Pausanias, the Spartan; The Haunted and the Haunters Part 14

[26] Alexander, King of Macedon, had visited the Athenians with overtures of peace and alliance from Xerxes and Mardonius. These overtures were confined to the Athenians alone, and the Spartans were fearful lest they should be accepted. The Athenians, however, generously refused them. Gold, said they, hath no amount, earth no territory how beautiful soever that could tempt the Athenians to accept conditions from the Mede for the servitude of Greece. On this the Persians invaded Attica, and the Athenians, after waiting in vain for promised aid from Sparta, took refuge at Salamis. Meanwhile, they had sent messengers or amba.s.sadors to Sparta, to remonstrate on the violation of their agreement in delaying succour. This chanced at the very time when, by the death of his father Cleombrotus, Pausanias became Regent. Slowly, and after much hesitation, the Spartans sent them aid under Pausanias. Two of the amba.s.sadors were Aristides and Cimon.

[27] This chapter was left unfinished by the author; probably with the intention of recasting it. Such an intention, at least, is indicated by the marginal marks upon the MS.

BOOK III.

CHAPTER I.

The fountain sparkled to the noonday, the sward around it was sheltered from the sun by vines formed into shadowy arcades, with interlaced leaves for roof. Afar through the vistas thus formed gleamed the blue of a sleeping sea.

Under the hills, or close by the margin of the fountain, Cleonice was seated upon a gra.s.sy knoll, covered with wild flowers. Behind her, at a little distance, grouped her handmaids, engaged in their womanly work, and occasionally conversing in whispers. At her feet reposed the grand form of Pausanias. Alcman stood not far behind him, his hand, resting on his lyre, his gaze fixed upon the upward jet of the fountain.

"Behold," said Cleonice, "how the water soars up to the level of its source!"

"As my soul would soar to thy love," said the Spartan, amorously.

"As thy soul should soar to the stars. O son of Hercules, when I hear thee burst into thy wild nights of ambition, I see not thy way to the stars."

"Why dost thou ever thus chide the ambition which may give me thee?"

"No, for thou mightest then be as much below me as thou art now above.

Too humble to mate with the Heracleid, I am too proud to stoop to the Tributary of the Mede."

"Tributary for a sprinkling of water and a handful of earth. Well, my pride may revolt, too, from that tribute. But, alas! what is the tribute Sparta exacts from me now?--personal liberty--freedom of soul itself. The Mede's Tributary may be a king over millions; the Spartan Regent is a slave to the few."

"Cease--cease--cease. I will not hear thee," cried Cleonice, placing her hands on her ears.

Pausanias gently drew them away; and holding them both captive in the large clasp of his own right hand, gazed eagerly into her pure, unshrinking eyes.

"Tell me," he said, "for in much thou art wiser than I am, unjust though thou art. Tell me this. Look onward to the future with a gaze as steadfast as now meets mine, and say if thou canst discover any path, except that which it pleases thee to condemn, which may lead thee and me to the marriage altar!"

Down sank those candid eyes, and the virgin's cheek grew first rosy red, and then pale, as if every drop of blood had receded to the heart.

"Speak!" insisted Pausanias, softening his haughty voice to its meekest tone.

"I cannot see the path to the altar," murmured Cleonice, and the tears rolled down her cheeks.

"And if thou seest it not," returned Pausanias, "art thou brave enough to say--Be we lost to each other for life? I, though man and Spartan, am not brave enough to say that!"

He released her hands as he spoke, and clasped his own over his face.

Both were long silent.

Alcman had for some moments watched the lovers with deep interest, and had caught into his listening ears the purport of their words. He now raised his lyre, and swept his hand over the chords. The touch was that of a master, and the musical sounds produced their effect on all. The handmaids paused from their work. Cleonice turned her eyes wistfully towards the Mothon. Pausanias drew his hands from his face, and cried joyously, "I accept the omen. Foster-brother, I have heard that measure to a Hymeneal Song. Sing us the words that go with the melody."

"Nay," said Alcman, gently, "the words are not those which are sung before youth and maiden when they walk over perishing flowers to bridal altars. They are the words which embody a legend of the land in which the heroes of old dwell, removed from earth, yet preserved from Hades."

"Ah," said Cleonice--and a strange expression, calmly mournful, settled on her features--"then the words may haply utter my own thoughts. Sing them to us, I pray thee."

The Mothon bowed his head, and thus began:--

THE ISLE OF SPIRITS.

Many wonders on the ocean By the moonlight may be seen; Under moonlight on the Euxine Rose the blessed silver isle,

As Leostratus of Croton, At the Pythian G.o.d's behest, Steer'd along the troubled waters To the tranquil spirit-land.

In the earthquake of the battle, When the Locrians reel'd before Croton's shock of marching iron, Strode a Phantom to their van:

Strode the shade of Locrian Ajax, Guarding still the native soil, And Leostratus, confronting, Wounded fell before the spear.

Leech and herb the wound could heal not Said the Pythian G.o.d, "Depart, Voyage o'er the troubled Euxine To the tranquil spirit-land.

"There abides the Locrian Ajax, He who gave the wound shall heal; G.o.dlike souls are in their mercy Stronger yet than in their wrath."

While at ease on lulled waters Rose the blessed silver isle, Purple vines in lengthening vistas Knit the hill-top to the beach.

And the beach had sparry caverns, And a floor of golden sands, And wherever soared the cypress, Underneath it bloomed the rose.

Glimmered there amid the vine trees, Thoro' cavern, over beach, Lifelike shadows of a beauty Which the living know no more,

Towering statures of great heroes, They who fought at Thebes and Troy; And with looks that poets dream of Beam'd the women heroes loved.

Kingly, forth before their comrades, As the vessel touch'd the sh.o.r.e, Came the stateliest Two, by Hymen Ever hallowed into One.

As He strode, the forests trembled To the awe that crowned his brow: As She stepp'd, the ocean dimpled To the ray that left her smile.

"Welcome hither, fearless warrior!"

Said a voice in which there slept Thunder-sounds to scatter armies, As a north-wind scatters leaves.

"Welcome hither, wounded sufferer,"

Said a voice of music low As the coo of doves that nestle Under summer boughs at noon.

"Who are ye, O shapes of glory?"

Ask'd the wondering living man: Quoth the Man-ghost, "This is Helen, And the Fair is for the Brave.

"Fairest prize to bravest victor; Whom doth Greece her bravest deem?"

Said Leostratus, "Achilles:"

"Bride and bridegroom then are we."

"Low I kneel to thee, Pelides, But, O marvel, she thy bride, She whose guilt unpeopled h.e.l.las, She whose marriage lights fired Troy?"

Frown'd the large front of Achilles, Overshadowing sea and sky, Even as when between Olympus And Ocea.n.u.s hangs storm.