Ionica Part 2

Then take our gold, and household stuff; Claim what thou wilt, but speak."

He falters; for the waves he fears, The roads he cannot measure; But rates full high the gleam of spears And dreams of yellow treasure.

He listens; he is yielding now; Outspoke the fearless child:

"Oh, father, come away, lest thou Be by this man beguiled."

Her lowly judgement barred the plea, So low, it could not reach her.

The man knows more of land and sea, But she's the truer teacher.

I mind the day, when thou didst cheat Those rival dames with answer meet;

When, toiling at the loom, Unblest with bracelet, ring, or chain, Thou alone didst dare disdain To toil in tiring-room.

Merely thou saidst: "At set of sun My humble taskwork will be done; And through the twilight street Come back to view my jewels, when Pattering through the throng of men Go merry schoolboys' feet."

CAIUS GRACCHUS

They came, and sneered: for thou didst stand!

The web well finished up, one hand Laid on my yielding shoulder: The sternest stripling in the land Grasped the other, boldly scanned Their faces, and grew bolder:

And said: "Fair ladies, by your leave I would exhort you spin and weave Some frugal homely cloth.

I warn you, when I lead the tribes Law shall strip you; threats nor bribes Shall blunt the just man's wrath."

How strongly, gravely did he speak!

I shivered, hid my tingling cheek Behind thy marble face; And prayed the G.o.ds to be like him, Firm in temper, lithe of limb, Right worthy of our race.

Oh, mother, didst thou bear me brave?

Or was I weak, till, from the grave So early hollowed out, Tiberius sought me yesternight, Blood upon his mantle white, A vision clear of doubt?

What can I fear, oh mother, now?

His dead cold hand is on my brow; Rest thou thereon thy lips: His voice is in the night-wind's breath, "Do as I did," still he saith; With blood his finger drips.

ASTEROPE

Child of the summer cloud, upon thy birth,-- And thou art often born to die again,-- Follow loud groans, that shake the darkening earth, And break the troublous sleep of guilty men.

Thou leapest from the thinner streams of air To crags where vapours cling, where ocean frets; No cave so deep, so cold, but thou art there, Wrath in thy smile, and beauty in thy threats.

The molten sands beneath thy burning feet Run, as thou runnest, into tubes of gla.s.s; Old towers and trees, that proudly stood to meet The whirlwind, let their fair invader pa.s.s.

The lone ship warring on the Indian sea Bursts into splinters at thy sudden stroke; Siberian mines fired long ago by thee Still waste in helpless flame and barren smoke.

Such is thy dreadful pastime, Angel-queen, When swooping headlong from the Armament Thou spreadest fear along the village green, Fear of the day when gravestones shall be rent.

And we that fear remember not, that thou, Slewest the Theban maid, who vainly strove To rival Juno, when the lover's vow Was kept in wedlock by unwilling Jove.

And we forget, that when Oileus went From the wronged virgin and the ruined fane, When storms were howling round "Repent, Repent,"

Thy holy arrow pierced the spoiler's brain.

To perish all the proud! but chiefly he, Who at the tramp of steeds and cymbal-beat Proclaimed, "I thunder! Why not worship me?"

And thou didst slay him for his counterfeit.

A DIRGE

Naiad, hid beneath the bank By the willowy river-side, Where Narcissus gently sank, Where unmarried Echo died, Unto thy serene repose Waft the stricken Anteros.

Where the tranquil swan is borne, Imaged in a watery gla.s.s, Where the sprays of fresh pink thorn Stoop to catch the boats that pa.s.s, Where the earliest orchis grows, Bury thou fair Anteros.

Glide we by, with prow and oar: Ripple shadows off the wave, And reflected on the sh.o.r.e, Haply play about the grave.

Folds of summer-light enclose All that once was Anteros.

On a flickering wave we gaze, Not upon his answering eyes: Flower and bird we scarce can praise, Having lost his sweet replies: Cold and mute the river flows With our tears for Anteros.

AN INVOCATION

I never prayed for Dryads, to haunt the woods again; More welcome were the presence of hungering, thirst- ing men, Whose doubts we could unravel, whose hopes we could fulfil, Our wisdom tracing backward, the river to the rill; Were such beloved forerunners one summer day restored, Then, then we might discover the Muse's mystic h.o.a.rd.

Oh dear divine Comatas, I would that thou and I Beneath this broken sunlight this leisure day might lie; Where trees from distant forests, whose names were strange to thee, Should bend their amorous branches within thy reach to be, And flowers thine h.e.l.las knew not, which art hath made more fair, Should shed their shining petals upon thy fragrant hair.

Then thou shouldst calmly listen with ever-changing looks To songs of younger minstrels and plots of modern books, And wonder at the daring of poets later born, Whose thoughts are unto thy thoughts as noon-tide is to morn; And little shouldst thou grudge them their greater strength of soul, Thy partners in the torch-race, though nearer to the goal.

As when ancestoral portraits look gravely from the walls Uplift youthful baron who treads their echoing halls; And whilst he builds new turrets, the thrice enn.o.bled heir Would gladly wake his grandsire his home and feast to share; So from aegean laurels that hide thine ancient urn I fain would call thee hither, my sweeter lore to learn.

Or in thy cedarn prison thou waitest for the bee: Ah, leave that simple honey, and take thy food from me.

My sun is stooping westward. Entranced dreamer, haste; There's fruitage in my garden, that I would have thee taste.

Now lift the lid a moment; now, Dorian shepherd, speak: Two minds shall flow together, the English and the Greek.

ACADEMUS

Perhaps there's neither tear nor smile, When once beyond the grave.

Woe's me: but let me live meanwhile Amongst the bright and brave;

My summers lapse away beneath Their cool Athenian shade: And I a string for myrtle-wreath, A whetstone unto blade;