John Smith, U.S.A Part 10

_Meliboeus_-- Tell me, good gossip, I pray, what led you to visit the city?

_t.i.tyrus_-- Liberty! which on a day regarded my lot with compa.s.sion My age and distresses, forsooth, compelled that proud mistress to pity, That had snubbed the attentions of youth in most reprehensible fashion.

Oh, happy, thrice happy, the day when the cold Galatea forsook me, And equally happy, I say, the hour when that other girl took me!

_Meliboeus_ (slyly, as if addressing the damsel)-- So now, Amaryllis the truth of your ill-disguised grief I discover!

You pined for a favorite youth with cityfied damsels hobn.o.bbing.

And soon your surroundings partook of your grief for your recusant lover-- The pine trees, the copse and the brook for t.i.tyrus ever went sobbing.

_t.i.tyrus_-- Meliboeus, what else could I do? Fate doled me no morsel of pity; My toil was all in vain the year through, no matter how earnest or clever, Till, at last, came that G.o.d among men--that king from that wonderful city, And quoth: "Take your homesteads again--they are yours and your a.s.signs forever!"

_Meliboeus_-- Happy, oh, happy old man! rich in what's better than money-- Rich in contentment, you can gather sweet peace by mere listening; Bees with soft murmurings go hither and thither for honey.

Cattle all gratefully low in pastures where fountains are glistening-- Hark! in the shade of that rock the pruner with singing rejoices-- The dove in the elm and the flock of wood-pigeons hoa.r.s.ely repining, The plash of the sacred cascade--ah, restful, indeed, are these voices, t.i.tyrus, all in the shade of your wide-spreading beech-tree reclining!

_t.i.tyrus_-- And he who insures this to me--oh, craven I were not to love him!

Nay, rather the fish of the sea shall vacate the water they swim in, The stag quit his bountiful grove to graze in the ether above him.

While folk antipodean rove along with their children and women!

_Meliboeus_ (suddenly recalling his own misery)-- But we who are exiled must go; and whither--ah, whither--G.o.d knoweth!

Some into those regions of snow or of desert where Death reigneth only; Some off to the country of Crete, where rapid Oaxes down floweth.

And desperate others retreat to Britain, the bleak isle and lonely.

Dear land of my birth! shall I see the horde of invaders oppress thee?

Shall the wealth that outspringeth from thee by the hand of the alien be squandered?

Dear cottage wherein I was born! shall another in conquest possess thee-- Another demolish in scorn the fields and the groves where I've wandered?

My flock! never more shall you graze on that furze-covered hillside above me-- Gone, gone are the halcyon days when my reed piped defiance to sorrow!

Nevermore in the vine-covered grot shall I sing of the loved ones that love me-- Let yesterday's peace be forgot in dread of the stormy to-morrow!

_t.i.tyrus_-- But rest you this night with me here; my bed--we will share it together, As soon as you've tasted my cheer, my apples and chestnuts and cheeses; The evening a'ready is nigh--the shadows creep over the heather, And the smoke is rocked up to the sky to the lullaby song of the breezes.

HORACE TO MAECENAS.

How breaks my heart to hear you say You feel the shadows fall about you!

The G.o.ds forefend That fate, O friend!

I would not, I could not live without you!

You gone, what would become of me, Your shadow, O beloved Maecenas?

We've shared the mirth-- And sweets of earth-- Let's share the pangs of death between us!

I should not dread Chinaera's breath Nor any threat of ghost infernal; Nor fear nor pain Should part us twain-- For so have willed the powers eternal.

No false allegiance have I sworn, And, whatsoever fate betide you, Mine be the part To cheer your heart-- With loving song to fare beside you!

Love s.n.a.t.c.hed you from the claws of death And gave you to the grateful city; The falling tree That threatened me Did Fannus turn aside in pity; With horoscopes so wondrous like, Why question that we twain shall wander, As in this land, So, hand in hand, Into the life that waiteth yonder?

So to your shrine, O patron mine, With precious wine and victims fare you; Poor as I am, A humble lamb Must testify what love I bear you.

But to the skies shall sweetly rise The sacrifice from shrine and heather, And thither bear The solemn prayer That, when we go, we go together!

HORACE'S "SAILOR AND SHADE."

_Sailor._

You, who have compa.s.sed land and sea Now all unburied lie; All vain your store of human lore, For you were doomed to die.

The sire of Pelops likewise fell, Jove's honored mortal guest-- So king and sage of every age At last lie down to rest.

Plutonian shades enfold the ghost Of that majestic one Who taught as truth that he, forsooth, Had once been Pentheus' son; Believe who may, he's pa.s.sed away And what he did is done.

A last night comes alike to all-- One path we all must tread, Through sore disease or stormy seas Or fields with corpses red-- Whate'er our deeds that pathway leads To regions of the dead.

_Shade_.

The fickle twin Illyrian gales O'erwhelmed me on the wave-- But that you live, I pray you give My bleaching bones a grave!

Oh, then when cruel tempests rage You all unharmed shall be-- Jove's mighty hand shall guard by land And Neptune's on the sea.

Perchance you fear to do what shall Bring evil to your race.

Or, rather fear that like me here You'll lack a burial place.

So, though you be in proper haste, Bide long enough I pray, To give me, friend, what boon will send My soul upon its way!

UHLAND'S "CHAPEL."

Yonder stands the hillside chapel, 'Mid the evergreens and rocks, All day long it hears the song Of the shepherd to his flocks.

Then the chapel bell goes tolling-- Knolling for a soul that's sped; Silent and sad the shepherd lad Hears the requiem for the dead.

Shepherd, singers of the valley, Voiceless now, speed on before; Soon shall knell that chapel bell For the songs you'll sing no more.

"THE HAPPY ISLES" OF HORACE.

Oh, come with me to the Happy Isles In the golden haze off yonder, Where the song of the sun-kissed breeze beguiles And the ocean loves to wander.

Fragrant the vines that mantle those hills, Proudly the fig rejoices, Merrily dance the virgin rills, Blending their myriad voices.

Our herds shall suffer no evil there, But peacefully feed and rest them-- Never thereto shall prowling bear Or serpent come to molest them.

Neither shall Eurus, wanton bold, Nor feverish drought distress us, But he that compa.s.seth heat and cold Shall temper them both to bless us.

There no vandal foot has trod, And the pirate hordes that wander Shall never profane the sacred sod Of these beautiful isles out yonder.

Never a spell shall blight our vines Nor Sirius blaze above us.