There is delight in singing, tho' none hear Beside the singer; and there is delight In praising, tho' the praiser sit alone And see the prais'd far off him, far above. 5 Shakespeare is not our poet, but the world's,

Therefore on him no speech! and brief for thee,

Browning! Since Chaucer was alive and hale,

No man hath walked along our roads with step

So active, so inquiring eye, or tongue 10 So varied in discourse. But warmer climes1 Give brighter plumage, strong wing: the breeze

Of Alpine heights thou playest with, borne

on

Beyond Sorrento and Amalfi, where

And happy Ares shouted far below.
Or would ye rather choose the grassy
vale

10 Where flows Anapos thro' anemones,
Hyacinths, and narcissuses, that bend
To show their rival beauty in the stream?
Bring with you each her lyre, and each
in turn

10

Temper a graver with a lighter song.

THRASYMEDES AND EUNÖE

1846

Who will away to Athens with me? who Loves choral songs and maidens crown'd with flowers,

Unenvious? mount the pinnace; hoist the sail.

I promise ye, as many as are here,

5 Ye shall not, while ye tarry with me, taste
From unrinsed barrel the diluted wine
Of a low vineyard or a plant ill-pruned,
But such as anciently the Egean isles
Pour'd in libation at their solemn feasts:
And the same goblets shall ye grasp, em-

boss'd

With no vile figures of loose languid boors, But such as gods have lived with and have led.

The sea smiles bright before us. What white sail

Plays yonder? What pursues it? Like two hawks

15 Away they fly. Let us away in time

To overtake them. Are they menaces
We hear? And shall the strong repulse
the weak,

Enraged at her defender? Hippias!
Art thou the man? "Twas Hippias. He
had found

By Thrasymedes. And reluctantly? Ask, ask the maiden; I have no reply. "Brother! O brother Hippias! O, if love, If pity, ever touch'd thy breast, forbear! 25 Strike not the brave, the gentle, the beloved,

My Thrasymedes, with his cloak alone
Protecting his own head and mine from

harm."

"Didst thou not once before," cried Hip

"Nothing, sir,

Shall ever turn it. I can die but once And love but once. O Eunöe! farewell!" "Nay, she shall see what thou canst bear for her."

750 father! shut me in my chamber, shut

me

In my poor mother's tomb, dead or alive,
But never let me see what he can bear;
I know how much that is, when borne for

me.

"Not yet: come on. And lag not thou behind,

80 Pirate of virgin and of princely hearts! Before the people and before the goddess Thou hadst evinced the madness of thy passion,

And now wouldst bear from home and plenteousness

To poverty and exile this my child." 85 Then shuddered Thrasymedes, and exclaim'd,

"I see my crime; I saw it not before. The daughter of Pisistratos was born Neither for exile nor for poverty,

Ah! nor for me!" He would have wept, but one

90 Might see him, and weep worse. The prince unmoved

Strode on, and said, "Tomorrow shall the

people,

15 And tears dropp'd down it, but the king of men

Replied not. Then the maiden spake once

more.

"O father! sayst thou nothing? Hear'st thou not

Me, whom thou ever hast, until this hour,
Listen'd to fondly, and awaken'd me

20 To hear my voice amid the voice of birds, When it was inarticulate as theirs,

And the down deadened it within the nest?"

He moved her gently from him, silent

still,

And this, and this alone, brought tears

from her,

25 Altho' she saw fate nearer: then with sighs,

"I thought to have laid down my hair before

Benignant Artemis, and not have dimmed Her polish'd altar with my virgin blood; I thought to have selected the white flowers 30 To please the Nymphs, and to have ask'd of each

By name, and with no sorrowful regret, Whether, since both my parents will'd the change,

I might at Hymen's feet bend my clipp'd brow;

And (after those who mind us girls the most)

35 Adore our own Athena,1 that she would Regard me mildly with her azure eyes, But father! to see you no more, and see Your love, O father! go ere I am gone" Gently he moved her off, and drew her back,

40 Bending his lofty head far over hers, And the dark depths of nature heaved and burst.

He turn'd away; not far, but silent still. She now first shudder'd; for in him, so nigh,

So long a silence seem'd the approach of death,

45 And like it. Once again she rais'd her voice.

"O father! if the ships are now detain 'd, And all your vows move not the gods

above,

With rose and myrtle if they were inborn;
If from Pandion sprang they, on the coast
Where stern Athenè raised her citadel,
Then olive was intwined with violets
10 Cluster'd in bosses,2 regular and large.
For various men wore various coronals;
But one was their devotion; 'twas to her
Whose laws all follow, her whose smile
withdraws

The sword from Ares, thunderbolt from
Zeus,

15 And whom in his chill cave the mutable Of mind, Poseidon, the sea-king, reveres, And whom his brother, stubborn Dis, hath pray'd

To turn in pity the averted cheek Of her he bore away, with promises, 20 Nay, with loud oath before dread Styr itself,

From all the valleys, like bright rivulets Gurgling with gladness, wave outrunning

wave,

And thought it hard he might not also go And offer up one prayer, and press one

hand,

1 See Lowell's Rhacus.

2 raised ornaments 3 Proserpina.

He knew not whose. The father call'd him in,

30 And said, "Son Rhaicos! those are idle games;

Long enough I have lived to find them so." And ere he ended sighed, as old men do Always, to think how idle such games are. "I have not yet," thought Rhaicos in his heart,

35 And wanted proof.

"Suppose thou go and help
Echeion at the hill, to bark yon oak
And lop its branches off, before we delve
About the trunk and ply the root with

Of those who hurried to the city-gate.
Echeion he found there with naked arm
Swart-hair'd, strong-sinew 'd, and his eyes
intent

Upon the place where first the axe should
fall:

45 He held it upright. "There are bees about, Or wasps, or hornets," said the cautious eld,

"Look sharp, O son of Thallinos!" The youth

Inclined his ear, afar, and warily,

And cavern'd in his hand. He heard a buzz

50 At first, and then the sound grew soft and

Of graceful platan1 by the river-side? Hamad. Lovest thou well thy father's house?

I love it, well I love it, yet would leave For thine, where 'er it be, my father's

house,

90 With all the marks upon the door, that

show

My growth at every birthday since the third,

And all the charms, o'erpowering evil

eyes,

My mother nail'd for me against my bed, And the Cydonian2 bow (which thou shalt see)

95 Won in my race last spring from Eutychos.

Hamad. Bethink thee what it is to leave a home

Thou never yet hast left, one night, one day.

1 plane tree

of Cydonia (an ancient city on the coast of Crete, famous for its archers)