And the Cydonian bow (which thou shalt see) Won in my race last spring from Eutychos. Hamad. Bethink thee what it is to leave a home Thou never yet hast left, one night, one day. Rhaicos. No, 'tis not hard to leave it; 'tis not hard To leave. O maiden, that paternal home, If there be one on earth whom we may love First, last, for ever; one who says that she Will love for ever too. To say which word, Only to say it, surely is enough. If any acorn of last year be left Acorn may do. Here's none. Another day Trust me; till then let me sit opposite. Hamad. I seat me; be thou seated, and content. Rhaicos. O sight for gods! ye men below adore The Aphroditè. Is she there below? The Hellespont, and brought his kindred "Has promised this, and may do more. Thou hast not many moons to wait until The bees have done their best; if then there come Nor wax nor honey, let the tree be hewn." "Zeus hath bestow'd on thee a prudent mind," Said the glad sire: “but look thou often there, And gather all the honey thou canst find Rhaicos went daily; but the nymph as oft, Invisible. To play at love, she knew, Stopping its breathings when it breathes most soft, Is sweeter than to play on any pipe. Cooling the pulses of her purple veins, And when her absence brought them out, they pleased. Even among the fondest of them all, What mortal or immortal maid is more Content with giving happiness than pain? One day he was returning from the wood Despondently. She pitied him, and said "Come back!" and twined her fingers in At this sight Down fell the languid brow, both hands fell down, A shriek was carried to the ancient hall Of Thallinos: he heard it not: his son Heard it, and ran forthwith into the wood. No bark was on the tree, no leaf was green, The trunk was riven through. From that day forth Nor word nor whisper sooth'd his ear, nor sound Even of insect wing; but loud laments The woodmen and the shepherds one long year Heard day and night; for Rhaicos would not quit The solitary place, but moan'd and died. Hence milk and honey wonder not, O guest, To find set duly on the hollow stone. 1846. ACON AND RHODOPÉ; OR, INCON STANCY (A Sequel) THE Year's twelve daughters had in turn gone by, Of measured pace though varying mien all twelve, Some froward, some sedater, some adorn'd For festival, some reckless of attire. The snow had left the mountain-top: fresh flowers Had withered in the meadow; fig and prune Where those whom death alone could sever, died." He started up: the moss whereon he slept Was dried and withered: deadlier paleness spread Over his cheek; he sickened: and the sire Had land enough; it held his only son. 1847. MENELAUS AND HELEN AT TROY After the fall of Troy, Helen is pursued by Menelaus up the steps of the palace; an old attendant deprecates and intercepts his vengeance. Menelaus. Out of my way! Off! or my sword may smite thee Heedless of venerable age. And thou Fugitive! stop. Stand, traitress, on that stair Thou mountest not another, by the gods! Now take the death thou meritest, the death Zeus who presides o'er hospitality, And every other who abandons thee mour Of what all other women hate, of cowards, Turn, lest this hand wrench back thy head, and toss It and its odors to the dust and flames. Helen. Welcome, the death thou promisest! Not fear But shame, obedience, duty, make me turn. Menelaus. Duty! false harlot ! Helen. Name too true! severe Precursor to the blow that is to fall. It should alone suffice for killing me. Menelaus. Ay, weep: be not the only one in Troy Who wails not on this day-its lastthe day Thou and thy crimes darken with dead on dead. Helen. Spare! spare! O let the last that falls be me, There are but young and old. Menelaus. There are but guilty Where thou art, and the sword strikes none amiss. |