Achilles — Goddesses
contended
for it ; Helena was afar.
Universal Anthology - v02
and can anything be more un-Shakespearean than that ?
Again : Mr.
Hay ward's prose translation of the first part of " Faust " — so good that it makes one regret Mr.
Hayward should have abandoned the line of translation for a kind of literature which is, to say the least, somewhat slight — is not likely to be surpassed by any translation in verse.
But poems like the Iliad, which in the main are in one manner, may hope to find a poetical translator so gifted and so trained as to be able to learn that one manner, and to reproduce it.
Only, the poet who would reproduce this must cultivate in himself a Greek virtue by no means common among the moderns in general, and the English in particular, — moderation.
For Homer has not only the English vigor, he has the Greek grace ; and when one observes the bolstering, rollicking way in which his English admirers — even men of genius, like the late Pro fessor Wilson — love to talk of Homer and his poetry, one can not help feeling that there is no very deep community of nature between them and the object of their enthusiasm.
" It is very well, my good friends," I always imagine Homer saying to them, if he could hear them : " you do me a great deal of honor, but somehow or other you praise me too like barbarians.
" For Homer's grandeur is not the mixed and turbid grandeur of the great poets of the north, of the authors of " Othello " and " Faust " ; it is a perfect, a lovely grandeur.
Certainly his poetry has all the energy and power of the poetry of our ruder climates ; but it has, besides, the pure lines of an Ionian hori zon, the liquid clearness of an Ionian sky.
170 HECTOR, PARIS, HELEN, ANDROMACHE.
HECTOR, PARIS, HELEN, ANDROMACHE. By GEORGE CHAPMAN.
[Geobgb Chapman, English poet of the age of Elizabeth, James I. , and Charles I. , was born in 1559, and graduated at Cambridge. He was very slow in development: his first poem, "The Shadow of Night," was published at thirty-five, and his first play, "The Blind Beggar of Alexandria," at thirty-nine, when also appeared the first part (remodeled later) of his translation of the Hiad, his one living work. He translated also the Odyssey, the Homeric Hymns, Hesiod, Musabus' "Hero and Leander," and Juvenal's Fifth Satire. Among his plays were "Bussy d'Ambois," " Ceesar and Pompey," "All Fools," "Monsieur d'Olive," "The Gentleman Usher," and "The Widow's Tears. " He died in 1634. ]
The loved of heaven's chief Power, Hector, here entered. In his hand a goodly lance he bore,
Ten cubits long ; the brazen head went shining in before,
Helped with a burnished ring of gold. He found his brother then Amongst the women, yet prepared to go amongst the men,
For in their chamber he was set, trimming his arms, his shield,
His curets, and was trying how his crooked bow would yield
To his straight arms. Amongst her maids was set the Argive Queen, Commanding them in choicest works. When Hector's eye had seen His brother thus accompanied, and that he could not bear
The very touching of his arms but where the women were,
And when the time so needed men, right cunningly he chid.
That he might do it bitterly, his cowardice he hid,
That simply made him so retired, beneath an anger, feigned
In him by Hector, for the hate the citizens sustained
Against him, for the foil he took in their cause ; and again,
For all their gen'ral foils in his. So Hector seems to plain
Of his wrath to them, for their hate, and not his cowardice ;
As that were it that sheltered him in his effeminacies,
And kept him, in that dang'rous time, from their fit aid in fight ; For which he chid thus : " Wretched man ! so timeless is thy spite That 'tis not honest ; and their hate is just, 'gainst which it bends. War burns about the town for thee ; for thee our slaughtered friends Besiege Troy with their carcasses, on whose heaps our high walls
Are overlooked by enemies ; the sad sounds of their falls
Without, are echoed with the cries of wives and babes within ;
And all for thee ; and yet for them thy honor cannot win
Head of thine anger. Thou shouldst need no spirit to stir up thine, But thine should set the rest on fire, and with a rage divine
Chastise impartially the best, that impiously forbears.
Come forth, lest thy fair towers and Troy be burned about thine ears. "
HECTOR, PARIS, HELEN, ANDROMACHE. 171
Paris acknowledged, as before, all just that Hector spake, Allowing justice, though it were for his injustice' sake ;
And where his brother put a wrath upon him by his art,
He takes for his honor's sake, as sprung out of his heart,
And rather would have anger seem his fault than cowardice
And thus he answered " Since, with right, you joined check with And hear you, give equal ear It not any spleen [advice, Against the town, as you conceive, that makes me so unseen,
But sorrow for which to ease, and by discourse digest
Within myself, live so close and yet, since men might wrest
My sad retreat, like you, my wife with her advice inclined
This my addression to the field which was mine own free mind,
As well as th' instance of her words for though the foil were mine, Conquest brings forth her wreaths by turns. Stay then this haste of
thine
But till arm, and am made a consort for thee straight; —
Or go, I'll overtake thy haste. " Helen stood at receipt,
And took up all great Hector's powers, attend her heavy words, By which had Paris no reply. This vent her grief affords
" Brother (if may call you so, that had been better born
A dog, than such horrid dame, as all men curse and scorn,
A mischief-maker, a man plague) would to God, the day,
That first gave light to me, had been a whirlwind in my way,
And borne me to some desert hill, or hid me in the rage
Of earth's most far-resounding seas, ere should thus engage
The dear lives of so many friends Yet since the Gods have been Helpless foreseers of my plagues, they might have likewise seen That he they put in yoke with me, to bear out their award,
Had been a man of much more spirit, and, or had noblier dared
To shield mine honor with this deed, or with his mind had known Much better the upbraids of men, that so he might have shown (More like man) some sense of grief for both my shame and his. But he senseless, nor conceives what any manhood is,
Nor now, nor ever after will and therefore hangs, fear,
A plague above him. But come near, good brother rest you here, Who, of the world of men, stands charged with most unrest for me, (Vile wretch) and for my lover's wrong on whom destiny
So bitter imposed by Jove, that all succeeding times
Will put, to our unended shames, in all men's mouths our crimes. "
He answered " Helen, do not seek to make me sit with thee must not stay, though well know thy honored love of me.
My mind calls forth to aid our friends, in whom my absence breeds Longings to see me for whose sakes, importune thou to deeds
This man by all means, that your care may make his own make hast, And meet me in the open town, that all may see at last
: ;
I a
I
I it ;
I
I
;
;
is
it,
a;I ;
:
;
is I a
I
!
O
I t'
;
; ;
: is
:
172 HECTOR, PARIS, HELEN, ANDROMACHE.
He minds his lover. I myself 'will now go home, and see
My household, my dear wife, and son, that little hope of me ;
For, sister, 'tis without my skill, if I shall evermore
Return, and see them, or to earth, her right in me, restore.
The Gods may stoop me by the Greeks. " This said, he went to see The virtuous princess, his true wife, white-armed Andromache. . . . She ran to Hector, and with her, tender of heart and hand,
Her son, borne in his nurse's arms ; when, like a heavenly sign, Compact of many golden stars, the princely child did shine,
Whom Hector called Scamandrius, but whom the town did name Astyanax, because his sire did only prop the same.
Hector, though grief bereft his speech, yet smiled upon his joy. Andromache cried out, mixed hands, and to the strength of Troy Thus wept forth her affection : " O noblest in desire I
Thy mind, inflamed with others' good, will set thyself on fire.
Nor pitiest thou thy son, nor wife, who must thy widow be,
If now thou issue ; all the field will only run on thee.
Better my shoulders underwent the earth, than thy decease ;
For then would earth bear joys no more ; then comes the black increase Of griefs (like Greeks on Ilion). Alas ! What one survives
To be my refuge ? One black day bereft seven brothers' lives,
By stern Achilles ; by his hand my father breathed his last,
His high-walled rich Cilician Thebes sacked by him, and laid wast ; The royal body yet he left unspoiled ; religion charmed
That act of spoil ; and all in fire he burned him cdmplete armed ; Built over him a royal tomb ; and to the monument
He left of him, th' Oreades (that are the high descent
Of ^Egis-bearing Jupiter) another of their own
Did add to and set round with elms; by which shown,
In theirs, the barrenness of death yet might serve beside
To shelter the sad monument from all the ruffinous pride
Of storms and tempests, used to hurt things of that noble kind.
The short life yet my mother lived he saved, and served his mind With all the riches of the realm which not enough esteemed,
He kept her pris'ner whom small time, but much more wealth, re- And she, in sylvan Hypoplace, Cilicia ruled again, [deemed, But soon was overruled by death Diana's chaste disdain
Gave her lance, and took her life. Yet, all these gone from me, Thou amply render'st all thy life makes still my father be,
My mother, brothers and besides thou art my husband too,
Most loved, most worthy. Pity then, dear love, and do not go, For thou gone, all these go again pity our common joy,
Lest, of father's patronage, the bulwark of all Troy, [tower, Thou leav'st him a poor widow's charge. Stay, stay then, in this And call up to the wild fig tree all thy retired power
;
it
is
a
a
;
;
;
it
;;
;
;
it,
HECTOR, PARIS, HELEN, ANDROMACHE. 173
For there the wall is easiest scaled, and fittest for surprise, And there, th' Ajaces, Idomen, th' Atrides, Diomed, thrice
I know not if induced By some wise augury, or the fact was naturally infused
Have both surveyed and made attempt ;
Into their wits, or courages. " To this, great Hector said :
" Be well assured, wife, all these things in my kind cares are weighed. But what a shame, and fear, it is to think how Troy would scorn (Both in her husbands, and her wives, whom long-trained gowns adorn) That I should cowardly fly off ! The spirit I first did breath
Did never teach me that ; much less, since the contempt of death Was settled in me, and my mind knew what a worthy was,
Whose office is to lead in fight, and give no danger pass
Without improvement. In this fire must Hector's trial shine ;
Here must my country, father, friends, be, in him, made divine.
And such a stormy day shall come (in mind and soul I know)
When sacred Troy shall shed her towers, for tears of overthrow j When Priam, all his birth and power, shall in those tears be drowned. But neither Troy's posterity so much my soul doth wound,
Priam, nor Hecuba herself, nor all my brothers' woes
(Who though so many, and so good, must all be food for foes)
As thy sad state ; when some rude Greek shall lead thee weeping hence, These free days clouded, and a night of captive violence
Loading thy temples, out of which thine eyes must never see,
But spin the Greek wives' webs of task, and their fetch-water be
To Argos, from Messeides, or clear Hyperia's spring ;
Which howsoever thou abhorr'st, Fate's such a shrewish thing
She will be mistress ; whose cursed hands, when they shall crush out cries
From thy oppressions (being beheld by other enemies)
Thus they will nourish thy extremes : ' This dame was Hector's wife, A man that, at the wars of Troy, did breathe the worthiest life
Of all their army. ' This again will rub thy fruitful wounds,
To miss the man that to thy bands could give such narrow bounds. But that day shall not wound mine eyes ; the solid heap of night Shall interpose, and stop mine ears against thy plaints, and plight. "
This said, he reached to take his son ; who, of his arms afraid, And then the horsehair plume, with which he was so overlaid, Nodded so horribly, he clinged back to his nurse, and cried. Laughter affected his great sire, who doffed, and laid aside
His fearful helm, that on the earth cast round about it light ; Then took and kissed his loving son, and (balancing his weight In dancing him) these loving vows to living Jove he used,
And all the other bench of Gods : " O you that have infused Soul to this infant, now set down this blessing on his star ;
Let his renown be clear as mine ; equal his strength in war ;
174 HECTOR, PARIS, HELEN, ANDROMACHE.
And make his reign so strong in Troy, that years to come may yield His facts this fame, when, rich in spoils, he leaves the conquered field Sown with his slaughters: 'These high deeds exceed his father's
worth. '
And let this echoed praise supply the comforts to come forth
Of his kind mother with my life. " This said, th' heroic sire
Gave him his mother ; whose fair eyes fresh streams of love's salt fire Billowed on her soft cheeks, to hear the last of Hector's speech,
In which his vows comprised the sum of all he did beseech
In her wished comfort. So she took into her od'rous breast
Her husband's gift ; who, moved to see her heart so much oppressed, He dried her tears, and thus desired : " Afflict me not, dear wife, With these vain griefs. He doth not live, that can disjoin my life And this firm bosom, but my fate ; and fate, whose wings can fly ? Noble, ignoble, fate controls. Once born, the best must die.
Go home, and set thy housewifry on these extremes of thought ; And drive war from them with thy maids ; keep them from doing
naught.
These will be nothing ; leave the cares of war to men, and me In whom, of all the Ilion race, they take their high'st degree. "
On went his helm ; his princess home, half cold with kindly fears ; When ev'ry fear turned back her looks, and ev'ry look shed tears. Foe-slaught'ring Hector's house soon reached, her many women there Wept all to see her : in his life great Hector's fun'rals were ;
Never looked any eye of theirs to see their lord safe home,
'Scaped from the gripes and powers of Greece. And now was Paris
come
From his high towers ; who made no stay, when once he had put on His richest armor, but flew forth ; the flints he trod upon
Sparkled with luster of his arms ; his long-ebbed spirits now flowed The higher for their lower ebb. And as a fair steed, proud
With full-given mangers, long tied up, and now, his head stall broke, He breaks from stable, runs the field, and with an ample stroke Measures the center, neighs, and lifts aloft his wanton head,
About his shoulders shakes his crest, and where he hath been fed, Or in some calm flood washed, or, stung with his high plight, he flies Amongst his females, strength put forth, his beauty beautifies,
And, like life's mirror, bears his gait ; so Paris from the tower
Of lofty Pergamus came forth ; he showed a sunlike power
In carriage of his goodly parts, addressed now to the strife ;
And found his noble brother near the place he left his wife.
Him thus respected he salutes : " Right worthy, I have fear
That your so serious haste to field, my stay hath made forbear,
And that I
" Be confident, for not myself nor any others, can
come not as you wish. " He answered :
Honored man,
Cassandra
From the painting by George Romney, in the Boydell Gallery
CASSANDRA. 175
Reprove in thee the work of fight, at least, not any such
As is an equal judge of things ; for thou hast strength as much
As serves to execute a mind very important, but
Thy strength too readily flies off, enough will is not put
To thy ability. My heart is in my mind's strife sad,
When Troy (out of her much distress, she and her friends have had By thy procurement) doth deprave thy noblesse in mine ears.
But come, hereafter we shall calm these hard conceits of theirs, When, from their ports the foe expulsed, high Jove to them hath given Wished peace, and us free sacrifice to all the Powers of heaven. "
ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER. By JOHN KEATS.
Much have I traveled in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen ; Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne;
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold : Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific —and all his men Looked at each other with a wild surmise —
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
CASSANDRA.
(For a drawing where Helen arms Paris, and Cassandra prophesies, leaves them for his last fight)
as Hector
By DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.
[English poet and preraphaelite artist, born of Italian parents, 1828 ; died 1882. ]
L
Rend, rend thine hair, Cassandra : he will go.
Yea, rend thy garments, wring thine hands, and cry From Troy still towered to the unreddened sky.
176
ACHILLES AND HELENA.
See, all but she who bore thee mock thy woe ;
He most whom that fair woman arms, with show
Of wrath on her bent brows ; for in this place, This hour thou bad'st all men in Helen's place
The ravished ravishing prize of Death to know.
What eyes, what ears hath fair Andromache, Save for her Hector's form and step, as tear On tear make salt the warm last kiss he gave ?
He goes. Cassandra's words beat heavily
Like crows upon his crest, and at his ear King hollow in the shield that shall not save.
ii.
" O Hector, gone, gone, gone ! O Hector, thee, Two chariots wait, in Troy long blest and curst ; And Grecian spear and Phrygian sand athirst
Crave from thy veins the blood of victory. Lo ! long upon our hearth the brand had we,
Lit for the roof tree's ruin ; and to-day
The ground stone quits the wall — the wind hath way — And higher and higher the wings of fire are free.
" O Paris, Paris I O thou burning brand, Thou beacon of the sea whence Venus rose,
Lighting thy race to shipwreck ! Even that hand Wherewith she took thine apple let her close Within thy curls at last, and while Troy glows
Lift thee her trophy to the sea and land. "
ACHILLES AND HELENA. By WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
[Walteb Savage Landor : English poet and miscellaneous writer ; born at Ipsley Court, Warwickshire, January 30, 1775 ; died at Florence, Italy, Sep tember 17,"1864, where he had lived chiefly since 1821. His "Imaginary Con versations fill six large volumes. His first volume of poems was published in 1795 ; his last, entitled " Heroic Idylls," in 1863. The list of his writings in prose and verse is very long. ]
ACHILLES AND HELENA.
177
Achilles, during the siege of Troy, having prayed to his mother Thetis and to Aphrodite that he might see Helen face to face, is transported by those god desses to a place ofmeeting with her on Mount Ida.
Helena — Where am I ? Desert me not, O ye blessed from above ! ye twain who brought me hither !
Was it a dream ?
Stranger ! thou seemest thoughtful ; couldst thou answer me ? Why so silent ? I beseech and implore thee, speak.
Achilles — Neither thy feet nor the feet of mules have borne thee where thou standest. Whether in the hour of departing sleep, or at what hour of the morning, I know not, O Helena, but Aphrodite and Thetis, inclining to my prayer, have, as thou art conscious, led thee into these solitudes. To me also have they shown the way ; that I might behold the pride of Sparta, the marvel of the Earth, and — how my heart swells and ago nizes at the thought ! — the cause of innumerable woes to Hellas.
Helena — Stranger ! thou art indeed one whom the goddesses or gods might lead, and glory in ; such is thy stature, thy voice, and thy demeanor ; but who, if earthly, art thou ?
Achilles — Before thee, O Helena, stands Achilles, son of Peleus. Tremble not, turn not pale, bend not thy knees, O Helena.
Helena — Spare me, thou goddess-born ! thou cherished and only son of silver-footed Thetis ! Chryseis and Briseis ought to soften and content thy heart. Lead not me also into captivity. Woes too surely have I brought down on Hellas; but woes have been mine alike, and will forever be.
Achilles — Daughter of Zeus ! what word hast thou spoken ! Chryseis, child of the aged priest who performs in this land due sacrifices to Apollo, fell to the lot of another ; an insolent and unworthy man, who hath already brought more sorrows upon our people than thou hast ; so that dogs and vultures prey on the brave who sank without a wound. Briseis is indeed mine; the lovely and dutiful Briseis. He, unjust and con tumelious, proud at once and base, would tear her from me. But gods above ! in what region has the wolf with impunity dared to seize upon the kid which the lion hath taken ?
Talk not of being led into servitude. Could mortal be guilty of such impiety? Hath it never thundered on these mountain heads ? Doth Zeus, the wide-seeing, see all the Earth but Ida ? doth he watch over all but his own ? Capaneus and
VOL. II. — 12
178 ACHILLES AND HELENA.
Typhoeus less offended him, than would the wretch whose grasp should violate the golden hair of Helena. And dost thou still tremble ? irresolute and distrustful !
Helena — I must tremble ; and more and more.
Achilles — Take my hand : be confident : be comforted.
I am comforted. Achilles — The scene around us, calm and silent as the sky itself, tranquilizes thee ; and so it ought. Turnest thou to
Helena —May Itake it? may Ihold it?
survey it ? perhaps it is unknown to thee.
Helena — Truly ; for since my arrival I have never gone
beyond the walls of the city.
Achilles — Look then around thee freely, perplexed no longer.
Pleasant is this level eminence, surrounded by broom and myrtle, and crisp-leaved beech and broad dark pine above. Pleasant the short slender grass, bent by insects as they alight on it or climb along it, and shining up into our eyes, interrupted by tall sisterhoods of gray lavender, and by dark-eyed cistus, and by lightsome citisus, and by little troops of serpolet running in disorder here and there.
Helena — Wonderful ! how didst thou ever learn to name so many plants?
Achilles — Chiron taught me them, when I walked at his side while he was culling herbs for the benefit of his brethren. All these he taught me, and at least twenty more ; for won drous was his wisdom, boundless his knowledge, and I was proud to learn.
Ah, look again ! look at those little yellow poppies ; they appear to be just come out to catch all that the sun will throw into their cups : they appear in their joyance and incipient dance to call upon the lyre to sing among them.
Helena — Childish ! for one with such a spear against his shoulder ; terrific even its shadow ; it seems to make a chasm across the plain.
Achilles — To talk or to think like a child is not always a proof of folly : it may sometimes push aside heavy griefs where the strength of wisdom fails. What art thou pondering, Helena ?
Helena — Recollecting the names of the plants. Several of them I do believe I had heard before, but had quite forgotten ; my memory will be better now.
Achilles — Better now? in the midst of war and tumult?
Helena — I am sure it will be, for didst thou not say that Chiron taught them ?
ACHILLES AND HELENA. 179
Achilles — He sang to me over the lyre the lives of Narcissus and Hyacinthus, brought back by the beautiful Hours, of silent unwearied feet, regular as the stars in their courses. Many of the trees and bright-eyed flowers once lived and moved, and spoke as we are speaking. They may yet have memories, although they have cares no longer.
Helena — Ah I then they have no memories ; and they see their own beauty only.
Achilles — Helena ! thou turnest pale, and droopest.
Helena — The odor of the blossoms, or of the gums, or the height of the place, or something else, makes me dizzy. Can it be the wind in my ears ?
Achilles —There is none.
Helena — I could wish there were a little.
Achilles — Be seated, O Helena !
Helena — The feeble are obedient : the weary may rest even
in the presence of the powerful.
Achilles — On this very ground where we are now reposing,
they who conducted us hither told me, the fatal prize of beauty was awarded. One of them smiled ; the other, whom in duty I love the most, looked anxious, and let fall some tears.
Helena — Yet she was not one of the vanquished.
Achilles — Goddesses contended for it ; Helena was afar. Helena — Fatal was the decision of the arbiter !
But could not the venerable Peleus, nor Pyrrhus the infant so
beautiful and so helpless, detain thee, O Achilles, from this sad, sad war?
Achilles — No reverence or kindness for the race of Atreus
I detest and abhor both brothers : but another man is more hateful to me still. Forbear we to name him. The valiant, holding the hearth as sacred as the
brought me against Troy ;
temple, is never a violator of hospitality. He carries not away the gold he finds in the house ; he folds not up the purple linen worked for solemnities, about to convey it from the cedar chest to the dark ship, together with the wife confided to his pro tection in her husband's absence, and sitting close and expectant by the altar of the gods.
It was no merit in Menelaus to love thee ; it was a crime in another — I will not say to love, for even Priam or Nestor might love thee — but to avow it, and act on the avowal.
Helena — Menelaus, it is true, was fond of me, when Paris was sent by Aphrodite to our house. It would have been very
180 ACHILLES AND HELENA.
wrong to break my vow to Menelaus, but Aphrodite urged me by day and by night, telling me that to make her break hers to Paris would be quite inexpiable. She told Paris the same thing at the same hour ; and as often. He repeated it to me every morning : his dreams tallied with mine exactly. At last
Achilles — The last is not yet come. Helena! by the Immor tals! if ever I meet him in battle I transfix him with this spear.
Helena — Pray do not. Aphrodite would be angry and never forgive thee.
Achilles — I am not sure of that ; she soon pardons. Variable as Iris, one day she favors and the next day she forsakes.
Helena — She may then forsake me.
Achilles — Other deities, O Helena, watch over and protect thee. Thy two brave brothers are with those deities now, and never are absent from their higher festivals.
Helena — They could protect me were they living, and they would. O that thou couldst but have seen them !
Achilles — Companions of my father on the borders of the Phasis, they became his guests before they went all three to hunt the boar in the brakes of Calydon. Thence too the beauty of a woman brought many sorrows into brave men's breasts, and caused many tears to hang long and heavily on the eye lashes of matrons.
Helena — Didst thou indeed see my brothers at that season ? Yes, certainly.
Achilles — I saw them not, desirous though I always was of seeing them, that I might have learnt from them, and might have practiced with them, whatever is laudable and manly. But my father, fearing my impetuosity, as he said, and my inexperience, sent me away. Soothsayers had foretold some mischief to me from an arrow : and among the brakes many arrows might fly wide, glancing from trees.
Helena — I wish thou hadst seen them, were it only once. Three such youths together the blessed sun will never shine upon again.
O my sweet brothers ! how they tended me ! how they loved me ! how often they wished me to mount their horses and to hurl their javelins. They could only teach me to swim with them ; and when I had well learnt it I was more afraid than at first. It gratified me to be praised for anything but swim ming.
Happy, happy hours ! soon over ! Does happiness always go
THE TOMB OF ACHILLES. 181
away before beauty ? It must go then : surely it might stay that little while. Alas ! dear Castor ! and dearer PolydeucSs ! often shall Ithink of you as ye were (and oh ! as Iwas) on the banks of the Eurotas. Brave noble creatures ! they were as tall, as terrible, and almost as beautiful, as thou art. Be not wroth ! Blush no more for me.
Achilles — Helena ! Helena ! wife of Menelaus ! my mother
I
is reported to have left about me only one place vulnerable : have at last found where it is. Farewell.
Helena — O leave me not ! Earnestly I entreat and implore thee, leave me not alone. These solitudes are terrible : there must be wild beasts among them ; there certainly are Fauns and Satyrs. And there is Cybele, who carries towers and temples on her head; who hates and abhors Aphrodite, who persecutes those she favors, and whose priests are so cruel as to be cruel even to themselves.
Again, O daughter of Leda and of Zeus, farewell !
THE TOMB OF ACHILLES. By LORD BYRON.
(From "The Bride of Abydos. ")
[Lord George Noel Gordon Byron : A famous English poet ; born in Lon don, January 22, 1788. At the age of ten he succeeded to the estate and title of his granduncle William, fifth Lord Byron. He was educated "at Harrow and Cambridge, and in 1807 published his first volume of poems, Hours of Idle ness. " After a tour through eastern Europe he brought out two cantos of " Childe Harold," which met with instantaneous success, and soon after he mar ried the heiress Miss Millbanke. The union proving unfortunate, Byron left England, and passed several years in Italy. In 1823 he joined the Greek insur gents in Cephalonia, and later at Missolonghi, where he died of a fever April 19, 1824. His chief poetical works are: "Childe Harold," "Don Juan," "Manfred," "Cain," "Marino Faliero," " Sardanapalus," "The Giaour," "Bride of Abydos," "The Corsair," "Lara," and "Mazeppa. "]
The winds are high on Helle's wave ; As on that night of stormy water
When Love, who sent, forgot to save The young, the beautiful, the brave,
Achilles —According to their promise, the goddesses who brought thee hither in a cloud will in a cloud reconduct thee, safely and unseen, into the city.
THE TOMB OF ACHILLES.
The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter,
Oh ! when alone along the sky,
The turret torch was blazing high,
Though rising gale, and breaking foam, And shrieking sea birds warned him home : And clouds aloft, and tides below,
With signs and sounds forbade to go ; He could not see, he would not hear, Or sound or sign foreboding fear :
His eye but saw that light of love, The only star it hailed above ; — His ear but rang with Hero's song,
" Ye waves, divide not lovers long ! " That tale is old, but love anew
May nerve young hearts to prove as true.
ii.
The winds are high and Helle's tide Rolls darkly heaving to the main ;
And night's descending shadows hide That field with blood bedewed in vain,
The desert of old Priam's pride ; — The tombs, sole relics of his reign
All, save immortal dreams that could beguile The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle.
nx.
Oh ! yet — for thus my steps have been ; These feet have pressed the sacred shore ;
These limbs that buoyant wave hath borne — Minstrel ! with thee to move, to mourn,
To trace again those fields of yore, Believing every hillock green
Contains no fabled hero's ashes, And that around the undoubted scene
Thine own " broad Hellespont " still dashes, Be long my lot ! and cold were he
Who there could gaze denying thee !
rv.
The night hath closed on Helle's stream, Nor yet hath risen on Ida's hill
That moon which shone on his high theme : No warrior chides her peaceful beam,
But conscious shepherds bless it still.
(ENONE. 183
Their flocks are grazing on the mound Of him who felt the Dardan's arrow :
That mighty heap of gathered ground Which Amnion's son ran proudly round, By nations raised, by monarchs crowned,
Within — thy dwelling place how narrow ; Without — can only strangers breathe :
The name of him that was beneath :
Dust long outlasts the storied stone ;
(ENONE.
By ALFRED TENNYSON.
[Alfred Tennyson, Baron Tennyson: English poet; born at Somersby, England, August 6, 1809 ; died at Aldworth, October 6, 1892. His first poems were published with his brother Charles' in a small volume entitled "Poems of Two Brothers," in 1827. Two years later he won the chancellor's gold medal for his prize poem, "Timbuctoo. " The following year came his "Poems Chiefly Lyrical. " In 1832 a new volume of miscellaneous poems was published, and was attacked savagely by the Quarterly Review. Ten years afterward another volume of miscellaneous verse was collected. In 1847 he published "The Princess," which was warmly received. In 1850 came "In Memoriam," and he was appointed poet laureate to succeed Wordsworth. Among his other works may be mentioned: "Idylls of the King" (1859), "Enoch Arden" and "The Holy Grail" (1869), "Queen Mary" (1875), "Harold" (1876), "The Cup" (1884), "Tiresias" (1885), "Locksley Hall Sixty Years After" (1886), "The Foresters" and "The Death of ffinone" (1892)].
There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier
Than all the valleys of Ionian hills.
The swimming vapor slopes athwart the glen, Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine, And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand
The lawns and meadow ledges midway down Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars The long brook falling thro' the clov'n ravine
In cataract after cataract to the sea.
Behind the valley topmost Gargarus
Stands up and takes the morning : but in front The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal
Troas and Ilion's columned citadel,
The crown of Troas.
Hither came at noon
Is now a lone and nameless barrow !
But thou — thy very dust is gone!
(EXONE.
Mournful (Enone, wandering forlorn
Of Paris, once her playmate on the hills.
Her cheek had lost the rose, and round her neck Floated her hair or seemed to float in rest.
She, leaning on a fragment twined with vine, Sang to the stillness, till the mountain shade Sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliff.
" O mother Ida, many-fountained Ida, Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
For now the noonday quiet holds the hill : The grasshopper is silent in the grass :
The lizard, with his shadow on the stone, Rests like a shadow, and the winds are dead. The purple flower droops : the golden bee
I alone awake.
My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love,
Is lily-cradled :
My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim,
And I
am all aweary of my life.
" O mother Ida, many-fountained Ida,
Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
Hear me, O Earth, hear me, O Hills, O Caves
That house the cold crowned snake ! O mountain brooks, I am the daughter of a River God,
Hear me, for I will speak, and build up all
My sorrow with my song, as yonder walls
Rose slowly to a music slowly breathed,
A cloud that gathered shape : for it may be
That, while I speak of little while
My heart may wander from its deeper woe.
"
waited underneath the dawning hills,
Aloft the mountain lawn was dewy-dark,
And dewy-dark aloft the mountain pine
Beautiful Paris, evil-hearted Paris,
Leading jet-black goat white-horned, white-hooved, Came up from reedy Simois all alone.
"
sat alone white-breasted like star
mother Ida, many-fountained Ida, Dear mother Ida, hearken ere die.
mother Ida, hearken ere die.
Far off the torrent called me from the cleft
Far up the solitary morning smote
The streaks of virgin snow. With down-dropt eyes
II OO
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(ENONE.
Fronting the dawn he moved; a leopard skin Drooped from his shoulder, but his sunny hair Clustered about his temples like a God's:
And his cheek brightened as the foam bow brightens When the wind blows the foam, and all my heart Went forth to embrace him coming ere he came.
" Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
He smiled, and opening out his milk-white palm Disclosed a fruit of pure Hesperian gold,
That smelt ambrosially, and while I looked
And listened, the full-flowing river of speech Came down upon my heart.
' My own CEnone, Beautiful-browed CEnone, my own soul,
Behold this fruit, whose gleaming rind ingrav'n
" For the most fair," would seem to award it thine, As lovelier than whatever Oread haunt
The knolls of Ida, loveliest in all grace
Of movement, and the charm of married brows. '
" Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
He prest the blossom of his lips to mine,
And added, ' This was cast upon the board, When all the full-faced presence of the Gods Ranged in the halls of Peleus ; whereupon
Rose feud, with question unto whom 'twere due: But light-foot Iris brought it yester eve, Delivering, that to me, by common voice
Elected umpire, Here comes to-day,
Pallas and Aphrodite, claiming each
This meed of fairest. Thou, within the cave Behind yon whispering tuft of oldest pine, Mayst well behold them unbeheld, unheard Hear all, and see thy Paris judge of Gods. '
"Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
It was the deep mid noon : one silvery cloud
Had lost his way between the piney sides
Of this long glen. Then to the bower they came, Naked they came to that smooth-swarded bower, And at their feet the crocus brake like fire, Violet, amaracus, and asphodel,
Lotos and lilies : and a wind arose,
And overhead the wandering ivy and vine,
(ENONE.
This way and that, in many a wild festoon
Ran riot, garlanding the gnarled boughs
With bunch and berry and flower thro' and thro'.
" O mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
On the tree tops a crested peacock lit,
And o'er him flowed a golden cloud, and leaned Upon him, slowly dropping fragrant dew.
Then first I heard the voice of her, to whom Coming thro' Heaven, like a light that grows Larger and clearer, with one mind the Gods
Rise up for reverence. She to Paris made Proffer of royal power, ample rule
Unquestioned, overflowing revenue
Wherewith to embellish state, ' from many a vale And river-sundered champaign clothed with corn, Or labored mine undrainable of ore.
Honor,' she said, ' and homage, tax and toll, From many an inland town and haven large, Mast-thronged beneath her shadowing citadel
In glassy bays among her tallest towers. '
" O mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
Still she spake on and still she spake of power,
' Which in all action is the end of all ;
Power fitted to the season ; wisdom-bred
And throned of wisdom — from all neighbor crowns Alliance and Allegiance, till thy hand
Fail from the scepter staff. Such boon from me, From me, Heaven's Queen, Paris, to thee king-born, A shepherd all thy life but yet king-born,
Should come most welcome, seeing men in power Only, are likest gods, who have attained
Rest in a happy place and quiet seats
Above the thunder, with undying bliss
In knowledge of their own supremacy. '
"Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
She ceased, and Paris held the costly fruit
Out at arm's length, so much the thought of power Flattered his spirit ; but Pallas where she stood Somewhat apart, her clear and bared limbs O'erthwarted with the brazen-headed spear
Upon her pearly shoulder leaning cold,
The while, above, her full and earnest eye
(ENONE.
Over her snow-cold breast and angry cheek Kept watch, waiting decision, made reply.
" ' Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control, These three alone lead life to sovereign power. Yet not for power (power of herself
Would come uncalled for) but to live by law, Acting the law we live by without fear ;
And, because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence. '
" Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die. Again she said : ' I woo thee not with gifts. Sequel of guerdon could not alter me
To fairer. Judge thou me by what I
So shalt thou find me fairest.
If gazing on divinity disrobed
Thy mortal eyes are frail to judge of fair, Unbiased by self-profit, oh ! rest thee sure That I shall love thee well and cleave to thee, So that my vigor, wedded to thy blood,
Shall strike within thy pulses, like a God's, To push thee forward thro' a life of shocks, Dangers, and deeds, until endurance grow Sinewed with action, and the full-grown will, Circled thro' all experiences, pure law, Commeasure perfect freedom. '
Here she ceased, And Paris pondered, and I cried, ' 0 Paris,
Give it to Pallas ! ' but he heard me not, Or hearing would not hear me, woe is me I
" O mother Ida, many-fountained Ida,
I Idalian Aphrodite beautiful,
Dear mother Ida, hearken ere
die.
Fresh as the foam, new-bathed in Paphian wells, With rosy slender fingers backward drew
From her warm brows and bosom her deep hair Ambrosial, golden round her lucid throat
And shoulder : from the violets her light foot Shone rosy-white, and o'er her rounded form Between the shadows of the vine bunches Floated the glowing sunlights, as she moved.
" Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die. She with a subtle smile in her mild eyes,
am, Yet, indeed,
And I beheld great Here's angry eyes, As she withdrew into the golden cloud, And I was left alone within the bower ; And from that time to this I
am alone, And I shall be alone until I die.
(ENONE.
The herald of her triumph, drawing nigh Half-whispered in his ear, ' I promise thee The fairest and most loving wife in Greece,'
I shut my sight for fear : But when I looked, Paris had raised his arm,
She spoke and laughed :
" Yet, mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
Fairest — why fairest wife ? am I not fair ?
My love hath told me so a thousand times.
Methinks I must be fair, for yesterday,
When I past by, a wild and wanton pard,
Eyed like the evening star, with playful tail Crouched fawning in the weed. Most loving is she ? Ah me, my mountain shepherd, that my arms
Were wound about thee, and my hot lips prest
Close, close to thine in that quick-falling dew
Of fruitful kisses, thick as Autumn rains
Flash in the pools of whirling Simois.
" O mother, hear me yet before I die.
They came, they cut away my tallest pines,
My tall dark pines, that plumed the craggy ledge High over the blue gorge, and all between
The snowy peak and snow-white cataract
Fostered the callow eaglet — from beneath
Whose thick mysterious boughs in the dark morn The panther's roar came muffled, while I sat
Low in the valley. Never, never more
Shall lone (Enone see the morning mist
Sweep thro' them ; never see them overlaid
With narrow moonlit slips of silver cloud, Between the loud stream and the trembling stars.
" O mother, hear me yet before I die.
I wish that somewhere in the ruined folds, Among the fragments tumbled from the glens, Or the dry thickets, I could meet with her The Abominable, that uninvited came
Into the fair Pelelan banquet hall,
And cast the golden fruit upon the board,
(ENONE.
And bred this change ; that I might speak my mind, And tell her to her face how much I hate
Her presence, hated both of Gods and men.
" O mother, hear me yet before I die.
Hath he not sworn his love a thousand times,
In this green valley, under this green hill,
Ev'n on this hand, and sitting on this stone ? Sealed it with kisses ? watered it with tears ?
O happy tears, and how unlike to these !
O happy Heaven, how canst thou see my face ? O happy earth, how canst thou bear my weight ? O death, death, death, thou ever-floating cloud, There are enough unhappy on this earth,
Pass by the happy souls, that love to live :
1 pray thee, pass before my light of life,
And shadow all my soul that I may die.
Thou weighest heavy on the heart within, Weigh heavy on my eyelids : let me die.
" O mother, hear me yet before I die.
I will not die alone, for fiery thoughts
Do shape themselves within me, more and more, Whereof I catch the issue, as I hear
Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills, Like footsteps upon wool. I dimly see
My far-off doubtful purpose, as a mother Conjectures of the features of her child
Ere it is born : her child ! — a shudder comes Across me : never child be born of me,
Unblest, to vex me with his father's eyes !
" O mother, hear me yet before I die.
Hear me, O Earth. I will not die alone,
Lest their shrill happy laughter come to me Walking the cold and starless road of Death Uncomforted, leaving my ancient love
With the Greek woman. I will rise and go Down into Troy, and ere the stars come forth Talk with the wild Cassandra, for she says
A fire dances before her, and a sound
Rings ever in her ears of armed men.
What this may be I know not, but I know That, wheresoe'er I am by night and day,
All earth and air seem only burning fire. "
190 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD.
DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. By LUCIAN OF 8AMOSATA.
[Lucian, one of the foremost humorists and men of letters of all time, was born in Asia Minor during Trajan's reign, about a. d. 100. He studied for a sculptor, but finally went to Antioch and devoted himself to literature and ora tory. He died in extreme old age. His works, written in Greek, are largely satirical burlesques on pagan philosophy and mythology and on the literature of his day, with some stories. ]
Antilochus (Son op Nestor) and Achilleus.
Antilochus — What sort of language was that, Achilleus, you addressed to Odysseus the day before yesterday about death; how ignoble and unworthy of both your teachers, Cheiron and Phoenix !
170 HECTOR, PARIS, HELEN, ANDROMACHE.
HECTOR, PARIS, HELEN, ANDROMACHE. By GEORGE CHAPMAN.
[Geobgb Chapman, English poet of the age of Elizabeth, James I. , and Charles I. , was born in 1559, and graduated at Cambridge. He was very slow in development: his first poem, "The Shadow of Night," was published at thirty-five, and his first play, "The Blind Beggar of Alexandria," at thirty-nine, when also appeared the first part (remodeled later) of his translation of the Hiad, his one living work. He translated also the Odyssey, the Homeric Hymns, Hesiod, Musabus' "Hero and Leander," and Juvenal's Fifth Satire. Among his plays were "Bussy d'Ambois," " Ceesar and Pompey," "All Fools," "Monsieur d'Olive," "The Gentleman Usher," and "The Widow's Tears. " He died in 1634. ]
The loved of heaven's chief Power, Hector, here entered. In his hand a goodly lance he bore,
Ten cubits long ; the brazen head went shining in before,
Helped with a burnished ring of gold. He found his brother then Amongst the women, yet prepared to go amongst the men,
For in their chamber he was set, trimming his arms, his shield,
His curets, and was trying how his crooked bow would yield
To his straight arms. Amongst her maids was set the Argive Queen, Commanding them in choicest works. When Hector's eye had seen His brother thus accompanied, and that he could not bear
The very touching of his arms but where the women were,
And when the time so needed men, right cunningly he chid.
That he might do it bitterly, his cowardice he hid,
That simply made him so retired, beneath an anger, feigned
In him by Hector, for the hate the citizens sustained
Against him, for the foil he took in their cause ; and again,
For all their gen'ral foils in his. So Hector seems to plain
Of his wrath to them, for their hate, and not his cowardice ;
As that were it that sheltered him in his effeminacies,
And kept him, in that dang'rous time, from their fit aid in fight ; For which he chid thus : " Wretched man ! so timeless is thy spite That 'tis not honest ; and their hate is just, 'gainst which it bends. War burns about the town for thee ; for thee our slaughtered friends Besiege Troy with their carcasses, on whose heaps our high walls
Are overlooked by enemies ; the sad sounds of their falls
Without, are echoed with the cries of wives and babes within ;
And all for thee ; and yet for them thy honor cannot win
Head of thine anger. Thou shouldst need no spirit to stir up thine, But thine should set the rest on fire, and with a rage divine
Chastise impartially the best, that impiously forbears.
Come forth, lest thy fair towers and Troy be burned about thine ears. "
HECTOR, PARIS, HELEN, ANDROMACHE. 171
Paris acknowledged, as before, all just that Hector spake, Allowing justice, though it were for his injustice' sake ;
And where his brother put a wrath upon him by his art,
He takes for his honor's sake, as sprung out of his heart,
And rather would have anger seem his fault than cowardice
And thus he answered " Since, with right, you joined check with And hear you, give equal ear It not any spleen [advice, Against the town, as you conceive, that makes me so unseen,
But sorrow for which to ease, and by discourse digest
Within myself, live so close and yet, since men might wrest
My sad retreat, like you, my wife with her advice inclined
This my addression to the field which was mine own free mind,
As well as th' instance of her words for though the foil were mine, Conquest brings forth her wreaths by turns. Stay then this haste of
thine
But till arm, and am made a consort for thee straight; —
Or go, I'll overtake thy haste. " Helen stood at receipt,
And took up all great Hector's powers, attend her heavy words, By which had Paris no reply. This vent her grief affords
" Brother (if may call you so, that had been better born
A dog, than such horrid dame, as all men curse and scorn,
A mischief-maker, a man plague) would to God, the day,
That first gave light to me, had been a whirlwind in my way,
And borne me to some desert hill, or hid me in the rage
Of earth's most far-resounding seas, ere should thus engage
The dear lives of so many friends Yet since the Gods have been Helpless foreseers of my plagues, they might have likewise seen That he they put in yoke with me, to bear out their award,
Had been a man of much more spirit, and, or had noblier dared
To shield mine honor with this deed, or with his mind had known Much better the upbraids of men, that so he might have shown (More like man) some sense of grief for both my shame and his. But he senseless, nor conceives what any manhood is,
Nor now, nor ever after will and therefore hangs, fear,
A plague above him. But come near, good brother rest you here, Who, of the world of men, stands charged with most unrest for me, (Vile wretch) and for my lover's wrong on whom destiny
So bitter imposed by Jove, that all succeeding times
Will put, to our unended shames, in all men's mouths our crimes. "
He answered " Helen, do not seek to make me sit with thee must not stay, though well know thy honored love of me.
My mind calls forth to aid our friends, in whom my absence breeds Longings to see me for whose sakes, importune thou to deeds
This man by all means, that your care may make his own make hast, And meet me in the open town, that all may see at last
: ;
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172 HECTOR, PARIS, HELEN, ANDROMACHE.
He minds his lover. I myself 'will now go home, and see
My household, my dear wife, and son, that little hope of me ;
For, sister, 'tis without my skill, if I shall evermore
Return, and see them, or to earth, her right in me, restore.
The Gods may stoop me by the Greeks. " This said, he went to see The virtuous princess, his true wife, white-armed Andromache. . . . She ran to Hector, and with her, tender of heart and hand,
Her son, borne in his nurse's arms ; when, like a heavenly sign, Compact of many golden stars, the princely child did shine,
Whom Hector called Scamandrius, but whom the town did name Astyanax, because his sire did only prop the same.
Hector, though grief bereft his speech, yet smiled upon his joy. Andromache cried out, mixed hands, and to the strength of Troy Thus wept forth her affection : " O noblest in desire I
Thy mind, inflamed with others' good, will set thyself on fire.
Nor pitiest thou thy son, nor wife, who must thy widow be,
If now thou issue ; all the field will only run on thee.
Better my shoulders underwent the earth, than thy decease ;
For then would earth bear joys no more ; then comes the black increase Of griefs (like Greeks on Ilion). Alas ! What one survives
To be my refuge ? One black day bereft seven brothers' lives,
By stern Achilles ; by his hand my father breathed his last,
His high-walled rich Cilician Thebes sacked by him, and laid wast ; The royal body yet he left unspoiled ; religion charmed
That act of spoil ; and all in fire he burned him cdmplete armed ; Built over him a royal tomb ; and to the monument
He left of him, th' Oreades (that are the high descent
Of ^Egis-bearing Jupiter) another of their own
Did add to and set round with elms; by which shown,
In theirs, the barrenness of death yet might serve beside
To shelter the sad monument from all the ruffinous pride
Of storms and tempests, used to hurt things of that noble kind.
The short life yet my mother lived he saved, and served his mind With all the riches of the realm which not enough esteemed,
He kept her pris'ner whom small time, but much more wealth, re- And she, in sylvan Hypoplace, Cilicia ruled again, [deemed, But soon was overruled by death Diana's chaste disdain
Gave her lance, and took her life. Yet, all these gone from me, Thou amply render'st all thy life makes still my father be,
My mother, brothers and besides thou art my husband too,
Most loved, most worthy. Pity then, dear love, and do not go, For thou gone, all these go again pity our common joy,
Lest, of father's patronage, the bulwark of all Troy, [tower, Thou leav'st him a poor widow's charge. Stay, stay then, in this And call up to the wild fig tree all thy retired power
;
it
is
a
a
;
;
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it
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HECTOR, PARIS, HELEN, ANDROMACHE. 173
For there the wall is easiest scaled, and fittest for surprise, And there, th' Ajaces, Idomen, th' Atrides, Diomed, thrice
I know not if induced By some wise augury, or the fact was naturally infused
Have both surveyed and made attempt ;
Into their wits, or courages. " To this, great Hector said :
" Be well assured, wife, all these things in my kind cares are weighed. But what a shame, and fear, it is to think how Troy would scorn (Both in her husbands, and her wives, whom long-trained gowns adorn) That I should cowardly fly off ! The spirit I first did breath
Did never teach me that ; much less, since the contempt of death Was settled in me, and my mind knew what a worthy was,
Whose office is to lead in fight, and give no danger pass
Without improvement. In this fire must Hector's trial shine ;
Here must my country, father, friends, be, in him, made divine.
And such a stormy day shall come (in mind and soul I know)
When sacred Troy shall shed her towers, for tears of overthrow j When Priam, all his birth and power, shall in those tears be drowned. But neither Troy's posterity so much my soul doth wound,
Priam, nor Hecuba herself, nor all my brothers' woes
(Who though so many, and so good, must all be food for foes)
As thy sad state ; when some rude Greek shall lead thee weeping hence, These free days clouded, and a night of captive violence
Loading thy temples, out of which thine eyes must never see,
But spin the Greek wives' webs of task, and their fetch-water be
To Argos, from Messeides, or clear Hyperia's spring ;
Which howsoever thou abhorr'st, Fate's such a shrewish thing
She will be mistress ; whose cursed hands, when they shall crush out cries
From thy oppressions (being beheld by other enemies)
Thus they will nourish thy extremes : ' This dame was Hector's wife, A man that, at the wars of Troy, did breathe the worthiest life
Of all their army. ' This again will rub thy fruitful wounds,
To miss the man that to thy bands could give such narrow bounds. But that day shall not wound mine eyes ; the solid heap of night Shall interpose, and stop mine ears against thy plaints, and plight. "
This said, he reached to take his son ; who, of his arms afraid, And then the horsehair plume, with which he was so overlaid, Nodded so horribly, he clinged back to his nurse, and cried. Laughter affected his great sire, who doffed, and laid aside
His fearful helm, that on the earth cast round about it light ; Then took and kissed his loving son, and (balancing his weight In dancing him) these loving vows to living Jove he used,
And all the other bench of Gods : " O you that have infused Soul to this infant, now set down this blessing on his star ;
Let his renown be clear as mine ; equal his strength in war ;
174 HECTOR, PARIS, HELEN, ANDROMACHE.
And make his reign so strong in Troy, that years to come may yield His facts this fame, when, rich in spoils, he leaves the conquered field Sown with his slaughters: 'These high deeds exceed his father's
worth. '
And let this echoed praise supply the comforts to come forth
Of his kind mother with my life. " This said, th' heroic sire
Gave him his mother ; whose fair eyes fresh streams of love's salt fire Billowed on her soft cheeks, to hear the last of Hector's speech,
In which his vows comprised the sum of all he did beseech
In her wished comfort. So she took into her od'rous breast
Her husband's gift ; who, moved to see her heart so much oppressed, He dried her tears, and thus desired : " Afflict me not, dear wife, With these vain griefs. He doth not live, that can disjoin my life And this firm bosom, but my fate ; and fate, whose wings can fly ? Noble, ignoble, fate controls. Once born, the best must die.
Go home, and set thy housewifry on these extremes of thought ; And drive war from them with thy maids ; keep them from doing
naught.
These will be nothing ; leave the cares of war to men, and me In whom, of all the Ilion race, they take their high'st degree. "
On went his helm ; his princess home, half cold with kindly fears ; When ev'ry fear turned back her looks, and ev'ry look shed tears. Foe-slaught'ring Hector's house soon reached, her many women there Wept all to see her : in his life great Hector's fun'rals were ;
Never looked any eye of theirs to see their lord safe home,
'Scaped from the gripes and powers of Greece. And now was Paris
come
From his high towers ; who made no stay, when once he had put on His richest armor, but flew forth ; the flints he trod upon
Sparkled with luster of his arms ; his long-ebbed spirits now flowed The higher for their lower ebb. And as a fair steed, proud
With full-given mangers, long tied up, and now, his head stall broke, He breaks from stable, runs the field, and with an ample stroke Measures the center, neighs, and lifts aloft his wanton head,
About his shoulders shakes his crest, and where he hath been fed, Or in some calm flood washed, or, stung with his high plight, he flies Amongst his females, strength put forth, his beauty beautifies,
And, like life's mirror, bears his gait ; so Paris from the tower
Of lofty Pergamus came forth ; he showed a sunlike power
In carriage of his goodly parts, addressed now to the strife ;
And found his noble brother near the place he left his wife.
Him thus respected he salutes : " Right worthy, I have fear
That your so serious haste to field, my stay hath made forbear,
And that I
" Be confident, for not myself nor any others, can
come not as you wish. " He answered :
Honored man,
Cassandra
From the painting by George Romney, in the Boydell Gallery
CASSANDRA. 175
Reprove in thee the work of fight, at least, not any such
As is an equal judge of things ; for thou hast strength as much
As serves to execute a mind very important, but
Thy strength too readily flies off, enough will is not put
To thy ability. My heart is in my mind's strife sad,
When Troy (out of her much distress, she and her friends have had By thy procurement) doth deprave thy noblesse in mine ears.
But come, hereafter we shall calm these hard conceits of theirs, When, from their ports the foe expulsed, high Jove to them hath given Wished peace, and us free sacrifice to all the Powers of heaven. "
ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER. By JOHN KEATS.
Much have I traveled in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen ; Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne;
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold : Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific —and all his men Looked at each other with a wild surmise —
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
CASSANDRA.
(For a drawing where Helen arms Paris, and Cassandra prophesies, leaves them for his last fight)
as Hector
By DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.
[English poet and preraphaelite artist, born of Italian parents, 1828 ; died 1882. ]
L
Rend, rend thine hair, Cassandra : he will go.
Yea, rend thy garments, wring thine hands, and cry From Troy still towered to the unreddened sky.
176
ACHILLES AND HELENA.
See, all but she who bore thee mock thy woe ;
He most whom that fair woman arms, with show
Of wrath on her bent brows ; for in this place, This hour thou bad'st all men in Helen's place
The ravished ravishing prize of Death to know.
What eyes, what ears hath fair Andromache, Save for her Hector's form and step, as tear On tear make salt the warm last kiss he gave ?
He goes. Cassandra's words beat heavily
Like crows upon his crest, and at his ear King hollow in the shield that shall not save.
ii.
" O Hector, gone, gone, gone ! O Hector, thee, Two chariots wait, in Troy long blest and curst ; And Grecian spear and Phrygian sand athirst
Crave from thy veins the blood of victory. Lo ! long upon our hearth the brand had we,
Lit for the roof tree's ruin ; and to-day
The ground stone quits the wall — the wind hath way — And higher and higher the wings of fire are free.
" O Paris, Paris I O thou burning brand, Thou beacon of the sea whence Venus rose,
Lighting thy race to shipwreck ! Even that hand Wherewith she took thine apple let her close Within thy curls at last, and while Troy glows
Lift thee her trophy to the sea and land. "
ACHILLES AND HELENA. By WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
[Walteb Savage Landor : English poet and miscellaneous writer ; born at Ipsley Court, Warwickshire, January 30, 1775 ; died at Florence, Italy, Sep tember 17,"1864, where he had lived chiefly since 1821. His "Imaginary Con versations fill six large volumes. His first volume of poems was published in 1795 ; his last, entitled " Heroic Idylls," in 1863. The list of his writings in prose and verse is very long. ]
ACHILLES AND HELENA.
177
Achilles, during the siege of Troy, having prayed to his mother Thetis and to Aphrodite that he might see Helen face to face, is transported by those god desses to a place ofmeeting with her on Mount Ida.
Helena — Where am I ? Desert me not, O ye blessed from above ! ye twain who brought me hither !
Was it a dream ?
Stranger ! thou seemest thoughtful ; couldst thou answer me ? Why so silent ? I beseech and implore thee, speak.
Achilles — Neither thy feet nor the feet of mules have borne thee where thou standest. Whether in the hour of departing sleep, or at what hour of the morning, I know not, O Helena, but Aphrodite and Thetis, inclining to my prayer, have, as thou art conscious, led thee into these solitudes. To me also have they shown the way ; that I might behold the pride of Sparta, the marvel of the Earth, and — how my heart swells and ago nizes at the thought ! — the cause of innumerable woes to Hellas.
Helena — Stranger ! thou art indeed one whom the goddesses or gods might lead, and glory in ; such is thy stature, thy voice, and thy demeanor ; but who, if earthly, art thou ?
Achilles — Before thee, O Helena, stands Achilles, son of Peleus. Tremble not, turn not pale, bend not thy knees, O Helena.
Helena — Spare me, thou goddess-born ! thou cherished and only son of silver-footed Thetis ! Chryseis and Briseis ought to soften and content thy heart. Lead not me also into captivity. Woes too surely have I brought down on Hellas; but woes have been mine alike, and will forever be.
Achilles — Daughter of Zeus ! what word hast thou spoken ! Chryseis, child of the aged priest who performs in this land due sacrifices to Apollo, fell to the lot of another ; an insolent and unworthy man, who hath already brought more sorrows upon our people than thou hast ; so that dogs and vultures prey on the brave who sank without a wound. Briseis is indeed mine; the lovely and dutiful Briseis. He, unjust and con tumelious, proud at once and base, would tear her from me. But gods above ! in what region has the wolf with impunity dared to seize upon the kid which the lion hath taken ?
Talk not of being led into servitude. Could mortal be guilty of such impiety? Hath it never thundered on these mountain heads ? Doth Zeus, the wide-seeing, see all the Earth but Ida ? doth he watch over all but his own ? Capaneus and
VOL. II. — 12
178 ACHILLES AND HELENA.
Typhoeus less offended him, than would the wretch whose grasp should violate the golden hair of Helena. And dost thou still tremble ? irresolute and distrustful !
Helena — I must tremble ; and more and more.
Achilles — Take my hand : be confident : be comforted.
I am comforted. Achilles — The scene around us, calm and silent as the sky itself, tranquilizes thee ; and so it ought. Turnest thou to
Helena —May Itake it? may Ihold it?
survey it ? perhaps it is unknown to thee.
Helena — Truly ; for since my arrival I have never gone
beyond the walls of the city.
Achilles — Look then around thee freely, perplexed no longer.
Pleasant is this level eminence, surrounded by broom and myrtle, and crisp-leaved beech and broad dark pine above. Pleasant the short slender grass, bent by insects as they alight on it or climb along it, and shining up into our eyes, interrupted by tall sisterhoods of gray lavender, and by dark-eyed cistus, and by lightsome citisus, and by little troops of serpolet running in disorder here and there.
Helena — Wonderful ! how didst thou ever learn to name so many plants?
Achilles — Chiron taught me them, when I walked at his side while he was culling herbs for the benefit of his brethren. All these he taught me, and at least twenty more ; for won drous was his wisdom, boundless his knowledge, and I was proud to learn.
Ah, look again ! look at those little yellow poppies ; they appear to be just come out to catch all that the sun will throw into their cups : they appear in their joyance and incipient dance to call upon the lyre to sing among them.
Helena — Childish ! for one with such a spear against his shoulder ; terrific even its shadow ; it seems to make a chasm across the plain.
Achilles — To talk or to think like a child is not always a proof of folly : it may sometimes push aside heavy griefs where the strength of wisdom fails. What art thou pondering, Helena ?
Helena — Recollecting the names of the plants. Several of them I do believe I had heard before, but had quite forgotten ; my memory will be better now.
Achilles — Better now? in the midst of war and tumult?
Helena — I am sure it will be, for didst thou not say that Chiron taught them ?
ACHILLES AND HELENA. 179
Achilles — He sang to me over the lyre the lives of Narcissus and Hyacinthus, brought back by the beautiful Hours, of silent unwearied feet, regular as the stars in their courses. Many of the trees and bright-eyed flowers once lived and moved, and spoke as we are speaking. They may yet have memories, although they have cares no longer.
Helena — Ah I then they have no memories ; and they see their own beauty only.
Achilles — Helena ! thou turnest pale, and droopest.
Helena — The odor of the blossoms, or of the gums, or the height of the place, or something else, makes me dizzy. Can it be the wind in my ears ?
Achilles —There is none.
Helena — I could wish there were a little.
Achilles — Be seated, O Helena !
Helena — The feeble are obedient : the weary may rest even
in the presence of the powerful.
Achilles — On this very ground where we are now reposing,
they who conducted us hither told me, the fatal prize of beauty was awarded. One of them smiled ; the other, whom in duty I love the most, looked anxious, and let fall some tears.
Helena — Yet she was not one of the vanquished.
Achilles — Goddesses contended for it ; Helena was afar. Helena — Fatal was the decision of the arbiter !
But could not the venerable Peleus, nor Pyrrhus the infant so
beautiful and so helpless, detain thee, O Achilles, from this sad, sad war?
Achilles — No reverence or kindness for the race of Atreus
I detest and abhor both brothers : but another man is more hateful to me still. Forbear we to name him. The valiant, holding the hearth as sacred as the
brought me against Troy ;
temple, is never a violator of hospitality. He carries not away the gold he finds in the house ; he folds not up the purple linen worked for solemnities, about to convey it from the cedar chest to the dark ship, together with the wife confided to his pro tection in her husband's absence, and sitting close and expectant by the altar of the gods.
It was no merit in Menelaus to love thee ; it was a crime in another — I will not say to love, for even Priam or Nestor might love thee — but to avow it, and act on the avowal.
Helena — Menelaus, it is true, was fond of me, when Paris was sent by Aphrodite to our house. It would have been very
180 ACHILLES AND HELENA.
wrong to break my vow to Menelaus, but Aphrodite urged me by day and by night, telling me that to make her break hers to Paris would be quite inexpiable. She told Paris the same thing at the same hour ; and as often. He repeated it to me every morning : his dreams tallied with mine exactly. At last
Achilles — The last is not yet come. Helena! by the Immor tals! if ever I meet him in battle I transfix him with this spear.
Helena — Pray do not. Aphrodite would be angry and never forgive thee.
Achilles — I am not sure of that ; she soon pardons. Variable as Iris, one day she favors and the next day she forsakes.
Helena — She may then forsake me.
Achilles — Other deities, O Helena, watch over and protect thee. Thy two brave brothers are with those deities now, and never are absent from their higher festivals.
Helena — They could protect me were they living, and they would. O that thou couldst but have seen them !
Achilles — Companions of my father on the borders of the Phasis, they became his guests before they went all three to hunt the boar in the brakes of Calydon. Thence too the beauty of a woman brought many sorrows into brave men's breasts, and caused many tears to hang long and heavily on the eye lashes of matrons.
Helena — Didst thou indeed see my brothers at that season ? Yes, certainly.
Achilles — I saw them not, desirous though I always was of seeing them, that I might have learnt from them, and might have practiced with them, whatever is laudable and manly. But my father, fearing my impetuosity, as he said, and my inexperience, sent me away. Soothsayers had foretold some mischief to me from an arrow : and among the brakes many arrows might fly wide, glancing from trees.
Helena — I wish thou hadst seen them, were it only once. Three such youths together the blessed sun will never shine upon again.
O my sweet brothers ! how they tended me ! how they loved me ! how often they wished me to mount their horses and to hurl their javelins. They could only teach me to swim with them ; and when I had well learnt it I was more afraid than at first. It gratified me to be praised for anything but swim ming.
Happy, happy hours ! soon over ! Does happiness always go
THE TOMB OF ACHILLES. 181
away before beauty ? It must go then : surely it might stay that little while. Alas ! dear Castor ! and dearer PolydeucSs ! often shall Ithink of you as ye were (and oh ! as Iwas) on the banks of the Eurotas. Brave noble creatures ! they were as tall, as terrible, and almost as beautiful, as thou art. Be not wroth ! Blush no more for me.
Achilles — Helena ! Helena ! wife of Menelaus ! my mother
I
is reported to have left about me only one place vulnerable : have at last found where it is. Farewell.
Helena — O leave me not ! Earnestly I entreat and implore thee, leave me not alone. These solitudes are terrible : there must be wild beasts among them ; there certainly are Fauns and Satyrs. And there is Cybele, who carries towers and temples on her head; who hates and abhors Aphrodite, who persecutes those she favors, and whose priests are so cruel as to be cruel even to themselves.
Again, O daughter of Leda and of Zeus, farewell !
THE TOMB OF ACHILLES. By LORD BYRON.
(From "The Bride of Abydos. ")
[Lord George Noel Gordon Byron : A famous English poet ; born in Lon don, January 22, 1788. At the age of ten he succeeded to the estate and title of his granduncle William, fifth Lord Byron. He was educated "at Harrow and Cambridge, and in 1807 published his first volume of poems, Hours of Idle ness. " After a tour through eastern Europe he brought out two cantos of " Childe Harold," which met with instantaneous success, and soon after he mar ried the heiress Miss Millbanke. The union proving unfortunate, Byron left England, and passed several years in Italy. In 1823 he joined the Greek insur gents in Cephalonia, and later at Missolonghi, where he died of a fever April 19, 1824. His chief poetical works are: "Childe Harold," "Don Juan," "Manfred," "Cain," "Marino Faliero," " Sardanapalus," "The Giaour," "Bride of Abydos," "The Corsair," "Lara," and "Mazeppa. "]
The winds are high on Helle's wave ; As on that night of stormy water
When Love, who sent, forgot to save The young, the beautiful, the brave,
Achilles —According to their promise, the goddesses who brought thee hither in a cloud will in a cloud reconduct thee, safely and unseen, into the city.
THE TOMB OF ACHILLES.
The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter,
Oh ! when alone along the sky,
The turret torch was blazing high,
Though rising gale, and breaking foam, And shrieking sea birds warned him home : And clouds aloft, and tides below,
With signs and sounds forbade to go ; He could not see, he would not hear, Or sound or sign foreboding fear :
His eye but saw that light of love, The only star it hailed above ; — His ear but rang with Hero's song,
" Ye waves, divide not lovers long ! " That tale is old, but love anew
May nerve young hearts to prove as true.
ii.
The winds are high and Helle's tide Rolls darkly heaving to the main ;
And night's descending shadows hide That field with blood bedewed in vain,
The desert of old Priam's pride ; — The tombs, sole relics of his reign
All, save immortal dreams that could beguile The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle.
nx.
Oh ! yet — for thus my steps have been ; These feet have pressed the sacred shore ;
These limbs that buoyant wave hath borne — Minstrel ! with thee to move, to mourn,
To trace again those fields of yore, Believing every hillock green
Contains no fabled hero's ashes, And that around the undoubted scene
Thine own " broad Hellespont " still dashes, Be long my lot ! and cold were he
Who there could gaze denying thee !
rv.
The night hath closed on Helle's stream, Nor yet hath risen on Ida's hill
That moon which shone on his high theme : No warrior chides her peaceful beam,
But conscious shepherds bless it still.
(ENONE. 183
Their flocks are grazing on the mound Of him who felt the Dardan's arrow :
That mighty heap of gathered ground Which Amnion's son ran proudly round, By nations raised, by monarchs crowned,
Within — thy dwelling place how narrow ; Without — can only strangers breathe :
The name of him that was beneath :
Dust long outlasts the storied stone ;
(ENONE.
By ALFRED TENNYSON.
[Alfred Tennyson, Baron Tennyson: English poet; born at Somersby, England, August 6, 1809 ; died at Aldworth, October 6, 1892. His first poems were published with his brother Charles' in a small volume entitled "Poems of Two Brothers," in 1827. Two years later he won the chancellor's gold medal for his prize poem, "Timbuctoo. " The following year came his "Poems Chiefly Lyrical. " In 1832 a new volume of miscellaneous poems was published, and was attacked savagely by the Quarterly Review. Ten years afterward another volume of miscellaneous verse was collected. In 1847 he published "The Princess," which was warmly received. In 1850 came "In Memoriam," and he was appointed poet laureate to succeed Wordsworth. Among his other works may be mentioned: "Idylls of the King" (1859), "Enoch Arden" and "The Holy Grail" (1869), "Queen Mary" (1875), "Harold" (1876), "The Cup" (1884), "Tiresias" (1885), "Locksley Hall Sixty Years After" (1886), "The Foresters" and "The Death of ffinone" (1892)].
There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier
Than all the valleys of Ionian hills.
The swimming vapor slopes athwart the glen, Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine, And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand
The lawns and meadow ledges midway down Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars The long brook falling thro' the clov'n ravine
In cataract after cataract to the sea.
Behind the valley topmost Gargarus
Stands up and takes the morning : but in front The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal
Troas and Ilion's columned citadel,
The crown of Troas.
Hither came at noon
Is now a lone and nameless barrow !
But thou — thy very dust is gone!
(EXONE.
Mournful (Enone, wandering forlorn
Of Paris, once her playmate on the hills.
Her cheek had lost the rose, and round her neck Floated her hair or seemed to float in rest.
She, leaning on a fragment twined with vine, Sang to the stillness, till the mountain shade Sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliff.
" O mother Ida, many-fountained Ida, Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
For now the noonday quiet holds the hill : The grasshopper is silent in the grass :
The lizard, with his shadow on the stone, Rests like a shadow, and the winds are dead. The purple flower droops : the golden bee
I alone awake.
My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love,
Is lily-cradled :
My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim,
And I
am all aweary of my life.
" O mother Ida, many-fountained Ida,
Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
Hear me, O Earth, hear me, O Hills, O Caves
That house the cold crowned snake ! O mountain brooks, I am the daughter of a River God,
Hear me, for I will speak, and build up all
My sorrow with my song, as yonder walls
Rose slowly to a music slowly breathed,
A cloud that gathered shape : for it may be
That, while I speak of little while
My heart may wander from its deeper woe.
"
waited underneath the dawning hills,
Aloft the mountain lawn was dewy-dark,
And dewy-dark aloft the mountain pine
Beautiful Paris, evil-hearted Paris,
Leading jet-black goat white-horned, white-hooved, Came up from reedy Simois all alone.
"
sat alone white-breasted like star
mother Ida, many-fountained Ida, Dear mother Ida, hearken ere die.
mother Ida, hearken ere die.
Far off the torrent called me from the cleft
Far up the solitary morning smote
The streaks of virgin snow. With down-dropt eyes
II OO
:
a
a
I :
I :
it, a
(ENONE.
Fronting the dawn he moved; a leopard skin Drooped from his shoulder, but his sunny hair Clustered about his temples like a God's:
And his cheek brightened as the foam bow brightens When the wind blows the foam, and all my heart Went forth to embrace him coming ere he came.
" Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
He smiled, and opening out his milk-white palm Disclosed a fruit of pure Hesperian gold,
That smelt ambrosially, and while I looked
And listened, the full-flowing river of speech Came down upon my heart.
' My own CEnone, Beautiful-browed CEnone, my own soul,
Behold this fruit, whose gleaming rind ingrav'n
" For the most fair," would seem to award it thine, As lovelier than whatever Oread haunt
The knolls of Ida, loveliest in all grace
Of movement, and the charm of married brows. '
" Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
He prest the blossom of his lips to mine,
And added, ' This was cast upon the board, When all the full-faced presence of the Gods Ranged in the halls of Peleus ; whereupon
Rose feud, with question unto whom 'twere due: But light-foot Iris brought it yester eve, Delivering, that to me, by common voice
Elected umpire, Here comes to-day,
Pallas and Aphrodite, claiming each
This meed of fairest. Thou, within the cave Behind yon whispering tuft of oldest pine, Mayst well behold them unbeheld, unheard Hear all, and see thy Paris judge of Gods. '
"Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
It was the deep mid noon : one silvery cloud
Had lost his way between the piney sides
Of this long glen. Then to the bower they came, Naked they came to that smooth-swarded bower, And at their feet the crocus brake like fire, Violet, amaracus, and asphodel,
Lotos and lilies : and a wind arose,
And overhead the wandering ivy and vine,
(ENONE.
This way and that, in many a wild festoon
Ran riot, garlanding the gnarled boughs
With bunch and berry and flower thro' and thro'.
" O mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
On the tree tops a crested peacock lit,
And o'er him flowed a golden cloud, and leaned Upon him, slowly dropping fragrant dew.
Then first I heard the voice of her, to whom Coming thro' Heaven, like a light that grows Larger and clearer, with one mind the Gods
Rise up for reverence. She to Paris made Proffer of royal power, ample rule
Unquestioned, overflowing revenue
Wherewith to embellish state, ' from many a vale And river-sundered champaign clothed with corn, Or labored mine undrainable of ore.
Honor,' she said, ' and homage, tax and toll, From many an inland town and haven large, Mast-thronged beneath her shadowing citadel
In glassy bays among her tallest towers. '
" O mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
Still she spake on and still she spake of power,
' Which in all action is the end of all ;
Power fitted to the season ; wisdom-bred
And throned of wisdom — from all neighbor crowns Alliance and Allegiance, till thy hand
Fail from the scepter staff. Such boon from me, From me, Heaven's Queen, Paris, to thee king-born, A shepherd all thy life but yet king-born,
Should come most welcome, seeing men in power Only, are likest gods, who have attained
Rest in a happy place and quiet seats
Above the thunder, with undying bliss
In knowledge of their own supremacy. '
"Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
She ceased, and Paris held the costly fruit
Out at arm's length, so much the thought of power Flattered his spirit ; but Pallas where she stood Somewhat apart, her clear and bared limbs O'erthwarted with the brazen-headed spear
Upon her pearly shoulder leaning cold,
The while, above, her full and earnest eye
(ENONE.
Over her snow-cold breast and angry cheek Kept watch, waiting decision, made reply.
" ' Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control, These three alone lead life to sovereign power. Yet not for power (power of herself
Would come uncalled for) but to live by law, Acting the law we live by without fear ;
And, because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence. '
" Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die. Again she said : ' I woo thee not with gifts. Sequel of guerdon could not alter me
To fairer. Judge thou me by what I
So shalt thou find me fairest.
If gazing on divinity disrobed
Thy mortal eyes are frail to judge of fair, Unbiased by self-profit, oh ! rest thee sure That I shall love thee well and cleave to thee, So that my vigor, wedded to thy blood,
Shall strike within thy pulses, like a God's, To push thee forward thro' a life of shocks, Dangers, and deeds, until endurance grow Sinewed with action, and the full-grown will, Circled thro' all experiences, pure law, Commeasure perfect freedom. '
Here she ceased, And Paris pondered, and I cried, ' 0 Paris,
Give it to Pallas ! ' but he heard me not, Or hearing would not hear me, woe is me I
" O mother Ida, many-fountained Ida,
I Idalian Aphrodite beautiful,
Dear mother Ida, hearken ere
die.
Fresh as the foam, new-bathed in Paphian wells, With rosy slender fingers backward drew
From her warm brows and bosom her deep hair Ambrosial, golden round her lucid throat
And shoulder : from the violets her light foot Shone rosy-white, and o'er her rounded form Between the shadows of the vine bunches Floated the glowing sunlights, as she moved.
" Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die. She with a subtle smile in her mild eyes,
am, Yet, indeed,
And I beheld great Here's angry eyes, As she withdrew into the golden cloud, And I was left alone within the bower ; And from that time to this I
am alone, And I shall be alone until I die.
(ENONE.
The herald of her triumph, drawing nigh Half-whispered in his ear, ' I promise thee The fairest and most loving wife in Greece,'
I shut my sight for fear : But when I looked, Paris had raised his arm,
She spoke and laughed :
" Yet, mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
Fairest — why fairest wife ? am I not fair ?
My love hath told me so a thousand times.
Methinks I must be fair, for yesterday,
When I past by, a wild and wanton pard,
Eyed like the evening star, with playful tail Crouched fawning in the weed. Most loving is she ? Ah me, my mountain shepherd, that my arms
Were wound about thee, and my hot lips prest
Close, close to thine in that quick-falling dew
Of fruitful kisses, thick as Autumn rains
Flash in the pools of whirling Simois.
" O mother, hear me yet before I die.
They came, they cut away my tallest pines,
My tall dark pines, that plumed the craggy ledge High over the blue gorge, and all between
The snowy peak and snow-white cataract
Fostered the callow eaglet — from beneath
Whose thick mysterious boughs in the dark morn The panther's roar came muffled, while I sat
Low in the valley. Never, never more
Shall lone (Enone see the morning mist
Sweep thro' them ; never see them overlaid
With narrow moonlit slips of silver cloud, Between the loud stream and the trembling stars.
" O mother, hear me yet before I die.
I wish that somewhere in the ruined folds, Among the fragments tumbled from the glens, Or the dry thickets, I could meet with her The Abominable, that uninvited came
Into the fair Pelelan banquet hall,
And cast the golden fruit upon the board,
(ENONE.
And bred this change ; that I might speak my mind, And tell her to her face how much I hate
Her presence, hated both of Gods and men.
" O mother, hear me yet before I die.
Hath he not sworn his love a thousand times,
In this green valley, under this green hill,
Ev'n on this hand, and sitting on this stone ? Sealed it with kisses ? watered it with tears ?
O happy tears, and how unlike to these !
O happy Heaven, how canst thou see my face ? O happy earth, how canst thou bear my weight ? O death, death, death, thou ever-floating cloud, There are enough unhappy on this earth,
Pass by the happy souls, that love to live :
1 pray thee, pass before my light of life,
And shadow all my soul that I may die.
Thou weighest heavy on the heart within, Weigh heavy on my eyelids : let me die.
" O mother, hear me yet before I die.
I will not die alone, for fiery thoughts
Do shape themselves within me, more and more, Whereof I catch the issue, as I hear
Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills, Like footsteps upon wool. I dimly see
My far-off doubtful purpose, as a mother Conjectures of the features of her child
Ere it is born : her child ! — a shudder comes Across me : never child be born of me,
Unblest, to vex me with his father's eyes !
" O mother, hear me yet before I die.
Hear me, O Earth. I will not die alone,
Lest their shrill happy laughter come to me Walking the cold and starless road of Death Uncomforted, leaving my ancient love
With the Greek woman. I will rise and go Down into Troy, and ere the stars come forth Talk with the wild Cassandra, for she says
A fire dances before her, and a sound
Rings ever in her ears of armed men.
What this may be I know not, but I know That, wheresoe'er I am by night and day,
All earth and air seem only burning fire. "
190 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD.
DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. By LUCIAN OF 8AMOSATA.
[Lucian, one of the foremost humorists and men of letters of all time, was born in Asia Minor during Trajan's reign, about a. d. 100. He studied for a sculptor, but finally went to Antioch and devoted himself to literature and ora tory. He died in extreme old age. His works, written in Greek, are largely satirical burlesques on pagan philosophy and mythology and on the literature of his day, with some stories. ]
Antilochus (Son op Nestor) and Achilleus.
Antilochus — What sort of language was that, Achilleus, you addressed to Odysseus the day before yesterday about death; how ignoble and unworthy of both your teachers, Cheiron and Phoenix !
