No More Learning

But even wisdom is bound by gain,
And gold appearing in the hand persuaded even him, with its
bright reward,
To bring a man from death
Already overtaken. But the Kronian, smiting
With both hands, quickly took away
The breath from his breasts;
And the rushing thunderbolt hurled him to death.
It is necessary for mortal minds
To seek what is reasonable from the divinities,
Knowing what is before the feet, of what destiny we are.
Do not, my soul, aspire to the life
Of the Immortals, but exhaust the practicable means.

In the conclusion of the ode, the poet reminds the victor, Hiero, that
adversity alternates with prosperity in the life of man, as in the
instance of


PELEUS AND CADMUS

PYTHIA III, 145-205

The Immortals distribute to men
With one good two
Evils. The foolish, therefore,
Are not able to bear these with grace,
But the wise, turning the fair outside.

But thee the lot of good fortune follows,
or surely great Destiny
Looks down upon a king ruling the people,
If on any man. But a secure life
Was not to Peleus, son of AEacus,
Nor to godlike Cadmus,
Who yet are said to have had
The greatest happiness
Of mortals, and who heard
The song of the golden-filleted Muses,
On the mountain, and in seven-gated Thebes,
When the one married fair-eyed Harmonia,
And the other Thetis, the illustrious daughter of wise-counseling
Nereus.
And the gods feasted with both;
And they saw the royal children of Kronos
On golden seats, and received
Marriage gifts; and having exchanged
Former toils for the favor of Zeus,
They made erect the heart.
But in course of time
His three daughters robbed the one
Of some of his serenity by acute
Sufferings; when Father Zeus, forsooth, came
To the lovely couch of white-armed Thyone.
And the other's child, whom only the immortal
Thetis bore in Phthia, losing
His life in war by arrows,
Being consumed by fire excited
The lamentation of the Danaans.
But if any mortal has in his
Mind the way of truth,
It is necessary to make the best
Of what befalls from the blessed.
For various are the blasts
Of high-flying winds.
The happiness of men stays not a long time,
Though fast it follows rushing on.

Humble in humble estate, lofty in lofty,
I will be; and the attending daemon
I will always reverence in my mind,
Serving according to my means.
But if Heaven extend to me kind wealth,
I have hope to find lofty fame hereafter.
Nestor and Lycian Sarpedon--
They are the fame of men--
From resounding words which skillful artists
Sung, we know.
For virtue through renowned
Song is lasting.
But for few is it easy to obtain.


APOLLO

PYTHIA V, 87-90

He bestowed the lyre,
And he gives the muse to whom he wishes,
Bringing peaceful serenity to the breast.


MAN

PYTHIA VIII, 136

The phantom of a shadow are men.


HYPSEUS' DAUGHTER CYRENE

PYTHIA IX, 31-44

He reared the white-armed child Cyrene,
Who loved neither the alternating motion of the loom,
Nor the superintendence of feasts,
With the pleasures of companions;
But, with javelins of steel
And the sword contending,
To slay wild beasts;
Affording surely much
And tranquil peace to her father's herds;
Spending little sleep
Upon her eyelids,
As her sweet bedfellow, creeping on at dawn.


THE HEIGHT OF GLORY

PYTHIA X, 33-48

Fortunate and celebrated
By the wise is that man
Who, conquering by his hands or virtue
Of his feet, takes the highest prizes
Through daring and strength,
And living still sees his youthful son
Deservedly obtaining Pythian crowns.
The brazen heaven is not yet accessible to him.
But whatever glory we
Of mortal race may reach,
He goes beyond, even to the boundaries
Of navigation. But neither in ships, nor going on foot,
Couldst thou find the wonderful way to the contests of the
Hyperboreans.


TO ARISTOCLIDES, VICTOR AT THE NEMEAN GAMES

NEMEA III, 32-37

If, being beautiful,
And doing things like to his form,
The child of Aristophanes
Went to the height of manliness, no further
Is it easy to go over the untraveled sea,
Beyond the Pillars of Hercules.


THE YOUTH OF ACHILLES

NEMEA III, 69-90

One with native virtues
Greatly prevails; but he who
Possesses acquired talents, an obscure man,
Aspiring to various things, never with fearless
Foot advances, but tries
A myriad virtues with inefficient mind.
Yellow-haired Achilles, meanwhile, remaining in the house of
Philyra,
Being a boy played
Great deeds; often brandishing
Iron-pointed javelins in his hands,
Swift as the winds, in fight he wrought death to savage lions;
And he slew boars, and brought their bodies
Palpitating to Kronian Centaurus,
As soon as six years old. And all the while
Artemis and bold Athene admired him,
Slaying stags without dogs or treacherous nets;
For he conquered them on foot.

NEMEA IV, 66-70

Whatever virtues sovereign destiny has given me,
I well know that time, creeping on,
Will fulfill what was fated.

NEMEA V, 1-8

The kindred of Pytheas, a victor in the Nemean games, had wished to
procure an ode from Pindar for less than three drachmae, asserting that
they could purchase a statue for that sum. In the following lines he
nobly reproves their meanness, and asserts the value of his labors,
which, unlike those of the statuary, will bear the fame of the hero to
the ends of the earth.

No image-maker am I, who being still make statues
Standing on the same base. But on every
Merchant-ship and in every boat, sweet song,
Go from AEgina to announce that Lampo's son,
Mighty Pytheas,
Has conquered the pancratian crown at the Nemean games.


THE DIVINE IN MAN

NEMEA VI, 1-13

One the race of men and of gods;
And from one mother
We all breathe.
But quite different power
Divides us, so that the one is nothing,
But the brazen heaven remains always
A secure abode. Yet in some respect we are related,
Either in mighty mind or form, to the Immortals;
Although not knowing
To what resting-place,
By day or night, Fate has written that we shall run.


THE TREATMENT OF AJAX

NEMEA VIII, 44-51

In secret votes the Danaans aided Ulysses;
And Ajax, deprived of golden arms, struggled with death.
Surely, wounds of another kind they wrought
In the warm flesh of their foes, waging war
With the man-defending spear.


THE VALUE OF FRIENDS

NEMEA VIII, 68-75

Virtue increases, being sustained by wise men and just,
As when a tree shoots up with gentle dews into the liquid air.
There are various uses of friendly men;
But chiefest in labors; and even pleasure
Requires to place some pledge before the eyes.


DEATH OF AMPHIARAUS

NEMEA IX, 41-66

Once they led to seven-gated Thebes an army of men, not according
To the lucky flight of birds. Nor did the Kronian,
Brandishing his lightning, impel to march
From home insane, but to abstain from the way.
But to apparent destruction
The host made haste to go, with brazen arms
And horse equipments, and on the banks
Of Ismenus, defending sweet return,
Their white-flowered bodies fattened fire.
For seven pyres devoured young-limbed
Men. But to Amphiaraus
Zeus rent the deep-bosomed earth
With his mighty thunderbolt,
And buried him with his horses,
Ere, being struck in the back
By the spear of Periclymenus, his warlike
Spirit was disgraced.
For in daemonic fears
Flee even the sons of gods.


CASTOR AND POLLUX

NEMEA X, 153-171

Pollux, son of Zeus, shared his immortality with his brother Castor,
son of Tyndarus, and while one was in heaven, the other remained in
the infernal regions, and they alternately lived and died every day,
or, as some say, every six months. While Castor lies mortally wounded
by Idas, Pollux prays to Zeus, either to restore his brother to life,
or permit him to die with him, to which the god answers,--

Nevertheless, I give thee
Thy choice of these: if, indeed, fleeing
Death and odious age,
You wish to dwell on Olympus,
With Athene and black-speared Mars,
Thou hast this lot;
But if thou thinkest to fight
For thy brother, and share
All things with him,
Half the time thou mayest breathe, being beneath the earth,
And half in the golden halls of heaven.
The god thus having spoken, he did not
Entertain a double wish in his mind.
And he released first the eye, and then the voice,
Of brazen-mitred Castor.


TOIL

ISTHMIA I, 65-71

One reward of labors is sweet to one man, one to another,--
To the shepherd, and the plower, and the bird-catcher,
And whom the sea nourishes.
But every one is tasked to ward off
Grievous famine from the stomach.


THE VENALITY OF THE MUSE

ISTHMIA II, 9-18

Then the Muse was not
Fond of gain, nor a laboring woman;
Nor were the sweet-sounding,
Soothing strains
Of Terpsichore sold,
With silvered front.
But now she directs to observe the saying
Of the Argive, coming very near the truth,
Who cried, "Money, money, man,"
Being bereft of property and friends.


HERCULES' PRAYER CONCERNING AJAX, SON OF TELAMON

ISTHMIA VI, 62-73

"If ever, O Father Zeus, thou hast heard
My supplication with willing mind,
Now I beseech thee, with prophetic
Prayer, grant a bold son from Eriboea
To this man, my fated guest;
Rugged in body
As the hide of this wild beast
Which now surrounds me, which, first of all
My contests, I slew once in Nemea; and let his mind agree. "
To him thus having spoken, Heaven sent
A great eagle, king of birds,
And sweet joy thrilled him inwardly.


THE FREEDOM OF GREECE

First at Artemisium
The children of the Athenians laid the shining
Foundation of freedom,
And at Salamis and Mycale,
And in Plataea, making it firm
As adamant.


FROM STRABO[7]

APOLLO

Having risen he went
Over land and sea,
And stood over the vast summits of mountains,
And threaded the recesses, penetrating to the foundations of
the groves.


FROM PLUTARCH

Heaven being willing, even on an osier thou mayest sail.
[Thus rhymed by the old translator of Plutarch:

"Were it the will of heaven, an osier bough
Were vessel safe enough the seas to plough. "]


FROM SEXTUS EMPIRICUS

Honors and crowns of the tempest-footed
Horses delight one;
Others live in golden chambers;
And some even are pleased traversing securely
The swelling of the sea in a swift ship.


FROM STOBAEUS

This I will say to thee:
The lot of fair and pleasant things
It behooves to show in public to all the people;
But if any adverse calamity sent from heaven befall
Men, this it becomes to bury in darkness.

* * * * *

Pindar said of the physiologists, that they "plucked the unripe fruit
of wisdom. "

* * * * *

Pindar said that "hopes were the dreams of those awake. "


FROM CLEMENS OF ALEXANDRIA

To Heaven it is possible from black
Night to make arise unspotted light,
And with cloud-blackening darkness to obscure
The pure splendor of day.

First, indeed, the Fates brought the wise-counseling
Uranian Themis, with golden horses,
By the fountains of Ocean to the awful ascent
Of Olympus, along the shining way,
To be the first spouse of Zeus the Deliverer.
And she bore the golden-filleted, fair-wristed
Hours, preservers of good things.

Equally tremble before God
And a man dear to God.


FROM AELIUS ARISTIDES

Pindar used such exaggerations [in praise of poetry] as to say that
even the gods themselves, when at his marriage Zeus asked if they
wanted anything, "asked him to make certain gods for them who should
celebrate these great works and all his creation with speech and
song. "

FOOTNOTE:

[7] [This and the following are fragments of Pindar found in ancient
authors. ]




POEMS


NATURE

O Nature! I do not aspire
To be the highest in thy quire,--
To be a meteor in the sky,
Or comet that may range on high;
Only a zephyr that may blow
Among the reeds by the river low;
Give me thy most privy place
Where to run my airy race.

In some withdrawn, unpublic mead
Let me sigh upon a reed,
Or in the woods, with leafy din,
Whisper the still evening in:
Some still work give me to do,--
Only--be it near to you!

For I'd rather be thy child
And pupil, in the forest wild,
Than be the king of men elsewhere,
And most sovereign slave of care:
To have one moment of thy dawn,
Than share the city's year forlorn.


INSPIRATION[8]

Whate'er we leave to God, God does,
And blesses us;
The work we choose should be our own,
God leaves alone.

* * * * *

If with light head erect I sing,
Though all the Muses lend their force,
From my poor love of anything,
The verse is weak and shallow as its source.

But if with bended neck I grope,
Listening behind me for my wit,
With faith superior to hope,
More anxious to keep back than forward it,

Making my soul accomplice there
Unto the flame my heart hath lit,
Then will the verse forever wear,--
Time cannot bend the line which God hath writ.

Always the general show of things
Floats in review before my mind,
And such true love and reverence brings,
That sometimes I forget that I am blind.

But now there comes unsought, unseen,
Some clear divine electuary,
And I, who had but sensual been,
Grow sensible, and as God is, am wary.

I hearing get, who had but ears,
And sight, who had but eyes before;
I moments live, who lived but years,
And truth discern, who knew but learning's lore.

I hear beyond the range of sound,
I see beyond the range of sight,
New earths and skies and seas around,
And in my day the sun doth pale his light.

A clear and ancient harmony
Pierces my soul through all its din,
As through its utmost melody,--
Farther behind than they, farther within.

More swift its bolt than lightning is.
Its voice than thunder is more loud,
It doth expand my privacies
To all, and leave me single in the crowd.

It speaks with such authority,
With so serene and lofty tone,
That idle Time runs gadding by,
And leaves me with Eternity alone.

Then chiefly is my natal hour,
And only then my prime of life;
Of manhood's strength it is the flower,
'T is peace's end, and war's beginning strife.

'T hath come in summer's broadest noon,
By a gray wall or some chance place,
Unseasoned time, insulted June,
And vexed the day with its presuming face.

Such fragrance round my couch it makes,
More rich than are Arabian drugs,
That my soul scents its life and wakes
The body up beneath its perfumed rugs.

Such is the Muse, the heavenly maid,
The star that guides our mortal course,
Which shows where life's true kernel's laid,
Its wheat's fine flour, and its undying force.

She with one breath attunes the spheres,
And also my poor human heart,
With one impulse propels the years
Around, and gives my throbbing pulse its start.

I will not doubt for evermore,
Nor falter from a steadfast faith,
For though the system be turned o'er,
God takes not back the word which once he saith.

I will, then, trust the love untold
Which not my worth nor want has bought,
Which wooed me young, and wooes me old,
And to this evening hath me brought.

My memory I'll educate
To know the one historic truth,
Remembering to the latest date
The only true and sole immortal youth.

Be but thy inspiration given,
No matter through what danger sought,
I'll fathom hell or climb to heaven,
And yet esteem that cheap which love has bought.

* * * * *

Fame cannot tempt the bard
Who's famous with his God,
Nor laurel him reward
Who hath his Maker's nod.


THE AURORA OF GUIDO[9]

A FRAGMENT

The god of day his car rolls up the slopes,
Reining his prancing steeds with steady hand;
The lingering moon through western shadows gropes,
While morning sheds its light o'er sea and land.

Castles and cities by the sounding main
Resound with all the busy din of life;
The fisherman unfurls his sails again;
And the recruited warrior bides the strife.

The early breeze ruffles the poplar leaves;
The curling waves reflect the unseen light;
The slumbering sea with the day's impulse heaves,
While o'er the western hill retires the drowsy night.

The seabirds dip their bills in Ocean's foam,
Far circling out over the frothy waves,--

* * * * *


TO THE MAIDEN IN THE EAST[10]

Low in the eastern sky
Is set thy glancing eye;
And though its gracious light
Ne'er riseth to my sight,
Yet every star that climbs
Above the gnarled limbs
Of yonder hill,
Conveys thy gentle will.

Believe I knew thy thought,
And that the zephyrs brought
Thy kindest wishes through,
As mine they bear to you;
That some attentive cloud
Did pause amid the crowd
Over my head,
While gentle things were said.

Believe the thrushes sung,
And that the flower-bells rung,
That herbs exhaled their scent,
And beasts knew what was meant,
The trees a welcome waved,
And lakes their margins laved,
When thy free mind
To my retreat did wind.

It was a summer eve,
The air did gently heave
While yet a low-hung cloud
Thy eastern skies did shroud;
The lightning's silent gleam,
Startling my drowsy dream,
Seemed like the flash
Under thy dark eyelash.

From yonder comes the sun,
But soon his course is run,
Rising to trivial day
Along his dusty way;
But thy noontide completes
Only auroral heats,
Nor ever sets,
To hasten vain regrets.

Direct thy pensive eye
Into the western sky;
And when the evening star
Does glimmer from afar
Upon the mountain line,
Accept it for a sign
That I am near,
And thinking of thee here.

I'll be thy Mercury,
Thou Cytherea to me,
Distinguished by thy face
The earth shall learn my place;
As near beneath thy light
Will I outwear the night,
With mingled ray
Leading the westward way.

Still will I strive to be
As if thou wert with me;
Whatever path I take,
It shall be for thy sake,
Of gentle slope and wide,
As thou wert by my side,
Without a root
To trip thy gentle foot.

I'll walk with gentle pace,
And choose the smoothest place,
And careful dip the oar,
And shun the winding shore,
And gently steer my boat
Where water-lilies float,
And cardinal-flowers
Stand in their sylvan bowers.


TO MY BROTHER

Brother, where dost thou dwell?
What sun shines for thee now?
Dost thou indeed fare well,
As we wished thee here below?

What season didst thou find?
'Twas winter here.
Are not the Fates more kind
Than they appear?

Is thy brow clear again
As in thy youthful years?
And was that ugly pain
The summit of thy fears?

Yet thou wast cheery still;
They could not quench thy fire;
Thou didst abide their will,
And then retire.

Where chiefly shall I look
To feel thy presence near?
Along the neighboring brook
May I thy voice still hear?

Dost thou still haunt the brink
Of yonder river's tide?
And may I ever think
That thou art by my side?

What bird wilt thou employ
To bring me word of thee?
For it would give them joy--
'T would give them liberty--
To serve their former lord
With wing and minstrelsy.

A sadder strain mixed with their song,
They've slowlier built their nests;
Since thou art gone
Their lively labor rests.

Where is the finch, the thrush,
I used to hear?
Ah, they could well abide
The dying year.

Now they no more return,
I hear them not;
They have remained to mourn,
Or else forgot.


GREECE[11]

When life contracts into a vulgar span,
And human nature tires to be a man,
I thank the gods for Greece,
That permanent realm of peace.
For as the rising moon far in the night
Checkers the shade with her forerunning light,
So in my darkest hour my senses seem
To catch from her Acropolis a gleam.

Greece, who am I that should remember thee,
Thy Marathon and thy Thermopylae?
Is my life vulgar, my fate mean,
Which on such golden memories can lean?


THE FUNERAL BELL

One more is gone
Out of the busy throng
That tread these paths;
The church-bell tolls,
Its sad knell rolls
To many hearths.

Flower-bells toll not,
Their echoes roll not
Upon my ear;
There still, perchance,
That gentle spirit haunts
A fragrant bier.

Low lies the pall,
Lowly the mourners all
Their passage grope;
No sable hue
Mars the serene blue
Of heaven's cope.

In distant dell
Faint sounds the funeral bell;
A heavenly chime;
Some poet there
Weaves the light-burthened air
Into sweet rhyme.


THE MOON

Time wears her not; she doth his chariot guide;
Mortality below her orb is placed.

RALEIGH.

The full-orbed moon with unchanged ray
Mounts up the eastern sky,
Not doomed to these short nights for aye,
But shining steadily.

She does not wane, but my fortune,
Which her rays do not bless;
My wayward path declineth soon,
But she shines not the less.

And if she faintly glimmers here,
And paled is her light,
Yet alway in her proper sphere
She's mistress of the night.


THE FALL OF THE LEAF[12]

Thank God who seasons thus the year,
And sometimes kindly slants his rays;
For in his winter he's most near
And plainest seen upon the shortest days.

Who gently tempers now his heats.
And then his harsher cold, lest we
Should surfeit on the summer's sweets,
Or pine upon the winter's crudity.

A sober mind will walk alone,
Apart from nature, if need be,
And only its own seasons own:
For nature leaving its humanity.

Sometimes a late autumnal thought
Has crossed my mind in green July,
And to its early freshness brought
Late ripened fruits, and an autumnal sky.

The evening of the year draws on,
The fields a later aspect wear;
Since Summer's garishness is gone,
Some grains of night tincture the noontide air.

Behold! the shadows of the trees
Now circle wider 'bout their stem,
Like sentries that by slow degrees
Perform their rounds, gently protecting them.

And as the year doth decline,
The sun allows a scantier light;
Behind each needle of the pine
There lurks a small auxiliar to the night.

I hear the cricket's slumbrous lay
Around, beneath me, and on high;
It rocks the night, it soothes the day,
And everywhere is Nature's lullaby.

But most he chirps beneath the sod,
When he has made his winter bed;
His creak grown fainter but more broad,
A film of autumn o'er the summer spread.

Small birds, in fleets migrating by,
Now beat across some meadow's bay,
And as they tack and veer on high,
With faint and hurried click beguile the way.

Far in the woods, these golden days,
Some leaf obeys its Maker's call;
And through their hollow aisles it plays
With delicate touch the prelude of the Fall.

Gently withdrawing from its stem,
It lightly lays itself along
Where the same hand hath pillowed them,
Resigned to sleep upon the old year's throng.

The loneliest birch is brown and sere,
The farthest pool is strewn with leaves,
Which float upon their watery bier,
Where is no eye that sees, no heart that grieves.

The jay screams through the chestnut wood;
The crisped and yellow leaves around
Are hue and texture of my mood,
And these rough burs my heirlooms on the ground.

The threadbare trees, so poor and thin,
They are no wealthier than I;
But with as brave a core within
They rear their boughs to the October sky.

Poor knights they are which bravely wait
The charge of Winter's cavalry,
Keeping a simple Roman state,
Discumbered of their Persian luxury.


THE THAW

I saw the civil sun drying earth's tears,
Her tears of joy that only faster flowed. [13]

Fain would I stretch me by the highway-side
To thaw and trickle with the melting snow;
That mingled, soul and body, with the tide,
I too may through the pores of nature flow.


A WINTER SCENE[14]

The rabbit leaps,
The mouse out-creeps,
The flag out-peeps
Beside the brook;
The ferret weeps,
The marmot sleeps,
The owlet keeps
In his snug nook.

The apples thaw,
The ravens caw,
The squirrels gnaw
The frozen fruit.
To their retreat
I track the feet
Of mice that eat
The apple's root.

The snow-dust falls,
The otter crawls,
The partridge calls,
Far in the wood.
The traveler dreams,
The tree-ice gleams,
The blue jay screams
In angry mood.

The willows droop,
The alders stoop,
The pheasants group
Beneath the snow.
The catkins green
Cast o'er the scene
A summer's sheen,
A genial glow.


TO A STRAY FOWL

Poor bird! destined to lead thy life
Far in the adventurous west,
And here to be debarred to-night
From thy accustomed nest;
Must thou fall back upon old instinct now,
Well-nigh extinct under man's fickle care?
Did heaven bestow its quenchless inner light,
So long ago, for thy small want to-night?
Why stand'st upon thy toes to crow so late?
The moon is deaf to thy low feathered fate;
Or dost thou think so to possess the night,
And people the drear dark with thy brave sprite?
And now with anxious eye thou look'st about,
While the relentless shade draws on its veil,
For some sure shelter from approaching dews,
And the insidious steps of nightly foes.
I fear imprisonment has dulled thy wit,
Or ingrained servitude extinguished it.
But no; dim memory of the days of yore,
By Brahmapootra and the Jumna's shore,
Where thy proud race flew swiftly o'er the heath,
And sought its food the jungle's shade beneath,
Has taught thy wings to seek yon friendly trees,
As erst by Indus' banks and far Ganges.


POVERTY

A FRAGMENT

If I am poor,
It is that I am proud;
If God has made me naked and a boor,
He did not think it fit his work to shroud.

The poor man comes direct from heaven to earth,
As stars drop down the sky, and tropic beams;
The rich receives in our gross air his birth,
As from low suns are slanted golden gleams.

Yon sun is naked, bare of satellite,
Unless our earth and moon that office hold;
Though his perpetual day feareth no night,
And his perennial summer dreads no cold.

Mankind may delve, but cannot my wealth spend;
If I no partial wealth appropriate,
No armed ships unto the Indies send,
None robs me of my Orient estate.


PILGRIMS

"Have you not seen,
In ancient times,
Pilgrims pass by
Toward other climes,
With shining faces,
Youthful and strong,
Mounting this hill
With speech and with song? "

"Ah, my good sir,
I know not those ways;
Little my knowledge,
Tho' many my days.
When I have slumbered,
I have heard sounds
As of travelers passing
These my grounds.

"'T was a sweet music
Wafted them by,
I could not tell
If afar off or nigh.
Unless I dreamed it,
This was of yore:
I never told it
To mortal before,
Never remembered
But in my dreams
What to me waking
A miracle seems. "


THE DEPARTURE

In this roadstead I have ridden,
In this covert I have hidden;
Friendly thoughts were cliffs to me,
And I hid beneath their lee.

This true people took the stranger,
And warm-hearted housed the ranger;
They received their roving guest,
And have fed him with the best;

Whatsoe'er the land afforded
To the stranger's wish accorded;
Shook the olive, stripped the vine,
And expressed the strengthening wine.

And by night they did spread o'er him
What by day they spread before him;--
That good-will which was repast
Was his covering at last.

The stranger moored him to their pier
Without anxiety or fear;
By day he walked the sloping land,
By night the gentle heavens he scanned.

When first his bark stood inland
To the coast of that far Finland,
Sweet-watered brooks came tumbling to the shore
The weary mariner to restore.

And still he stayed from day to day
If he their kindness might repay;
But more and more
The sullen waves came rolling toward the shore.

And still the more the stranger waited,
The less his argosy was freighted,
And still the more he stayed,
The less his debt was paid.

So he unfurled his shrouded mast
To receive the fragrant blast;
And that sane refreshing gale
Which had wooed him to remain
Again and again,
It was that filled his sail
And drove him to the main.

All day the low-hung clouds
Dropt tears into the sea;
And the wind amid the shrouds
Sighed plaintively.


INDEPENDENCE[15]

My life more civil is and free
Than any civil polity.

Ye princes, keep your realms
And circumscribed power,
Not wide as are my dreams,
Nor rich as is this hour.

What can ye give which I have not?
What can ye take which I have got?
Can ye defend the dangerless?
Can ye inherit nakedness?
To all true wants Time's ear is deaf,
Penurious states lend no relief
Out of their pelf:
But a free soul--thank God--
Can help itself.

Be sure your fate
Doth keep apart its state,
Not linked with any band,
Even the noblest of the land;

In tented fields with cloth of gold
No place doth hold,
But is more chivalrous than they are,
And sigheth for a nobler war;
A finer strain its trumpet sings,
A brighter gleam its armor flings.

The life that I aspire to live
No man proposeth me;
No trade upon the street[16]
Wears its emblazonry.


DING DONG[17]

When the world grows old by the chimney-side
Then forth to the youngling nooks I glide,
Where over the water and over the land
The bells are booming on either hand.

Now up they go ding, then down again dong,
And awhile they ring to the same old song,
For the metal goes round at a single bound,
A-cutting the fields with its measured sound,
While the tired tongue falls with a lengthened boom
As solemn and loud as the crack of doom.

Then changed is their measure to tone upon tone,
And seldom it is that one sound comes alone,
For they ring out their peals in a mingled throng,
And the breezes waft the loud ding-dong along.

When the echo hath reached me in this lone vale,
I am straightway a hero in coat of mail,
I tug at my belt and I march on my post,
And feel myself more than a match for a host.


OMNIPRESENCE

Who equaleth the coward's haste,
And still inspires the faintest heart;
Whose lofty fame is not disgraced,
Though it assume the lowest part.


INSPIRATION

If thou wilt but stand by my ear,
When through the field thy anthem's rung,
When that is done I will not fear
But the same power will abet my tongue.


MISSION

I've searched my faculties around,
To learn why life to me was lent:
I will attend the faintest sound,
And then declare to man what God hath meant.


DELAY

No generous action can delay
Or thwart our higher, steadier aims;
But if sincere and true are they,
It will arouse our sight, and nerve our frames.


PRAYER

Great God! I ask thee for no meaner pelf
Than that I may not disappoint myself;
That in my action I may soar as high
As I can now discern with this clear eye;

And next in value, which thy kindness lends,
That I may greatly disappoint my friends,
Howe'er they think or hope it that may be,
They may not dream how thou 'st distinguished me;

That my weak hand may equal my firm faith,
And my life practice more than my tongue saith;
That my low conduct may not show,
Nor my relenting lines,
That I thy purpose did not know,
Or overrated thy designs.


FOOTNOTES:

[8] [Eighteen lines of this poem appear in _Week_, pp. 181, 182, 351,
372. ]

[9] ["Suggested by the print of Guido's 'Aurora' sent by Mrs. Carlyle
as a wedding gift to Mrs. Emerson. " (Note in _Poems of Nature_. )]

[10] [Five stanzas of this poem appear in _Week_, pp. 46, 47. ]

[11] [The last four lines appear in _Week_, p. 54. ]

[12] ["The first four of these stanzas (unnamed by Thoreau) were
published in the Boston _Commonwealth_ in 1863, under the title of
'The Soul's Season,' the remainder as 'The Fall of the Leaf. ' There
can be little doubt that they are parts of one complete poem. " (Note
in _Poems of Nature_. )]

[13] [See p. 120. ]

[14] ["These stanzas formed part of the original manuscript of the
essay on 'A Winter Walk,' but were excluded by Emerson. " (Note in
_Poems of Nature_. )]

[15] ["First printed in full in the Boston _Commonwealth_, October 30,
1863. The last fourteen lines had appeared in _The Dial_ under the
title of 'The Black Knight,' and are so reprinted in the Riverside
Edition. " (Note in _Poems of Nature_. )]

[16] [In _The Dial_ this line reads, "Only the promise of my heart. "]

[17] ["A copy of this hitherto unpublished poem has been kindly
furnished by Miss A. J. Ward. " (Note in _Poems of Nature_. )]




A LIST OF THE POEMS AND BITS OF VERSE SCATTERED AMONG THOREAU'S PROSE
WRITINGS EXCLUSIVE OF THE JOURNAL

* * * * *

A WEEK ON THE CONCORD AND MERRIMACK RIVERS

"The respectable folks" PAGE 7

"Ah, 't is in vain the peaceful din" 15

"But since we sailed" 16

"Here then an aged shepherd dwelt" 16

"On Ponkawtasset, since we took our way" 16

"Who sleeps by day and walks by night" 41

"An early unconverted Saint" 42

"Low in the eastern sky" (TO THE MAIDEN IN THE EAST) 46

"Dong, sounds the brass in the East" 50

"Greece, who am I that should remember thee" 54

"Some tumultuous little rill" 62

"I make ye an offer" 69

"Conscience is instinct bred in the house" (CONSCIENCE) 75

"Such water do the gods distill" 86

"That Phaeton of our day" 103

"Then spend an age in whetting thy desire" 111

"Though all the fates should prove unkind" 151

"With frontier strength ye stand your ground" (MOUNTAINS) 170

"The western wind came lumbering in" 180

"Then idle Time ran gadding by" 181

"Now chiefly is my natal hour" 182

RUMORS FROM AN AEOLIAN HARP 184

"Away! away! away! away! " 186

"Ply the oars! away! away! " (RIVER SONG, part) 188

"Since that first 'Away! away! '" (RIVER SONG, part) 200

"Low-anchored cloud" (MIST) 201

"Man's little acts are grand" 224

"Our uninquiring corpses lie more low" 227

"The waves slowly beat" 229

"Woof of the sun, ethereal gauze" (HAZE) 229

"Where gleaming fields of haze" 234

TRANSLATIONS FROM ANACREON 240

"Thus, perchance, the Indian hunter" (BOAT SONG) 247

"My life is like a stroll upon the beach" (THE FISHER'S BOY) 255

"This is my Carnac, whose unmeasured dome" 267

"True kindness is a pure divine affinity" 275

"Lately, alas, I knew a gentle boy" (SYMPATHY) 276

THE ATLANTIDES 278

"My love must be as free" (FREE LOVE) 297

"The Good how can we trust? " 298

"Nature doth have her dawn each day" 302

"Let such pure hate still underprop" (FRIENDSHIP) 305

"Men are by birth equal in this, that given" 311

The Inward Morning 313

"My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read" (THE SUMMER RAIN) 320

"My life has been the poem I would have writ" 365

THE POET'S DELAY 366

"I hearing get, who had but ears" 372

"Men dig and dive but cannot my wealth spend" 373

"Salmon Brook" 375

"Oft, as I turn me on my pillow o'er" 384

"I am the autumnal sun" (NATURE'S CHILD) 404

"A finer race and finer fed" 407

"I am a parcel of vain strivings tied" (SIC VITA) 410

"All things are current found" 415


WALDEN

"Men say they know many things" 46

"What's the railroad to me? " 135

"It is no dream of mine" 215

"Light-winged Smoke, Icarian bird" (SMOKE) 279


THE MAINE WOODS

"Die and be buried who will" 88


EXCURSIONS

"Within the circuit of this plodding life" (WINTER MEMORIES) 103

"We pronounce thee happy, Cicada" (from Anacreon) 108

"His steady sails he never furls" 109

RETURN OF SPRING (from Anacreon) 109

"Each summer sound" 112

"Sometimes I hear the veery's clarion" 112

"Upon the lofty elm tree sprays" (THE VIREO) 112

"Thou dusky spirit of the wood" (THE CROW) 113

"I see the civil sun drying earth's tears" (THE THAW, part) 120

"The river swelleth more and more" (A RIVER SCENE) 120

"The needles of the pine" 133

"With frontier strength ye stand your ground" (MOUNTAINS) 133

"Not unconcerned Wachusett rears his head" 144

"The sluggish smoke curls up from some deep dell" (SMOKE
IN WINTER) 165

"When Winter fringes every bough" (STANZAS WRITTEN AT
WALDEN) 176

THE OLD MARLBOROUGH ROAD 214

"In two years' time 't had thus" 303




INDEX


Achilles, The Youth of, translation, 385.

Acre, an, as long measure, 60.

Acton (Mass. ), 136.

AEschylus, The Prometheus Bound of, translation, 337-375.

AEsculapius, translation, 380.

Agriculture, the task of Americans, 229-231.

Ajax, The Treatment of, translation, 387.

Alphonse, Jean, and Falls of Montmorenci, 38, 39;
quoted, 91.

America, superiorities of, 220-224.

American, money in Quebec, 24;
the, and government, 82, 83.

Amphiaraus, The Death of, translation, 387.

Anacreon, quoted, 108, 109, 110.

Andropogons, or beard-grasses, 225-258.

Ange Gardien Parish, 42;
church of, 46.

Angler's Souvenir, the, 119.

Apollo, translation, 383.

Apple, history of the tree, 290-298;
the wild, 299, 300;
the crab-, 301, 302;
growth of the wild, 302-308;
cropped by cattle, 303-307;
the fruit and flavor of the, 308-314;
beauty of the, 314, 315;
naming of the, 315-317;
last gleaning of the, 317-319;
the frozen-thawed, 319, 320;
dying out of the wild, 321, 322.

Apple-howling, 298.

Arpent, the, 60.

Ashburnham (Mass. ), 3;
with a better house than any in Canada, 100.

Ash trees, 6.

Assabet, the, 136.

Audubon, John James, reading, 103; 109, note; 112, note.

Aurora of Guido, The, verse, 399.

Autumn foliage, brightness of, 249-252.

AUTUMNAL TINTS, 249-289.


Bartram, William, quoted, 199.

Bathing feet in brooks, 140.

Beard-grasses, andropogons or, 255-258.

Beauport (Que. ), and _le Chemin de_, 30;
getting lodgings in, 35-38;
church in, 69;
Seigniory of, 96.

Beaupre, Seigniory of the Cote de, 41.

"Behold, how spring appearing," verse, 109.

Bellows Falls (Vt. ), 5.

Birch, yellow, 6.

Birds and mountains, 149.

Bittern, booming of the, 111.

Black Knight, The, verse, 415, note.

Blueberries, and milk, supper of, 144.

Bluebird, the, 110.

Bobolink, the, 113.

Bodaeus, quoted, 317.

Bolton (Mass. ), 137.

Bonsecours Market (Montreal), 11.

Books on natural history, reading, 103-105.

Boots, Canadian, 51.

Boston (Mass. ), 3, 7, 9.

Boucher, quoted, 91.

Boucherville (Que. ), 20.

Bouchette, Topographical Description of the Canadas, quoted, 41,
42, 63, 64, 89, 92, 94, 95.

Bout de l'Isle, 20.

Brand's Popular Antiquities quoted, 297, 298.

Bravery of science, the, 106, 107.

"Brother, where dost thou dwell? " verse, 403.

Burlington (Vt. ), 7, 99.

Burton, Sir Richard Francis, 228.

Butternut tree, 6.


Cabs, Montreal, 18;
Quebec, 69, 70.

Caddis-worms, 170.

Caen, Emery de, quoted, 52.

Caleche, the (see Cabs), 69, 70.

Canada, apparently older than the United States, 80, 81;
population of, 81, 82;
the French in, a nation of peasants, 82.

_Canadense_, _Iter_, and the word, 101.

Canadian, French, 9;
horses, 34;
women, 34;
atmosphere, 34;
love of neighborhood, 42, 43;
houses, 44, 59;
clothes, 45;
salutations, 47;
vegetables and trees, 47, 48;
boots, 51;
tenures, 63, 64.

Cane, a straight and a twisted, 184, 185.

Cap aux Oyes, 93.

Cape Diamond, 22, 40;
signal-gun on, 85;
the view from, 88.

Cape Rosier, 92.

Cape Rouge, 21, 95.

Cape Tourmente, 41, 89, 96.

Cartier, Jacques, 7, and the St. Lawrence, 89-91;
quoted, 97, 98, 99.

Castor and Pollux, translation, 388.

Cattle-show, men at, 184.

Cemetery of fallen leaves, 269, 270.

Chaleurs, the Bay of, 90.

Chalmers, Dr. , in criticism of Coleridge, 324.

Chambly (Que. ), 11.

Champlain, Samuel, quoted, 8;
whales in map of, 91.

Charlevoix, quoted, 52, 91.

Chateau Richer, church of, 46, 49;
lodgings at, 59.

Chaucer, quoted, 159, 160.

Chaudiere River, the, 21;
Falls of the, 69, 70.

Cheap men, 29, 30.

Cherry-stones, transported by birds, 188.

Chickadee, the, 108.

Chien, La Riviere au, 56.

Churches, Catholic and Protestant, 12-14;
roadside, 46.

_Claire Fontaine, La_, 26.

Clothes, bad-weather, 28;
Canadian, 45.

Colors, names and joy of, 273-275.

Concord (Mass. ), 3, 6, 8;
History of, quoted, 115, 133, 149, 152.

Concord River, the, 115, 139.

Connecticut River, 5, 145, 147.

_Coureurs de bois_, and _de risques_, 43.

Crickets, the creaking of, 108.

Crookneck squash seeds, Quebec, 87.

Crosses, roadside, 45, 46.

Crow, the, 108;
not imported from Europe, 113.

Crystalline botany, 126, 127.

Culm, bloom in the, 253.


Darby, William, quoted, 93, 94.

Delay, verse, 418.

Departure, The, verse, 414.

Ding Dong, verse, 417.

Dogs in harness, 30.

Drake, Sir Francis, quoted, 325.

Dubartas, quoted, translation of Sylvester, 328, 329.

Ducks, 110.


"Each summer sound," verse, 112.

East Main, Labrador and, health in the words, 104.

Easterbrooks Country, the, 299, 303.

Edda, the Prose, quoted, 291.

Eggs, a master in cooking, 61, 62.

Elm, the, 263, 264, 276.

Elysium, translation, 375.

Emerson, George B. , quoted, 200.

English and French in the New World, 66, 67.

Entomology, the study of, 107, 108.

Evelyn, John, quoted, 310, 311.

_Ex Oriente Lux; ex Occidente Frux_, 221.

Experiences, the paucity of men's, 241, 242.

Eyes, the sight of different men's 285-288.


Fall of the Leaf, The, verse, 407.

Fallen Leaves, 264-270.

Falls, a drug of, 58.

Fame, translation, 378.

Fish, spearing, 119, 121-123.

Fisher, the pickerel, 180, 181.

Fishes, described in Massachusetts Report, 118.

Fitchburg (Mass. ), 3.

Fitzwilliam (N. H. ), 4.

Foreign country, quickly in a, 31.

Forests, nations preserved by, 229.

Fortifications, ancient and modern, 77, 78.

Fox, the, 117.

French, difficulties in talking, 35-37, 47;
strange, 50;
pure, 52;
in the New World, English and, 66-68;
in Canada, 81, 82;
the, spoken in Quebec streets, 86, 87.