I. THRASYMEDES AND EUNöe.

WHO will away to Athens with me? who

Unenvious? mount the pinnace; hoist the sail.

I promise ye, as many as are here,

Ye shall not, while ye tarry with me, taste

From unrinsed barrel the diluted wine
Of a low vineyard or a plant ill-pruned,
But such as anciently the Egan isles
Pour'd in libation at their solemn feasts:
And the same goblets shall ye grasp, embost
With no vile figures of loose languid boors,
But such as Gods have lived with, and have led.
The sea smiles bright before us. What white sail
Plays yonder? what pursues it? Like two hawks
Away they fly. Let us away in time

To overtake them. Are they menaces
We hear? And shall the strong repulse the weak,
Enraged at her defender? Hippias!
Art thou the man? "Twas Hippias. He had found
His sister borne from the Cecropian port
By Thrasymedes. And reluctantly?
Ask, ask the maiden; I have no reply.
"Brother! O brother Hippias! O, if love,
If pity, ever toucht thy breast, forbear!
Strike not the brave, the gentle, the beloved,
My Thrasymedes, with his cloak alone
Protecting his own head and mine from harm."
"Didst thou not once before," cried Hippias,
Regardless of his sister, hoarse with wrath
At Thrasymedes, "didst not thou, dog-eyed,
Dare, as she walkt up to the Parthenon,
On the most holy of all holy days,
In sight of all the city, dare to kiss

Her maiden cheek?"

(6
"Ay, before all the Gods,
Ay, before Pallas, before Artemis,
Ay, before Aphrodite, before Hera,

I dared; and dare again. Arise, my spouse!
Arise! and let my lips quaff purity

From thy fair open brow."

The sword was up. And yet he kist her twice. Some God withheld The arm of Hippias; his proud blood seeth'd slower And smote his breast less angrily; he laid

thyself

This question ere the sail first flapt the mast."

Already thou hast taken life from me;

Put up thy sword," said the sad youth, his eyes
Sparkling; but whether love or rage or grief
They sparkled with, the Gods alone could see.
Piræos they re-entered, and their ship
Drove up the little waves against the quay,
Whence was thrown out a rope from one above,
And Hippias caught it. From the virgin's waist
Her lover dropt his arm, and blusht to think
He had retain'd it there in sight of rude
Irreverent men: he led her forth, nor spake;
Hippias walkt silent too, until they reacht
The mansion of Pisistratos her sire.

Serenely in his sternness did the prince
Look on them both awhile: they saw not him,
For both had cast their eyes upon the ground.
"Are these the pirates thou hast taken, son?"
Said he. "Worse, father! worse than pirates they,
Who thus abuse thy patience, thus abuse
Thy pardon, thus abuse the holy rites
Twice over."

"Well hast thou performed thy duty," Firmly and gravely said Pisistratos.

Nothing then, rash young man! could turn thy. heart

From Eunoe, my daughter?"

Shall ever turn it.

And love but once.

"Nothing, sir,

I can die but once

O Eunöe! farewell!"

Nay, she shall see what thou canst bear for her."
"O father! shut me in my chamber, shut me
In my poor mother's tomb, dead or alive,
But never let me see what he can bear;

I know how much that is, when borne for me."
"Not yet: come on. And lag not thou behind,
Pirate of virgin and of princely hearts!
Before the people and before the Goddess
Thou hadst evinced the madness of thy passion,
And now wouldst bear from home and plenteous-

ness,

To poverty and exile, this my child."

Then shuddered Thrasymedes, and exclaim'd,
"I see my crime; I saw it not before.
The daughter of Pisistratos was born
Neither for exile nor for poverty,

Ah! nor for me!" He would have wept, but one
Might see him, and weep worse. The prince un-

moved

Strode on, and said, "To-morrow shall the people,
All who beheld thy trespasses, behold
The justice of Pisistratos, the love
He bears his daughter, and the reverence
In which he holds the highest law of God."
He spake; and on the morrow they were one.

II. DRIMACOS.

In Crete reign'd Zeus and Minos; and there sprang
From rocky Chios (but more years between)
Homer. Ah! who near Homer's side shall stand?
A slave, a slave shall stand near Homer's side.
Come from dark ages forth, come, Drimacos!

O gems of Ocean, shining here and there
Upon his vest of ever-changeful green,
Richer are ye than wide-spread continents,
Richer in thoughtful men and glorious deeds.
Drimacos was a slave; but Liberty

By him from Slavery sprang, as day from night.
Intolerable servitude o'erran

The isle of Chios. They whose sires had heard
The blind man, and the muse who sat beside,
Constant, as was the daughter to the king
Of Thebes, and comforting his sunless way,
Yea, even these bore stones within their breasts,
Buying by land or capturing by sea,
And torturing too limbs fashion'd like their own,
Limbs like the Gods' they all fell down before.
But Zeus had from Olympus lookt oblique,
Then breath'd into the breasts of suffering slaves
Heroic courage and heroic strength,
And wisdom for their guidance and support.
Drimacos he appointed to coerce
The pride of the enslaver, and to free
All those who laboured and were heavy-laden
With griefs, not even by the avenging Gods
Inflicted, wrongs which men alone inflict
On others, when their vices have scoopt out
A yoke far more opprobrious for themselves.
From field to field the clang of arms was heard;
Fires from the rocks and the hill-tops by night
Collected all the valiant, all the young,
Female and male, stripling and suckling babe,
By mother (then most fond) not left behind.
But many were o'ertaken; many dropt
Faint by the road; thirst, hunger, terror, seiz'd
Separate their prey. Among the fugitives,
In the most crowded and the narrowest path
That led into the thickets on the hill,
Was Amymone with her infant boy,
Eiarinos. She pray'd the Gods, nor pray'd
Inaudible, although her voice had fail'd.
On Drimacos she called by name; he heard
The voice; he turn'd his head, and cried aloud:
"Comrades! take up yon infant from the arms
That sink with it; and help the mother on."

Far in advance was he; all urged amain;
All minded their own household, nor obey'd.
But he rusht back amid them till he reacht
The mother, who had fallen under-foot,
Trampled, but not relinquishing her hold.
Scarcely was space to stoop in, yet he stoopt
And rais'd what feebly wail'd among men's legs,
And placed it on his head, that the fresh air
Might solace it: soon it began to play,
To pat the hair of some, of some the eyes,
Unconscious that its mother's soul had fled.
The dust rose lower, for the sultry day
Was closing, and above shone Hesperus
Alone. On mossy banks within the brake
The men threw down their weapons snatcht in
haste,

Impenetrable woods received their flight,
And shelter'd and conceal'd them from pursuit.
There many years they dwelt; nor only there,
But also in the plain and in the towns
Fought they, and overthrew the wealthier race,
And drove their cattle off and reapt their grain.
Drimacos, strong in justice, strong in arms,
Prompt, vigilant, was everywhere obey'd.
He proffer'd the proud Chiots, half-subdued,
Repression of invaders, in return

For their repression of invaders too,
And corn and wine and oil enough for all,
And horned victims to avenger Zeus.
But plenteousness and sloth relaxt his hold
Upon a few, men yearning to partake
The vices of a city: murmurs rose
And reacht the ear of Drimacos, and reacht
The wealthy towns and their impatient lords.
Rewards were offered for the leader's head,
And askt perhaps ere offered. When he found
Ingratitude so nigh and so alert,

He listened calmly to the chiefs around,
His firm defenders; then replied:

"My friends! Already in the days of youth ye watcht Over the common-weal, but now your eyes And mine too want repose. Fear not for me, But guard yourselves. The Gods who placed me here

To give thee substance such as parents give.
Alas! 'tis wanting: nought is in the house
Save arms, as thou well knowest; but those men
Who left me now, had talkt with thee before,
And there are marks along thy cheek which tears
Leave upon maidens' cheeks, not upon men's.

Eiarinos spake not, but threw his arms
Around his guardian's neck and shook with grief.
"Thou shalt not be quite destitute, my son!"
Said he, "Thou knowest what reward awaits
Him who shall bring my head within the town.

Here! strike! let never traitor grasp the gold." Forward he held the hilt and lowered his brow. "Bequeathest thou to parricidal hand,

O father that accursed gold?" cried he,
And ran against the portal, blind with tears.
But the calm man now caught his arm, and said,
"Delay may bring on both what comes for one.
Inevitable is my death: at least

Promise me this one thing, Eiarinos!

And I release thee: swear that, when I die,
Thou wilt, against all adversaries, bear

My head to those who seek it, pledge of peace."
Calmer, but sobbing deep, the youth replied,
"When Zeus the liberator shall appoint
The pastor of the people to depart,

His will be done! if such be his and thine."
He lowered his eyes in reverence to the earth;
And Drimacos then smote into his breast
The unaccepted sword. The pious youth
Fell overpowered with anguish, nor arose
Until the elders, who had gone, return'd.
They comforted the orphan, and implored
He would perform the duty thus enjoined.
Nor Muse, nor Memory her mother, knows
The sequel: but upon the highest peak
Of Chios is an altar of square stone
Roughened by time, and some believe they trace
In ancient letters, cubit-long, the words
Drimacos and Eiarinos and Zeus.

III. THERON AND ZOE.

Zoe. Changed very true, O Theron, I am changed.

Theron. It would at least have been as merciful To hold a moment back from me the briar You let recoil thus sharply on my breast. Not long ago, not very long, you own'd With maiden blushes, which became your brow Better than corn-flower, or that periwinkle Trained round it by a very careful hand, A long while trimming it (no doubt) and proud Of making its blue blossom laugh at me. Zoe. I could laugh too.

seems

(It was so little) you have quite forgot.
Theron. That, since we sate together day by day,
And walkt together, sang together, none
Of earliest, gentlest, fondest, maiden friends
Loved you as formerly. If one remained
Dearer to you than any of the rest,
You could not wish her greater happiness . .
Zoe. Than what?

Theron. I think you never could have said it.. I must have dreamt it.

Zoe.
Tell me then your dream.
Theron. I thought you said.. nay, I will swear
you said..

More than one heard it.. that you could not wish
The nearest to your heart more perfect joy
Than Theron's love.

To avoid My importunity; to hear no more The broken words that spoilt our mutual song, The sobs that choakt my flute, the humidity (Not from the lip) that gurgled on the stops. Zoe. I would avoid them all; they troubled me. Theron. Now then, farewell.

easy Zoe. As what? Theron. Zoe.

As death.

O Theron! once indeed

I said the words which then so flatter'd you, And now so pain you. Long before my friends

Left me through envy of your fondness for me,
No, not the dearest of them could I bear
To see beloved by you. False words I spake,
Not knowing then how false they were.
Theron.

One that shall drown them all.

Zoe.

My voice is gone. Why did you kiss me, if you wisht to hear it?

IV. DAMETAS AND IDA.

Damætas is a boy as rude

As ever broke maid's solitude.

He watcht the little Ida going

Where the wood-raspberries were growing, And, under a pretence of fear

Lest they might scratch her arms, drew near,
And, plucking up a stiff grey bent,

The fruit (scarce touching it,) he sent
Into both hands: the form they took
Of a boat's keel upon a brook;
So not a raspberry fell down

To splash her foot or stain her gown.
When it was over, for his pains
She let his lips do off the stains
That were upon two fingers; he

At first kist two, and then kist three,
And, to be certain every stain
Had vanisht, kist them o'er again.
At last the boy, quite shameless, said
"See! I have taken out the red!
Now where there 's redder richer fruit
Pray, my sweet Ida, let me do 't."
"Audacious creature!" she cried out,
"What in the world are you about?"
He had not taken off the red

All over; on both cheeks 'twas spread;
And the two lips that should be white
With fear, if not with fear, with spite
At such ill usage, never show'd
More comely, or more deeply glow'd.
Damætas fancied he could move
The girl to listen to his love:

V. LYSANDER, ALCANOR, PHANöe.

Lysander. Art thou grown hoarse by sitting in

the sun

Of early spring, when winds come down adrift To punish them they find asleep at noon?

Alcanor. But not unless a Nymph or Nymphlike maid

To call down vengeance upon those who love: And he hath sworn by Pan that he will sing If thou wilt follow him up Mænalos.

Phanöe. He may snatch off my slipper while I
kneel

To Pan, upon the stone so worn aslant
That it is difficult to kneel upon
Without my leaving half a slipper loose.
Little cares he for Pan: he scarcely fears
That other, powerfuller and terribler,

To whom more crowns are offered than to Zeus,
Or any God beside, and oftener changed.
In spring we garland him with pointed flowers,
Anemone and crocus and jonquil,

And tender hyacinth in clustering curls;
Then with sweet-breathing mountain strawberry;
Then pear and apple blossom, promising
(If he is good) to bring the fruit full-ripe,
Hanging it round about his brow, his nose,
Down even to his lips. When autumn comes,
His russet vine-wreath crackles under grapes:
Some trim his neck with barley, wheat, and oat;
Some twine his naked waist with them: and last
His reverend head is seen and worshipt through
Stiff narrow olive-leaves, that last till spring.
Say, ought I not to fear so wild a boy,
Who fears not even him! but once has tried
By force to make me pat him, after prayers?
How fierce then lookt the God! and from above
How the club reddened, as athirst for blood!
Yet, fearing and suspecting the audacious,
Up Mænalos I must, for there my herd
Is browsing on the thorn and citisus
At random.

Lysander. He hath not endured thy frown,
But hurries off.

song,