthral'd. 
 Lost all the rest, one only ship, one wreck, 
 Escaping from the Lsestrigons, had reacht 
 The fatal shore.
 
 234 HELLENICS. 
 
 " I yield to sleep my eyes 
 Weary with watching, rigid with the salt 
 That hung upon them. In a dream I see 
 Penelope : I know that golden hair 
 Braided and bound as usual close behind, 
 And that green tunic which the Dryads wear 
 Following Diana thro' the sunny dew. 
 I stretch my arms to clasp her ; she escapes 
 The embrace ; not vanishing to empty air ; 
 Her form, her voice, her gentle speech, remain. 
 ' Cease, Ulysses ! cease at length to moui'n 
 My absence, my departure : none among 
 The Achaian chiefs to happy homes return ; 
 Another torch hath lit beloved wives, 
 Children so cherisht roam in other lands ; 
 But me, besought imtil my latest hour 
 By many suitors, no new love hath toucht 
 (Gods ! bear me witness !) nor untimely fate 
 By Dian's dart oertaken me ; but grief 
 Perpetual for thy loss, thy toils, thy woes, 
 Thy wanderings over every land and sea. 
 And rising over all, thy manly breast,
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 235 
 
 Thy beauteous image . . these, Ulysses ! these 
 Wasted my youth, now mingled with the shades. 
 Farewell, farewell ! enjoy this tranquil land 
 Blest with eternal spring ; remember me ; 
 But not too fondly, lest enjoyment cease.' 
 
 " Again I rush to her embrace ; I wake. 
 My eyes see nothing round me, now disturb 'd 
 By weeping, nothing but dark cypresses 
 And lofty cedars over me, and spred 
 Along the shore the thin-leav'd olive-tree, 
 And, wet with tears, the turf whereon I slept. 
 But soncevmat like the presence of that dear 
 Devoted head remain'd : the chamber-sound 
 Of her sweet accents warbled in my ear, 
 Her flower-like hair exhaled its odour stil. 
 ' Restore me, Persephone ! ' I cried, 
 ' That fond, that faithful one ! Why intercept 
 The coming years of the most beautiful, 
 
 house of Pluto ! gladden'd by no grace ?' 
 " To these complainings evermore renew'd 
 
 1 added all that grief could add, and all 
 That madness and impiety could urge.
 
 ogg HELLENICS. 
 
 " Under this form the daughter of the Sun 
 DeUided mc, rejoicing in the groans 
 Of spell-hound sleep, and wishing me to share 
 Her bed for life. Time and assiduous love 
 Softened my sorrow : hut my hands and eyes 
 Often I rais'd to Pallas, and implored 
 She would not utterly abandon me, 
 Unworthy, yet desirous to return 
 Beneath her holy guidance. When the Nymph 
 Found me devoted to appease that Power 
 Which in the perils of uncertain war 
 And on the Ionian and Sicilian sea 
 Was alway present, she assumed her form 
 And with her voice detain'd me, loth to part. 
 No longer could Tritonia then endure. 
 While I was praying that, since Heaven had will'd 
 Penelope should leave me for the Shades 
 And nought on earth so cherisht should be mine, 
 I might in duty prop my father's age, 
 Suddenly at this prayer from open skies 
 In gorgon terrors came the Virgin down 
 And stood before the guilty.
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 237 
 
 " ' Thou hast dared, 
 And with impunity ' the Goddess cried, 
 " To simulate another : but to lift 
 Minerva's helmet on a shameless brow, 
 Minerva's segis o'er a breast impure, 
 Themis and he who rules the Gods forbid. 
 Now then, since thou hast broken every bond 
 Whereby thou passest human life in years, 
 Tho' I could justly mulct thee of them all. 
 Not one I take away from thee ; I leave 
 The number, stripping them of graceful youth 
 And giving helpless solitary age.' 
 She spake, and rose, and vanisht in the clouds. 
 The Nymph grew hideous ; her indignant voice 
 Lost its own likeness ; and, that nought remain 
 Of tender to compassionate, her tears 
 Were taken from her ; she coidd wail, not weep. 
 Cold, to the inmost chamber, is the air 
 Of the whole house ; still are the grots ; the birds 
 Are silent in the grove ; the shrivel 'd vine 
 Drops from the tree, the ivy from the wall. 
 Stupefied at the sight, with faltering voice
 
 238 HELLENICS. 
 
 I call upon the Goddess, now averse. 
 Regardless, or forgetting me, not once 
 Had tliat stern eye been bent on me, not once 
 While she was nearer dared I lift up mine. 
 
 " I leave the sadden'd shoi'e, lone, helpless, wild 
 From crowding thoughts. Accurst with guiltiness 
 I knew not whither I should bend my way, 
 But was resolved on going. Swift my step 
 By the blood's tide, and thirsty was my tongue ; 
 I sought the fountain ; its perennial source 
 Shrank up before me, and where water flow'd 
 Nothing was left but one dry black lagoon. 
 What evils, thought I, had I not deserv'd I 
 What punishment, that Rhadamanthus dooms 
 Or Jjlacus, my ancestors to bear, 
 Was not alike my due ? Such thoughts revolved 
 In my sad breast ; but milder now succede. 
 And tears, profusely running down, assuage 
 The storm of grief, and nourish hopes again ; 
 They buoy up distant Ithaca, they bi-ing 
 Before my eyes their fairest first delights, 
 They bring Eurotas back to me, that stream
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 239 
 
 Which ran so lucidly along the field 
 Of good Icarius ; I behold afresh 
 The plighted hand, the overtaken bride, 
 The cheek upon my shoulder, and the veil 
 Which stil to Modesty the Spartan maids 
 At the turf altar dedicate in song. 
 Above all other thoughts that bride arose, 
 Chaste, beauteous ; and Telemachus her son." 
 
 Diomed heard in silence all he said . . 
 In silence . . not unmoved. As the clear steam 
 Of wood, however season 'd, hurts the eyes. 
 He backt his seat and turn'd them just aside 
 And drew his hand across them once or twice, 
 Then, after short delay, nor late at night, 
 Wisht placid slumber to his weary guest. 
 
 SECOND PART, 
 At morn the Arpine youth with zeal prepare 
 Nets, dogs, and whatsoever else the brave 
 Delight to pass their time in : but at eve 
 Ascain did Diomed entreat to hear 
 {Be there no woman in them) more events.
 
 240 HELLENICS. 
 
 " Let Atlas' daughter in sea-sounding woods 
 Weep on ; and farewell Circe. Thy device 
 With Polypliemc hath shaken every side ; 
 But tell us how, a shepherd as he was, 
 Nor spent, like others of that race, his life 
 In caves, nor struck from anvil all day long 
 The sparkling splinters of resounding iron, 
 How could his cruelty all theirs surpass ? " 
 Ulysses answered. 
 
 " Often I revolv'd 
 That prodigy ; nor would Sicilia's sons 
 Explane it while he lived : when fear had ceast 
 They told this story. 
 
 " While his brothers, some 
 Piped, and some danced, all revel'd, all drank deep, 
 Polypheme wandered in wild solitudes, 
 In easy meadow-land or green spring-corn 
 Or iEtna's flowery dells, where fancy chose. 
 Aglauros led his sportive kids, his goats, 
 Intractable, his kine, his mother ewes 
 And lambs aside them, and their Avether chief. 
 Among the groves and fields : as seasons changed
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 241 
 
 These heard their placid shepherd, whom they lov'd 
 For change of pasture, and could recognise 
 His voice, however far ; and down they ran 
 Trooping and stu-ring up a world of dust. 
 The Cyclops laught at seeing it, and wisht 
 To bring them in like manner to his call 
 And make them sport about him ; so he gave 
 A loud shrill whistle : herds and flocks ran off, 
 And Polypheme was left with Polypheme. 
 
 " Aglauros laught aloud. The Cyclops cried, 
 
 ' What ! with thy poisons, with thy eye, thy tongue, 
 Withdrawest thou my lambs, and drivest thus 
 My herds, as with a gadfly at the nose ? ' 
 
 " Fear struck the youth ; swift as the wind he ran 
 To the sea- shore and hid him in its caves. 
 But when the Cyclops found that neither flock 
 Nor shepherd would return, he went to trace 
 The footmarks ; unsuccessfully : he cast 
 On his sire Neptune words of scorn, and jeer'd 
 The trident, which had let the tide prevail 
 And every print from under disappear. 
 
 " Gentler of aspect soon, throughout the shore 
 
 B
 
 •242 HELLENICS, 
 
 He cries ' Return, Aglauros ! By the earth, 
 The seas, the stars, I swear, and every God 
 Above me and below ! fear not ; from harm 
 Safe shalt thou be as thou hast ever been.' 
 
 " Whether he now began to trust in words 
 All Gods were sworn by, whether hunger prest. 
 On the fourth day crept out the wretched man. 
 Now did the giant's bowels yearn with joy 
 At once and trepidate with bursts of ire. 
 ' Behold the faithless shepherd who withdrew 
 His master's flocks ! Thee never shall my loss 
 Enrich. Go, seek the shore again ; go, find 
 A deeper cavern, a more sure retreat.' 
 
 " Then was the giant seen to seize the youth 
 In vain imploring ; seen to crush his cheeks 
 With knotty pine ; tho' all who saw it ran. 
 And only know, beside, that round his head 
 Something was whirl'd, and then a far-off" wave 
 Opened, and closed, and whitened those around. 
 
 " The sheep came back the first, and last the kids. 
 Long speculating from the highest crags 
 And closest coverts : to those kids and sheep
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES, 243 
 
 Never came back Aglauros, never more 
 
 Against the empty milk-pail struck his pipe 
 
 At eventide, nor oped the wicker gate 
 
 Under his hand to free the flock at morn. 
 
 Lone, inaccessible, the Cyclops drove 
 
 His brethren from bin), drove the gentle Nymphs 
 
 Napsean, who scarce ventm-ed to approach 
 
 In pity of his anguish : with loud shouts 
 
 He frighten 'd them away, and pelted sore 
 
 With cedar cones the slim white backs they turn'd. 
 
 Thro' teeth shut close he curses the whole sex. 
 
 Calls them all mahce, calls them all deceit. 
 
 Then takes his reed, begins, breaks off, resumes 
 
 A hoarsC; a strident, an unripen'd song. 
 
 When, whether heat or idleness impels. 
 
 He plunges with loud plangor from a rock 
 
 Or ancient turret on the sea below, 
 
 And makes it quail and yield to him, up springs 
 
 A griesly specter, and rolls underneath 
 
 His heaving bosom, which surmounts the waves 
 
 By half its bulk. The shapeless form casts back 
 
 On the dense foam its dark dishevel'd hair ;
 
 244 HELLENICS. 
 
 Nor can he seize it with his grasp, nor drag 
 
 With hooked iron, nor with stones suhmerge, 
 
 Nor crush it with his cypress staif, nor turn 
 
 His eyes away from eyes as wildly fixt. 
 
 He speaks ; he listens ; waits ; bends down an ear 
 
 Now to the right, now to the left ; and hears 
 
 Remurmur low deep sounds. The shapeless form 
 
 Swells on the foam with dark dishevel'd hair ; 
 
 Sometimes, as waving from it human aid 
 
 Or imprecation of inhuman foe. 
 
 Tosses its arm, circling the surge, reclined ; 
 
 Sometimes, in power above life's power, erect. 
 
 Not only in the daylight, but in sleep 
 
 Rises that lurid image ; near, more near, 
 
 It comes before the gasper's face, and all 
 
 The giant's prowess one weak swing throws down. 
 
 His whole vast breast flows o'er with bitterness, 
 
 From what makes bad men worse, from solitude. 
 
 Strength uncontrolable and passion spurn'd. 
 
 This was (where Scylla and Charybdis rave) 
 
 The direst vision of Sicilian seas. 
 
 Be sure I quit not Sicily so griev'd
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. '245 
 
 As quitting Circe. This I learnt of her ; 
 
 Not to be caught with honied words by Nymphs 
 
 Or toy with perils. 
 
 " I retrieve a heart 
 Mindful that pious love once dwelt within. 
 And only tenderer for its last offence. 
 Goddess, or woman goddess-like in form 
 And blandly answering every care aiid thought, 
 May touch us, and may draw us from ourselves. 
 Yet always is there something we once had 
 And have not now ; a void we pant to fill. 
 
 " Minerva had admonisht me by night 
 That a wide water yet remain 'd to cross, 
 And various toils beside ; Ogygia's groves, 
 The evil pleasures of a vacant mind, 
 The Sirens' rocks, the Sirens too themselves, 
 Insults and wrongs at home, and other ills, 
 Again departing, I must undergo. 
 Who with Calypso knows not my sojourn ? 
 For swiftly fly bad actions into fame ; 
 The better follow slowly, and receive 
 Unwelcome entrance to half-open ears.
 
 24 fi HELLENICS. 
 
 " With little pleasure the Trinacrian coast 
 And Sirens I remember, and the song 
 As my prow sounded passing thro' their rocks, 
 When they came forward and this voice was heard : 
 
 " ' Ah ! whither art thou hastening ? Too severe 
 Have been thy sufferings, Laertes' son, 
 By sea and land ; too false have been thy joys. 
 If joys they were. Behold our glebe ! behold 
 Green here is winter, summer here is green, 
 Nor Sirius burns nor Pleiad deluges 
 Nor with sharp hailstones Eurus strips our vines, 
 Nor waste the cattle with disease, nor crops 
 With mildew. See ! how brightly shines our sun, 
 And far from cities what calm lives we lead.' 
 
 " But when they mark the sail flap past their song, 
 ' ! land at least that thou mayst learn thy fate ' 
 Cry all at once and spread their arms to heaven. 
 I shudder : my companions are intent 
 On catching more, and loath to turn the prow. 
 We furl to hearken, and along the thwarts 
 Sit silent : then upon the breeze is borne 
 This one clear voice.
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 247 
 
 " ' thou, who dost contemn 
 The Sirens and their pleasures ! hasten home, 
 Revisit wife and son : thy son . , mark this . , 
 Shall be thy death.' 
 
 " My knees sink under me. 
 Calypso had this very fate foretold 
 In verse unvarying. Tears Calypso shed, 
 The Siren sang it and her cheek was dry. 
 And now Atlantia's prophecy came home. 
 Neglected while deliver 'd. For we know 
 The loving fear sad things when lovers part. 
 And fancy one weak word may hold them back. 
 She blusht not, even tho' Mercury stood by, 
 To waste her bloom with overflow of tears. 
 Albeit he brought his mighty Sire's command 
 To hasten my return nor brook delay. 
 Fainting, she thought of me ; she sob'd, and said 
 My fate was harder than my faults deserv'd. 
 
 " Compel'd then am I, wretched ! to foreknow 
 Inevitable fate, fate so austere 
 That no impiety could merit it, 
 While from all other mortals their last hour
 
 248 HELLENICS. 
 
 Soft shades and kiudly darkness have conceal 'd. 
 What should I do ? and whither fly ? Again 
 Implore the Goddess whose neglected will 
 Was manifest ? 
 
 " Again did she command : 
 And now am I ohedient. Go I will ; 
 I will go home. 
 
 '• powerfulest of Gods ! 
 Avert but this one evil from my house, 
 From my Telemachus ! Long after me 
 Grant he may live, and ever hear in mind 
 What was his father . . at whose breast he huns: . . 
 And may his love and virtue equal hers ! 
 
 '* I reach the rocks of Ithaca, the house 
 Of old Laertes. Is he yet alive ? 
 Lives yet that good old man ? Lives yet that wife 
 So cherisht ? Lives that son whom neither threat 
 Nor omen shall detain from my embrace, 
 Telemachus ? 
 
 " A street I enter, fill'd 
 With joyous boys whose mothers were unborn 
 When last I left it. While my eyes grow dim
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 249 
 
 By looking out for one of riper age, 
 Lo, suddenly the Goddess ! She arrests 
 My hurried step, beheld by me alone ; 
 I turn ; she teaches what I must perform, 
 
 " Deceived is he who thinks to find at home 
 The close of his misfortunes. I was griev'd 
 Now to dissemble ; but too great the need. 
 I did dissemble when that faithful wife 
 Wept in my presence my sure death, and askt 
 About the man whom all men must have known. 
 And whom I had confest to her I met 
 When Troy was fallen, when the Achaian ships 
 ( Scatter 'd by crime in Ajax) all were wreckt, 
 And many perisht in the Euboic sea. 
 
 " ' Ah ! 'tis no little ' said she ' to have seen, 
 And only seen, one ever dear, one tome 
 From my sad youth, one so long hoped in vain. 
 Until he come, if come he may, my house 
 Shall cherish thee, and tend thy coming age. 
 Thy strength is yet unshaken, but will want 
 A thousand cares one weaker can supply. 
 For our last days roll like the wintry flood
 
 260 HELLENICS. 
 
 In rapid coiu'se away : at morn, at eve, 
 We stand and wonder it has not gone down. 
 No guest more welcome enters thro' our gate 
 Than one who dares adraonisli evil minds 
 How great, how brave, my husband is, how sure 
 All their transgressions shortly to chastize.' 
 
 " Fixt by her sorrowing constancy I stood. 
 Open and dry an iron hardness held 
 My eyes while she was speaking : to relax, 
 To clasp her, Pallas and the Fates forbade : 
 In the wide hall the bow must first be bent, 
 The crowd of daring suitors swept away. 
 I did indeed at that same hour expect 
 The fatal weapon me too would transfix. 
 And yet abstaiu'd I from admonishing 
 My son about the prophecy, for fear 
 That his first feat in arms might be less firm. 
 Exhorting him however to avoid 
 The too close columns, lest they intercept 
 Or turn aside his arrow, when the wrongs 
 Of sire and mother rouse his vengeful wrath. 
 The Gods have been more gracious : stil I breathe,
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 251 
 
 Stil we breathe all : the foe alone breathes not. 
 
 " Then what embraces, then what joys, were ours I 
 To Pallas, and to Juno, who preserves 
 The marriage-torch, and to the sire of Gods, 
 And to thee, Mavors ! brother and support 
 Of Justice ! prayers we offer, incense burn. 
 Nor was the altar cold, before my wife, 
 Mindful how often to and fro her room 
 She went to weave and to unweave the web. 
 Suspended it to Here. She return 'd 
 And, as Laertes sat enjoying all 
 The bliss of sunshine, said to him 
 
 " ' Forgive, 
 Dear father I if thee also I deceiv'd, 
 Looking each evening at the unravel'd work ; 
 Forgive me if I keep it not to wrap 
 Thy bones ! With better omens time enough 
 Is there to weave another. May the Gods 
 Grant me to work as hard and watch as long 
 Before thou want it, blessed dear old man ! ' 
 
 " Alas ! from what a wife (bow brief the space !) 
 Destiny calls me I Pious, brave, benign.
 
 252 HELLENICS. 
 
 I found Telemachus, and loath to bear 
 The scepter of his sire. I loved to see 
 One so distrustful of his years, and one 
 Who counted not his father's. 
 
 "Can then youth 
 
 Indeed be slow to seize the loosen'd reins ? 
 
 Willingly less than whom the Gods forsake ? 
 
 He was . . I led him where green pastures breath'd 
 
 With oxen, horses, sheep ; where fruit mature 
 
 Swel'd on the branches, and where yellow corn 
 
 Droopt in luxuriant heaviness of ear. 
 
 And said 
 
 " ' Look round, Telemachus ! the fruit 
 (Thinkest thou not ?) from storm and rain secure, 
 Is fit to gather and the grain to reap,' 
 
 " ' Let it be done ' said he. ' I will return 
 To-morrow for thy orders.' 
 
 " I embrace 
 The duteous youth, and add in graver voice, 
 ' No other is my Ufe : it too hath borne 
 Its storms, and now is ripened. They to whom 
 All things must yield, the Gods above refuse
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES, 253 
 
 My day to close in Ithaca : I go : 
 
 This Httle land is not enough for both, 
 
 And there are others that require my care.' 
 
 He stood in wonder : then he cast himself 
 
 Before my knees, and cried. * Is then my love 
 
 So doubtful ? Must worse trial be endured ? 
 
 Say, father ! tell me what thou threatenest. 
 
 Can such be thy resolve ? We are secure 
 
 Now those proud men are slain. Thy sire and thou 
 
 Lived with one heart : the land was then enough 
 
 For him and thee ; ah ! why not now for us ? 
 
 A thousand animals thou seest around. 
 
 Thou seest the city's flower successively 
 
 Spring up : age sinks not at the rise of youth. 
 
 Of all this people shall thy son alone, 
 
 He who thro' barbarous lands and stormy seas 
 
 Sought out his father, shall Telemachus, 
 
 Soon as the prayer is heard, the blessing given, 
 
 Be wanting to all duty, nor revere 
 
 In that beloved father his grey hairs ? 
 
 For this hath Pallas deign 'd to guide my steps 
 
 Or Jove to regulate my natal hour ?
 
 254 HELLENICS. 
 
 Could he who from Olympus keeps his eye 
 On guest and hoste, suppresses guilt conceal'd, 
 Extinguishes guilt manifest, preserves 
 Fathers . . himself the father of the Gods . . 
 Could he, the Avenger, see such crimes start up 
 Nor hurl his lightnings on the guilty head ? ' 
 
 " Farther he urges me ; until he hears 
 All that the Siren and Calypso sang. 
 Pale was his face ; to heaven his hands he rais'd 
 And ' Milder be the omen' he exclamed, 
 ' Than our fears render it ! Ye Gods above, 
 Look on Ulysses ! spare him ! Too unblest 
 Already, never let his house be like 
 The house of ffidipus ! . . I go . . not thou. 
 The little ile of Capri lies at peace 
 Under the just Teleboans : Telon prunes 
 The vines Sebetis planted : opposite. 
 The Locrians plow : and farther to the north 
 The seed of Amphiariius takes its root 
 Aside the falls of Anien. Let me haste 
 To any of these regions . . now, alas ! 
 The more remote from native land, from thee.
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 255 
 
 Unhappy father ! and from all we love, 
 
 To live the less unhappy. Every land 
 
 Will show me many who have known thee great 
 
 And glorious. Here Idomeneus commands, 
 
 Sprung of Deucalion, leaving sons behind 
 
 In distant Crete unwillingly : at hand 
 
 Reigns he whom Troy most dreaded of the Greeks, 
 
 Tydides, equal to the Gods in fight. 
 
 Thither the bark which brought thee home again 
 
 Shall take me speedily. Like one escaped 
 
 From shipwreck, I will hold the altar's horn 
 
 Imploring Zeus to mitigate thy doom. 
 
 Until the doubtful omen be dissolv'd.' 
 
 " ' What wouldst thou ? ' lexclame. ' Thou vie west 
 things 
 With youthful eyes, and lookest out for light 
 Where light ariseth not. Alas, my child ! 
 Little thou know'st how heedless are the safe, 
 To kings how unacceptable a king 
 Reduced to flight or sunk to poverty. 
 The sun hates darkness, prosperous men hate woe. 
 Comfort thy mother, guard thy people, son !
 
 256 HELLENICS. 
 
 I, trusting in Minerva, will depart.' 
 
 '• Thrown on the dust, he would have answer'd ; words 
 Fail'd him, and tears dried up : his breast he smote, 
 Imploring all the Gods that they would change 
 What is unchangeable, with looks, with groans, 
 With sobs, with supplications. 
 
 " I resist 
 More sternly. Then, in calmer voice and lower, 
 But turning back his neck that what he felt 
 Might be the better hidden, then said he, 
 ' The Gods have spoken when my father speaks. 
 While he was absent, his return I hoped . . 
 To hope was unforbidden . . now he goes 
 Casting all hope away, condemns, abjures 
 That piety which he and Heaven approved, 
 No time, no fortune, can assuage my loss.' 
 Silent and slow he follows to the house. 
 But at what hour and in what words advise 
 My wife of all I meditate ? My mind 
 Long wavers. I determine to conceal 
 The worst of ills forthcoming, and pretend 
 I must consult Dodona's oracle,
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 257 
 
 There to propitiate Zeus the Hospitahle 
 
 For blood, tho' traitor's, shed beneath my roof. 
 
 To see her credulous of words so false 
 
 (Altho' I wisht it) gave my heart a pang 
 
 Til then unfelt. I took her hand, and wept. 
 
 This my fresh-springing grief her cheering voice 
 
 Represt, and ' Soon return ' was all she said. 
 
 Alas ! in striving to escape a fault, 
 
 A graver I committed. I deceiv'd 
 
 Her Avho deceiv'd not me in word or thought ; 
 
 Her I deserted who would follow me 
 
 In life, in death, nor leave me in the Shades." 
 
 THIRD PART. 
 
 After some days the vintage had been cull'd, 
 Which now the rustics celebrate with song, 
 Dance, merriment, jest, and sonorous laugh. 
 Diomed their ancestral jokes enjoys 
 From various wide-mouth 'd formidable masks, 
 Commendino- to his guest the inventive race 
 That covdd dev-ise such wonders. More inclined 
 Was he to wander in a lonely path,
 
 268 HELLENICS. 
 
 Where ancient pine-woods to the sloping sun 
 Redden 'd at eventide, or where the downs 
 Were scattered over with low brakes, or where 
 Garganus whiten 'd with the Ionian wave. 
 The pliant airs that well obey the lip 
 And those that ivory tames with timely stroke 
 Sooth 'd and dissolv'd his sorrows for awhile. 
 But, when they left him lonely, these return 'd. 
 
 The leader of the J^ltolians now perceiv'd 
 That neither feast nor holiday avail'd, 
 Nor hound nor horn nor battle won again, 
 And that from converse, cup, and music's bath 
 (Softener of care) he came out unrefresht. 
 Wherefor a ship he order 'd to set sail 
 For Ithaca : there should Eurypylos 
 Tell how Ulysses had once more embraced 
 Tydides ; how he had been warn'd by Zeus 
 To leave his country, give his son his place, 
 And meet Penelope where house and home 
 And regal honours Diomed prepared. 
 
 Soon as he reacht the harbour, in the shade 
 Of Neritos which overhangs the town.
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 259 
 
 Eiirypylos saw there a crowd stand round 
 
 A youth ; nor was there any who ran down 
 
 To hail the ship or moor it on the strand. 
 
 Few things this youth seem'd saying, many more 
 
 He askt, and to the elders bent his ear, 
 
 Better their tremulous voices to receive. 
 
 He stood : below him seated were the scribes 
 
 On right and left, to seize and crush vague words 
 
 That buz about Law's imao-e, and to o-rave 
 
 On brazen tablets what calm minds approved. 
 
 " Ay ! here is something to delight thy heart, 
 Ulysses ! " said he ; for he knew by gest 
 And feature 'twas Telemachus who spoke 
 And with his father's wisdom ruled the land. 
 Where dwells Penelope he now inquires. 
 One from amid the people, with his hand 
 Points to the place. 
 
 " Lo ! yonder on the left. 
 Above the little hill : hers is that house 
 Which yon old pear-tree's shadow cuts across 
 And where swells out the hillock from its root." 
 
 There finds he, in the inner court retired, 
 
 s \i
 
 260 HELLENICS. 
 
 Penelope. She knelt at prayer, that soon 
 And prosperously her husband may return, 
 And spend old-age, if but old-age, at home. 
 Hearing tliat he was safe, she thought the Gods 
 Had granted all her wishes : not, to leave 
 The race that honored her, not peril, toil. 
 Storm on the water, rocks along the coast, 
 A stranger's house, a land exposed to war, 
 Troubled her spirit ; not, of wing adverse, 
 lapyx, fraught with wrecks and darkening heaven. 
 Nor, pallid from eternal lightning-flash, 
 Acrokeraunian thunder-rifted crags. 
 And winter too drew nigh : from every tree 
 The humid foliage o'er the grove was whirl'd 
 And the waves shuddered under Auster's blast. 
 The seventh morn had risen. Eurus, glad 
 To follow Phcebus, breath 'd his favoring gale, 
 And ship and sailors of his native ile 
 Telemachus with prudent zeal prepared. 
 With his own hand he heapt upon the deck 
 Cups, goblets, salvers (strange barbaric signs 
 Engraven there, strange mystic arguments)
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 261 
 
 And, laid apart by frugal ancestors, 
 Much unwrought gold. Slowly and loath the maids 
 Folded the vestures of their parting queen ; 
 Purple, to robe her husband, once their lord. 
 And white, befitting both before the Gods. 
 
 Then did Penelope embrace her son 
 Soothinof him with her gladness. 
 
 " Short the way " 
 She said " that separates thy sire and me, 
 And safely dwells he in Hesperian fields : 
 There mayest thou revisit, every year, 
 Both parents, dearest son ! there every spring 
 I shall look out to see its earliest flowers 
 Fluttering, a little withered, on the mast." 
 
 He groan'd, he prest her hand, he turn'd away. 
 And went strait home. 
 
 Now swells the sail, the waves 
 Plash louder and rise rougher up the prow, 
 And now the sailors in their hymns implore 
 The Gods presiding over winds and seas. 
 The anxious wife looks forward : wave and wave 
 In ceaseless chace advance. She looks behind :
 
 •262 IIKLLENICS. 
 
 Oil the hoar surface there the hills subside, 
 And from the victim a thin smoke ascends. 
 Then . . whether were it for the land she left, 
 Or hope prefiguring the beloved man, 
 Or her son's tender piety . . she wept. 
 
 Her mind grew calmer : rest, yet rest confused. 
 Came stiller over her : the inverted sky 
 Shining cerulean on cerulean sea, 
 The lapsing pinnace, the perpetual shower 
 Of golden sun-di'ops on the rippling wave, 
 Absorb 'd her yielded eyes, no longer sad. 
 Yet every hour she thought the pinnace sail'd 
 Slower and slower, the bright day advanced 
 Less bright : and thus in sunny calm went three. 
 Upon the third, Ulysses from the sands 
 Descried a cloud grow whiter with a sail ; 
 Nor long before a prow swells and descends ; 
 Then level oars the river's course divide. 
 Doubtful whence comes that vessel, many shores 
 And many streams and wealthy marts arise 
 Before his vision, with their chiefs and kings : 
 Only one land escapes his mind ; that one
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 263 
 
 His own. 
 
 " Perhaps tho' (for the wind is fair) 
 It may have left Zacynthos : such the form 
 And such the colour of Zacynthan sails." 
 
 At length he knew the master ; he was born 
 In Httle Asteris plow'd by shallow keels. 
 He knew and heard him nearer give command 
 To lower and furl the sail : but first he warn'd 
 The maidens to beware the cordage loost. 
 While as Ulysses pondered, at his side 
 There stood Eurypylos : in lighter skiff 
 He left the iland, and before the dawn 
 Arrived at home. From him the hero prest 
 To hear exactly all that had occur 'd. 
 Royal impatience of long narrative 
 Confused it : and there presently was that 
 Which brake and scattered all . . Penelope. 
 
 Each ran to the embrace. 
 
 " So swift of foot ! 
 So girlish ! " cried he. " Verily I think 
 The Gods have given back thy youth again ! 
 May . . since the past returns . . may Arpi give,
 
 264 HELLENICS. 
 
 To show thee welcome, all Amyclai gave ! " 
 And often too when later years advanced 
 He sported thus ; nor knew the truth he spoke. 
 To make her more contented with lier change, 
 He added, " Sweet as were in other days 
 Tiiygetos, and woods where pealing horn 
 Challenged the hunter ; sweet hencath the cliffs 
 Midsummer shade and shade-horn moss, retreat 
 Of maidens equal-aged ; yet nought beyond 
 Regrets that all young hours leave after them 
 Shall she experience who will tread henceforth 
 Valleys more soft than all she trod before. 
 Taburnus robed in roseate light serene 
 Here meets majestical the setting sun ; 
 Above his folds and swallow-nested roofs 
 Oak-crown 'd the ridges of Garganus rise, 
 And clearest streams from their dark cooms descend. 
 On stream like these swam Helen's golden hair. 
 For stream like these her father swan left heaven. 
 This is the land where thou art to behold. 
 Born of the Gods, belov'd by them, a man 
 Whom, if Ulysses, if thy son, be dear,
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 265 
 
 For-ever thou must venerate. By his arms 
 Fell IHon : Deities the most averse 
 Turn'cl round to strengthen him : and he alone 
 Brought those he led to conquest safely home." 
 
 That man himself to greet them now advanced ; 
 But, coming nearer, douht perplext his mind 
 Whether he misht extend a hand to one 
 Upon whose brow sat majesty above 
 The majesty of mortal, to whose step 
 Modesty lent that quiet stateliness 
 Which Pride, if Pride were wiser, might assume. 
 He stops, and fixes on the earth his eyes. 
 A Goddess seems before him : shield and spear 
 He looks for : sees he Pallas ? How presume 
 To question why the expected stays behind ? 
 A rising sigh betrays the human breast. 
 
 " Penelope! while thy Ulysses breathes " 
 Cried he "this scepter while Tydides wields. 
 And while the Father of the Gods and men 
 Sets right and wrong apart, thy womanhood 
 Never shall want the spear's true guardianship ; 
 No need of segis o'er a breast like thine."
 
 266 HELLENICS. 
 
 A place there is upon that kingdom's verge 
 O'er which the best of brave (Etolians reign 'd, 
 Near the sea-shore, but in a vale retired, 
 Where smoke ascended from few cottage-roofs 
 And the low copses round about ; there dwelt 
 An ancient race in ancient piety ; 
 And there Ulysses with the late restored 
 Design 'd to pass what had not past of life. 
 And granted was the wish, on compact made 
 That every year, on their departure's day, 
 They should return and share the genial feast. 
 
 Italy now for many years had paus'd 
 From war and discord : Fame, who follows war 
 And discord eagerly, came well receiv'd 
 By those who rested from them, with her tale 
 Of each adventure to the heroes since ; 
 And who had died, and how ; what better luc 
 To those, the few, who breath 'd in upper air ; 
 Under what auspices Pet ilia grew ; 
 Antenor's rising realm where loudly sounds 
 Timavus ; the contested Latian bride ; 
 The Alban range, and Tiber, on whose stream
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 267 
 
 Fate had decreed eternal walls should stand. 
 
 Another name the winged Goddess loved 
 
 To celehrate, one shining over earth, 
 
 A name at which all women threw aside 
 
 The spindle : ever wretched, ever true, 
 
 Was he who bore it : Circe hoped in vain, 
 
 In vain Calypso, to possess him, free 
 
 From combat, free from converse with mankind. 
 
 By seas and rocks enclosed and charms and spells. 
 
 Certain it is that yet in Italy 
 
 He lives, exempt from age and from disease, 
 
 Whether by Circe's or Calypso's gift 
 
 Uncertain, driven from his realm, receiv'd 
 
 In Arpi, guest of Diomed his friend. 
 
 The day appointed for the yearly feast 
 Of his reception, had recm-r'd : the pair 
 Enter, as wont, the gates of Diomed, 
 And all around is royal pomp displaid. 
 The whole house laughs with luxury ; the cheer 
 Rejoices it, the hearers of the cheer ; 
 It most is gladdened by its master's face. 
 Thro' the wide courts and thro' the country round
 
 268 HELLENICS. 
 
 The lyre and pipe sprinkle and strengthen song. 
 
 Staid men warn off the noisier of the crowd 
 
 Coming too near the wine-cup's froth and hiss 
 
 And savory smoke from salvers. One alone 
 
 Resisted. He entreated them to tell 
 
 Ulysses that Telegonos was there. 
 
 He urged ; he call'd him father . . nor mlscall'd. 
 
 After six moons had risen since the flight 
 
 Of her heloved husband (thus she named 
 
 Ulysses) Circe in her grot had borne 
 
 This boy, and, ever mindful of the sire, 
 
 Call'd him Telegonos, because his birth 
 
 Had happened when Ulysses was afar. 
 
 The men of Arpi and of Ithaca, 
 
 As the youth presses forward, are alert 
 
 In criminations, are alert in blows 
 
 Against the impostor who would simulate 
 
 Telemachus, but blundered in the name ; 
 
 These, adding to repulse whate'er a love 
 
 Of their young lord suggested ; those, whate'er 
 
 Of coarse and bitter rustic life supplied 
 
 And malice's contagion, swiftly spred
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. 269 
 
 When the dense vulgai* catches the disease. 
 
 Who shall record the rabble ? who pronounce 
 
 The barbarous names ? who care to know, if told ? 
 
 So loud the clangour of hell's clasping lash 
 
 About their sides, 'tis hard to catch them all, 
 
 But what are audible ye now shall hear. 
 
 Gabalus, whence in Italy the name 
 
 Of that accursed tree whereon he hung, 
 
 ^Vho kept the gold entrusted to his care ; 
 
 Of pole fox-colored where pink baldness ceast, 
 
 Gabbus, who hade escape the thief he caught, 
 
 To share with him the spoil he bore away. 
 
 Bcethamus, bold in plunder, bold in wife, 
 
 He, and his sea-spawn brothers ; and, of gait 
 
 Countenance and demeanour brotherlike, 
 
 A dismal sister, hired at funerals 
 
 To howl in verse the praises of the dead ; 
 
 Following the father's footsteps all alike. 
 
 Who, in proportion to the bribe, from Jove 
 
 Or from Ixion traced a chief's descent. 
 
 There also stretcht Orsilochos, who knew 
 
 The names of horses, but Ulysses' name
 
 •J70 HELLENICS. 
 
 He knew not. From the bench where he reclined 
 Uprear'd a little, heavily he croakt, 
 '* What ! and shall we be standing here, and thou 
 Be seated at the feast ? " 
 
 More eagerly 
 Urges the youth, more ardently implores. 
 Calling on Gods and men. Rule, country, son. 
 Duteous, devoted, his Dulichian sire 
 Again shall find, not exile. Whether shame 
 Withheld him, or the Fates, no word said he 
 Of Circe who had borne him. Staves and clubs 
 Rattle around him : seamen, craftsmen, rush 
 Upon one man, and that one man nnarm'd. 
 They close the gate against his issuing out : 
 Nor would it have avail'd : but stones are cast. 
 Sharp stakes protended. Inborn valour boils ; 
 He catches up and hurls the weapons back, 
 Wounded by many, sorely too assail'd 
 By stinging scorn. 
 
 While arms are ringing round, 
 Ulysses, hearing from within the noise,*" 
 And that, whatever be the cause, a man
 
 THE LAST OF ULYSSES. '271 
 
 Of his Avas harrast by assaults and jeers, 
 
 That stones were %ing in the royal court, 
 
 Blows were redoubling, death was breath'd, rusht out 
 
 So insolent commotion to allay. 
 
 In Ithacan and Arpine, young and old, 
 
 Clamour and violence, louder, fiercer, swel'd ; 
 
 But with his eye, his hand, his voice, he checkt 
 
 The foremost. One step farther (such respect 
 
 All bore toward his dignity and age) 
 
 An open way Avas made. Ph^don, escaped 
 
 From Apina, found room enough to dart 
 
 Against Telegonos, a sharpen'd stake. 
 
 Telegonos stoopt, seiz'd it, turn'd, pursued, 
 
 And hurl'd it, as he mounted up the steps. 
 
 Untrue the angry aim ! that pointed stake 
 
 Transfixt the unknowing and unknown . . transfixt 
 
 His father ! His knees totter : on the earth 
 
 He falls : blood hisses from the gasping wound. 
 
 All start with horror, never felt before, 
 
 From blood now running thro' the garlands strown 
 
 Along the ground ; a husband's, guest's, and king's. 
 
 Lifting up once his eyes, heavy with death,
 
 272 HELLENICS. 
 
 " The Omnipotent hath heard my prayer " said he, 
 " The appointed hour is come . . nor brings remorse 
 To my Tclemachus." He turn'd his face 
 Back on the hall, for thence he secm'd to hear 
 Confusedly shrill voices, questions sharp. 
 Whose blood runs there ? Ulysses whither gone ? 
 He drew with failing hand the festal robe 
 Above his head, and sank ; no word, no groan. 
 
 XXX, SILENUS. 
 Silenus, when he led the Satyrs home. 
 Young Satyrs, tender-hooft and ruddy-horn'd, 
 With Bacchus equal-aged, sat down sometimes 
 Where softer herbs invited, then releast 
 From fawn-skin pouch a well-compacted pipe. 
 And sprinkled song with wisdom. 
 
 Some admired 
 The graceful order of unequal reeds ; 
 Others cared little for the melody 
 Or what the melody's deep bosom bore. 
 And thought Silenus might have made them shine.
 
 SILENUS. 273 
 
 They whisper 'd this : Silenus overheard, 
 And mildly said " 'Twere easy : thus I did 
 When I was youthfid : older, I perceive 
 No pleasure in the buzzes of the flies, 
 Which like what you like, my little ones ! " 
 
 Some fancied he reproved them, and stood still, 
 Until they saw how grave the Satyr boys 
 Were looking ; then one twicht an upright ear 
 And one a tail x'ecurv'd, or stroked it down. 
 Audacious innocence ! A bolder cried 
 " Sound us a song of war ; " a timider, 
 " Tell us a story that will last til night." 
 
 Silenus smiled on both, and thus replied. 
 " Chromis hath sung fierce battles, swords of flame, 
 Etherial arrows wing'd with ostrich-plumes, 
 Chariots of chrysolite and ruby reins, 
 And horses champing pearls and quaffing blood. 
 Mnasylos tells wide stories : day is short, 
 Night shorter ; they thro months and years extend. 
 When suns are warm, my childi-en, let your hearts 
 Beat, but not beat for battles ; when o'ercast, 
 Mnasylos and his tepid fogs avoid.
 
 274 HELLENICS. 
 
 " I hear young voices near us ; they are sweet ; 
 Go where they call you ; I am fain to rest ; 
 Leave me, and ask for no more song to-day." 
 
 XXXI. REGENERATION. 
 
 We are what suns and winds and waters make us ; 
 
 The mountains are our sponsors, and the rills 
 
 Fashion and win their nursling with their smiles. 
 
 But where the land is dim from tyranny, 
 
 There tiny pleasures occupy the place 
 
 Of glories and of duties ; as the feet 
 
 Of fabled faeries when the sun goes down 
 
 Trip o'er the grass where wrestlers strove by day. 
 
 Then Justice, call'd the Eternal One above, 
 
 Is more inconstant than the buoyant form 
 
 That burst into existence from the froth 
 
 Of ever-varying ocean : what is best 
 
 Then becomes worst ; what loveliest, most deformed. 
 
 The heart is hardest in the softest climes. 
 
 The passions flourish, the affections die. 
 
 thou vast tablet of these av;ful truths, 
 
 That fiUest all the space between the seas.
 
 REGENERATION. 275 
 
 Spreading from Venice's deserted courts 
 
 To the Tarentine and Hydruntine mole, 
 
 What lifts thee up ? what shakes thee ? 'tis the breath 
 
 Of God. Awake, ye nations ! spring to life ! 
 
 Let the last work of his right-hand appear 
 
 Fresh with his image, Man. Thou recreant slave 
 
 That sittest afar off and helpest not, 
 
 thou degenerate Albion ! with what shame 
 
 Do I survey thee, pushing forth the spunge 
 
 At thy spear's length, in mockery at the thirst 
 
 Of holy Freedom in his agony, 
 
 And prompt and keen to pierce the wounded side ! 
 
 Must Italy then wholly rot away 
 
 Amid her slime, before she germinate 
 
 Into fresh vigour, into form again ? 
 
 What thunder bursts upon mine ear ? some ile 
 
 Hath surely risen from the gulphs profound, 
 
 Eager to suck the sunshine from the breast 
 
 Of beauteous Nature, and to catch the gale 
 
 From golden Hermus and Melena's brow. 
 
 A greater thing than ile, than continent. 
 
 Than earth itself, than ocean circling earth.
 
 276 HELLENICS. 
 
 Hath risen there ; regenerate Man hath risen. 
 
 Generous old bard of Chios ! not that Jove 
 
 Deprived thee in thy latter days of sight 
 
 Would I complain, hut that no higher theme 
 
 Than a disdainfid youth, a lawless king, 
 
 A pestilence, a pyre, awoke thy song, 
 
 When on the Chian coast, one javelin's throw 
 
 From where thy tombstone, where thy cradle stood, 
 
 Twice twenty self-devoted Greeks assail'd 
 
 The naval host of Asia, at one blow 
 
 Scatter 'd it into air . , . and Greece was free . . .* 
 
 And ere these glories beam'd, thy day had closed. 
 
 Let all that Elis ever saw, give way. 
 
 All that Olympian Jove e'er smiled upon : 
 
 The Marathonian columns never told 
 
 A tale more glorious, never Salamis, 
 
 Nor, faithful in the center of the false, 
 
 Platea, nor Anthela, from whose mount 
 
 Benignant Ceres wards the blessed Laws, 
 
 And sees the Amphictyon dip his weary foot 
 
 * Reduced now by the Holy Alliance into worse slavery than before.
 
 REGENERATION. 277 
 
 In the warm streamlet of the strait below.* 
 
 Goddess ! altho' thy brow was never rear'd 
 
 Among the powers that guarded or assail'd 
 
 Perfidious Ilion, parricidal Thebes, 
 
 Or other walls whose war-belt e'er inclosed 
 
 Man's congregated crimes and vengeful pain, 
 
 Yet hast thou toucht the extremes of grief and joy ; 
 
 Grief upon Enna's mead and Hell's ascent, 
 
 A solitary mother ; joy beyond, 
 
 Far beyond, that thy woe in this thy fane : 
 
 The tears Avere human, but the bhss divine. 
 
 I, in the land of strangers, and deprest 
 
 With sad and certain presage for my own. 
 
 Exult at hope's fresh dayspring, tho afar, 
 
 There where my youth was not unexercised 
 
 By chiefs in willing war and faithful song : 
 
 Shades as they were, they were not empty shades 
 
 Whose bodies haunt our world and blear our sun. 
 
 Obstruction worse than swamp and shapeless sands. 
 
 Peace, praise, eternal gladness, to the souls 
 
 * The Amphictyons met annually in the temple of Ceres near Anthela.
 
 •278 HELLENICS. 
 
 That, rising from the seas into the heavens, 
 
 Have ransom 'd first their country with their blood ! 
 
 thou immortal Spartan ! at whose name 
 
 The marble table sounds beneath my palms, 
 
 Leonidas ! even thou wilt not disdain 
 
 To mingle names august as these with thine ; 
 
 Nor thou, twin-star of glory, thou whose rays 
 
 Stream'd over Corinth on the double sea, 
 
 Achaian and Saronic, whom the sons 
 
 Of Syracuse, when Death removed thy light, 
 
 Wept more than slavery ever made them weep. 
 
 But shed (if gratitude is sweet) sweet tears ; 
 
 The hand that then pour'd ashes o'er their heads 
 
 Was loosen 'd from its desperate chain by thee. 
 
 What now can press mankind into one mass 
 
 For Tyranny to tread the more secure ? 
 
 From gold alone is drawn the guilty wire 
 
 That Adulation trills : she mocks the tone 
 
 Of Duty, Courage, Virtue, Piety, 
 
 And under her sits Hope. how unlike 
 
 That graceful form in azure vest array 'd. 
 
 With brow serene, and eyes on heaven alone
 
 REGENERATION. 279 
 
 In patience fixt, in fondness unobscured ! 
 What monsters coil beneath the spreading tree 
 Of Despotism ! what wastes extend around ! 
 What poison floats upon the distant breeze ! 
 But who are those that cull and deal its fruit ? 
 Creatures that shun the light and fear the shade, 
 Bloated and fierce, Sleep's mien and Famine's cry 
 Rise up again, rise in thy dignity, 
 Dejected Man ! and scare this brood away. 
 
 THE END.
 
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