Poems by George Meredith Volume Ii Part 31

To prove the G.o.ds benignant to his rule, The years, which fasten rigid whom they cool, Reviewing, saw him hold the seat of power.

A grey one asked: Who next? nor answer had: One greyer pointed on the pallid hour To come: a river dried of waters glad.

VII

For which of his male issue promised grip To stride yon people, with the curb and whip?

This Lycophron! he sole, the father like, Fired prospect of a line in one strong tide, By right of mastery; stern will to strike; Pride to support the stroke: yea, G.o.dlike pride!

VIII

Himself the prince beheld a failing fount.

His line stretched back unto its holy mount: The thirsty onward waved for him no sign.

Then stood before his vision that hard son.

The seizure of a pa.s.sion for his line Impelled him to the path of Lycophron.

IX

The youth was tossing pebbles in the sea; A figure shunned along the busy quay, Perforce of the harsh edict for who dared Address him outcast. Naming it, he crossed His father's look with look that proved them paired For stiffness, and another pebble tossed.

X

An exile to the Island ere nightfall He pa.s.sed from sight, from the hushed mouths of all.

It had resemblance to a death: and on, Against a coast where sapphire shattered white, The seasons rolled like troops of billows blown To spraymist. The prince gazed on capping night.

XI

Deaf Age spake in his ear with shouts: Thy son!

Deep from his heart Life raved of work not done.

He heard historic echoes moan his name, As of the prince in whom the race had pause; Till Tyranny paternity became, And him he hated loved he for the cause.

XII

Not Lycophron the exile now appeared, But young Periander, from the shadow cleared, That haunted his rebellious brows. The prince Grew bright for him; saw youth, if seeming loth, Return: and of pure pardon to convince, Despatched the messenger most dear with both.

XIII

His daughter, from the exile's Island home, Wrote, as a flight of halcyons o'er the foam, Sweet words: her brother to his father bowed; Accepted his peace-offering, and rejoiced.

To bring him back a prince the father vowed, Commanded man the oars, the white sails hoist.

XIV

He waved the fleet to strain its westward way On to the sea-hued hills that crown the bay: Soil of those hospitable islanders Whom now his heart, for honour to his blood, Thanked. They should learn what boons a prince confers When happiness enjoins him grat.i.tude!

XV

In watch upon the offing, worn with haste To see his youth revived, and, close embraced, Pardon who had subdued him, who had gained Surely the stoutest battle between two Since t.i.tan pierced by young Apollo stained Earth's breast, the prince looked forth, himself looked through.

XVI

Errors aforetime unperceived were bared, To be by his young masterful repaired: Renewed his great ideas gone to smoke; His policy confirmed amid the surge Of States and people fretting at his yoke.

And lo, the fleet brown-flocked on the sea-verge!

XVII

Oars pulled: they streamed in harbour; without cheer For welcome shadowed round the heaving bier.

They, whose approach in such rare pomp and stress Of numbers the free islanders dismayed At Tyranny come masking to oppress, Found Lycophron this breathless, this lone-laid.

XVIII

Who smote the man thrown open to young joy?

The image of the mother of his boy Came forth from his unwary breast in wreaths, With eyes. And shall a woman, that extinct, Smite out of dust the Powerful who breathes?

Her loved the son; her served; they lay close-linked!

XIX

Dead was he, and demanding earth. Demand Sharper for vengeance of an instant hand, The Tyrant in the father heard him cry, And raged a plague; to prove on free h.e.l.lenes How prompt the Tyrant for the Persian dye; How black his G.o.ds behind their marble screens.

SOLON

I

The Tyrant pa.s.sed, and friendlier was his eye On the great man of Athens, whom for foe He knew, than on the sycophantic fry That broke as waters round a galley's flow, Bubbles at prow and foam along the wake.

Solidity the Thunderer could not shake, Beneath an adverse wind still stripping bare, His kinsman, of the light-in-cavern look, From thought drew, and a countenance could wear Not less at peace than fields in Attic air Shorn, and shown fruitful by the reaper's hook.

II

Most enviable so; yet much insane To deem of minds of men they grow! these sheep, By fits wild horses, need the crook and rein; Hot bulls by fits, pure wisdom hold they cheap, My Lawgiver, when fiery is the mood.

For ones and twos and threes thy words are good; For thine own government are pillars: mine Stand acts to fit the herd; which has quick thirst, Rejecting elegiacs, though they shine On polished bra.s.s, and, worthy of the Nine, In showering columns from their fountain burst.

III

Thus museful rode the Tyrant, princely plumed, To his high seat upon the sacred rock: And Solon, blank beside his rule, resumed The meditation which that pa.s.sing mock Had buffeted awhile to sallowness.

He little loved the man, his office less, Yet owned him for a flower of his kind.

Therefore the heavier curse on Athens he!

The people grew not in themselves, but, blind, Accepted sight from him, to him resigned Their hopes of stature, rootless as at sea.

IV

As under sea lay Solon's work, or seemed By turbid sh.o.r.e-waves beaten day by day; Defaced, half formless, like an image dreamed, Or child that fashioned in another clay Appears, by strangers' hands to home returned.

But shall the Present tyrannize us? earned It was in some way, justly says the sage.

One sees not how, while husbanding regrets; While tossing scorn abroad from righteous rage, High vision is obscured; for this is age When robbed--more infant than the babe it frets!

V

Yet see Athenians treading the black path Laid by a prince's shadow! well content To wait his pleasure, shivering at his wrath: They bow to their accepted Orient With offer of the all that renders bright: Forgetful of the growth of men to light, As creatures reared on Persian milk they bow.

Unripe! unripe! The times are overcast.