THE SHEPHERD OF KING ADMETUS.1 There came a youth upon the earth, Some thousand years ago, Whose slender hands were nothing worth, Upon an empty tortoise-shell He stretched some chords, and drew Music that made men's bosoms swell Fearless, or brimmed their eyes with dew. Then King Admetus, one who had Pure taste by right divine, Decreed his singing not too bad To hear between the cups of wine: And so, well pleased with being soothed Into a sweet half-sleep, Three times his kingly beard he smoothed, And made him viceroy o'er his sheep. His words were simple words enough, That what in other mouths was rough Men called him but a shiftless youth, And yet, unwittingly, in truth, They knew not how he learned at all, He sat and watched the dead leaves fall, Or mused upon a common flower. It seemed the loveliness of things Did teach him all their use, For, in mere weeds, and stones, and springs He found a healing power profuse. 1 J. R. Lowell. Men granted that his speech was wise, But, when a glance they caught Of his slim grace and woman's eyes, They laughed, and called him good-for-naught. Yet after he was dead and gone And e'en his memory dim, Earth seemed more sweet to live upon, More full of love, because of him. And day by day more holy grew Each spot where he had trod, Till after-poets only knew § 81. Admetus and Alcestis.1 Admetus was a suitor, with others, for the hand of Alcestis, the daughter of Pelias, who promised her to him who should come for her in a chariot drawn by lions and boars. This task Admetus performed by the assistance of his divine herdsman, and was made happy in the possession of Alcestis. But Admetus fell ill, and being near to death, Apollo prevailed on the Fates to spare him on condition that some one should consent to die in his stead. Admetus, in his joy at this reprieve, thought little of the ransom, and, perhaps remembering the declarations of attachment which he had often heard from his courtiers and dependents, fancied that it would be easy to find a substitute. But it was not so. Brave warriors, who would willingly have perilled their lives for their prince, shrunk from the thought of dying for him on the bed of sickness; and old servants who had experienced his bounty and that of his house from their childhood up were not willing to lay down the scanty remnant of their days to show their gratitude. Men asked, "Why does not one of his parents do it? They cannot in the course of nature live much longer, and who can feel like them the call to rescue the life they gave from an untimely end?" But the parents, distressed though they were at the thought of losing him, shrunk from the 1 See Commentary, § 81. call. Then Alcestis, with a generous self-devotion, proffered herself as the substitute. Admetus, fond as he was of life, would not have submitted to receive it at such a cost; but there was no remedy. The condition imposed by the Fates had been met, and the decree was irrevocable. As Admetus revived, Alcestis sickened, rapidly sank, and died. Just after the funeral procession had left the palace, Hercules, the son of Jupiter and Alcmena, arrived. He, to whom no labor was too arduous, resolved to attempt her rescue. Said he : Till one hand join the other round about There lives not who shall pull him out from me, But even say I miss the booty, — say, why, then, Death comes not to the boltered blood, So as to put her in the hands of him My host, that housed me, never drove me off: Let the club go,— for had he not those hands? 1 From Browning's Balaustion's Adventure. The Greek form of the proper names has been retained. And so went striding off, on that straight way And more glad, until gladness blossoms, bursts And recommence at sorrow: drops like seed After the blossom, ultimate of all. Say, does the seed scorn earth and seek the sun? Surely it has no other end and aim Than to drop, once more die into the ground, Taste cold and darkness and oblivion there: And thence rise, tree-like grow through pain to joy, Long time the Thessalians waited and mourned. Herakles, no doubt they supposed him dead. When it be? Ay, he it was advancing! In he strode, And took his stand before Admetos, - turned Now by despair to such a quietude, He neither raised his face nor spoke, this time, The while his friend surveyed him steadily. As for but can That friend looked rough with fighting: had he strained Shone out, all Herakles was back again, As the words followed the saluting hand. "Admetus," said he, "take and keep this woman, my captive, till I come thy way again." But Admetus would admit no woman into the hall that Alcestis had left empty. Then cried Herakles, "Take hold of her. See now, my friend, if she look not somewhat like that wife thou hast lost." Ah, but the tears come, find the words at fault! It was the crowning grace of that great heart, Risen to the height of her: so, hand in hand, Beside, when he found speech, you guess the speech. It was some mocking God that used the bliss ... And Herakles said little, but enough - But all the time, Alkestis moved not once |