STAC* 
 
 ANNEX
 
 AMARANTH AND ASPHODEL.
 
 AMARANTH AND ASPHODEL: 
 
 SONGS FROM THE GREEK 
 ANTHOLOGY. 
 
 ALFRED J. BUTLER, M.A. 
 
 FELLOW OF BRASENOSE COLLEGE, OXFORD. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 C. KEGAN PAUL & CO., i, PATERNOSTER SQUARE. 
 1881.
 
 (The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved!)
 
 DEDICATED, 
 
 BY PERMISSION, 
 TO 
 
 HIS HIGHNESS THE KHEDIVE OF EGYPT.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE revival of Hellenism in England will, I 
 think, be of some service to the cause of scholar- 
 ship, as it is likely to encourage the only type 
 of it which has much chance of living on in 
 a modern atmosphere. The pedantic style of 
 scholarship must give way to the artistic : the 
 love of form and colour in language must re- 
 place the craze for analysis. Already the 
 truism that the study of Greek art and archae- 
 ology ought to form part of a classical training 
 is being welcomed though shyly, as a new 
 revelation at schools and universities. Union 
 with art will give to scholarship those bolder 
 aims and higher purposes which alone can save 
 it from decay. For in the end scholarship does 
 not mean raking among the dust of a dead 
 language for relics of roots or atoms of grammar ; 
 it is rather the study of living beauty in shapes
 
 Vlil PREFACE. 
 
 of speech, and its highest result is not the 
 knowledge of tenses and particles, but the power 
 of understanding and loving what is beautiful 
 in the writings of great writers and in the world 
 of nature. Every artist would be better for 
 being first a scholar : I believe a right study 
 of the language in connection with the art of 
 Hellas is the best training an artist could have ; 
 that nothing else can, in the same way, refine the 
 sense of form and colour and develop artistic 
 power. Quite a contrary result must come from 
 the old style of scholarship, which would grope 
 among the cobwebs instead of admiring the 
 architecture, or would pound the gems in a 
 mortar in order to analyse their powder. As the 
 artist is a student of beautiful forms in nature, 
 so the scholar is a student of beautiful forms in 
 language : and as no art can be permanent that 
 lacks ideal meaning, so conversely no language 
 can be permanent that lacks artistic interest. 
 It is no mere chance coincidence that Greek 
 art and the Greek language each attained an 
 excellence unrivalled in human history. The 
 beauty of a statue, a coin, or a flower is the 
 same thing as the beauty of a phrase or sen- 
 tence : it requires the same taste to feel pleasure 
 in the lines of a sea-shell, or a fir-cone, as to
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 enjoy the mould of a fine sonnet or the build 
 of a great poem. But in art and in literature 
 alike one desires to go back beyond the mere 
 results, however fully their worth and significance 
 be understood. The deeper we see into the 
 spirit of the work, the more we wish to know 
 the spirit of the artist or writer, to know how 
 the mind of the maker was made, the stars that 
 met at his birth, the ways of thought and feeling 
 and action of the world in which he moved. 
 
 The Anthology, from which the poems in 
 this volume are borrowed, may fairly claim the 
 double interest of possessing at once paramount 
 artistic and antiquarian value. There is no book 
 like it for the student of Greek art or language 
 who wishes to understand the motives and 
 conditions of Greek life. Yet it is little known 
 or read even among scholars. In publishing 
 these verses, I venture to hope that more of 
 those who can read Greek will turn to the 
 perusal of the original, and some of those who 
 cannot may find pleasure in the copies. If the 
 coins are out of reach, some interest may attach 
 even to electrotypes. 
 
 The first collections the "Stephanos" of 
 Meleager, B.C. 60, and the "Anthologia" of 
 Philippus 150 years later, are lost: Cephalas
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 in the tenth century and Planudes, a monk of 
 Byzantium, in the fourteenth, from whose works 
 the existing Anthology is compiled, pro- 
 fessed to arrange by subject. The principle 
 seems right, in default of any known chrono- 
 logical order ; but their arrangement is so loose, 
 so full of cross-division, that I have not scrupled 
 to depart from it, and lay down the main lines 
 afresh. Once, however, these main lines were 
 fixed, it has not always been possible or desir- 
 able to plan out the details very minutely. The 
 Love-songs, after the first, follow roughly an 
 order of thought from doubt to possession, 
 possession to loss or satiety : the Songs of Death 
 fall into two groups historical and domestic : 
 but beyond this there is more caprice than 
 design in the way the poems are sorted. The 
 fact is, many of them are so essentially inde- 
 pendent, that it would be a blunder of taste to 
 force them into any special order. Thus the 
 Songs of Nature are put together without much 
 system : between the pretty sonnet of Meleager 
 at the beginning, and the magnificent ode of 
 Ptolemy at the end, come random little songs 
 about bees, cicalas, and birds. All, however, 
 show how tender and childlike, yet real and deep, 
 was the Greek love of nature a fact I cannot
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 imagine any one doubting who has understood 
 six epithe-ts in Homer, or seen a coin of Rhodes 
 or Metapontum. The last title, " Songs of Here- 
 after," is perhaps not very accurate ; indeed, it 
 might almost be changed to " Songs of No Here- 
 after :" but I have chosen it because the writers 
 of these songs seem always as if their eyes were 
 fixed on the hereafter, even though they saw 
 only eternal darkness. The scantiness of the 
 mythology throughout is curious as showing 
 how little real hold the vulgar ideas of a future 
 state had on the mind of the people. 
 
 In such a miscellaneous collection, gathered 
 in many places, and reaching from the earliest 
 times to the end of the Alexandrine period, it 
 would be idle to look for unity of style or 
 equality of merit. The charm of each poem 
 varies with the mood and powers of the writer. 
 Songs of love and wine, of hope and fear, of 
 cross and triumph ; hymns of delight in art and 
 nature and life ; dirges of sorrow for loss and 
 death ; odes of melancholy at the utter vanity 
 of all things ; praises of virtue and vice ; and 
 cries from the heart's hopelessness of any sure 
 hereafter these are all found in the Antho- 
 logy. It is only the most beautiful of the 
 poems, the most remarkable for passion or
 
 Xll PREFACE. 
 
 pathos, that I have rendered in English. Some- 
 times it happens that one lights upon a golden 
 thought or image embedded in impurities : 
 when thus forced to choose between abandoning 
 the poem, and so losing the fine thought, or 
 removing the coarseness, and so far departing 
 from the original, I have preferred to be un- 
 faithful. But such cases are rare. That some 
 of the poems as they stand have a certain 
 freedom, I do not deny ; but I think it is the 
 innocent freedom of mere naturalness, which 
 is vicious only to the vicious-minded. As a 
 rule, it will be found that the renderings are 
 literal and the order unchanged ; all stanzas of 
 ten-syllable lines alternately rhyming and these 
 are far the greatest majority of the whole corre- 
 spond line for line with the Greek. 
 
 Where the mood of the original has seemed to 
 require a lyric metre, I have still always pre- 
 served a fixed proportion : if, for example, an 
 elegiac poem is turned into rhyming triplets, 
 each couplet of the Greek answers to a triplet 
 in the English. This law of quantitative corre- 
 spondence is one which translators, from Pope 
 downwards, have treated too cavalierly : to me 
 it seems essential. The model may be copied 
 no doubt on a larger or smaller scale as the
 
 PREFACE. Xlil 
 
 materials require ; but what would be thought 
 of a sculptor who in copying an antique figure 
 enlarged the scale of the head, preserved the 
 scale of the foot, and diminished the scale of 
 the body ? A poem, too, has its own statuesque 
 completeness. 
 
 To the writer, perhaps, more than to the 
 reader, it is a matter of some interest that, as 
 much of the original, so more than half this 
 volume was written in Egypt. Almost every 
 town known in Greek story from Syene in the 
 far south to Bubastis, Naucratis, and Alexandria 
 in the Delta, has contributed one or more of 
 these English poems. After two thousand years 
 to render a Greek song about the Nile while sail- 
 ing down the same river, a song about Memphis 
 or the Pyramids in sight of their ruins and re- 
 mains, a song about the great lighthouse at 
 Alexandria while living on the very island of 
 Pharos where it stood, is perhaps a pleasure 
 every one will not appreciate. But beyond this 
 " sentimental " interest, life in the East has had 
 its uses in giving fresh insight into some phases 
 of Greek thought or habit. Of the splendour 
 of the Greek empire in Egypt no token now 
 remains but here and there a silver coin or an 
 earthen lamp, a marble shaft used as a door-
 
 xiv PREFACE. 
 
 step for the feet of an Arab, a slab for his bath, 
 or a pillar for his mosque : still, to live in places 
 hallowed by Greek traditions, and in an atmo- 
 sphere brighter than that of Athens, is in itself 
 to receive some touch of the Greek spirit ; and, 
 what is more important, one finds much in 
 Eastern life that belonged also to Greek life, 
 customs and ideas older than the very name 
 of Hellas, and lasting with little change since 
 they were received by the Hellenes. One 
 realizes, in fact, the Oriental side of Greek 
 ma'nners. So if I have been able at all to 
 render the spirit of my original into English, 
 I owe something to the sunshine and the con- 
 servatism of Egypt. 
 
 ALEXANDRIA, Jttly, 1880.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. SONGS OF THE LOVE OF WOMEN ... I 
 
 II. SONGS OF THE LOVE OF NATURE ... 35 
 
 III. SONGS OF DEATH 49 
 
 IV. SONGS OF HEREAFTER ^\
 
 REFERENCES. 
 
 Erot. = 
 
 Epit. = 'EiriTv/j./3ta. 
 
 Epid. = 'EiriSfiKTLKd. 
 
 M. P. = Movffa nattiiK-f]. 
 
 Protrep. = 
 
 The numbers are those given in the Tauchnitz edition of the 
 Anthology.
 
 I. 
 
 SONGS OF THE LOVE OF 
 WOMEN.
 
 THE END. 
 
 TEARS for a gift I bring thee in the dust, 
 The remnant of desire come unto doom, 
 And sorrow's tears in sorrow on thy tomb 
 Pour for remembrance of thy love and trust. 
 With bitter, bitter wailing, as I must, 
 
 I give thee barren greeting in the gloom. 
 Ah me ! my lovely flower that brake in bloom 
 Is stolen by death, and in the mould is thrust. 
 O Earth, great mother, at my tears' behest, 
 Close in thy clasp and fold her gently to thy breast ! 
 
 (Ep.476.) 
 
 TRUE PASSION. 
 
 IT is not love to love a lovely face, 
 
 And take a shrewd eye's measure of desire : 
 
 Love is to love where beauty hath no place, 
 To feel the kindling madness break in fire. 
 
 This, this is burning passion : taste bestows 
 
 On all alike the love of comely shows. 
 
 (89 Erot.)
 
 THE LOVE 
 
 A WARNING. 
 
 I PLAYED with her, and found about her waist 
 A girdle of fair flowers most fairly traced, 
 And writ with golden letters all above, 
 " Love me, and let another have my love." 
 
 (158 Erot.) 
 
 COMING EVENTS, 
 i. 
 
 NOT yet the bud has ripened to the rose, 
 
 Nor with the purple bloom, that summer throws, 
 
 The cluster of thy maiden graces glows. 
 
 Yet even now the young desires, I ween, 
 Upon the whetstone make their arrows keen, 
 And in thy heart there rolls a flame unseen. 
 
 3- 
 
 Away, then, luckless lovers ! let us flee, 
 
 Ere from the string the feathered shaft be free. 
 
 I am the seer of mighty fires to be ! 
 
 (124 Erot.)
 
 OF WOMEN. 
 
 LOVE AND DOUBT. 
 
 MY love is like a storm in spring, meseems, 
 
 When dim the signs upon the sea arise : 
 Now showers of rain fall, now fair weather gleams, 
 
 Now lovely laughter breaking from thine eyes. 
 Shipwrecked, 'mid blinding billows of the night 
 
 I toss and plunge 'mid clouds of flying foam : 
 O show me love or hate for beacon-light, 
 
 That I may know what are the waves I roam ! 
 
 (156 M. P.) 
 
 A WOMAN'S FEARS. 
 
 SWEET is the smile of Lais, sweet the rain 
 
 Of teardrops from her gently twinkling eyes. 
 Last eve her head had longtime sweetly lain 
 
 Against me, when she fell to sudden sighs. 
 I kissed her sorrow : but tear after tear 
 
 Fell down our meeting lips like showers of dew. 
 " What ails thee, maiden? " " Ah ! " she cried, " I 
 fear 
 
 " Thou wilt forsake me : men's troth is not true." 
 
 (250 Erot.)
 
 THE LOVE 
 
 LOVE AND WORK. 
 
 WOE for the loveless lives ! for passion-free 
 In word and work a man doth feeble things. 
 
 Mine is a sluggard soul ; yet kenning thee, 
 Quicker than lightning forth I speed on wings. 
 
 So follow sweet desire, nor turn to flee : 
 
 "Love gives the soul her edge," the wise man sings. 
 
 (18 M. P.) 
 
 LOST. 
 
 LOOK down, O golden moon, and starry fires, 
 Whom Ocean clasps caressing to her breast ! 
 
 My sweet love leaves me lorn with fierce desires : 
 Eight days I seek my fairy east and west, 
 
 Yet still must search, and send, ere searching tires, 
 The silver hounds of Cypris on the quest. 
 
 (16 Erot.)
 
 OF WOMEN. 
 
 LOVE AND LIFE. 
 
 ON thee the cords that hold my life are laid, 
 On thee, my utmost breath of being stayed. 
 By thy bright face and eyes which speak so clear, 
 That men may understand who cannot hear, 
 One cloud upon thy brow doth winter bring, 
 One sunny glance again makes sweetest spring. 
 
 (159 M. P.) 
 
 DARE. 
 
 SHALL we forever stealing looks of fire 
 
 Fling covert glances thus with bated breath ? 
 
 Nay, tell aloud our loves ; and if we fail 
 
 Of those soft claspings, where pain vanisheth, 
 
 The sword shall bring deliverance. Better far 
 One lot together, be it life or death. 
 
 (221 Erot.)
 
 THE LOVE 
 
 SECRET LOVE. 
 
 How long these stolen kisses, signs, and play 
 Of starveling glances, when no watcher heeds ? 
 
 How long these fruitless whispers, and delay 
 Yoked with delay, while love but idly speeds ? 
 
 We linger, and we waste the bloom away : 
 
 Ere youth is gone, then, crown our words with 
 
 deeds. 
 
 (21 M. P.) 
 
 DANGER. 
 
 WHEN in the morn I lean upon her breast, 
 At morn, or when the sun sinks in the west, 
 I know I walk o'er gulfs that yawn below, 
 I stake my life upon one single throw. 
 So be it : wheresoever love may steer, 
 The brave man moves without one dream of fear. 
 
 (25 Erot.)
 
 OF WOMEN. 
 
 THE SWALLOWS. 
 
 I WAIL through all the watches of the night ; 
 And when the morning comes with brief delight, 
 The swallows chirp around me in despite. 
 
 2. 
 
 I weep : for they despoil me of my rest : 
 Tears hold my eyes awakened, and my breast 
 Is filled with thoughts of her my heart loves best. 
 
 Ah, spiteful chatterers ! cease your evil spell. 
 / did not cleave the tongue of Philomel. 
 Go, mourn for Itys in some mountain dell, 
 
 Or in some rocky glen the king-bird charms, 
 That I may sleep awhile without alarms, 
 And dream my true love winds me in her arms. 
 
 (237 Erot.)
 
 10 THE LOVE 
 
 RELENT. 
 
 WHY so coy and unforgiving ? 
 
 None shall love thee in the tomb. 
 Love's delight is with the living, 
 
 Dust and ashes after doom. 
 
 (85 Erot.) 
 
 FLOWERS. 
 
 i. 
 
 HANG there, above her chamber door, fair flowers 
 Drenched with my tears Love's eyes are full of 
 
 showers, 
 Yet shake ye not your leaves at random hours. 
 
 2. 
 
 Wait while she lifts the latchet and outpeers, 
 Then rain ye drops of sorrow, as she nears, 
 And make her golden tresses drink my tears. 
 
 (145 Erot.)
 
 OF WOMEN. II 
 
 A PROUD BEAUTY. 
 
 HIGH in the pride of beauty, scarce she deigns 
 With haughty mien to own my greeting given : 
 
 The wreath I hang above her door with pains 
 In scorn beneath her haughty feet is riven. 
 
 Come then, with furrowed cheek, remorseless Eld, 
 
 Hasten, and let her pride by thee be quelled. 
 
 (92 Erot.) 
 
 A WISH. 
 
 WHEN around thee the sunbeams are shaken, 
 
 And thou barest thy breast, 
 Would I were the wind to be taken 
 
 To breathe there at rest ! 
 
 (83 Erot.) 
 
 A WISH. 
 
 O WERE I only a rose 
 
 By thy hand caressed, 
 My red leaves laid in repose 
 
 On the snow of thy breast ! 
 
 (84 Erot)
 
 12 THE LOVE 
 
 A WREATH. 
 
 I SEND a wreath of comely flowers to thee 
 
 1'hat mine own fingers did together twine : 
 Lily and rosebud and anemone, 
 
 Fresh daffodils and dewy eglantine. 
 Crown thee : but end thy proud disdain of me : 
 Flowers have their time to fade, and thou hast 
 thine. 
 
 (74 Erot.) 
 
 AN OFFERING. 
 
 SWEET-BREATHING lady, from thy scented bowers, 
 Though tenfold incense wrap thy sleeping hours, 
 Awake, and take with kindly hand my flowers. 
 
 2. 
 
 My wreath, that blossoms now at eventide, 
 Shall wither ere the morning watch is cried, 
 Fit emblem of thy youth and beauty's pride ! 
 
 (118 Erot.)
 
 OF WOMEN. 13 
 
 LOVE AND ENVY. 
 
 I SAW two lovers in mad passion strive : 
 In one long kiss their lips together clung; 
 Xor could they take their fill, but closer flung, 
 
 Each fain within the other's soul to dive. 
 
 Their holden speech found sweet reliefs at need, 
 While each the other's raiment did enfold, ; 
 He like Achilles, when he passed of old 
 
 For maiden, in the halls of Lycomede ; 
 
 She, draped and looped her snowy knee above, 
 Stood like a marble-moulded Artemis ; 
 And still their lips fixed straining in a kiss 
 
 For hunger of their quenchless fainting love. 
 
 Sooner two writhed and twisted vines unweave 
 Their tight growth tangled with the grip of years, 
 Than aught shall sunder these two loving feres, 
 
 Or loose their lacing arms that twine and cleave. 
 
 Thrice happy they, inwoven heart to heart, 
 While thou and I, my love, are burning far apart ! 
 
 (255 Erot.)
 
 14 THE LOVE 
 
 LOVE UNIVERSAL. 
 
 MINE eyes view all the world, 
 
 Beholding thee : 
 Without thee, view the world 
 
 And cannot see. 
 
 (60 M. P.) 
 
 AT NIGHT. 
 
 THINE eyes are fixed upon the starry skies, 
 
 Thou star of mine ! 
 Would I were heaven with multitudinous eyes 
 
 To gaze on thine ! 
 
 (669 Epit.) 
 
 IN THE HEART. 
 
 LOVE'S own handiwork hath moulded 
 
 Lady Sunbeam in my heart, 
 Soul within my soul enfolded 
 
 By the cunning of Love's art. 
 
 (155 Erot.)
 
 OF WOMEN. 15 
 
 A FAIR WOMAN. 
 
 A FACE like crystal, eyes like gold aglow, 
 Lips sweeter than the red rose on the tree, 
 
 A neck of marble, breasts of shining snow, 
 And fair feet whiter than the silver sea : 
 
 Twined in her hair the richest blooms that grow 
 Gleam without guerdon of a glance from me. 
 
 (48 Erot) 
 
 BEAUTY UNADORNED. 
 
 No need upon the rose-tree flowers to bind 
 
 Nor robes on thee, nor jewelled tire, my queen. 
 Thy limbs are shining pearl, and gold refined 
 
 Cannot adorn thy waving tresses' sheen. 
 Thou hast the magic girdle lips of dew, 
 
 And winning ways of honeyed harmony. 
 I faint : with charms like these I cannot cope, 
 Save for thy cheering smile, where bideth kindly 
 hope. 
 
 (270 Erot)
 
 1 6 THE LOVE 
 
 A DIVIDED MIND. 
 
 MY heart forewarns me to forsake the quest, 
 Knowing the olden tears and ruined rest. 
 Forsake the quest I cannot : love returns : 
 My heart forewarns, but warns me false and burns. 
 
 (24 Erot.) 
 
 A WOMAN'S HAIR. 
 
 WHETHER with sable sheen thy hair 
 Flash darkly, or glow golden-fair, 
 Amid such splendour love, I know, 
 Shall linger when all turns to snow. 
 
 (26 Erot.) 
 
 A SECRET. 
 
 O FOR those rosy musical lips of thine,' 
 Bewitching doorway of that mouth divine ! 
 The shadowy lashes of thy lightning eyes, 
 Where snared and meshed my heart a captive lies ! 
 Yet why show curs the quarry ? Midas' reeds 
 Show how a tongue without a fastening speeds. 
 
 (56 Erot.)
 
 OF WOMEN. I/ 
 
 LOVE AND MUSIC. 
 
 SWEET is thy song, by Pan of Arcady ! 
 Sweet is the song thou singest unto me, 
 
 Sweet are the tones thou strikest from thy lyre. 
 
 2. 
 
 O whither shall I flee ? on every side 
 Compassed by countless passions I abide, 
 And find no breath of rest to my desire. 
 
 Love from thy beauty, or thy song, doth fall, 
 Or from thy sweetness nay, from all in all : 
 Thy love doth smite me and I burn with fire. 
 
 (139 Erot.)
 
 1 8 THE LOVE 
 
 MY ROSE. 
 
 i. 
 
 SWEET silver snowdrops bloom, and daffodils 
 Bloom as the rain befriends their dewy frills ; 
 Sweet bloom the wandering lilies of the hills. 
 
 2. 
 
 Nay, but the flower of all that fairest shows, 
 
 The flower that love befriends and passion knows, 
 
 Outblooms their bloom, my sweet and winning rose ! 
 
 Why then, ye fields, aglow with laughter stand ? 
 My maid is brighter than the brightest band 
 Of sweetly scented flowers that crown the land ! 
 
 (144 Erot.)
 
 OF WOMEN. 19 
 
 A LIGHT. 
 
 WHAT ? art seeking to kindle a light in the dark, 
 Striving to set thy goodly taper afire ? 
 
 Come, reach hither thy lamp, and catch but a spark 
 Out of my heart that burns with a blaze of desire. 
 
 (15 Epid.) 
 
 PRISONER. 
 
 MY lady plucked a single golden hair 
 
 And wound it captive-wise about my wrist : 
 I laughed aloud, and lightly thought to tear 
 
 Sweet Doris' bonds asunder when I list. 
 But failing strength to break them, then I cried 
 
 As one begripped with adamantine chains. 
 Now bounden by a hair, alas ! I bide, 
 
 And follow as the fetter leads and strains. 
 
 (230 -Erot.)
 
 20 THE LOVE 
 
 A KISS. 
 
 I KISSED a maiden overnight, - 
 
 Her dewy lips on mine, 
 Her kiss a draught for gods' delight, 
 
 Her breath a drink divine. 
 That kiss hath made me drunken quite 
 
 With quaffing love's strong wine. 
 
 (305 Ei-ot] 
 
 KISSING. 
 
 SWEET are her kisses, if they faintly brush, 
 Sweet if they touch with half-withholden lips. 
 
 Her kisses are not faint, but strain and crush, 
 And draw the soul out from the finger-tips. 
 
 (14 Erot.) 
 
 AT THE MEETING OF THE LIPS. 
 
 I HELD my soul upon my lips 
 
 In that long kiss divine : 
 It came, poor thing, in hope to pass 
 
 And blend with thine ! 
 
 (78 Erot.)
 
 OF WOMEN. 21 
 
 A KISS UPON THE CUP. 
 
 I AM no bibber : yet, wouldst have me drink ? 
 
 Taste ere thou givest, and I cannot miss. 
 Sweet handmaid ! when thy lips have touched the 
 
 brink, 
 
 I can no more refrain or fail or shrink : 
 That cup is crossing-ferry for thy kiss, 
 And brings me tidings of a proven bliss. 
 
 (261 Erot.) 
 
 DREAM OR WAKING. 
 
 MY love at evening then the mind is sound 
 In deed or dream I know not, greeted me : 
 
 And all the scene, speech made and answer found, 
 Stands clearly shapen in my memory : 
 
 Yet is her kiss unproven ; if 'twere given, 
 
 How am I still on earth, who was in heaven ? 
 
 (177 M. P.)
 
 22 THE LOVE 
 
 DELIGHT. 
 
 SWEET unto lips athirst is snow to drink 
 
 In summer's heat : 
 Sweet unto mariners, when the stormwinds sink, 
 
 Spring flowers to greet : 
 Sweetest of all, when two fond lovers cling 
 
 Beneath one bower, 
 While for deep gladness both together sing 
 
 Love's praise and power. 
 
 (169 Erot.) 
 
 MOONLIGHT. 
 
 NIGHT-WANDERING lover of the night-long rite, 
 Shine through the shapely casement bars, O moon 
 
 Shed on my lady's golden form thy light, 
 For heavenly eyes may read our lovers' rune. 
 
 As thine own heart once felt Endymion's might, 
 So falls upon my love and me thy boon. 
 
 (123 Erot.)
 
 OF WOMEN. 23 
 
 JEALOUSY. 
 
 SLEEPEST them, sweet ? would I were wingless sleep, 
 To come and slumber on thine eyes alone ! 
 
 Sleep lulls the very gods : but I would keep 
 Even sleep away and have thee all mine own. 
 
 (174 Erot.) 
 
 OVER THE SEA. 
 
 SOVEREIGN of stormbeat coasts ! this scanty tale 
 Of gifts I offer from my little store : 
 
 For o'er wide waves to-morrow with the gale 
 I speed to clasp again my paramour. 
 
 Shine fair upon my passion and my sail, 
 
 Queen of the bridal-chamber and the shore ! 
 
 (17 Erot.)
 
 24 THE LOVE 
 
 LOVE'S HARVEST. 
 
 i. 
 
 THEY gather grapes in season : and the tongue 
 Of him that culls the clusters richly hung 
 Revileth not the tendrils thereamong. 
 
 2. 
 
 But thee, O lady mine, O rosy-fair, 
 
 The lifted offering of my lover's care, 
 
 I wreathe in tender bonds, and hold thee there ! 
 
 This is my time for love's ingathering : 
 I bide no other summer and no spring : 
 For thou art ripe with every lovely thing. 
 
 Long thus may youth and beauty with thee dwell ! 
 Or would some twining wrinkle break thy spell, 
 It shall not matter, for I love thee well. 
 
 (227 Erot.)
 
 OF WOMEN. 25 
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 THE last farewell is on my tongue, 
 
 But fierce I draw the rein : 
 The word recoils as backward flung, 
 And I remain. 
 
 2. 
 
 For bitter as the stream of death 
 
 In everlasting night 
 Is that fell hour that sundereth 
 Me from thy sight. 
 
 3- 
 The light of thee is like the day, 
 
 Yet daylight is but dumb, 
 But when thou comest in the way, 
 Sweet voices come : 
 
 4- 
 Tones sweeter than the Sirens' song 
 
 That on the waters rang ; 
 And there with all its hopes in throng 
 
 My heart doth hang. 
 
 (241 Erot.)
 
 26 THE LOVE 
 
 ABANDONED. 
 
 " TO-MORROW I shall see thee" O forever thus 
 
 denied ! 
 
 For daily comes renewal of the daily new delay. 
 This is my cold requital, while to loves on every 
 
 side 
 Thou gift on gift dost render and thy troth to me 
 
 betray. 
 " In the evening I shall see thee " but a woman's 
 
 eventide 
 Is when her cheek is furrowed deep and life has 
 
 passed away. 
 
 (233 Erot.) 
 
 REMEDIES. 
 
 LOVE is slain by fasting, or if fasting fail 
 
 Time will avail. 
 Spite of time and fasting, if unquenched the flame 
 
 Burn still the same, 
 Then try loving-kindness : this shall be a noose 
 
 No power can loose. 
 
 (497 Epid.)
 
 OF WOMEN. 27 
 
 BROKEN VOWS. 
 
 O HOLY Night, and Lamp that burnest dim ! 
 
 Ye only heard the plighted troth we made. 
 He swore to love me, I to cherish him 
 
 Forever, and your witness-seal we prayed. 
 O Lamp, his vows adown far waters swim, 
 
 And on another's breast thou seest him laid. 
 
 (8 Erot.) 
 
 REGRETS. 
 
 FILL up the cup and pledge my love again, 
 And blend again her sweet name with the wine. 
 
 Let now the crown of flowers, whose scented rain 
 Brings her remembrance, on my brows recline. 
 
 Behold ! the lovelorn rose doth weep amain 
 To see my love in other arms than mine. 
 
 (136 Erot.)
 
 28 THE LOVE 
 
 NO REST. 
 
 TEARS ! O revels ! wherefore plunge again 
 My feet in flames, ere yet they quit the fire 
 
 1 cease not loving, though determined pain 
 Come with each undetermined fresh desire. 
 
 (211 Erot.) 
 
 GUILTY EYES. 
 
 LOVE'S wine for ever drinking, O mine eyes ? 
 
 And quaffing purest beauty without cease ? 
 Come, fly, as strength betides us, and devise 
 
 A wineless offering unto love in peace. 
 Or there if still the maddening passion sting, 
 
 Ye shall be drenched with tears of chilly rain, 
 And suffer as ye sinned, remembering 
 
 Your deed hath brought me to this fire of pain. 
 
 (226 Erot.)
 
 OF WOMEN. 29 
 
 A CRY FOR REST. 
 
 THE noise of passion ringing in mine ears, 
 
 Mine eyes with tears of sweet desire made blind, 
 I rest not day nor night while fancy rears 
 
 My love's familiar form before my mind. 
 O winged desires, that fall upon your prey 
 Resistless, wherefore lacks the strength to wing away ? 
 
 (212 Erot) 
 
 DESPAIR. 
 
 O LOVE, beseech you ! heed my suppliant song, 
 And send my sleepless passion some redress. 
 
 On me alone thine arrows made to throng 
 
 Pour all thy feathered shafts with all their stress : 
 
 Yet if I die, my verse shall shout thy wrong 
 " Stranger, behold thou Love's blood-guiltiness." 
 
 (215 Erot.)
 
 30 THE LOVE 
 
 WILD OATS. 
 
 I HAVE loved and run riot like all the world 
 
 Who knows not riot and love ? 
 Thro' my heart the storms of passion have whirled, 
 
 The frenzy from heaven above. 
 
 2. 
 
 Now away with it all ! for the hoar-white hair 
 
 Is thrusting the sable away, 
 And a message is come and a sign to declare 
 
 'Tis time to be sober to-day. 
 
 I have had my season of frolic in youth, 
 
 And now that the season is past, 
 'Tis time to bethink me of wisdom forsooth, 
 
 'Tis time for reforming at last. 
 
 (112 Erot.)
 
 OF WOMEN. 31 
 
 BAD NIGHT. 
 
 ILL sleep befall thee, like the cold repose 
 Here in the dark I take beside thy door, 
 
 Sleep like the sleep to thee thy lover owes, 
 O heart that mercy never stood before ! 
 
 More ruthless than the ruth a friend bestows, 
 Thou shall repent thee when thy hair is hoar. 
 
 (23 Erot.) 
 
 TOO LATE. 
 
 Now dost thou greet me, when thy witch's face 
 Once fairer than white marble fades forlorn ? 
 
 Now toyest, when thy head hath lost its grace 
 The locks that tossed upon thy neck in scorn ? 
 
 Away, fond fool ! and come not nigh my place : 
 Failing the rose, I will not have the thorn ! 
 
 (28 Erot.) 
 
 THE LAST PAIN. 
 
 HURL from high crags, or plunge in roaring tide, 
 
 Smite me with frost or fire or thunderstone : 
 When crushed by love the heart hath swooned and 
 
 died, 
 In vain the very bolts of Zeus are thrown. 
 
 (168 Erot.)
 
 32 THE LOVE 
 
 THE SONG OF SAPPHO. 
 
 PEER of the gods I deem the man 
 Who, face to face before thee set, 
 Hears thy sweet speech, with nought to let, 
 Thy sweet love-laughter. 
 
 When thou dost laugh, within my breast 
 
 My quaking heart shakes wild with storm ; 
 One glance on thee and voice can form 
 No speech thereafter. 
 
 My broken tongue asunder falls, 
 
 Light woven fires leap through my limbs, 
 Mine eyesight blind in darkness swims, 
 Mine ears are tingling ; 
 
 Cold stream the dewdrops ; through me smites 
 Fierce trembling ; pale as lily-leaves 
 I swoon, nor life nor death reprieves 
 Both wildly mingling.
 
 OF WOMEN. 33 
 
 SAPPHO'S PRAYER. 
 
 O MAGIC-MINDED, deathless Queen, 
 
 Daughter of Zeus, who weavest wile, 
 Spare thou mine aching heart awhile, 
 Sovran, from sadness. 
 
 Nay, come, as once, with listening ear 
 Heeding my lifted voice of old, 
 Thou from thy father's home of gold 
 Camest with gladness. 
 
 Thy car was yoked with comely doves, 
 
 That drew thee round the clouded world, 
 While fast their beating pinions whirled 
 Through mid-sky falling. 
 
 JSwift lighting thou, O Holy One, 
 
 With laughter in thy deathless eyes, 
 Didst ask, " What aileth in this wise ? 
 Why art thou calling ? 
 
 D
 
 34 THE LOVE OF WOMEN. 
 
 " What doth thy wild heart most desire ? 
 
 Whom loveward dost thou long to lead ? 
 Who, Sappho, doth requite thy meed 
 With scorn and wronging ? 
 
 " Know, one that flees shall follow thee, 
 One taking not thy gift shall give, 
 One loving not, for love shall live, 
 Though loth her longing." 
 
 O come, then ; loosen and make lighter 
 
 The cares that chain me ; grant my vow 
 Heart- wished achievement, and be thou 
 My fellow-fighter !
 
 II. 
 
 SONGS OF THE LOVE OF 
 NATURE.
 
 THE POET IN SPRING. 
 
 Now stormy winter from the world is gone ; 
 
 The purple hours of blossom-laden spring 
 Smile, and dim earth with herb is crowned upon, 
 
 And budding boughs abroad their tresses fling. 
 Fair meadows, where the rosebud opens ripe, 
 
 Laugh, drinking tender dew of kindly dawn; 
 The shepherd on the mountains shrills his pipe, 
 
 Rejoicing, as he tends on kid or fawn ; 
 And o'er the wide waves mariners fare with sails 
 Well spread and hollowed well by undespiteful gales. 
 
 Now to the cluster-laden god of wine 
 
 Glad clamours rise from swains, upon whose locks 
 Rich blooms of many -berried ivy twine ; 
 
 Now bees, whose birth is from the mouldering ox 
 So saith the legend 'neath their straw -built dome 
 
 Ply cunning handiwork, and shape amain
 
 38 THE LOVE 
 
 Their waxen glory of fresh-molten comb ; 
 
 Now all the bird-clans lift a clear-voiced strain, 
 At sea the halcyon, swallows round the eaves, 
 Swans by the brookside, nightingales amid the 
 leaves. 
 
 So when the boughs rejoice, and earth is bright 
 With blossoms ; when the shepherd for delight 
 Pipes, and the flocks make merry all day long ; 
 When sails are spreading, when the wine-god's 
 
 song 
 
 Sounds for the dance ; when every winged thing 
 Makes music, and the bees in travail cling ; 
 How should a singer sing not sweetly in the spring ? 
 
 (363 Epid.)
 
 OF NATURE. 39 
 
 TO A BEE. 
 
 O FEEDER on sweet flowers ! how dost thou dare 
 To touch the body of my lady fair, 
 
 Abandoning the petals of the spring ? 
 
 Wouldst thou declare she beareth in her heart 
 The bitter, sweet, intolerable smart 
 
 Love left there when he planted home his 
 sting? 
 
 Dear friend of lovers, get thee gone again : 
 This is thy message, but it comes in vain : 
 
 We know of old the tidings thou dost bring. 
 
 (163 Erot.) 
 
 A SEAMEW. 
 
 BELOVED of all the Graces all thy days, 
 
 Whose voice was like the halcyon's for delight, 
 
 Thou diest ; spirit sweet and winning ways 
 Are lost amid the voiceless paths of night 
 
 (199 Epit)
 
 40 THE LOVE 
 
 A BALM-CRICKET. 
 
 No more upcurled beneath some leafy branch 
 I gladden at the song my pinions shower ; 
 
 On me a child his evil hand did launch 
 And crushed me in the petals of my flower. 
 
 (200 Epit.) 
 
 THE CICALA. 
 
 LOUD-TONGUED cicala, drunken deep with drops of 
 
 morning dew, 
 
 Who warblest in the wilderness thy lonely wood- 
 land strain, 
 Perching thy jagged limbs upon some flower that 
 
 blossoms new, 
 Sun-sabled singer, sounding loud thy musical 
 
 refrain ! 
 
 O touch some unfamiliar note for forest-fairies' boon, 
 And ring aloud thy song to echo piping Pan again. 
 So shall I shun the hunter Love, and snare a sleep at 
 
 noon, 
 Laying my limbs to dream awhile beneath this 
 
 shady plane. 
 
 (196 Epit.)
 
 OF NATURE. 4! 
 
 TO A GNAT. 
 
 FLY swiftly, fly, and gently brush her ear, 
 
 And murmur low the message that I send : 
 " O careless of thy lovers ! sleepest here ? 
 
 He waits thee sleepless." Wend, O singer, wend, 
 And speak thou softly, lest her lord be near, 
 
 And come with jealous wrath on me to spend. 
 Bring her ; a lion's hide shall dress thee, dear, 
 
 And for thy hand a cudgel will I lend ! 
 
 CICALA AND SPIDER. 
 
 A WEE cicala meshed in woven thread, 
 
 Beneath a spider's tightened claws did quake. 
 
 I heard the child of song in evil stead 
 
 Cry from the slender chains he fain would break : 
 
 So did I loose him from the snare, and said 
 " I save thee for thy fairy music's sake." 
 
 (372 Epid.)
 
 42 THE LOVE 
 
 A CICALA'S REMONSTRANCE. 
 
 WHY from the dewy boughs, thou shepherd loon, 
 
 Wilt tear me ? me who love far forest dens, 
 A wayside nightingale who sings at noon 
 
 A golden song 'mid rocks and shady glens. 
 Blackbird and thrush and clouds of starlings shoot 
 
 Devouring bills upon your wealth of sheaves ; 
 Seize them, and slay the stealers of your fruit : 
 
 What harm in taking tender dew and leaves ? 
 
 (373 Epid.) 
 
 TO A BALM-CRICKET. 
 
 SOOTHER of sleep, beguiler of love's pain, 
 
 Queen-singer in the field of all that sings, 
 Thou harp of nature ! strike some lovely strain, 
 
 Touching with tender feet thy tuneful wings. 
 O save me from my sorrow's sleeplessness ; 
 
 Weave webs of song to lead my love astray ; 
 At dawn thy guerdon shall be sweetest cress, 
 
 And on thy lips dew showered in cloven spray ! 
 
 (195 Epit.)
 
 OF NATURE. 43 
 
 ON A BALM-CRICKET. 
 
 WITHIN the palace walls thy shrill sweet tone 
 No more shall sound, nor sun upon thee shine. 
 
 To Clymenus' far meadows art thou flown, 
 And dewy flowers of golden Proserpine. 
 
 (189 Epit.) 
 
 ON A BALM-CRICKET. 
 
 No more among the furrows and the sheaves 
 With merry tuneful pinion shalt thou sing ; 
 
 Nor gladden me, beneath my bower of leaves, 
 With music beaten from thy golden wing. 
 
 (192 Epit.)
 
 44 THE LOVE 
 
 A DOLPHIN'S DEATH. 
 
 UPON the shore by stormy billows thrust, 
 I lay for strangers to behold and moan. 
 
 For on the land is pity : they were just 
 
 Who found and crowned and gave me burial stone. 
 
 My mother sea hath slain me : put no trust 
 Henceforth in her who spareth not her own. 
 
 (216 Epit.) 
 
 A STRANDED DOLPHIN. 
 
 No more to plunge through depths of bubbling sea, 
 
 Startling the finny shoals that downward float, 
 Nor gambol to the reed-pipe's melody, 
 
 Breaking the billows round the fisher's boat ! 
 Child of the foam ! fair mermaids clinging close 
 
 Shall cross on thee to ocean's end no more : 
 Huge. as the Southern Cape a wave arose, 
 
 And hurled thee high upon the sandy shore. 
 
 (2 14 Epit.)
 
 OF NATURE. 45 
 
 TO A BLACKBIRD. 
 
 WARBLE no more, O blackbird, on the oak, 
 
 Perching and singing 'mid the topmost leaves. 
 Haste from thy foe with speedy pinion-stroke, 
 
 Fly, where the vine its bower of shadow weaves. 
 There rest thy wing, and let thy music flow 
 
 In shrilly numbers, free from fear of wrong. 
 There, 'stead of bird-bewraying mistletoe, 
 
 Grapes cluster : and the god of wine loves song. 
 
 (87 Epid.) 
 
 IN THE STRAITS. 
 
 SEA-STRAIT of changing billows backward rolled ! 
 
 Whose wandering waters toss with warring tides, 
 Whose destined tale thrice day and night is told, 
 
 Whose borrowed floods a vessel scarce abides ! 
 I marvel at thy wonders thousand-fold, 
 
 The mystic spell that searchless nature hides. 
 
 (73 Epid.)
 
 46 THE LOVE 
 
 THE TEMPLE OF ARTEMIS OF THE 
 EPHESIANS. 
 
 THE chariot-ridden walls of Babylon, 
 
 Mausolus' shrine, the Zeus of Pelops' isle, 
 The Hanging Gardens, Statue of the Sun, 
 
 The towering Pyramids' stupendous pile, 
 These have I seen ; but when before mine eyes 
 
 Arose the cloud-capped fane of Artemis, 
 All were bedimmed and vanished : 'neath the skies 
 
 Never the sun beheld a work like this. 
 
 (58 Epid.) 
 
 THE GREAT LIGHTHOUSE AT 
 ALEXANDRIA. 
 
 A TOWER of help for mariners on the main, 
 Flashing my safety-beacon through the night, 
 
 I tottered in the thundering hurricane, 
 Until Ammonius' toil renewed my might. 
 
 The wild waves past, to him, upon the land, 
 
 As to the Great Earthshaker, sailors lift the hand. 
 
 (674 Epid.)
 
 OF NATURE. 47 
 
 PAN PIPING: 
 
 A SONG OF PLATO. 
 
 BE still, ye wooded cliffs and waterfalls 
 
 And mingled bleatings from the murmuring meads ! 
 For Pan with sweetly ringing music calls, 
 
 Laying his lip on pipe of bounden reeds : 
 And round him, dancing swift with glimmering feet, 
 Nymphs of the forest and the fountain meet. 
 
 THE ASTRONOMER'S VISION: 
 
 A SONG OF PTOLEMY. 
 
 I KNOW that death must end my little day : 
 Yet when mine eyes the mazy heavens do scan 
 
 Wherein the stars revolving wind their way, 
 
 My feet are lifted from the earth they trod ; 
 I rise, and rest beyond the realm of man, 
 
 Filled with the everlasting food of God. 
 
 (577 Epid.)
 
 III. 
 
 SONGS OF DEATH.
 
 HOMER. 
 
 HERALD of heroes, priest of highest heaven, 
 The sun that on the world of Hellas shone, 
 The light of song, the ageless tongue of time, 
 Here lies in dust beside the rolling sea. 
 
 (6 Epit) 
 
 ORPHEUS. 
 
 No more with rocks and trees shalt thou prevail, 
 
 Or tameless beasts of prey draw after thee, 
 Nor hush the roar of clanging wind and hail 
 
 Or storm of snow or thunder of the sea. 
 O lost one ! how the Maids of Song lament, 
 
 And most thy mother, sad Calliope ! 
 Yet wherefore mourn our sons ? Can God relent, 
 
 Or grant deliverance from the death to be ? 
 
 (8 Epit.)
 
 52 DEATH. 
 
 ARCHILOCHUS COMES. 
 
 A WARNING TO CERBERUS. 
 
 UP now, and watch thy mighty dungeon gate 
 With sleepless eyes, thou warder hound of hell ! 
 
 Lycambes' daughters fled from life's estate, 
 To 'scape the bard's devouring, fiery spell : 
 
 The dead, then, trembling for his scathing hate, 
 Shall burst the bars of darkness where they dwell. 
 
 (70 Epit.) 
 
 HERACLEITUS. 
 
 SOME one chancing to tell, Heracleitus, the tale of thy 
 
 death, 
 Moved me to tears, for I thought how many times 
 
 we twain 
 
 Talked the sun down together. But now thou some- 
 where apart 
 Liest, O strangeland friend, thrice this long time in 
 
 dust. 
 Yet thy nightingale songs are alive, nor ever shall 
 
 death, 
 Death, who plunders the world, lay upon them his 
 
 hand. 
 
 (80 Epit.)
 
 DEATH. 53 
 
 HERACLEITUS IN DEATH. 
 
 WHY, dullards, drag to death a sage, whose lore 
 Is not for you but them that know my spell ? 
 
 One man ten thousand, and ten thousand score 
 I count as nought I say it even in hell. 
 
 (128 Epit.) 
 
 SOPHOCLES. 
 
 LIGHTLY, lightly climb, O ivy, o'er the tomb of 
 
 Sophocles, 
 Lightly let thy dewy tresses stream before it to the 
 
 ground ; 
 Round about let roses blossom, and the cluster-laden 
 
 trees 
 Shed abroad their wavy tendrils, circling like a 
 
 flood around, 
 For the wonder-hearted wisdom of his honeyed 
 
 melodies, 
 Which the Muses and the Graces with their mingled 
 
 bounties crowned. 
 
 (22 Epit.)
 
 54 DEATH. 
 
 EURIPIDES. 
 
 THE rich flesh of thy form, 
 Enwrapped in fire and storm, 
 
 Vanished in burning mist beneath the sky : 
 This tomb of many moans 
 Holds nought now save thy bones, 
 
 And sorrow for the pilgrim passing by. 
 
 (48 Epit.) 
 
 ANACREON. 
 
 LET fourfold-clustered ivy bloom, Anacreon, o'er thy 
 
 head, 
 And all the dainty flowers that in the purple 
 
 meadows throng ; 
 Let snowy milk in fountains from the choking soil be 
 
 shed, 
 And from the earth leap scented wine in rivers 
 
 sweet and strong. 
 So shall thy bones and ashes win delight among the 
 
 dead, 
 
 If any touch of gladness to the perished pass along, 
 O lover of the lovely lyre, who, as thy sweet will 
 
 sped, 
 Hast sailed through all the seas of life with passion 
 
 and with song ! 
 
 (23 Epit.)
 
 DEATH. 55 
 
 ANACREON. 
 
 ASLEEP in death thou liest, and thy goodly work is 
 
 o'er ; 
 
 Asleep is all the sweetness of thy moonlight sound- 
 ing lyre ; 
 Asleep the boy for whom . thy god-like wine of song 
 
 did pour, 
 Thy Smerdis, thy beloved, and thy springtime of 
 
 desire. 
 For Love, that loveth comely youths, he smote thee to 
 
 the core, 
 And all his arrows fell on thee and darts of crooked 
 
 fire. 
 
 (29 Epit.) 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 WERE Plato not of heaven, I fain would know, 
 How did his writing make man's spirit whole ? 
 
 His son Asclepius healed the body's woe ; 
 He was the great physician of the soul. 
 
 (10$ Epit.)
 
 56 DEATH. 
 
 CLEOMBROTUS' DEATH. 
 
 HE cried aloud, " O sunlight, fare thee well ! " 
 And from a lofty tower leapt down to hell : 
 No woe worth death he found, but read a scroll 
 The book that Plato wrote about the soul. 
 
 (471 Epit.) 
 
 ERATOSTHENES. 
 
 No dark disease, but gently dealing age 
 
 Hath dimmed thee. Now, thy noble pondering 
 
 o'er, 
 The doom of slumber lulls thine eyes, O sage ! 
 
 And though thou rest amid thy sires no more, 
 A strange land gives thee friendly heritage 
 Here by the margin of the sounding shore. 
 
 '(78 Epit.)
 
 DEATH. 57 
 
 DEMOCRITUS, THE LAUGHING 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THIS is the sage's laughter, when at the last he saith, 
 "Truth unlaughing I spake, 'Time and life are a 
 
 laugh,' 
 Seeing for all my wisdom and host unnumbered of 
 
 books, 
 
 Under a tomb I lie, leaving nought but a laugh." 
 
 (56 Epit) 
 
 A PRAYER TO PERSEPHONE FOR 
 THE SOUL OF DEMOCRITUS. 
 
 QUEEN of the world of never-smiling dead ! 
 
 There comes a soul with laughter unto thee : 
 Receive it kindly, as once laughter sped 
 
 To soothe thy mourning mother's misery. 
 
 (58 Epit.)
 
 58 DEATH. 
 
 THE POET'S TOMB. 
 
 TIME crumbles rocky cliffs and steel away : 
 Before his scythe all things soever wane. 
 
 Even thus Laertes' tomb within the bay 
 Wastes and decays beneath the chilly rain ; 
 
 Yet is the hero's glory never gray, 
 
 While ages strive to dull his song in vain. 
 
 (225 Epit.) 
 
 THEMISTOCLES. 
 
 HELLAS, bestrewn with wrecks, for tomb I claim 
 To mark the foeman's ruin on the seas. 
 
 Here carve the battle and the great King's shame, 
 To deck the marble of Themistocles : 
 
 But Salamis stands the pillar of my fame, 
 A fame too vast for narrow bounds like these ! 
 
 (73 Epit.)
 
 DEATH. 59 
 
 ERINNA. 
 
 THOUGH short her strain nor sung with mighty boast, 
 Yet there the power of song had dwelling-room ; 
 
 So lives her name for ever, nor lies lost 
 Beneath the shadow of the wings of gloom, 
 
 While bards of after days, in countless host, 
 Slumber and fade forgotten in the tomb. 
 
 Better the swan's brief note than thousand cries 
 
 Of rooks in springtime blown about the skies. 
 
 (713 Epit) 
 
 LAIS. 
 
 Low now the bloom of love and beauty wanes, 
 Who held alone all lilies of delight, 
 
 Nor sees the sun shake out his golden reins, 
 But sleeps the destined slumber in the night, 
 
 Bidding farewell to wooer's jealous pains, 
 Caress and revel and the mystic light. 
 
 (219 Epit.)
 
 60 DEATH. 
 
 LAIS. 
 
 LAIS, who, robed in gold and purple, played 
 
 With passion and in dainty dalliance shone, 
 Lies here, sea-girdled Corinth's lovely maid, 
 
 Fairer than all the founts of Helicon. 
 Her, like a goddess, princely wooers sought 
 
 Yea, more than ever thronged to Helen's bowers, 
 Plucking the bloom of love for money bought : 
 
 And still her tomb doth breathe of scented flowers, 
 Her mouldering bones are fresh with frankincense, 
 
 Her tender locks smell sweet with spikenard, 
 Desire doth mourn refusing condolence, 
 
 And Love's sad queen her comely face hath marred. 
 Had Lais not for silver thralled her charms, 
 All Hellas, as for Helen, would have clashed in arms. 
 
 (218 Epit.)
 
 DEATH. 6 1 
 
 THE BRIDE OF DEATH. 
 
 i. 
 
 AH, luckless maiden ! in thy fairest prime, 
 Just as life's dial pointed marriage-time, 
 Who sang thy wedlock chime? 
 
 2. 
 
 No Hymenaeus decked thy chamber door, 
 No lamps of Here flashed thy feet before, 
 But sleep, that wakes no more, 
 
 Fell, and there came an awful voice of doom, 
 That day the lights were kindled in thy room, 
 Thy chamber and thy tomb ! 
 
 (188 Epit)
 
 62 DEATH. 
 
 CLEARISTA'S DEATH. 
 
 THE spouse she found was death, who came before 
 
 And took her ere she loosed her maiden-zone. 
 The flutes at even sounded round her door, 
 
 Her chamber rang with songs of merry tone ; 
 But with the morn rose lamentation sore, 
 
 The minstrel's voice was changed to wailful moan 
 The lamps, that flashed along the bridal floor, 
 
 Now light her spirit down the gloom alone. 
 
 (182 Epit.) 
 
 A LOST MOTHER. 
 
 WHY linger idly mourning at my tomb ? 
 
 In death I find not aught for misery. 
 Cease then, my husband, cease to wail my doom : 
 
 Farewell, my children : and remember me. 
 
 (667 Epit.)
 
 DEATH. 63 
 
 A HAPPY DEATH. 
 
 MOURN not, O traveller, for my vanished life. 
 
 In very death I find no misery. 
 My children's children live : I loved one wife, 
 
 Mine age's helpmeet. Sons I married three, 
 And ofttimes rocked their children on my breast, 
 
 But ne'er saw death or ailment fall on one. 
 Now have they lulled me to a peaceful rest 
 
 Among the blessed ones whose day is done. 
 
 (260 Epit) 
 
 A CENTENARIAN. 
 
 OF children nine and twenty that I bore, 
 Nor son nor daughter but remains alive : 
 
 No staff mine aged hand hath trembled o'er : 
 I ended well my fivescore years and five. 
 
 (224 Epit.)
 
 64 DEATH. 
 
 PLATTHIS THE WEAVER. 
 
 FULL oft at eve and morning did she spoil 
 
 Her sleep, while penury at bay she held, 
 To wheel and distaff, sharers of her toil, 
 
 Singing beside the gates of hoary eld ; 
 Whirling the loom till dawn unwearily, 
 
 As o'er Athene's course with skill she sped, 
 Or, laying withered hand on withered knee, 
 
 Twined for the wheel the rightful meed of thread. 
 At fourscore years she saw the flood of doom, 
 Platthis, who fairly wove fair raiment at the loom. 
 
 (726 Epit.) 
 
 A CHILD DROWNED. 
 
 AT play beside a well, a little child 
 
 Reached arms to catch his shadow in the deep : 
 His mother plucked him forth in sorrow wild, 
 
 Looking if still a breath of life he keep. 
 He sleeps and leaves the waters undefiled 
 
 Sleeps on his mother's knee the dreamless sleep. 
 
 (170 Epit.)
 
 DEATH. 65 
 
 A SHEPHERD'S DEATH. 
 
 No more beneath the shadow of yon pine 
 The tuneful music of thy pipe shall flow, 
 
 Nor under spreading oak thy limbs recline 
 While listening cattle drink thy notes below : 
 
 A bolt from heaven hath slain thee, and thy kine 
 Came home belated through the driving snow. 
 
 (174 Epit.) 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 DOWN from the hills unbidden the oxen came to the 
 
 fold, 
 Came in a grievous plight covered with flakes of 
 
 snow. 
 
 Woe's me ! under a.n oak Therimachus, fallen asleep, 
 Taketh his last long rest, sent by a flash from 
 heaven. 
 
 (173 Epit)
 
 66 DEATH. 
 
 ON A MERCHANT WHO DIED IN 
 EGYPT. 
 
 His traffic ended, plough in hand, he died 
 
 And found a tomb at Memphis, far from home. 
 
 Then rose the Nile, whose mighty rushing tide 
 Swept all away his little shroud of loam. 
 
 So lies he, sunk and shipwrecked, though he plied 
 Scathless in life across the bitter foam. 
 
 (76 Epit.) 
 
 LOST IN EGYPT. 
 
 EUPOLIS' daughter, born in Samos isle, 
 Who closed in travail-pangs her twenty years, 
 
 Here in the barren sands beside the Nile 
 
 Lies lost with her twin babes from all her peers. 
 
 O maidens ! bring ye gifts, and weep awhile, 
 Shedding on her cold tomb your burning tears. 
 
 (166 Epit.)
 
 DEATH. 67 
 
 A MOTHER WEEPING FOR HER 
 CHILD. 
 
 THIS was the wail a mother at the tomb 
 
 Raised for her child of twelve, mourning his doom : 
 
 " Lost are my travail-pains in pain and fire, 
 
 Lost all the grievous toiling of thy sire, 
 
 Lost all thy sweet love : thou hast reached the shore 
 
 Without return or mercy evermore. 
 
 Thou earnest not to youth : and now we own 
 
 Dumb ashes in thy stead, and this thy stone." 
 
 (467 Epit.) 
 
 ERATO'S LAST WORDS. 
 
 CLASPING her father, with her latest breath, 
 Amid the dew of falling tears, she cries : 
 
 " O Father, I am gone : the mist of death 
 Folds dimly round the darkness of mine eyes." 
 
 (646 Epit.)
 
 68 DEATH. 
 
 A SPARTAN FATHER. 
 
 LIFELESS home upon his shield 
 
 Came the warrior from the field, 
 Seven his wounds, and frontwards every one : 
 
 Calmly then his aged sire 
 
 Laid the corse upon the pyre, 
 
 Speaking words of high desire, 
 " Tears for a craven's death, not thine, my son ! 
 
 Tearless I will bury thee, 
 
 Child of Sparta and of me. 
 
 Well done ! well done ! " 
 
 (229 Epit.) 
 
 A SPARTAN MOTHER. 
 
 WHEN the mother saw her son 
 Trembling from the battle run, 
 
 All his glory lost and knightly fame : 
 
 Swift a blood-stained spear she spied, 
 Seized and plunged it through his side, 
 Speaking words of lofty pride, 
 
 " Die, and let not Sparta bear thy blame. 
 Hers is not the sin and scorn, 
 If my womb hath cowards borne. 
 
 O shame ! O shame ! " 
 
 (230 Epit.)
 
 DEATH. 69 
 
 A CHIEFS DEATH. 
 
 VLIUS, daring of hand, the chieftain of Argos, who 
 
 twined 
 Wreaths of gold on his brow after the wars were 
 
 done, 
 
 Caught by a pining sickness and maimed, ran back- 
 ward in thought 
 
 Over his bygone life's warrior story of deeds ; 
 Then in his heart plunged deep his blade, saying only 
 
 a word 
 
 " Men find death by the sword, cowards by slow 
 disease." 
 
 (234 Epit.) 
 
 A POOR FISHERMAN. 
 
 BY cunning creels he gat his daily prize, 
 
 Wont like a merlin o'er the waves to leap, 
 Netting the crannied rocks in fisher's guise, 
 
 Scorning the stately galley's long-oared sweep. 
 His fourscore years did break not suddenwise, 
 
 By stormy star or hurricane from the steep ; 
 But in his reed-hut, as a taper dies, 
 
 After his many days he fell asleep. 
 This tomb nor child nor goodwife bade arise, 
 
 But faithful fellow-craftsmen of the deep. 
 
 (295 Epit.)
 
 7O DEATH. 
 
 A SAILOR'S TOMB. 
 
 FAIR winds befall the mariner on his ways ! 
 But if his barque, as mine, some storm bewrays, 
 
 And drives him to the harbour-home of doom, 
 He shall not chide the waves as merciless ; 
 Nought is to blame save his foolhardiness, 
 
 Who dared to loose his moorings from my tomb. 
 
 (264 Epit) 
 
 FEAR AFTER DEATH. 
 
 WHY set ye here a shipwrecked sailor's grave ? 
 
 Far should my mound be, not beside the sea. 
 I shudder at the deadly roaring wave : 
 
 Yet fair befall ye, all who pity me. 
 
 (267 Epit.) 
 
 A MORAL. 
 
 OFT in life I sang the strain, 
 Now from death I cry aloud : 
 
 " Drink ye, comrades, drink again, 
 Ere the dust shall wind 'your shroud." 
 
 (32 Epit.)
 
 IV. 
 SONGS OF HEREAFTER.
 
 LIFE. 
 
 ALL the world's a stage, a show : 
 
 Then learn thy part 
 
 With all thy heart, 
 Or bear the burden of thy woe. 
 
 (72 Protrep.) 
 
 COURAGE. 
 
 SUFFER, in lion-souled long-sufferings, 
 
 Unsufferable things : 
 No man on earth doth wrong but shall atone, 
 
 And reap as he hath sown. 
 
 (527 Epid.; 
 
 CARE. 
 
 IF caring profits, then for care take thought ; 
 
 But if God cares for thee, what need to care ? 
 Thoughtful or thoughtless art thou, as God wrought ; 
 
 And if thou carest, God's care worketh there. 
 
 (34 Protrep.)
 
 74 HEREAFTER. 
 
 SIN. 
 
 THE sin thou art about 
 May peradventure 'scape the eye of man : 
 Yet God shall find thee out 
 For all thy pondered plan. 
 
 (27 Protrep.) 
 
 GOODNESS. 
 
 WHEN ocean-waves of wealth around thee roll, 
 
 Be calm amid their noise : 
 Nor warp thro' care the freedom of thy soul. 
 Life's barque is ever battered by the shocks 
 
 Of storm-winds, lacking poise, 
 And drives from side to side and wildly rocks. 
 But righteousness stands fast amid the strife : 
 
 Nought else there is that buoys . 
 The soul in safety through the seas of life. 
 
 (74 Protrep.)
 
 HEREAFTER. 75 
 
 WISDOM. 
 
 NOT life is sweet, but casting from the breast 
 
 AH hoary-headed fantasies of dole. 
 Enough alone I covet : for the rest, 
 
 The boundless craze of gold devours the soul. 
 So in the world full often shalt thou find 
 
 Better is death than life and want than wealth : 
 Wherefore make straight the pathways of thy mind, 
 
 Looking to wisdom as thine only health. 
 
 (76 Protrep.) 
 
 QUESTIONS/ 
 
 How was I born ? whence am I ? wherefore come ? 
 
 What ! only to depart ? 
 How can I learn ? for knowledge all is dumb. 
 I shall be as I was befpre my birth : 
 
 From nought my life did start : 
 Nought is the race of man and nothing- worth. 
 Then from the beaker be the wine-flood hurled : 
 
 This only cheers the heart, 
 And works against the venom of the world. 
 
 (118 Protrep.)
 
 76 HEREAFTER. 
 
 THE BREATH OF LIFE. 
 
 WE, through our nostrils breathing air refined, 
 
 Do live and look upon the lamp of day : 
 Yea, all who live are vessels for the wind, 
 
 Harps for the breath that giveth life to play. 
 The hand that chokes a little draught of air 
 
 Doth steal the soul and send it down to death : 
 So men are nought, yet on vainglory fare, 
 
 Feeding upon a slender gale of breath. 
 
 (75 Protrep.) 
 
 CHANCE. 
 
 OUR pitiful homeless life is the plaything of chance, 
 Spinning from riches to want as seemeth her well : 
 
 Some from the earth she tosses aloft to dance, 
 
 Some from the clouds of heaven she flingeth to hell. 
 
 (80 Protrep.)
 
 HEREAFTER. 77 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 i. 
 
 WHY fear ye death, the father of sweet peace, 
 
 Who brings release 
 From sickness and the pangs of penury ? 
 
 2. 
 
 Once only to a mortal can he come ; 
 
 This is the sum : 
 Twice hath he ne'er been seen by mortal eye. 
 
 But sickness cometh strange and manifold : 
 
 No time is told ; 
 And in a thousand shapes it passeth by. 
 
 (69 Protrep.)
 
 78 HEREAFTER. 
 
 THE VOYAGE OF LIFE. 
 
 LIFE is a perilous voyage : storms may whelm 
 And wreck us like poor mariners past avail : 
 
 Chance is the steersman standing at the helm, 
 And wind and wave beset us, as we sail. 
 
 Fair passage some, foul others doth befall; 
 
 Yet death's one haven shall receive us all. 
 
 (65 Protrep.) 
 
 THE RUINS OF CORINTH. 
 
 WHERE is thy shining glory, Corinth ? where 
 
 Thine olden heirlooms and thy crown of towers 
 Thy temples, palaces, and ladies fair, 
 
 And tens of thousands thronging in thy bowers 
 O hapless ! not a trace remains of thee : 
 
 Thine all devouring warfare hath bereft : 
 Scathless we only, mermaids of the sea, 
 
 The halcyon singers of thy grief are left. 
 
 (151 Epic 1 .)
 
 HEREAFTER. 79 
 
 MISERY. 
 
 How, save only by death, from thee, O life, can I flee ? 
 Thousand evils are thine, grievous to bear or shun. 
 What though the beauties of earth be sweet, the land 
 
 and the sea, 
 Lovely the stars in heaven, lovely the moon and 
 
 sun, 
 
 All is fear and sorrow besides : or if good there be, 
 Balance and vengeance of ill maketh it all undone. 
 
 (123 Protrep.) 
 
 THE BURDEN OF TIME. 
 
 THE burden of grey time my heart doth rue. 
 
 Time passing steals the tones upon the tongue : 
 Viewless, time sweeps from view the men we view, 
 
 And brings to view the viewless thereamong. 
 O dateless limit of this earthly light, 
 As day by day men move to endless night ! 
 
 (499 Epid.)
 
 80 HEREAFTER. 
 
 VANITY. 
 
 NAKED I reached the world at birth, 
 Naked I pass beneath the earth : 
 Why toil I, then, in vain distress, 
 Seeing the end is nakedness ? 
 
 (58 Protrep.) 
 
 WEALTH. 
 
 ART wealthy? And hereafter? When thou goest. 
 
 Wilt sweep thy wealth within thy coffin-boards ? 
 Thou spendest life to save the wealth thou showest : 
 
 Nor canst thou pile thy years with added hoards. 
 
 (60 Protrep.) 
 
 RESIGNATION. 
 
 WHY toil in vain, O man, and vex thy state, 
 Slave of the fortune falling at thy birth ? 
 
 Resign thyself, nor fight against God's fate : 
 Be calm, and take in peace thy lot on earth. 
 
 Else force thy doom to gladness, and create, 
 If may be, for thyself undestined mirth. 
 
 (77 Protrep.)
 
 HEREAFTER. 8 I 
 
 DESPAIR. 
 
 WITH soul all sinless came I from my sires, 
 
 Yet move I to destruction through my birth. 
 O deathful wedlock, doom of whose desires 
 
 Doth sweep me down to death beneath the earth ! 
 From nought my being is, to nought retires, 
 
 Nought is the life of man and nothing-worth. 
 Then fill me high the flashing cup, whose fires 
 
 Perchance may turn my mourning into mirth. 
 
 (339 
 
 TEARS OF LIFE. 
 
 BORN with shedding of tears, with falling of tears I 
 
 die ; 
 
 Life I have found in tears all the length of my day. 
 O for the tearful, powerless, pitiful race of man, 
 Stormwise over the earth whirling and passing 
 away ! 
 
 (84 Protrep.)
 
 82 HEREAFTER. 
 
 HOPE AND DEATH. 
 
 HOPE ever steals our life ; but at the last 
 There comes a morn when trouble all is past. 
 
 (8 Epid.) 
 
 LAMENT. 
 
 WELLAWAY ! ah wellaway ! 
 Goodly youth and foul decay, 
 Age that neareth, 
 Youth that veereth, 
 Veereth passing far away ! 
 
 (118 Epid.)
 
 HEREAFTER. 83 
 
 THE LAST VOYAGE. 
 
 FATHER, who ever, at mine often prayer, 
 Didst grant me sign of stormless voyage fair, 
 Grant now one voyage more, and safely keep 
 To that last haven where all sorrows sleep. 
 Country and home are sweet: but overstress 
 Of trouble is not life, but weariness. 
 
 (9 Epid.) 
 
 AFTER ME. 
 
 Now I am dead, be earth devoured of hell : 
 I reck it not : with me the world is well 
 
 (704 Epit) 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED LONDON AND BECCLES.