And dear the last embraces of ou wives And their warm tears but all hatl suffer'd change, For surely now our household hearth are cold: our looks are Our sons inherit us: strange; And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy. Or else the island princes over-bold Have eat our substance, and the min strel sings Before them of the ten years' war in Troy, And our great deeds, as half-forgotten things, Is there confusion in the little isle? The Gods are hard to reconcile: Sore task to hearts worn out with many But, propt on beds of amaranth and moly, How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly) With half-dropt eyelids still, To watch the long bright river drawing slowly His waters from the purple bill- To watch the emerald-color❜d water falling Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath divine! Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine, Only to hear were sweet, stretch'd out beneath the pine. On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind. For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurl'd Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curl'd Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world:" Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands, Blight and famine, plague and earth quake, roaring deeps and fiery sands, Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying hands. But they smile, they find a music cen. tred in a doleful song Steaming up, a lamentation and an ancient tale of wrong, Like a tale of little meaning tho' the words are strong, Chanted from an ill-used race of mer. that cleave the soil, Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with enduring toil, Storing yearly little dues of wheat, and wine and oil; Till they perish and they suffer--some 'tis whisper'd-down in hell Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell, Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel. Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore Than labor in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar; O rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more. Ranges of glimmering vaults with iron grates, And hush'd seraglios. So share chased shape as swift as when to land Bluster the winds and tides the selfsame way, Crisp foam-flakes scud along the level sand, Torn from the fringe of spray. I started once, or seem'd to start in pain, Resolved on noble things, and strove to speak, As when a great thought strikes along the brain, And flushes all the cheek. And once my arm was lifted to hew down A cavalier from off his saddle-bow, That bore a lady from a leaguer'd town; And then, I know not how, All those sharp fancies, by down-laps ing thought Stream'd onward, lost their edges, and did creep Roll'd on each other, rounded, smooth'd. and brought Into the gulfs of sleep. At last methought that I had wander'd far In an old wood: fresh-wash'd in coolest dew, The maiden splendors of the morning star Shook in the stedfast blue. No one can be more wise than destiny. Many drew swords and died. Where'er "No marvel, sovereign lady: in fah field. Myself for such a face had boldly died," I answer'd free; and turning I appeal'd To one that stood beside. But she, with sick and scornful looks To her full height her stately stature draws; "My youth," she said, "was blasted with a curse: This woman was the cause. I was cut off from hope in that sad place, Which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears: My father held his hand upon his face; I, blinded with my tears, "Still strove to speak: my voice was thick with sighs As in a dream. Dimly I could descry The stern black-bearded kings with wolfish eyes, Waiting to see me die. "The high masts flicker'd as they lay afloat; The crowds, the temples, waver'd, The bright death quiver'd at the victim's throat, Touched; and I knew no more." Whereto the other with a downward brow: "I would the white cold heavy- Whirl'd by the wind, had roll'd me Then when I left my home." Her slow full words sank thro' the silence drear, As thunder-drops fall on a sleeping According to my humor ebb and flow. |