Skip to main content

Full text of "The variorum and definitive edition of the poetical and prose writings of Edward Fitzgerald, including a complete bibliography and interesting personal and literary notes;"

See other formats 


lUIHiUlMllt! 


^■/  ^. 


This  edition  consists  of  twenty-five  sets  on 
Japan  paper,  one  hundred  sets  on  hand-made 
paper,  and  two  hundred  and  fifty  sets  on  a 
specially  made  paper,  all  numbered  and  signed. 

No.   OS' 


THE   VARIORUM   AND   DEFINITIVE   EDITION 
OF  THE  POETICAL  AND  PROSE  WRITINGS  OF 

EDWARD  FITZGERALD 


THE    VARIORUM    AND    DEFINITIVE    EDITION 
OF  THE  POETICAL  AND  PROSE  WRITINGS  OF 

EDWARD    FITZGERALD 

INCLUDING   A    COMPLETE    BIBLIOGRAPHY    AND 

INTERESTING  PERSONAL  AND  LITERARY  NOTES 

THE    WHOLE    COLLECTED    AND    ARRANGED    BY 

GEORGE  BENTHAM 

AND  WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 

EDMUND  GOSSE 


I 


VOLUME  THREE 


DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  AND  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK,  MDCCCCII 


Copyright,  1902,  by 
William  Patten. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

RUBAIYAT   OF  OMAR   KHAYYAM,   FIFTH   EDITION         1 
TITLE-PAGE    OF    RUBAIYAT    OF    OMAR    KHAYYAM, 
THIRD    EDITION 3 

EXTRACTS  FROM  FITZGERALD'S  LETTERS  RELAT- 
ING TO  "  SALAMAN  AND  ABSAL/'  THIRD  EDI- 
TION    ix 

SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL,   FOURTH   EDITION  ...       41 

EXTRACTS  FROM  FITZGERALD'S  LETTERS  RELAT- 
ING TO  "  EUPHRANOR,"  THIRD  EDITION     .      .        xi 

"  EUPHRANOR,"  THIRD  EDITION 109 

EXTRACTS  FROM  FITZGERALD'S  LETTERS  RELAT- 
ING TO  "AGAMEMNON,"  SECOND  EDITION  .      .       xv 

AGAMEMNON,  THIRD  EDITION 193 


(Note.     The  original  pagination  of  the  works  is  indicated  by  italic  numerals  in 

parentheses  in  the  margins,  and  the  various  title-pages 

are  reproduced  in  facsimile.) 


RUBAIYAT 

OF 

OMAR  KHAYYAM 


Yo'^'.^u'^'^''^ 

^ 

^     ^ 

a^ *4    XP 

y\  *>W^            \v^  jP^             vv      *     /       'i^K 

r^vC^ 

^ 

/yw-/^^^ 

^^^Z^^ 

S; 

^^w^^'^^T''-  "-l^'& 

r^%^ 

^ 

^^^^/T"  rtO^/-K 

"■'avI''^^ 

Z 

"^'^Cl^'"^    /Vm//^'^t^ 

v^  1   1  /  \     ^SL_-— ' 

A--^ 

<^                 ■**■            ,Av-  /      y        \/      /          I    //\ 

vj  /y      r3^ 

^       "^     ^     ^            /3*-H^-^  "*     1  //'-  ) 

V 

/^       T^    AcX 

«... 

^                           -A       "^                '^         ^  /  '^^^Z—iP  ~Z^ 

1-  A 

■\ 

\j. 

■~/^oS-/c"#:'-^ 

^                    -v>           IV              V 

-           \\~^ 

JV 

V-K'                    AA,'    /        ^5^/7V            "^                       ^•^/^TlV       ^V       -*■ 

.                                 ^   >»o       » 

/S 

i?S^''/l1t>  I'V                          ^^rffej-^    \ 

^V^    -^    ^"  *  W 

0 

^    ^^  ^^^^y    w'^Sl^sJl-.v^^^!''^ 

Xlff'^  s                           1 

I 

V^         T^vK/        •^il/           '  A——'Af0^x'^^~^^S\     tv^^'i  \>i 

^;^^       '"-" 

\P 

^     ^^^il^^ 

l^v"  ->^ 

^ 

P^^iL-^^?^^uP 

M:-  :J 

./-/ 

— r^^  b,.-J^„Hi-^ 

19                         \^Kj-». 

y^    ^  -^  ""-    v^~  '^ 

/y     w^       ^i^^            -vr 

.^ 

^'^          *,, 

^^    jJV>-         "^ 

-^                                                                   /v^                                                      A^               .^ 

-r*w             ^ 

~^ 

1.          ,/v»« 

'"^^                 .A^*^ 

wv 

-^'"         ^,.           --^        ,''»v*    r-        '*"            *"* 

1 

RUBilYAT 


OF 


OMAR  KHAYYAM, 


THE  ASTRONOMER-POET  OF  PERSIA. 


EentferetJ  into  iSnglisf)  Ferae. 


THIRD  EDITION. 


LONDON: 

BERNARD    QUARITCH, 

PICCADILLY. 

1872. 


POEMS 


FROM    THE 


PERSIAN, 


•4iS^ 


RUBAIYAT 

OF 

OMAR     KHAYYAM; 

AISD  THE 

.salAmAn  and  absal 

OF 

JAMI; 

RENDERED  INTO  ENGLISH    VERSE. 


Bernard     Quaritchj     15    Piccadilly,    London. 
1879. 


f 


-€#^- 


^5#^^ 


rubaiyAt 


OMAR     KHAYYAM, 


THE  ASTRONOMER-POET  OF  PERSIA. 


EentJetetJ  (nto  lEnglis!)  TJerae. 


FOURTH  EDITION. 


0<»«^- 


OMAR  KHAYYAM, 

THE 
ASTRONOMER-POET   OF   PERSIA. 

[The  biography  of  Omar  Khayyam  prefixed  to  the  third  edition  of 
the  "Rubaiyat"  (1873)  and  to  the  posthumous  edition  (1889)  are 
the  same  as  that  printed  in  the  second  edition  (1868) — save  that 
the  anecdote  quoted  from  Nicolas  *  is  omitted,  and  the  following 
paragraph  is  substituted  for  the  final  one] — 

However,  as  there  is  some  traditional  presumption,  and 
certainly  the  opinion  of  some  learned  men,  in  favour  of 
Omar's  being  a  Siifi — and  even  something  of  a  Saint — 
those  who  please  may  so  interpret  his  Wine  and  Cup- 
bearer. On  the  other  hand,  as  there  is  far  more  historical 
certainty  of  his  being  a  Philosopher,  of  scientific  Insight 
and  Ability  far  beyond  that  of  the  Age  and  Country  he 
lived  in;  of  such  moderate  worldly  Ambition  as  becomes 
a  Philosopher,  and  such  moderate  wants  as  rarely  satisfy 
a  Debauchee ;  other  readers  may  be  content  to  believe  with 
me  that,  while  the  Wine  Omar  celebrates  is  simply  the 
Juice  of  the  Grape,  he  bragged  more  than  he  drank  of  it, 
in  very  defiance  perhaps  of  that  Spiritual  Wine  which 
left  its  Votaries  sunk  in  Hypocrisy  or  Disgust. 
*Vol.  II.  p.  16-17. 


[        11        ] 


RUBAIYAT 

OF 
OMAR  KHAYYAM  OF  NAISHAPUR. 

I  Wake!     For  the  Sun,  who  scatter'd  into  flight 
The  Stars  before  him  from  the  Field  of  Night, 

Drives  Night  along  with  them  from  Heav  n,  and  strikes 
The  Sultan's  Turret  with  a  Shaft  of  Light. 

II  Before  the  phantom  of  False  morning  died, 
Methought  a  Voice  within  the  Tavern  cried, 
"When  all  the  Temple  is  prepared  within, 
"Why  nods  the  drowsy  Worshipper  outside?" 

III  And,  as  the  Cock  crew,  those  who  stood  before 
The  Tavern  shouted — "Open  then  the  Door! 

"You  know  how  little  while  we  have  to  stay, 
"And,  once  departed,  may  return  no  more." 

IV  Now  the  New  Year  reviving  old  Desires,  (2) 
The  thoughtful  Soul  to  Solitude  retires. 

Where  the  White  Hand  of  Moses  on  the  Bough 
Puts  out,  and  Jesus  from  the  Ground  suspires. 

[      13      ] 


K?xS?N  RUBAIYAT   OF 


V  Iram  indeed  is  gone  with  all  his  Rose, 

And  Jamshyd's  Sev'n-ring'd  Cup  where  no  one  knows ; 

But  still  a  Ruby  kindles  in  the  Vine,* 
And  many  a  Garden  by  the  Water  blows. 

VI  And  David's  lips  are  lockt;  but  in  divine 

High-piping  Pehlevi,  with  "Wine!    Wine!    Wine! 
"Red  Wine!" — ^the  Nightingale  cries  to  the  Rose 
That  sallow  cheek  of  hers  to'  incarnadine. 

VII  Come,  fill  the  Cup,  and  in  the  fire  of  Spring 
Your  Winter-garment  of  Repentance  fling: 

The  Bird  of  Time  has  but  a  little  way 
To  flutter — and  the  Bird  is  on  the  Wing. 

VIII  Whether  at  Naishapiir  or  Babylon,  (s) 

Whether  the  Cup  with  sweet  or  bitter  run. 

The  Wine  of  Life  keeps  oozing  drop  by  drop. 
The  Leaves  of  Life  keep  falling  one  by  one. 

IX  Each  Mom  a  thousand  Roses  brings,  you  say; 
Yes,  but  where  leaves  the  Rose  of  Yesterday? 

And  this  first  Summer  month  that  brings  the  Rose 
Shall  take  Jamshyd  and  Kaikobad  away. 

*  But  still  a  Ruby  gushes  from  the  Vine.     (Third  edition.) 

[  1*  ] 


OMAR  KHAYYAM.  J^,^, 


EDITION 


X  Well,  let  it  take  them!     'What  have  we  to  do 
With  Kaikobad  the  Great,  or  Kaikhosru? 

Let  Zal  and  Rustum  bluster  as  they  will,* 
Or  Hatim  call  to  Supper — heed  not  you. 

XI  With  me  along  the  strip  of  Herbage  strown 
That  just  divides  the  desert  from  the  sown. 

Where  name  of  Slave  and  Sultan  is  forgot — 
And  Peace  to  Mahmiid  on  his  golden  Throne! 

XII  A  Book  of  Verses  underneath  the  Bough,  (4) 

A  Jug  of  Wine,  a  Loaf  of  Bread — and  Thou 

Beside  me  singing  in  the  Wilderness — 
Oh,  Wilderness  were  Paradise  enow! 

XIII  Some  for  the  Glories  of  This  World ;  and  some 
Sigh  for  the  Prophet's  Paradise  to  come; 

Ah,  take  the  Cash,  and  let  the  Credit  go, 
Nor  heed  the  rumble  of  a  distant  Drum! 

XIV  Look  to  the  blowing  Rose  about  us — "Lo, 
"Laughing,"  she  says,  "into  the  world  I  blow, 

"At  once  the  silken  tassel  of  my  Purse 
"Tear,  and  its  Treasure  on  the  Garden  throw." 

*  Let  Zal  and  Rustum  thunder  as  they  will.     (Third  edition.) 

[      15      ] 


kSSon  rubaiyat  of 


XV  And  those  who  husbanded  the  Golden  Grain, 
And  those  who  flung  it  to  the  winds  like  Rain, 
Alike  to  no  such  aureate  Earth  are  turn'd 
As,  buried  once.  Men  want  dug  up  again. 

XVI  The  Worldly  Hope  men  set  their  Hearts  upon         (5) 
Turns  Ashes — or  it  prospers;  and  anon, 

Like  Snow  upon  the  Desert's  dusty  Face, 
Lighting  a  little  hour  or  two — is  gone.* 

XVII  Think,  in  this  batter'd  Caravanserai 

Whose  Portals  are  alternate  Night  and  Day, 
How  Sultan  after  Sultan  with  his  Pomp 
Abode  his  destined  Hour,  and  went  his  way. 

XVIII  They  say  the  Lion  and  the  Lizard  keep 

The  Courts  where  Jamshyd  gloried  and  drank  deep: 

And  Bahram,  that  great  Hunter — the  Wild  Ass 
Stamps  o'er  his  Head,  but  cannot  break  his  Sleep. 

XIX  I  sometimes  think  that  never  blows  so  red 
The  Rose  as  where  some  buried  Caesar  bled ; 
That  every  Hyacinth  the  Garden  wears 
Dropt  in  her  Lap  from  some  once  lovely  Head. 

*  Lighting  a  little    hour   or   two — was   gone.      (Third   and   Fourth 
editions.) 

[     16     ] 


OMAR  KHAYYAM. 


EDITION 


XX  And  this  reviving  Herb  whose  tender  Green  (6) 

Fledges  the  River-Lip  on  which  we  lean — 
Ah,  lean  upon  it  lightly!  for  who  knows 
From  what  once  lovely  Lip  it  springs  unseen ! 

XXI  Ah,  my  Beloved,  fill  the  Cup  that  clears 
To-DAY  of  past  Regrets  and  future  Fears: 
To-morrow! — ^why.  To-morrow  I  may  be 
Myself  with  Yesterday's  Sev'n  thousand  Years. 

XXII  For  some  we  loved,  the  loveliest  and  the  best 

That  from  his  Vintage  rolling  Time  hath  prest. 

Have  drunk  their  Cup  a  Round  or  two  before. 
And  one  by  one  crept  silently  to  rest. 

XXIII  And  we,  that  now  make  merry  in  the  Room 

They  left,  and  Summer  dresses  in  new  bloom. 

Ourselves  must  we  beneath  the  Couch  of  Earth 
Descend — ourselves  to  make  a  Couch — for  whom? 

XXIV  Ah,  make  the  most  of  what  we  yet  may  spend,         (7) 
Before  we  too  into  the  Dust  descend ; 

Dust  into  Dust,  and  under  Dust  to  lie, 
Sans  Wine,  sans  Song,  sans  Singer,  and — sans  End! 

[    17    ] 


kSSJ.  rubaiyat  of 


XXV  Alike  for  those  who  for  To-day  prepare, 

And  those  that  after  some  To-morrow  stare, 

A  Muezzin  from  the  Tower  of  Darkness  cries, 
"Fools!  your  Reward  is  neither  Here  nor  There." 

XXVI  Why  all  the  Saints  and  Sages  who  discuss'd 

Of  the  Two  Worlds  so  wisely — they  are  thrust  * 

Like  foolish  Prophets  forth;  their  Words  to  Scorn 
Are  scatter'd,  and  their  Mouths  are  stopt  with  Dust. 

XXVII  Myself  when  young  did  eagerly  frequent 

Doctor  and  Saint,  and  heard  great  argument 

About  it  and  about:  but  evermore 
Came  out  by  the  same  door  where  in  I  went. 

XXVIII  With  them  the  seed  of  Wisdom  did  I  sow,  (s) 

And  with  mine  own  hand  wrought  to  make  it  grow; 

And  this  was  all  the  Harvest  that  I  reap'd — 
"I  came  like  Water,  and  like  Wind  I  go." 

XXIX  Into  this  Universe,  and  Why  not  knowing 

Nor  Whence,  like  Water  willy-nilly  flowing; 

And  out  of  it,  as  Wind  along  the  Waste, 
I  know  not  Whither,  willy-nilly  blowing. 

*  Of  the  Two  V^orlds  so  learnedly  are  thrust.     (Third  edition.) 

[     18     ] 


OMAR  KHAYYAM.  ^"'^^ 


EDITION 


XXX  What,  without  asking,  hither  hurried  Whence? 
And,  without  asking.  Whither  hurried  hence! 

Oh,  many  a  Cup  of  this  forbidden  Wine 
Must  drown  the  memory  of  that  insolence! 

XXXI  Up  from  Earth's  Centre  through  the  Seventh  Gate 
I  rose,  and  on  the  Throne  of  Saturn  sate, 

And  many  a  Knot  unravell'd  by  the  Road; 
But  not  the  Master-knot  of  Human  Fate. 

XXXII  There  was  the  Door  to  which  I  found  no  Key;      W 
There  was  the  Veil  through  which  I  might  not  see :  * 

Some  little  talk  awhile  of  Me  and  Thee 
There  was — and  then  no  more  of  Thee  and  Me. 

XXXIII  Earth  could  not  answer;  nor  the  Seas  that  mourn 
In  flowing  Purple,  of  their  Lord  forlorn; 

Nor  rolling  Heaven,  with  all  his  Signs  reveal'd 
And  hidden  by  the  sleeve  of  Night  and  Morn. 

XXXIV  Then  of  the  Thee  in  Me  who  works  behind 
The  Veil,  I  lifted  up  my  hands  to  find 

A  lamp  amid  the  Darkness ;  and  I  heard. 
As  from  Without — "The  me  within  Thee  blind!" 

*  There    was    the    Veil    through    which    I    could    not    see.      (Third 
edition.) 

[     19     ] 


EDiS?N  RUBAIYAT  OF 


XXXV  Then  to  the  Lip  of  this  poor  earthen  Urn 
I  lean'd,  the  Secret  of  my  Life  to  learn: 

And  Lip  to  Lip  it  murmur'd — "While  you  live, 
"Drink! — for,  once  dead,  you  never  shall  return." 

XXXVI  I  think  the  Vessel,  that  with  fugitive  (lo) 

Articulation  answer'd,  once  did  live. 

And  drink;  and  Ah!  the  passive  Lip  I  kiss'd, 
How  many  Kisses  might  it  take — and  give! 

XXXVII  For  I  remember  stopping  by  the  way 

To  watch  a  Potter  thumping  his  wet  Clay: 

And  with  its  all-obliterated  Tongue 
It  murmur'd — "Gently,  Brother,  gently,  pray!" 

XXXVIII*  And  has  not  such  a  Story  from  of  Old 

Down  Man's  successive  generations  roU'd 

Of  such  a  clod  of  saturated  Earth 
Cast  by  the  Maker  into  Human  mould? 

XXXIX  And  not  a  drop  that  from  our  Cups  we  throw 
For  Earth  to  drink  of,  but  may  steal  below 

To  quench  the  fire  of  Anguish  in  some  Eye 
There  hidden — far  beneath,  and  long  ago. 

*  XXXVIII  Listen — a  moment  listen ! — Of  the  same 

Poor  Earth  from  which  that  Human  Whisper  came 

The  luckless  Mould  in  which  Mankind  was  cast 
They  did  compose^  and  call'd  him  by  the  name.      (Third 
edition.) 

[     20     ] 


OMAR  KHAYYAM.  J^I'r^. 


EDITION 


XL  As  then  the  Tulip  for  her  morning  sup  (ii) 

Of  Heav'nly  Vintage  from  the  soil  looks  up, 

Do  you  devoutly  do  the  like,  till  Heav'n 
To  Earth  invert  you — like  an  empty  Cup. 

XLi  Perplext  no  more  with  Human  or  Divine, 
To-morrow's  tangle  to  the  winds  resign, 
And  lose  your  fingers  in  the  tresses  of 
The  Cypress-slender  Minister  of  Wine. 

XLii  And  if  the  Wine  you  drink,  the  Lip  you  press. 
End  in  what  All  begins  and  ends  in — Yes; 

Think  that  you  are  To-day  what  Yesterday 
You  were — To-moerow  you  shall  not  be  less. 

XLiii  So  when  that  Angel  of  the  darker  Drink  * 
At  last  shall  find  you  by  the  river-brink. 

And,  offering  his  Cup,  invite  your  Soul 
Forth  to  your  Lips  to  quaff — you  shall  not  shrink. 

XLiv  Why,  if  the  Soul  can  fiing  the  Dust  aside,  (12) 

And  naked  on  the  Air  of  Heaven  ride. 

Were  't  not  a  Shame — ^were  't  not  a  Shame  for  him 
In  this  clay  carcase  crippled  to  abide? 

*  So  when  the  Angel  of  the  darker   Drink.      (Third  and   Fourth 
editions.) 

[  21  ] 


eSSon  rubaiyat  of 


XLV  'T  is  but  a  Tent  where  takes  his  one  day's  rest 
A  Sultan  to  the  realm  of  Death  addrest ; 

The  Sultan  rises,  and  the  dark  Ferrash 
Strikes,  and  prepares  it  for  another  Guest. 

XLVi  And  fear  not  lest  Existence  closing  your 

Account,  and  mine,  should  know  the  like  no  more; 

The  Eternal  Saki  from  that  Bowl  has  pour'd 
Millions  of  Bubbles  like  us,  and  will  pour. 

XLVii  When  You  and  I  behind  the  Veil  are  past, 

Oh,  but  the  long,  long  while  the  World  shall  last. 

Which  of  our  Coming  and  Departure  heeds 
As  the  Sea's  self  should  heed  a  pebble-cast.* 

XLViii  A  Moment's  Halt — a  momentary  taste  (is) 

Of  Being  from  the  Well  amid  the  Waste — 

And  Lol — the  phantom  Caravan  has  reach'd 
The  Nothing  it  set  out  from — Oh,  make  haste! 

XLix  Would  you  that  spangle  of  Existence  spend 
About  THE  SECRET — quick  about  it,  Friend! 

A  Hair  perhaps  divides  the  False  and  True — 
And  upon  what,  prithee,  may  life  depend  ?t 

*  As  the  Sev'n  Seas  should  heed  a  pebble-cast.     (Third  edition.) 
f  And  upon  what,  prithee,  does  Life  depend.^     (Third  and  Fourth 
editions.) 

[      22      ] 


OMAR  KHAYYAM.  ^^r^" 


EDITION 


L  A  Hair  perhaps  divides  the  False  and  True ; 
Yes;  and  a  single  Alif  were  the  clue — 

Could  you  but  find  it — to  the  Treasure-house, 
And  perad venture  to  The  Master  too ; 

LI  Whose  secret  Presence,  through  Creation's  veins 
Running  Quicksilver-like  eludes  your  pains; 
Taking  all  shapes  from  Mah  to  Mahi ;  and 
They  change  and  perish  all — but  He  remains; 

Lii  A  moment  guess'd — then  back  behind  the  Fold  (i4) 

Immerst  of  Darkness  round  the  Drama  roU'd 

Which,  for  the  Pastime  of  Eternity, 
He  doth  Himself  contrive,  enact,  behold. 

ijii  But  if  in  vain,  down  on  the  stubborn  floor 

Of  Earth,  and  up  to  Heav'n's  unopening  Door, 

You  gaze  To-day,  while  You  are  You — how  then 
To-MORROw,  You  when  shall  be  You  no  more? 

Liv  Waste  not  your  Hour,  nor  in  the  vain  pursuit 
Of  This  and  That  endeavour  and  dispute ; 

Better  be  jocund  with  the  fruitful  Grape 
That  sadden  after  none,  or  bitter,  Fruit. 

[      23      ] 


EDiSoN  RUBAIYAT  OF 


Lv  You  know,  my  Friends,  with  what  a  brave  Carouse 
I  made  a  Second  Marriage  in  my  house ; 

Divorced  old  barren  Reason  from  my  Bed, 
And  took  the  Daughter  of  the  Vine  to  Spouse. 

LVi  For  "Is"  and  "Is-not"  though  with  Rule  and  ljme,(  15) 
And  "Up-and-down"  by  Logic  I  define, 

Of  all  that  one  should  care  to  fathom,  I 
Was  never  deep  in  anything  but — Wine. 

LVii  Ah,  but  my  Computations,  People  say, 

Reduced  the  Year  to  better  reckoning? — Nay, 

'Twas  only  striking  from  the  Calendar 
Unborn  To-morrow,  and  dead  Yesterday. 

LVlii  And  lately,  by  the  Tavern  Door  agape. 

Came  shining  through  the  Dusk  an  Angel  Shape 

Bearing  a  Vessel  on  his  Shoulder ;  and 
He  bid  me  taste  of  it ;  and  't  was — the  Grape ! 

Lix  The  Grape  that  can  with  Logic  absolute 

The  Two-and-Seventy  jarring  Sects  confute: 

The  sovereign  Alchemist  that  in  a  trice 
Life's  leaden  metal  into  Gold  transmute : 

[      24      ] 


OMAR  KHAYYAM.  ^'^.^^ 

LX  The  mighty  Mahmiid,  Allah-breathing  Lord,  (i6) 

That  all  the  misbelieving  and  black  Horde 

Of  Fears  and  Sorrows  that  infest  the  Soul 
Scatters  before  him  with  his  whirlwind  Sword. 

LXi  Why,  be  this  Juice  the  growth  of  God,  who  dare 
Blaspheme  the  twisted  tendril  as  a  Snare? 

A  Blessing,  we  should  use  it,  should  we  not? 
And  if  a  Curse — ^why,  then.  Who  set  it  there? 

LXii  I  must  abjure  the  Balm  of  Life,  I  must, 

Scared  by  some  After-reckoning  ta'en  on  trust. 
Or  lured  with  Hope  of  some  Diviner  Drink, 
To  fill  the  Cup — when  crumbled  into  Dust! 

LXiii  Oh  threats  of  Hell  and  Hopes  of  Paradise! 
One  thing  at  least  is  certain — This  Life  flies ; 

One  thing  is  certain  and  the  rest  is  Lies ; 
The  Flower  that  once  has  blown  for  ever  dies. 

Lxiv  Strange,  is  it  not?  that  of  the  myriads  who  (17; 

Before  us  pass'd  the  door  of  Darkness  through 

Not  one  returns  to  tell  us  of  the  Road, 
Which  to  discover  we  must  travel  too. 

[     25      ] 


,-™  RUBAIYAT  OF 


Lxv  The  Revelations  of  Devout  and  Learn'd 

Who  rose  before  us,  and  as  Prophets  burn'd,  . 
Are  all  but  Stories,  which,  awoke  from  Sleep 
They  told  their  comrades,  and  to  Sleep  return'd.* 

Lxvi  I  sent  my  Soul  through  the  Invisible, 
Some  letter  of  that  After-life  to  spell: 

And  by  and  by  my  Soul  return'd  to  me, 
And  answered  "I  Myself  am  Heav'n  and  Hell:" 

Lxvii  Heav'n  but  the  Vision  of  fulfiU'd  Desire, 

And  Hell  the  Shadow  from  a  Soul  on  fire,t 

Cast  on  the  Darkness  into  which  Ourselves, 
So  late  emerged  from,  shall  so  soon  expire. 

Lxviii  We  are  no  other  than  a  moving  row  (is) 

Of  Magic  Shadow-shapes  that  come  and  go 

Round  with  the  Sun-illumined  Lantern  held  J 
In  Midnight  by  the  Master  of  the  Show ; 

LXix  But  helpless  Pieces  of  the  Game  He  plays  § 

Upon  this  Chequer-board  of  Nights  and  Days; 

Hither  and  thither  moves,  and  checks,  and  slays. 
And  one  by  one  back  in  the  Closet  lays. 

*  They  told  their  fellows,  and  to  Sleep  return'd.     (Third  edition.) 
f  And  Hell  the  Shadow  of  a  Soul  on  fire.     (Third  edition.) 
I  Round  with  this  Sun-illumin'd  Lantern  held.     (Third  edition.) 
§  Impotent  Pieces  of  the  Game  He  plays.     (Third  edition.) 

[     26     ] 


OMAR  KHAYYAM. 


SDITION 


Lxx  The  Ball  no  question  makes  of  Ayes  and  Noes, 
But  Here  or  There  as  strikes  the  Player  goes;  * 

And  He  that  toss'd  you  down  into  the  Field, 
He  knows  about  it  all — he  knows — HE  knows! 

Lxxi  The  Moving  Finger  writes;  and,  having  writ. 
Moves  on:  nor  all  your  Piety  nor  Wit 

Shall  lure  it  back  to  cancel  half  a  Line, 
Nor  all  your  Tears  wash  out  a  Word  of  it. 

Lxxii  And  that  inverted  Bowl  they  call  the  Sky,  (loy 

Whereunder  crawling  coop'd  we  live  and  die. 
Lift  not  your  hands  to  It  for  help — for  It 
As  impotently  moves  as  you  or  I.f 

Lxxiii  With  Earth's  first  Clay  They  did  the  Last  Man  knead. 
And  there  of  the  Last  Harvest  sow'd  the  Seed : 

And  the  first  Morning  of  Creation  wrote 
What  the  Last  Dawn  of  Reckoning  shall  read. 

Lxxiv  Yesterday  This  Day's  Madness  did  prepare ; 
To-morrow's  Silence,  Triumph,  or  Despair: 

Drink !  for  you  know  not  whence  you  came,  nor  why : 
Drink !  for  you  know  not  why  you  go,  nor  where. 

*  But  Right  or  Left  as  strikes  the  Player  goes.     (Third  edition.) 
f  As  impotently  rolls  as  you  or  I.     {Third  edition.) 

[     27     ] 


ZTr^.  RUBAIYAT  OF 

EDITION 


Lxxv  I  tell  you  this — ^When,  started  from  the  Goal, 
Over  the  flaming  shoulders  of  the  Foal 

Of  Heav'n  Parwin  and  Mushtari  they  flung, 
In  my  predestined  Plot  of  Dust  and  Soul 

Lxxvi  The  Vine  had  struck  a  fibre:  which  about  (20) 

If  clings  my  Being — ^let  the  Dervish  flout ; 
Of  my  Base  metal  may  be  filed  a  Key, 
That  shall  unlock  the  Door  he  howls  without. 

Lxxvii  And  this  I  know :  whether  the  one  True  Light 
Kindle  to  Love,  or  Wrath-consume  me  quite. 
One  Flash  of  It  within  the  Tavern  caught 
Better  than  in  the  Temple  lost  outright. 

Lxxviii  What!  out  of  senseless  Nothing  to  provoke 
A  conscious  Something  to  resent  the  yoke 

Of  unpermitted  Pleasure,  under  pain 
Of  Everlasting  Penalties,  if  broke  I 

Lxxix  What!  from  his  helpless  Creature  be  repaid 

Pure  Gold  for  what  he  lent  him  dross-allay' d — * 

Sue  for  a  Debt  he  never  did  contract,  t 
And  cannot  answer — Oh  the  sorry  trade! 

*  Pure  Gold  for  what  he  lent  us  dross-allay'd.     (Third  edition.) 
t  Sue    for    a    Debt   we   never    did    contract.      (Third    and    Fourth 
editions.) 

[     28     ] 


OMAR  KHAYYAM.  j^™,, 


Lxxx  Oh  Thou,  who  didst  with  pitfall  and  with  gin  (21) 
Beset  the  Road  I  was  to  wander  in, 

Thou  wilt  not  with  Predestined  Evil  round 
Enmesh,  and  then  impute  my  Fall  to  Sin! 

Lxxxi  Oh  Thou,  who  Man  of  baser  Earth  didst  make. 
And  ev'n  with  Paradise  devise  the  Snake: 

For  all  the  Sin  wherewith  the  Face  of  Man 
Is  blacken'd — Man's  forgiveness  give — and  take! 


Lxxxii  As  under  cover  of  departing  Day 

Slunk  hunger-stricken  Ramazan  away, 

Once  more  within  the  Potter's  house  alone 
I  stood,  surrounded  by  the  Shapes  of  Clay. 

Lxxxiii  Shapes  of  all  Sorts  and  Sizes,  great  and  small,  (22) 
That  stood  along  the  floor  and  by  the  wall; 

And  some  loquacious  Vessels  were ;  and  some 
Listen'd  perhaps,  but  never  talk'd  at  all. 

Lxxxiv  Said  one  among  them — "Surely  not  in  vain 

"My  substance  of  the  common  Earth  was  ta'en 

"And  to  this  Figure  moulded,  to  be  broke. 
Or  trampled  back  to  shapeless  Earth  again." 

[    29    ] 


,-™  RUBAIYAT  OF 


Lxxxv  Then  said  a  Second — "Ne'er  a  peevish  Boy 

"Would  break  the  Bowl  from  which  he  drank  in  joy ; 

"And  He  that  with  his  hand  the  Vessel  made 
Will  surely  not  in  after  Wrath  destroy." 

Lxxxvi  After  a  momentary  silence  spake 

Some  Vessel  of  a  more  ungainly  Make; 

"They  sneer  at  me  for  leaning  all  awry: 
"What!  did  the  Hand  then  of  the  Potter  shake?" 

Lxxxvii  Whereat  some  one  of  the  loquacious  Lot —       (23) 
I  think  a  Siifi  pipkin — waxing  hot — 

"All  this  of  Pot  and  Potter— Tell  me  then, 
"Who  is  the  Potter,  pray,  and  who  the  Pot?"  * 

Lxxxviii  "Why,"  said  another,  "Some  there  are  who  tell 
"Of  one  who  threatens  he  will  toss  to  Hell 

"The  luckless  Pots  he  marr'd  in  making — Pish! 
"He  's  a  Good  Fellow,  and  't  will  all  be  well." 

Lxxxix  "Well,"  murmur'd  one,  "Let  whoso  make  or  buy, 
"My  Clay  with  long  Oblivion  is  gone  dry: 

"But  fill  me  with  the  old  familiar  Juice, 
"Methinks  I  might  recover  by  and  by." 

*^"Who  makes— Who  sells— Who  buys— Who  is  the  Pot?"     (Third 
edition.) 

[      30      ] 


OMAR  KHAYYAM.  ^^,^?^ 


xc  So  while  the  Vessels  one  by  one  were  speaking, 
The  little  Moon  look'd  in  that  all  were  seeking: 
And  then  they  jogg'd  each  other,  "Brother!  Bro- 
ther! 
"Now  for  the  Porter's  shoulder-knot  a-creaking." 

(24) 


xci  Ah,  with  the  Grape  my  fading  Life  provide. 
And  wash  the  Body  whence  the  Life  has  died, 

And  lay  me,  shrouded  in  the  living  Leaf, 
By  some  not  unfrequented  Garden-side. 

xcii  That  ev'n  my  buried  Ashes  such  a  snare 
Of  Vintage  shall  fling  up  into  the  Air 

As  not  a  True-believer  passing  by 
But  shall  be  overtaken  unaware. 

xciii  Indeed  the  Idols  I  have  loved  so  long 

Have  done  my  credit  in  this  World  much  wrong:* 

Have  drown'd  my  Glory  in  a  shallow  Cup, 
And  sold  my  Reputation  for  a  Song. 

Have  done  my  credit  in  Men's  eye  much  wrong.     (Third  edition.) 

[     31      ] 


EDiS?N  RUBAIYAT  OF 


xciv  Indeed,  indeed,  Repentance  oft  before  (25) 

I  swore — but  was  I  sober  when  I  swore? 

And  then  and  then  came  Spring,  and  Rose-in-hand 
My  thread-bare  Penitence  apieces  tore. 

xcv  And  much  as  Wine  has  play'd  the  Infidel, 

And  robb'd  me  of  my  Robe  of  Honour — Well, 

I  wonder  often  what  the  Vintners  buy 
One  half  so  precious  as  the  stuff  they  sell. 

xcvi  Yet  Ah,  that  Spring  should  vanish  with  the  Rose  I 

That  Youth's  sweet-scented  manuscript  should  close! 

The  Nightingale  that  in  the  branches  sang. 
Ah  whence,  and  whither  flown  again,  who  knows! 

xcvii  Would  but  the  Desert  of  the  Fountain  yield 
One  glimpse — if  dimly,  yet  indeed,  reveal'd. 

To  which  the  fainting  Traveller  might  spring. 
As  springs  the  trampled  herbage  of  the  field ! 

xcviii  Would  but  some  winged  Angel  ere  too  late  (26) 

Arrest  the  yet  unfolded  Roll  of  Fate, 

And  make  the  stern  Recorder  otherwise 
Enregister,  or  quite  obliterate! 

[     32      ] 


OMAR   KHAYYAM.  ^^^^ 


EDITION 


xcix  Ah  Love !  could  you  and  I  with  Him  conspire 
To  grasp  this  sorry  Scheme  of  Things  entire, 
Would  we  not  shatter  it  to  bits — and  then 
Re-mould  it  nearer  to  the  Heart's  Desire! 


c  Yon  rising  Moon  that  looks  for  us  again — 
How  oft  hereafter  will  she  wax  and  wane ; 

How  oft  hereafter  rising  look  for  us 
Through  this  same  Garden — and  for  one  in  vain! 

CI  And  when  like  her,  oh  Saki,  you  shall  pass  (27) 

Among  the  Guests  Star-scatter'd  on  the  Grass, 

And  in  your  joyous  errand  reach  the  spot  * 
Where  I  made  One — turn  down  an  empty  Glass! 
*  And  in  your  blissful  errand  reach  the  spot.     (Third  edition.) 

TAMAM. 


[     SS     ] 


NOTES. 

(Stanza  ii.)  The  "False  Dawn;"  Subhi  Kdzih,  a  transient  Light  on 
the  Horizon  about  an  hour  before  the  Subhi  sddik,  or  True  Dawn; 
a  well-known  Phenomenon  in  the  East. 

(iv.)  New  Year.  Beginning  with  the  Vernal  Equinox,  it  must  be 
remembered;  and  (howsoever  the  old  Solar  Year  is  practically  super- 
seded by  the  clumsy  Lunar  Year  that  dates  from  the  Mohammedan 
Hijra)  still  commemorated  by  a  Festival  that  is  said  to  have  been  ap- 
pointed by  the  very  Jamshyd  whom  Omar  so  often  talks  of,  and 
whose  yearly  Calendar  he  helped  to  rectify. 

"The  sudden  approach  and  rapid  advance  of  the  Spring/'  says 
Mr.  Binning/  "are  very  striking.  Before  the  Snow  is  well  off  the 
Ground,  the  Trees  burst  into  Blossom,  and  the  Flowers  start  forth 
from  the  Soil.  At  Naw  Rooz  {their  New  Year's  Day)  the  Snow  was 
lying  in  patches  on  the  Hills  and  in  the  shaded  Vallies,  while  the 
Fruit-trees  in  the  Gardens  were  budding  beautifully,  and  green 
Plants  and  Flowers  springing  up  on  the  Plains  on  every  side — 

*  And  on  old  Hyems'  Chin  and  icy  Crown 

*  An  odorous  Chaplet  of  sweet  Summer  buds 

*  Is,  as  in  mockery,  set. ' 

Among  the  Plants  newly  appeared  I  recognised  some  old  Acquain- 
tances I  had  not  seen  for  many  a  Year:  among  these,  two  varieties 
of  the  Thistle — a  coarse  species  of  Daisy,  like  the  'Horse-gowan' 
— red  and  white  Clover — the  Dock — the  blue  Corn-flower — and  that 
vulgar  Herb  the  Dandelion  rearing  its  |  yellow  crest  on  the  Banks  of  (29) 
the  Watercourses."  The  Nightingale  was  not  yet  heard,  for  the  Rose 
was  not  yet  blown:  but  an  almost  identical  Blackbird  and  Wood- 
pecker helped  to  make  up  something  of  a  North-country  Spring. 

"The  White  Hand  of  Moses."  Exodus  iv.  6;  where  Moses  draws 
forth  his  Hand — not,  according  to  the  Persians,  "leprous  as  Snow" 
— but  white,  as  our  May-blossom  in  Spring  perhaps.  According  to 
them  also  the  Healing  Power  of  Jesus  resided  in  his  Breath. 
(v.)  Iram,  planted  by  King  Shaddad,  and  now  sunk  somewhere  in 
the  Sands  of  Arabia.  Jamshyd's  Seven-ring'd  Cup  was  typical  of  the 
7  Heavens,  7  Planets,  7  Seas,  &c.,  and  was  a  Divining  Cup. 
(vi.)  Pehlevif  the  old  Heroic  Sanskrit  of  Persia.  Hafiz  also  speaks 
of  the  Nightingale's  Pehlevi,  which  did  not  change  with  the  People's. 

I  am  not  sure  if  the  fourth  line  refers  to  the  Red  Rose  looking 
sickly,  or  to  the  Yellow  Rose  that  ought  to  be  Red;  Red,  White,  and 

1  Two  Years'  Travel  in  Persia,  &c.,  i.  165. 

[      35      ] 


FIFTH  NOTES. 

EDITION  iy\JS.JLj^. 

Yellow  Roses  all  common  in  Persia.     I  think  that  Southey,  in  his 

Common-Place   Book,   quotes   from  some   Spanish  author   about  the 

Rose  being  White  till  10  o'clock;  "Rosa  perfecta"  at  2;  and  "perfecta 

incarnada"  at  5. 

(x.)     Rustum,  the  "Hercules"  of  Persia,  and  Zal  his  Father,  whose 

exploits  are  among  the  most  celebrated  in  the  Shah-nama.     Hatim 

Tai  a  well-known  type  of  Oriental  Generosity. 

(xiii.)     A  Drum — beaten  outside  a  Palace. 

(xiv.)     That  is,  the  Rose's  Golden  Centre. 

(xviii.)     Persepolis:  called  also  Takht-i-Jamshyd — The  Throne  of 

Jamshyd,   "King-Splendid,"   of  the   mythical   Peshdddian   Dynasty, 

and  supposed   (according  to  the  Shah-nama)   to  have  been  founded 

(30)  and  built  by  him.     Others  refer  it  to  the  Work  of  |  the  Genie  King, 
Jan  Ibn  Jan — who  also  built  the  Pyramids — ^before  the  time  of  Adam. 

Bahram  Gur — Bahrdm  of  the  Wild  Ass — a  Sassanian  Sovereign — 
had  also  his  Seven  Castles  (like  the  King  of  Bohemia!)  each  of  a 
different  Colour;  each  with  a  Royal  Mistress  within;  each  of  whom 
tells  him  a  Story,  as  told  in  one  of  the  most  famous  Poems  of  Per- 
sia, written  by  Amir  Khusraw:  all  these  Sevens  also  figuring  (accord- 
ing to  Eastern  Mysticism)  the  Seven  Heavens ;  and  perhaps  the  Book 
itself  that  Eighth,  into  which  the  mystical  Seven  transcend,  and 
within  which  they  revolve.  The  Ruins  of  Three  of  those  Towers  are 
yet  shown  by  the  Peasantry;  as  also  the  Swamp  in  which  Bahram 
sunk,  like  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  while  pursuing  his  Gur. 

The  Palace  that  to  Heav'n  his  pillars  threw. 
And  Kings  the  forehead  on  his  threshold  drew — 

I  saw  the  solitary  Ringdove  there, 
And  "Coo,  coo,  coo,"  she  cried;  and  "Coo,  coo,  coo.'* 

This  Quatrain  Mr.  Binning  found,  among  several  of  Hafiz  and 
others,  inscribed  by  some  stray  hand  among  the  ruins  of  Persepolis. 
The  Ringdove's  ancient  Pehlevi,  Coo,  Coo,  Coo,  signifies  also  in  Per- 
sian ''Where?  Where?  Where?"  In  Attar's  "Bird-parliament"  she 
is  reproved  by  the  Leader  of  the  Birds  for  sitting  still,  and  for  ever 
harping  on  that  one  note  of  lamentation  for  her  lost  Yusuf. 

Apropos  of  Omar's  Red  Roses  in  Stanza  xix,  I  am  reminded  of  an 
old   English   Superstition,   that   our   Anemone   Pulsatilla,   or   purple 
"Pasque  Flower"   (which  grows  plentifully  about  the  Fleam  Dyke, 
near  Cambridge),  grows  only  where  Danish  Blood  has  been  spilt, 
(xxi.)      A  thousand  years  to  each  Planet, 
(xxxi.)     Saturn,  Lord  of  the  Seventh  Heaven. 

(31)  (xxxn.)      Me-and-Thee:  some  dividual  Existence  or  Personality  dis- 
tinct from  the  Whole. 

(xxxvn.)  One  of  the  Persian  Poets — Attar,  I  think — has  a  pretty 
story  about  this.  A  thirsty  Traveller  dips  his  hand  into  a  Spring  of 
Water  to  drink  from.     By-and-by  comes  another  who  draws  up  and 

[     36     ] 


NOTES.  EDITION 

drinks  from  an  earthen  Bowl,  and  then  departs,  leaving  his  Bowl  be- 
hind him.  The  first  Traveller  takes  it  up  for  another  draught;  but  is 
surprised  to  find  that  the  same  Water  which  had  tasted  sweet  from  his 
own  hand  tastes  bitter  from  the  earthen  Bowl.  But  a  Voice — from 
Heaven,  I  think — tells  him  the  clay  from  which  the  Bowl  is  made 
was  once  Man;  and,  into  whatever  shape  renewed,  can  never  lose  the 
bitter  flavour  of  Mortality. 

(xxxix.)  The  custom  of  throwing  a  little  Wine  on  the  ground  before 
drinking  still  continues  in  Persia,  and  perhaps  generally  in  the  East. 
Mons.  Nicolas  considers  it  "un  signe  de  liberalite,  et  en  meme  temps 
un  avertissement  que  le  buveur  doit  vider  sa  coupe  jusqu'a  la  derniere 
goutte."  Is  it  not  more  likely  an  ancient  Superstition;  a  Libation  to 
propitiate  Earth,  or  make  her  an  Accomplice  in  the  illicit  Revel  .^  Or, 
perhaps,  to  divert  the  Jealous  Eye  by  some  sacrifice  of  superfluity, 
as  with  the  Ancients  of  the  West.'*  With  Omar  we  see  something 
more  is  signified;  the  precious  Liquor  is  not  lost,  but  sinks  into  the 
ground  to  refresh  the  dust  of  some  poor  Wine-worshipper  foregone. 

Thus  Hafiz,  copying  Omar  in  so  many  ways:  "When  thou  drink- 
est  Wine  pour  a  draught  on  the  ground.  Wherefore  fear  the  Sin 
which  brings  to  another  Gain.^'* 

(xLiii.)  According  to  one  beautiful  Oriental  Legend,  Azrael  accom- 
plishes his  mission  by  holding  to  the  nostril  an  Apple  from  the  Tree 
of  Life. 

This  and  the  two  following  stanzas  would  have  been  withdrawn,  as    (32) 
somewhat  de  trop,  from  the  Text,  but  for  advice  which  I  least  like 
to  disregard. 

(li.)      From  Mah  to  Mahi;  from  Fish  to  Moon. 

(lvi.)  a  Jest,  of  course,  at  his  Studies.  A  curious  mathematical 
Quatrain  of  Omar's  has  been  pointed  out  to  me;  the  more  curious  be- 
cause almost  exactly  parallel'd  by  some  Verses  of  Doctor  Donne's, 
that  are  quoted  in  Izaak  Walton's  Lives!  Here  is  Omar:  "You  and 
I  are  the  image  of  a  pair  of  compasses;  though  we  have  two  heads 
(sc.  our  feet)  we  have  one  body;  when  we  have  fixed  the  centre  for 
our  circle,  we  bring  our  heads  (sc.  feet)  together  at  the  end.**  Dr. 
Donne : 

If  we  be  two,  we  two  are  so 

As  stiff  twin-compasses  are  two; 
Thy  Soul,  the  fixt  foot,  makes  no  show 

To  move,  but  does  if  the  other  do. 

And  though  thine  in  the  centre  sit. 

Yet  when  my  other  far  does  roam. 
Thine  leans  and  hearkens  after  it, 

And  grows  erect  as  mine  comes  home. 

Such  thou  must  be  to  me,  who  must 

Like  the  other  foot  obliquely  run; 
Thy  firmness  makes  my  circle  just. 

And  me  to  end  where  I  begun. 

[     37     ] 


FIFTH  "NrnTTTQ 

EDITION  rSUAHiO. 


(lix.)      The  Seventy-two   Religions  supposed  to  divide  the  World, 

including  Islamism,  as  some  think:  but  others  not. 

(lx.)     Alluding  to  Sultan  Mahmud's  Conquest  of  India  and  its  dark 

people. 

(83)  (lxviii.)  Fdnusi  hhiydl,  a  Magic-lantern  still  used  in  India;  the 
cylindrical  Interior  being  painted  with  various  Figures,  and  so 
lightly  poised  and  ventilated  as  to  revolve  round  the  lighted  Candle 
within. 

(lxx.)     a  very  mysterious  Line  in  the  Original: 

O  dfinad  O  ddnad  O  danad  O 

breaking  off  something  like  our  Wood-pigeon's  Note,  which  she  is  said 
to  take  up  just  where  she  left  off. 

(lxxv.)  Parwin  and  Mushtari — ^the  Pleiads  and  Jupiter. 
(lxxxvii.)  This  Relation  of  Pot  and  Potter  to  Man  and  his  Maker 
figures  far  and  wide  in  the  Literature  of  the  World,  from  the  time  of 
the  Hebrew  Prophets  to  the  present;  when  it  may  finally  take  the 
name  of  "Pot  theism,"  by  which  Mr.  Carlyle  ridiculed  Sterling's 
"Pantheism."  My  Sheikh,  whose  knowledge  flows  in  from  all  quar- 
ters, writes  to  me — 

"Apropos  of  old  Omar's  Pots,  did  I  ever  tell  you  the  sentence  I 
found  in  'Bishop  Pearson  on  the  Creed'  ?  'Thus  we  are  wholly  at  the 
disposal  of  His  will,  and  our  present  and  future  condition  framed  and 
ordered  by  His  free,  but  wise  and  just,  decrees.  Hath  not  the  potter 
power  over  the  clay,  of  the  same  lump  to  make  one  vessel  unto  hon- 
our, and  another  unto  dishonour'?  (Rom.  ix.  21.)  And  can  that 
earth-artificer  have  a  freer  power  over  his  brother  potsherd  (both 
being  made  of  the  same  metal),  than  God  hath  over  him,  who,  by  the 
strange  fecundity  of  His  omnipotent  power,  first  made  the  clay  out 
of  nothing,  and  then  him  out  of  that  ?'  " 

And  again — from  a  very  different  quarter — "I  had  to  refer  the 
other  day  to  Aristophanes,  and  came  by  chance  on  a  curious  Speaking- 
pot  story  in  the  Vespae,  which  I  had  quite  forgotten. 

(84)  ^iXoKXioiv.  "Akove,  [it)  (f)evy*'  ev  Iivfidpei  yvvrj  nore 

aarea^'  eXivov. 
Karriyopog.  Tavr*  eyw  fiaprvpofiat 

$i.  Ov'xjivo^  ovv  e%a)v  rtv'  eneiiaprvpaTO' 

'ElO'  7]  ItVpapLTLg  elneVf  el  vol  rav  Kopav 
TTjv  fjbapTVpiav  ravTTjv  edaaq^  ev  rdx^i- 
^mdeofiov  inpicjj  vovv  dv  elxeg  TrXelova. 

"The  Pot  calls  a  bystander  to  be  a  witness  to  his  bad  treatment. 
The  woman  says,  'If,  by  Proserpine,  instead  of  all  this  'testifying' 
(comp.  Cuddie  and  his  mother  in  'Old  Mortality!')  you  would  buy 

[      38      ] 


NOTES.  .SS2» 

yourself  a  rivet,  it  would  show  more  sense  in  you!'     The  Scholiast 
explains  echinus  as  dyyog  tl  ek  Kepdfiov." 

*  One  more  illustration  for  the  oddity's  sake  from  the  "Autobiog- 
raphy of  a  Cornish  Rector,,"  by  the  late  James  Hamley  Tregenna. 
1871. 

"There  was  one  old  Fellow  in  our  Company — he  was  so  like  a 
Figure  in  the  'Pilgrim's  Progress'  that  Richard  always  called  him 
the  'Allegory/  with  a  long  white  beard — a  rare  Appendage  in  those 
days — and  a  Face  the  colour  of  which  seemed  to  have  been  baked  in, 
like  the  Faces  one  used  to  see  on  Earthenware  Jugs.  In  our  Country- 
dialect  Earthenware  is  called  'Glome  ;  so  the  Boys  of  the  Village  used 
to  shout  out  after  him — 'Go  back  to  the  Potter,  old  Clome-face,  and 
get  baked  over  again.*  For  the  'Allegory,'  though  shrewd  enough  in 
most  things,  had  the  reputation  of  being  'saift-baJced/  i.  e.  of  weak 
intellect."  * 

(xc.)  At  the  Close  of  the  Fasting  Month,  Ramazan  (which  makes 
the  Musulman  unhealthy  and  unamiable),  the  first  Glimpse  |  of  the  (35) 
New  Moon  (who  rules  their  division  of  the  Year),  is  looked  for  with 
the  utmost  Anxiety,  and  hailed  with  Acclamation.  Then  it  is  that  the 
Porter's  Knot  may  be  heard — toward  the  Cellar.  Omar  has  else- 
where a  pretty  Quatrain  about  the  same  Moon — 

**Be  of  Good  Cheer — the  sullen  Month  will  die, 
**  And  a  young  Moon  requite  us  by  and  by  : 

**  Look  how  the  Old  one  meagre,  bent,  and  wan 
**  "With  Age  and  Fast,  is  fainting  from  the  Sky  !  '* 

*  These  two  paragraphs  do  not  appear  in  the  Third  edition.     The  pagination  in 
the  margins  is  that  of  the  Fourth  edition. 

FINIS. 


[     S9     ] 


EXTRACTS   FROM   FITZGERALD'S   LET- 
TERS   RELATING     TO     ''SAL  AM  AN 

AND  absall;'  third  edition. 

To  C,  E,  Norton. 

Woodbridge,  May  18,  '79, 
.  .  .  Jdmi  (Saldmdn)  is  cut  down  to  two-thirds 
of  his  former  proportion,  and  very  much  improved,  I 
think.  It  is  still  in  a  wrong  key:  Verse  of  Miltonic 
Strain,  unlike  the  simple  Eastern;  I  remember  trying 
that  at  first  but  could  not  succeed.  So  there  is  little  but 
the  Allegory  itself  (not  a  bad  one),  and  now  condensed 
into  a  very  fair  Bird's  Eye  view;  quite  enough  for  any 
Allegory,  I  think.     .    .     . 

To  E.  B,  Cowell. 

[June,  1879.'] 

I  am  sorry  you  took  time  and  trouble  in  writing  me  a 
Letter  after  answering  my  Query  about  the  Metre,  I 
had  not  seen  the  Shahnameh  for  twenty  years,  and  made 
sure  of  its  being  in  the  same  metre  as  Saldmdn:  so  I 
was  obliged  to  have  the  page  cancelled  in  which  I  had  so 
said,  I  know  not  when  Quaritch  comes  out  with  the  two 
Per  see:  of  course,  you  will  have  a  Copy  sent  to  you. 
Some  things  in  Saldmdn  you  won't  like  at  all;  but  I 
believe  that,  on  the  whole,  you  will  think  it  improved — 
after  a  while.  And  so,  I  bid  Adieu  to  him  and  Omar: 
for  I  shall  certainly  not  live  to  see  another  Edition.  .  .  . 

[    ix    ] 


RELATING  TO  "SALAMAN  AND  ABSAL." 

ToW.A,  Wright, 

Woodbridge,  Tuesday,  [1879]. 

•  •••••• 

Here  is  a  Copy  for  you  of  my  two  Persians — I  was 
going  to  say  J  'If  you  care  to  have  them' — hut  you  would 
he  ohliged  to  say  that  you  would  care:  arid  since  you  have 
all  my  Works,  you  shall  e'en  have  this — if  only  to  spew  at 
Quaritch's  Ornamentation;  which  leaves  a  pretty  Booh, 
however,  Omar  remains  as  he  was;  hut  Solomon  (as 
Childs'  men  called  him)  is  cut  down  ahout  a  Quarter,  and 
all  the  hetter  for  it. 

To  H,  Schiltz  Wilson, 

[i  March,  1882,'] 

.  .  .  Jdml  tells  of  what  everybody  knows,  under 
cover  of  a  not  very  skilful  Allegory.  I  have  undoubtedly 
improved  the  whole  by  boiling  it  down  to  about  a  Quar- 
ter of  its  original  size;  and  there  are  many  pretty  things 
in  it,  though  the  blank  Verse  is  too  Miltonic  for  Oriental 

style, 

•  •••••• 

But  some  sioo  or  seven  years  ago  that  Sheikh  of  mine, 
Edward  Cowell,  who  liked  the  Version  better  than  any 
one  else,  wished  it  to  he  reprinted.  So  I  took  it  in  hand, 
boiled  it  down  to  three-fourths  of  what  it  originally  was, 
and  (as  you  see)  clapt  it  on  the  hack  of  Omar,  where  I 
still  believed  it  would  hang  somewhat  of  a  dead  weight; 
hut  that  was  Quaritch's  look-out,  not  mine,  I  have  never 
heard  of  any  notice  taken  of  it,  hut  just  now  from  you: 
and  I  believe  that,  say  what  you  would,  people  would 
rather  have  the  old  Sinner  alone.     ,     .     . 

[      X      ] 


SALAMAN  AND  ABSAL 


S ALAM AN 


AND 


ABSAL. 


NOTICE    OF    JAMI'S    LIFE. 

Drawn  from  Rosenzweig^ s 
''Biographische  Notizen^^  of  the  Poet. 

NuRUDDiN  Abdurrahman,  Son  of  Maulana  Nizamud- 
din  Ahmed,  and  descended  on  the  Mother's  side  from  One 
of  the  Four  great  "  Fathers  "  of  Islam,  was  born  a.  h. 
817,  A.  D.  1414,  in  Jam,  a  httle  Town  of  Khorasan, 
whither  his  Grandfather  had  removed  from  Desht  of 
Ispahan  and  from  which  the  Poet  ultimately  took  hisTak- 
hallus,  or  Poetic  name,  Jami.  This  word  also  signifies 
"A  Cup;"  wherefore,  he  says,  "  Born  in  Jam,  and  dipt  in 
the  ''Jdm> "  of  Holy  Lore,  for  a  double  reason  I  must  be 
called  Jami  in  the  Book  of  Song."  ^  He  was  celebrated 
afterwards  in  other  Oriental  Titles — "  Lord  of  Poets  " 
— "  Elephant  of  Wisdom,"  &c.,  but  latterly  liked  to  call 
himself  "  The  Ancient  of  Herat,"  where  he  mainly  re- 
sided, and  eventually  died. 

When  Five  Years  old  he  received  the  name  of  Niir- 
uddin — the  "  Light  of  Faith,"  and  even  so  early  |  began  {40) 
to  show  the  Metal,  and  take  the  Stamp  that  distinguished 
him  through  Life.  In  1419,  a  famous  Sheikh,  Khwajah 
Mohammed  Parsa,  then  in  the  last  Year  of  his  Life,  was 
being  carried  through  Jam.    "  I  was  not  then  Five  Years 

^  He  elsewhere  plays  upon  his  name,  imploring  God  that  he  may  he 
accepted  as  a  Cup  to  pass  about  that  Spiritual  Wine  of  which  the  Per- 
sian Mystical  Poets  make  so  much. 

[      45      ] 


kSJSSS  notice  of  jami's  life. 

old,"  says  Jami,  "  and  my  Father,  who  with  his  Friends 
went  forth  to  salute  him,  had  me  carried  on  the  Shoulders 
of  one  of  the  Family  and  set  down  before  the  Litter  of  the 
Sheikh,  who  gave  a  Nosegay  into  my  hand.  Sixty  Years 
have  passed,  and  methinks  I  now  see  before  me  the  bright 
Image  of  the  Holy  Man,  and  feel  the  Blessing  of  his 
Aspect,  from  which  I  date  my  after  Devotion  to  that 
Brotherhood  in  which  I  hope  to  be  enrolled." 

So  again,  when  Maulana  Fakhruddin  Loristani  had 
alighted  at  his  Mother's  house — "  I  was  then  so  little  that 
he  set  me  upon  his  Knee,  and  with  his  Fingers  drawing 
the  Letters  of  'Ali  '  and  'Omar  '  in  the  Air,  laughed  with 
delight  to  hear  me  spell  them.  He  also  by  his  Goodness 
sowed  in  my  Heart  the  Seed  of  his  Devotion,  which  has 
grown  to  Increase  within  me — in  which  I  hope  to  live,  and 
in  which  to  die.  Oh  God!  Dervish  let  me  live,  and  Der- 
vish die;  and  in  the  Company  of  the  Dervish  do  Thou 
quicken  me  to  life  again! " 
(41)  Jami  first  went  to  a  School  at  Herat;  and  after | ward 
to  one  founded  by  the  Great  Timiir  at  Samarcand.  There 
he  not  only  outstript  his  Fellow-students  in  the  very  En- 
cyclopasdic  Studies  of  Persian  Education,  but  even  puz- 
zled his  Doctors  in  Logic,  Astronomy,  and  Theology; 
who,  however,  with  unresenting  Gravity  welcomed  him — 
"  Lo!  a  new  Light  added  to  our  Galaxy!  " — And  among 
them  in  the  wider  Field  of  Samarcand  he  might  have 
liked  to  remain,  had  not  a  Dream  recalled  him  to  Herat. 
A  Vision  of  the  Great  Siifi  Master  there,  Mohammed 
Saaduddm  Kashghari,  appeared  to  him  in  his  Sleep,  and 

[     46     ] 


NOTICE    OF   JAMI'S   LIFE.  J^««th 

bade  him  return  to  One  who  would  satisfy  all  Desire. 
Jami  returned  to  Herat;  he  saw  the  Sheikh  discoursing 
with  his  Disciples  by  the  Door  of  the  Great  Mosque;  day 
after  day  passed  him  by  without  daring  to  present  him- 
self; but  the  Master's  Eye  was  upon  him;  day  by  day 
drew  him  nearer  and  nearer — ^till  at  last  the  Sheikh  an- 
nounces to  those  about  him — "  Lo!  this  Day  have  I  taken 
a  Falcon  in  my  Snare!" 

Under  him  Jami  began  his  Siifi  Noviciate,  with  such 
Devotion,  both  to  Study  and  Master,  that  going,  he  tells 
us,  but  for  one  Summer  Holiday  into  the  Country,  a 
single  Line  sufficed  to  "  lure  the  Tassel-gentle  back 
again; " 

"Lo !  here  am  I,  and  Thou  look'st  on  the  Rose !" 

By-and-by  he  withdrew,  by  due  course  of  Sufi  Instruc-  (42) 
tion,  into  Solitude  so  long  and  profound,  that  on  his  re- 
turn to  Men  he  had  almost  lost  the  Power  of  Converse 
with  them.  At  last,  when  duly  taught,  and  duly  author- 
ised to  teach  as  Siifi  Doctor,  he  yet  would  not  take  upon 
himself  so  to  do,  though  solicited  by  those  who  had  seen 
such  a  Vision  of  him  as  had  drawn  himself  to  Herat ;  and 
not  till  the  Evening  of  his  Life  was  he  to  be  seen  taking 
that  place  by  the  Mosque  which  his  departed  Master  had 
been  used  to  occupy  before. 

Meanwhile  he  had  become  Poet,  which  no  doubt  winged 
his  Reputation  and  Doctrine  far  and  wide  through  a 
People  so  susceptible  of  poetic  impulse. 

"  A  Thousand  times,"  he  says,  "  I  have  repented  of 

[     47     ] 


SwN  NOTICE   OF   JAMI'S   LIFE. 

such  Employment ;  but  I  could  no  more  shirk  it  than  one 
can  shirk  what  the  Pen  of  Fate  has  written  on  his  Fore- 
head " — "  As  Poet  I  have  resounded  through  the  World; 
Heaven  filled  itself  with  my  Song,  and  the  Bride  of  Time 
adorned  her  Ears  and  Neck  with  the  Pearls  of  my  Verse, 
whose  coming  Caravan  the  Persian  Hafiz  and  Saadi  came 
forth  gladly  to  salute,  and  the  Indian  Khosrau  and 
Hasan  hailed  as  a  Wonder  of  the  World."  "  The  Kings 
of  India  and  Riim  greet  me  by  Letter ;  the  Lords  of  Irak 
(43)  and  Tabriz  load  me  with  Gifts;  and  what | shall  I  say  of 
those  of  Khorasan,  who  drown  me  in  an  Ocean  of  Muni- 
ficence? " 

This,  though  Oriental,  is  scarcely  bombast.  Jami  was 
honoured  by  Princes  at  home  and  abroad,  at  the  very  time 
they  were  cutting  one  another's  Throats ;  by  his  own  Sul- 
tan Abii  Said;  by  Hasan  Beg  of  Mesopotamia — "  Lord 
of  Tabriz" — by  whom  Abu  Said  was  defeated,  dethroned, 
and  slain;  by  Mohammed  11.  of  Turkey — "  King  of 
Rum  " — who  in  his  turn  defeated  Hasan ;  and  lastly  by 
Husein  Mirza  Baikara,  who  somehow  made  away  with 
the  Prince  whom  Hasan  had  set  up  in  Abii  Said's  Place 
at  Herat.     Such  is  the  house  that  Jack  builds  in  Persia. 

As  Hasan  Beg,  however — ^the  Usuncassan  of  old 
European  Annals — is  singularly  connected  with  the  pres- 
ent Poem,  and  with  probably  the  most  important  event  in 
Jami's  Life,  I  will  briefly  follow  the  Steps  that  led  to 
that  as  well  as  other  Princely  Intercourse. 

In  A.  H.  877,  A.  D.  1472,  Jami  set  off  on  his  Pilgrimage 
to  Mecca,  as  every  True  Believer  who  could  afford  it  was 

[      48      ] 


NOTICE    OF   JAMI'S   LIFE.  ^SiS 

expected  once  in  his  Life  to  do.  He,  and,  on  his  Account, 
the  Caravan  he  went  with,  were  honourably  and  safely 
escorted  through  the  interjacent  Countries  by  order  of 
their  several  |  Potentates  as  far  as  Baghdad.  There  Jami  (44) 
fell  into  trouble  by  the  Treachery  of  a  Follower  whom 
he  had  reproved,  and  who  misquoted  his  Verse  into  dis- 
paragement of  Ali,  the  Darling  Imam  of  Persia.  This, 
getting  wind  at  Baghdad,  was  there  brought  to  solemn 
Tribunal.  Jami  came  victoriously  off,  his  Accuser  was 
pilloried  with  a  dockt  Beard  in  Baghdad  Market-place: 
but  the  Poet  was  so  ill-pleased  with  the  stupidity  of  those 
who  had  believed  the  Report,  that,  in  an  after  Poem,  he 
called  for  a  Cup  of  Wine  to  seal  up  Lips  of  whose  Utter- 
ance the  Men  of  Baghdad  were  unworthy. 

After  four  months'  stay  there,  during  which  he  visited 
at  Helleh  the  Tomb  of  AH's  Son  Husein,  who  had  fallen 
at  Kerbela,  he  set  forth  again — ^to  Najaf,  (where  he 
says  his  Camel  sprang  forward  at  sight  of  All's  own 
Tomb) — crossed  the  Desert  in  twenty-two  days,  contin- 
ually meditating  on  the  Prophet's  Glory,  to  Medina ;  and 
so  at  last  to  Mecca^  where,  as  he  sang  in  a  Ghazal,  he  went 
through  all  Mohammedan  Ceremony  with  a  Mystical  Un- 
derstanding of  his  Own. 

He  then  turned  Homeward ;  was  entertained  for  forty- 
five  days  at  Damascus,  which  he  left  the  very  Day  before 
the  Turkish  Mohammed's  Envoys  came  with  5000  Ducats 
to  carry  him  to  Constantinople.  On  j  arriving  at  Amida,  (45) 
the  Capital  of  Mesopotamia,  he  found  War  broken  out 
and  in  full  Flame  between  that  Sultan  and  Hasan  Beg, 

[    49    ] 


SmS  NOTICE   OF   JAMI'S   LIFE. 

King  of  the  Country,  who  caused  Jami  to  be  honourably 
escorted  through  the  dangerous  Roads  to  Tabriz;  there 
received  him  in  full  Divan,  and  would  fain  have  him  abide 
at  his  Court  awhile.  Jami,  however,  was  intent  on  Home, 
and  once  more  seeing  his  aged  Mother — for  he  was  turned 
of  Sixty — and  at  last  reached  Herat  in  the  Month  of 
Shaaban,  1473,  after  the  Average  Year's  Absence. 

This  is  the  Hasan,  "  in  Name  and  Nature  Handsome  " 
(and  so  described  by  some  Venetian  Ambassadors  of  the 
Time),  who  was  Father  of  Yakub  Beg,  to  whom  Jami 
dedicated  the  following  Poem;  and  who,  after  the  due 
murder  of  an  Elder  Brother,  succeeded  to  the  Throne ;  till 
all  the  Dynasties  of  "Black  and  White  Sheep  "  together 
were  swept  away  a  few  years  after  by  Ismail,  Founder  of 
the  Sofi  Dynasty  in  Persia. 

Arrived  at  home,  Jami  found  Husein  Mirza  Baikara, 
last  of  the  Timuridse,  seated  on  the  Throne  there,  and 
ready  to  receive  him  with  open  Arms.  Nizamuddin  Ali 
Shir,  Husein's  Vizir,  a  Poet  too,  had  hailed  in  Verse  the 
Poet's  Advent  from  Damascus  as  "  The  Moon  rising  in 
(46)  the  West;"  and | they  both  continued  affectionately  to 
honour  him  as  long  as  he  lived. 

Jami  sickened  of  his  mortal  Illness  on  the  13th  of 
Moharrem,  1492 — a  Sunday.  His  Pulse  began  to  fail 
on  the  following  Friday,  about  the  Hour  of  Morning 
Prayer,  and  stopped  at  the  very  moment  when  the  Muez- 
zin began  to  call  to  Evening.  He  had  lived  Eighty-one 
Years.  Sultan  Husein  undertook  the  pompous  Burial 
of  one  whose  Glory  it  was  to  have  lived  and  died  in  Der- 

[      50      ] 


NOTICE   OF   JAMI'S   LIFE.  ^^l^ 

vish  Poverty;  the  Dignitaries  of  the  Kingdom  followed 
him  to  the  Grave ;  where  twenty  days  afterward  was  re- 
cited in  presence  of  the  Sultan  and  his  Court  an  Eulogy 
composed  by  the  Vizir,  who  also  laid  the  first  Stone  of 
a  Monument  to  his  Friend's  Memory — the  first  Stone  of 
"  Tarbet'i  Jami,"  in  the  Street  of  Meshhed,  a  principal 
Thoro'f  are  of  the  City  of  Herat.  For,  says  Rosenzweig, 
it  must  be  kept  in  mind  that  Jami  was  reverenced  not  only 
as  a  Poet  and  Philosopher,  but  as  a  Saint  also;  who  not 
only  might  work  a  Miracle  himself,  but  leave  such  a 
Power  lingering  about  his  Tomb.  It  was  known  that  an 
Arab,  who  had  falsely  accused  him  of  selling  a  Camel  he 
knew  to  be  unsound,  died  very  shortly  after,  as  Jami  had 
predicted,  and  on  the  very  selfsame  spot  where  the  Camel 
fell.  And  that  libellous  Rogue  at  Baghdad  | — ^he,  put-  (47) 
ting  his  hand  into  his  Horse's  Ncse-bag  to  see  if  the  beast 
had  finisht  his  Corn,  had  his  Forefinger  bitten  off  by  the 
same — from  which  "  Verstiinmilung  "  he  soon  died — I 
suppose,  as  he  ought,  of  Lock-jaw. 

The  Persians,  who  are  adepts  at  much  elegant  Inge- 
nuity, are  fond  of  commemorating  Events  by  some  anal- 
ogous Word  or  Sentence  whose  Letters,  cabalistically 
corresponding  to  certain  Numbers,  compose  the  Date  re- 
quired. In  Jami's  case  they  have  hit  upon  the  word 
"  Kas,"  a  Cup,  whose  signification  brings  his  own  name 
to  Memory,  and  whose  relative  letters  make  up  his  81 
years.  They  have  Tdrikhs  also  for  remembering  the  Year 
of  his  Death:  Rosenzweig  gives  some;  but  Ouseley  the 
prettiest  of  all: — 

[      51      ] 


eSSS?  notice  of  jami's  life. 

Dud  az  Khorasan  bar  amed — 

"The  smoke"  of  Sighs  "went  up  from  Khorasan." 

No  Biographer,  says  Rosenzweig  cautiously,  records 
of  Jami's  having  more  than  one  Wife  (Granddaughter 
of  his  Master  Sheikh)  and  Four  Sons;  which,  however, 
are  Five  too  many  for  the  Doctrine  of  this  Poem.  Of 
the  Sons,  Three  died  Infant;  and  the  Fourth  (born  to 
him  in  very  old  Age) ,  and  for  whom  he  wrote  some  Ele- 
mentary Tracts,  and  the  more  famous  "  Beharistan,"  lived 
(48)  but  a  few  years,  and  was  |  remembered  by  his  Father  in  the 
Preface  to  his  Khiradnama-i  Iskander — Alexander's 
Wisdom-book — which  perhaps  had  also  been  begun  for 
the  Boy's  Instruction.  He  had  likewise  a  nephew,  one 
Maulana  Abdullah,  who  was  ambitious  of  following  his 
Uncle's  Footsteps  in  Poetry.  Jami  first  dissuaded  him; 
then,  by  way  of  trial  whether  he  had  a  Talent  as  well  as 
a  Taste,  bade  him  imitate  Firdausi's  Satire  on  Shah  Mah- 
miid.  The  Nephew  did  so  well,  that  Jami  then  encour- 
aged him  to  proceed;  himself  wrote  the  first  Couplet  of 
his  First  (and  most  celebrated)  Poem — Laila  and 
Majniin — 

This  Book  of  which  the  Pen  has  now  laid  the  Foundation, 
May  the  diploma  of  Acceptance  one  day  befall  it, — 

and  Abdullah  went  on  to  write  that  and  four  other  Poems 
which  Persia  continues  to  delight  in  to  the  present  day, 
remembering  their  Author  under  his  Takhallus  of 
Hatifi — "  The  Voice  from  Heaven  " — and  Last  of  the 
classic  Poets  of  Persia. 

[      52      ] 


NOTICE   OF   JAMI'S  LIFE.  J^^,™ 

Of  Jami's  literary  Offspring,  Rosenzweig  numbers 
forty-four.  But  Shir  Khan  Liidi  in  his  "  Memoirs  of  the 
Poets,"  says  Ouseley,  accounts  him  Author  of  Ninety- 
nine  Volumes  of  Grammar,  Poetry,  and  Theology,  which, 
he  says,  "  continue  to  be  universally  admired  in  all  parts 
of  the  Eastern  World,  Iran,  Tiiran,  and  Hindustan  " — 
copied  some  of  them  into  |  precious  Manuscripts,  illumi-  (49) 
nated  with  Gold  and  Painting,  by  the  greatest  Penmen 
and  Artists  of  the  time;  one  such — the  "  Beharistan" — 
said  to  have  cost  some  thousands  of  pounds — autographed 
as  their  own  by  two  Sovereign  Descendants  of  Timur; 
and  now  reposited  away  from  "  the  Drums  and  Tramp- 
lings  "  of  Oriental  Conquest  in  the  tranquil  seclusion  of 
an  English  library. 

With  us,  his  Name  is  almost  wholly  associated  with 
his  "  Yiisuf  and  Zulaikha;  "  the  "  Beharistan  "  aforesaid: 
and  this  present  "  Salaman  and  Absal,"  which  he  tells  us 
is  like  to  be  the  last  product  of  his  Old  Age.  And  these 
three  Poems  count  for  three  of  the  brother  Stars  of  that 
Constellation  into  which  his  seven  best  Mystical  Poems 
are  clustered  under  the  name  of  "  Heft  Aurang  " — 
those  "  Seven  Thrones  "  to  which  we  of  the  West  and 
North  give  our  characteristic  name  of  "  Great  Bear " 
and  "  Charles's  Wain." 


This  particular  Salaman  Star,  which  thus  conspicu- 
ously figures  in  Eastern  eyes,  but  is  reduced  to  one  of 
very  inferior  magnitude  as  seen  through  this  English 

[      53      ] 


SYSoN  NOTICE   OF   JAMI'S   LIFE. 

Version, — is  one  of  many  Allegories  under  which  the 
(50)  Persian  Mystic  symbolized  an  esoteric  [doctrine  which  he 
dared  not — and  probably  could  not — more  intelligibly 
reveal.  As  usual  with  such  Poems  in  the  story-loving 
East,  the  main  Fable  is  intersected  at  every  turn  with 
some  other  subsidiary  story,  more  or  less  illustrative  of  the 
matter  in  hand:  many  of  these  of  a  comic  and  grotesque 
Character  mimicking  the  more  serious,  as  may  the  Gra- 
cioso  of  the  Spanish  Drama.  As  for  the  metre  of  the 
Poem,  it  is  the  same  as  that  adopted  by  Attar,  Jelalud- 
din  and  other  such  Poets — and  styled,  as  I  have  heard,  the 
"  Metre  Royal  " — although  not  having  been  used  by 
Firdausi  for  his  Shah-nameh.    Thus  it  runs: 


a  pace  which,  to  those  not  used  to  it,  seems  to  bring  one 
up  with  too  sudden  a  halt  at  the  end  of  every  line  to 
promise  easy  travelling  through  an  Epic.  It  may  be 
represented  in  Monkish  Latin  Quantity: 

Dum  Salaman  verba  Regis  cogitat, 
Pectus  illi  de  profundis  aestuat; 

or  by  English  accent  in  two  lines  that  may  also  plead  for 
us  and  our  Allegory: 

Of  Salaman  and  of  Absal  hear  the  Song; 
Little  wants  man  here  below,  nor  little  long. 


[      54      ] 


SALAMAN  AND  ABSAL. 


PRELIMINARY  INVOCATION. 

Oh  Thou,  whose  Spirit  through  this  universe. 
In  which  Thou  dost  involve  thyself  diffused. 
Shall  so  perchance  irradiate  human  clay 
That  men,  suddenly  dazzled,  lose  themselves 
In  ecstasy  before  a  mortal  shrine 
Whose  Light  is  but  a  Shade  of  the  Divine; 
Not  till  thy  Secret  Beauty  through  the  cheek 
Of  Laila  smite  doth  she  inflame  Majnun  ;  ^ 
And  not  till  Thou  have  kindled  Shirin's  Eyes 
The  hearts  of  those  two  Rivals  swell  with  blood. 
For  Lov'd  and  Lover  are  not  but  by  Thee, 
Nor  Beauty; — mortal  Beauty  but  the  veil 
Thy  Heavenly  hides  behind,  and  from  itself 
Feeds,  and  our  hearts  yearn  after  as  a  Bride 
That  glances  past  us  veiFd — but  ever  so  (52) 

That  none  the  veil  from  what  it  hides  may  know. 
How  long  wilt  thou  continue  thus  the  World 
To  cozen^  with  the  fantom  of  a  veil 

*  Well-known  Types  of  Eastern  Lovers,     Shirin  and  her  Suitors  fig- 
ure in  Sect.  xx. 

^  The  Persian  Mystics  also  represent  the  Deity  dicing  with  Human 
Destiny  behind  the  Curtain. 

[  55  ] 


^XoN  SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL. 

From  which  thou  only  peepest?     I  would  be 
Thy  Lover,  and  thine  only — I,  mine  eyes 
Seal'd  in  the  light  of  Thee  to  all  but  Thee, 
Yea,  in  the  revelation  of  Thyself 
Lost  to  Myself,  and  all  that  Self  is  not 
Within  the  Double  world  that  is  but  One. 
Thou  lurkest  under  all  the  forms  of  Thought, 
Under  the  form  of  all  Created  things; 
Look  where  I  may,  still  nothing  I  discern 
But  Thee  throughout  this  Universe,  wherein 
Thyself  Thou  dost  reflect,  and  through  those  eyes 
Of  him  whom  Man  thou  madest,  scrutinize. 
To  thy  Harim  Dividuality 
No  entrance  finds — no  word  of  This  and  That; 
Do  Thou  my  separate  and  derived  Self 
Make  one  with  thy  Essential!    Leave  me  room 
On  that  Divan  which  leaves  no  room  for  Twain; 
Lest,  like  the  simple  Arab  in  the  tale, 
I  grow  perplext,  oh  God!  'twixt  "Me"  and  "Thee;" 
(53)  If  I — this  Spirit  that  inspires  me  whence? 
If  Thou — ^then  what  this  sensual  Impotence? 


From  the  solitary  Desert 

Up  to  Baghdad  came  a  simple 

[     56     ] 


FOURTH 
EDITION 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL. 

Arab;  there  amid  the  rout 
Grew  bewildered  of  the  countless 
People  J  hither  J  thither,  runnings 
Coming,  going,  meeting,  parting. 
Clamour,  clatter,  and  confusion. 

All  about  him  and  about. 
Travel-wearied,  hubbub-dizzy. 
Would  the  simple  Arab  fain 
Get  to  sleep — ''But  then,  on  waking, 
''How,"  quoth  he,  "amid  so  many 

"Waking  know  Myself  again?  " 
So,  to  make  the  matter  certain. 
Strung  a  gourd  about  his  ankle. 
And,  into  a  corner  creeping, 
Baghdad  and  Himself  and  People 

Soon  were  blotted  from  his  brain. 
But  one  that  heard  him  and  divined 
His  purpose,  slily  crept  behind; 
From  the  Sleeper's  ankle  clipping,* 

Round  his  own  the  pumpkin  tied,  (54) 

And  laid  him  down  to  sleep  beside. 
By  and  by  the  Arab  waking 
Looks  directly  for  his  Signal — 
Sees  it  on  another's  Ankle — 
Cries  aloud,  "Oh  Good-for-nothing 

*"Slipping."     (Third  edition.) 

[     57     ] 


SSoN  SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL. 

''Rascal  to  perplex  me  so! 

''That  by  you  I  am  bewilder  dj 

"Whether  I  be  I  or  no! 

"If  I — the  Pumpkin  why  on  You? 

"If  You — then  Where  am  I,  and  Who? 


And  yet,  how  long,  O  Jami,  stringing  Verse, 
Pearl  after  pearl,  on  that  old  Harp  of  thine  ? 
Year  after  year  attuning  some  new  Song, 
The  breath  of  some  old  Story?  ^     Life  is  gone. 
And  that  last  song  is  not  the  last;  my  Soul 
Is  spent — and  still  a  Story  to  be  told! 
And  I,  whose  back  is  crooked  as  the  Harp 
I  still  keep  tuning  through  the  Night  till  Day! 
That  Harp  untuned  by  Time — ^the  harper's  hand 
Shaking  with  Age — ^how  shall  the  harper's  hand 
Repair  its  cunning,  and  the  sweet  old  harp 
(55)  Be  modulated  as  of  old?     Methinks 

'Twere  time  to  break  and  cast  it  in  the  fire ; 
The  vain  old  harp,  that,  breathing  from  its  strings 
No  music  more  to  charm  the  ears  of  men. 
May,  from  its  scented  ashes,  as  it  burns. 
Breathe  resignation  to  the  Harper's  soul. 
Now  that  his  body  looks  to  dissolution. 

^  "Yusuf  and  Zulaikhd/*  "Laila  and  Majnun/'  <^c. 

[      58      ] 


SALAMAN   AND    ABSAL.  l^^^^ 

My  teeth  fall  out — my  two  eyes  see  no  more 
Till  by  Feringhi  glasses  turn'd  to  four;  ^ 
Pain  sits  with  me  sitting  behind  my  knees, 
From  which  I  hardly  rise  unhelpt  of  hand; 
I  bow  down  to  my  root,  and  like  a  Child 
Yearn,  as  is  likely,  to  my  Mother  Earth, 
Upon  whose  bosom  I  shall  cease  to  weep. 
And  on  my  Mother's  bosom  fall  asleep.^ 

The  House  in  ruin,  and  its  music  heard 

No  more  within,  nor  at  the  door  of  speech. 

Better  in  silence  and  oblivion 

To  fold  me  head  and  foot,  remembering 

What  The  Voice  whisper'd  in  the  Master's '  ear — 

"  No  longer  think  of  Rhyme,  but  think  of  Me!  " —  (56) 

Of  Whom? — Of  Him  whose  Palace  the  Soul  is. 

And  Treasure-house — who  notices  and  knows 

Its  income  and  out-going,  and  then  comes 

To  fill  it  when  the  Stranger  is  departed. 

Yea;  but  whose  Shadow  being  Earthly  Kings, 

Their  Attributes,  their  Wrath  and  Favour,  His, — 

Lo!  in  the  meditation  of  His  glory, 

^  First  notice  of  Spectacles  in  Oriental  Poetry,  perhaps. 

^  The  same  Figure  is  found  in  Chaucer's  "Pardoner's  Tale,"  and,  I 

think,  in  other  Western  poems  of  that  era. 

^  Mohammed  Saaduddin  Kdshghari,  spoken  of  in  Notice  of  JdmVs 

life,  p.  ^6. 

["Jelaluddin — Author  of  the  "Mesnavi."   (Third  edition.)] 

[     59     ] 


eS?S  salaman  and  absal. 

The  Shah  ^  whose  subject  upon  Earth  I  am. 
As  he  of  Heaven's,  comes  on  me  unaware, 
And  suddenly  arrests  me  for  his  due. 
Therefore  for  one  last  travel,  and  as  brief 
As  may  become  the  feeble  breath  of  Age, 
My  weary  pen  once  more  drinks  of  the  well. 
Whence,  of  the  Mortal  writing,  I  may  read 
Anticipation  of  the  Invisible. 


One  who  travelVd  in  the  Desert 
Saw  Majnun  where  he  was  sitting 
All  alone  like  a  Magician 

Tracing  Letters  in  the  Sand, 
"Oh  distracted  Lover!  writing 
(57)  ''What  the  Sword-wind  of  the  Desert 

"Undeciphers  so  that  no  one 

"After  you  shall  understand." 
Majnun  answered — "I  am  writing 
"Only  for  myself,  and  only 
"  '  Laila,'— //•  for  ever  '  Laila  ' 
"Writing,  in  that  Word  a  Volume, 
"Over  which  for  ever  poring, 
"From  her  very  Name  I  sip 
"In  Fancy,  till  I  drink,  her  Lip/' 

^  Yakub  Beg  :  to  whose  protection  J  ami  owed  a  Song  of  gratitude. 

[    60    ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  SS,7on 


(58) 


THE   STORY. 
Part  I. 

A  Shah  there  was  who  ruled  the  reahn  of  Yiin/ 
And  wore  the  Ring  of  Empire  of  Sikander; 
And  in  his  reign  A  Sage^  of  such  report 
For  Insight  reaching  quite  beyond  the  Veil, 
That  Wise  men  from  all  quarters  of  the  World, 
To  catch  the  jewel  falling  from  his  lips 
Out  of  the  secret  treasure  as  he  went. 
Went  in  a  girdle  round  him. — Which  the  Shah 
Observing,  took  him  to  his  secresy ; 
Stirr'd  not  a  step,  nor  set  design  afoot. 
Without  the  Prophet's  sanction;  till,  so  counsell'd. 
From  Kaf  to  Kaf  ^  reach'd  his  Dominion : 
No  People,  and  no  Prince  that  over  them 
The  ring  of  Empire  wore,  but  under  his 
Bow'd  down  in  Battle;  rising  then  in  Peace 
Under  his  Justice  grew,  secure  from  wrong. 
And  in  their  strength  was  his  Dominion  strong. 

^  Or  "Yavan/*  Son  of  Japhet,  from  whom  the  Country  was  called 
*YuNAN," — Ionia,  meant  by  the  Persians  to  express  Greece  gen- 
erally.    Sikander  is,  of  course,  Alexander  the  Great. 
^  The  Fabulous  Mountain  supposed  by  Asiatics  to  surround  the  World, 
binding  the  Horizon  on  all  sides. 

[     61     ] 


JgSSoN  SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL. 

(59)  The  Shah  that  has  not  Wisdom  in  himself, 
Nor  has  a  Wise  one  for  his  Counsellor, 
The  wand  of  his  Authority  falls  short. 
And  his  Dominion  crumbles  at  the  base. 
For  he,  discerning  not  the  characters 
Of  Tyranny  and  Justice,  confounds  both, 
Making  the  World  a  desert,  and  Redress 
A  f  antom-water  of  the  Wilderness. 


God  said  to  the  Prophet  David — 
''David,  whom  I  have  exalted 
"From  the  sheep  to  he  my  People's 

"Shepherd,  by  your  Justice  my 

"Revelation  justify. 
"Lest  the  misbelieving — yea, 
"The  Fire-adoring,  Princes  rather 
"Be  my  Prophets,  who  fulfil, 
"Knowing  not  my  Word,  my  Will." 


One  night  The  Shah  of  Yiinan  as  he  sate 
Contemplating  his  measureless  extent 
Of  Empire,  and  the  glory  wherewithal, 
(60)  As  with  a  garment  robed,  he  ruled  alone ; 
Then  found  he  nothing  wanted  to  his  heart 

Unless  a  Son,  who,  while  he  lived,  might  share, 

[     62     ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  ^^^^ 

And,  after  him,  his  robe  of  Empire  wear. 

And  then  he  turned  him  to  The  Sage,  and  said: 

"  O  Darhng  of  the  soul  of  Iflatun;  ^ 

"  To  whom  with  all  his  school  Aristo  bows; 

"  Yea,  thou  that  an  Eleventh  to  the  Ten 

"  Intelligences  addest:   Thou  hast  read 

"  The  yet  unutter'd  secret  of  my  Heart, 

"  Answer — Of  all  that  man  desires  of  God 

"  Is  any  blessing  greater  than  a  Son? 

"  Man's  prime  Desire ;  by  whom  his  name  and  he 

"  Shall  live  beyond  himself;  by  whom  his  eyes 

"  Shine  living,  and  his  dust  with  roses  blows. 

"  A  Foot  for  thee  to  stand  on,  and  an  Arm 

"  To  lean  by;  sharp  in  battle  as  a  sword; 

"  Salt  of  the  banquet-table ;  and  a  tower 

"  Of  salutary  counsel  in  Divan; 

"  One  in  whose  youth  a  Father  shall  prolong 

"  His  years,  and  in  his  strength  continue  strong." 

When  the  shrewd  Sage  had  heard  The  Shah's  discourse 
In  commendation  of  a  Son,  he  said:  (^V 

"  Thus  much  of  a  Good  Son,  whose  wholesome  growth 
"  Approves  the  root  he  grew  from.     But  for  one 
"  Kneaded  of  Evil — well,  could  one  revoke 
"  His  generation,  and  as  early  pull 

^Iflatun,  Plato;  Aristo,  Aristotle:  both  renowned  in  the  East  to  this 
Day.     For  the  Ten  Intelligences,  see  Appendix. 

[     63     ] 


Jgjg'^^  SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL. 

"  Him  and  his  vices  from  the  string  of  Time. 
"  Like  Noah's,  pufF'd  with  insolence  and  pride, 
"  Who,  reckless  of  his  Father's  warning  call, 
"  Was  by  the  voice  of  Allah  from  the  door 
"  Of  refuge  in  his  Father's  Ark  debarr'd, 
"  And  perish'd  in  the  Deluge.^     And  as  none 

"  Who  long  for  children  may  their  children  choose, 
"  Beware  of  teazing  Allah  for  a  Son, 

"  Whom  having,  you  may  have  to  pray  to  lose." 


Sick  at  heart  for  want  of  Children, 
Ran  before  the  Saint  a  Fellow, 
Catching  at  his  garment,  crying, 

''Master,  hear  and  help  me!    Pray 

''That  Allah  from  the  barren  clay 
"Raise  me  up  a  fresh  young  Cypress, 
"Who  my  longing  eyes  may  lighten, 
"And  not  let  me  like  a  vapour 
(62)  "Unremember'd  pass  away!' 

But  the  Dervish  said — "Consider; 

"Wisely  let  the  matter  rest 
"In  the  hands  of  Allah  wholly, 
"Who,  whatever  we  are  after, 

"Understands  our  business  best" 

^  See  Note  in  Appendix  I. 

[    64     ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  ^JgJ^ 

Still  the  man  persisted — "Master^ 
"I  shall  perish  in  my  longing: 
"Help,  and  set  my  prayer  a-going! " 

Then  the  Dervish  raised  his  hand — 

From  the  mystic  Hunting-land 
Of  Darkness  to  the  Father's  arms 

A  mushy  Fawn  of  China  drew — 
A  Boy — who,  when  the  shoot  of  Passion 

In  his  Nature  planted  grew. 
Took  to  drinking,  dicing,  drabbing. 
From  a  corner  of  the  house-top 
Ill-insulting  honest  women. 
Dagger-drawing  on  the  husband; 

And  for  many  a  city -brawl 
Still  before  the  Cadi  summon  d. 

Still  the  Father  pays  for  all. 

Day  and  night  the  youngster's  doings 

Such — the  city's  talk  and  scandal; 

Neither  counsel,  threat,  entreaty. 

Moved  him — till  the  desperate  Father 

Once  more  to  the  Dervish  running,  (63) 

Catches  at  his  garment — crying — 

"Oh  my  only  Hope  and  Helper! 

"One  more  Prayer!    That  God,  who  laid, 

"Would  take  this  trouble  from  my  head! " 
[    65    ] 


{64) 


EmSoN  SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL. 

But  the  Saint  replied — "Remember 
''How  that  very  Day  I  warnd  you 
"Not  with  blind  petition  Allah 
"Trouble  to  your  own  confusion; 

"Unto  whom  remains  no  more 
"To  pray  for,  save  that  He  may  pardon 

"What  so  rashly  pray'd  before/' 


*  So  much  for  the  result ;  and  for  the  means — 
'  Oh  Shah^  who  would  not  be  himself  a  slave, 

'  Which  Shah  least  should,  and  of  an  appetite 
'  Among  the  basest  of  his  slaves  enslaved — 
'  Better  let  Azrael  find  him  on  his  throne 

*  Of  Empire  sitting  childless  and  alone, 
'  Than  his  untainted  Majesty  resign 

'  To  that  seditious  drink,  of  which  one  draught 
'  Still  for  another  and  another  craves, 
'  Till  it  become  a  noose  to  draw  the  Crown 
'  From  off  thy  brows — about  thy  lips  a  ring, 
'  Of  which  the  rope  is  in  a  Woman's  hand, 
'  To  lead  thyself  the  road  of  Nothing  down. 
'  For  what  is  She?    A  foolish,  faithless  thing — 
'  A  very  Kafir  in  rapacity ; 

*  Robe  her  in  all  the  rainbow-tinted  woof 

*  Of  Susa,  shot  with  rays  of  sunny  Gold ; 

[    66    ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  ^^g^^x 

"  Deck  her  with  jewel  thick  as  Night  with  star; 
"  Pamper  her  appetite  with  Houri  fruit 
"  Of  Paradise,  and  fill  her  jewell'd  cup 
"  From  the  green-mantled  Prophet's  Wellbf  Life — 
"  One  little  twist  of  temper — all  your  cost 
"  Goes  all  for  nothing:  and,  as  for  yourself — 
"  Look!     On  your  bosom  she  may  lie  for  years; 

"  But,  get  you  gone  a  moment  out  of  sight, 
"  And  she  forgets  you — worse,  if,  as  you  turn, 

"  Her  eyes  on  any  younger  Lover  light." 


Once  upon  the  Throne  together 

Telling  one  another  Secrets, 

Sate  SuLAYMAN  and  Balkis;  ^ 

The  Hearts  of  both  were  turnd  to  Truth,  (66) 

Unsullied  by  Deception, 

First  the  King  of  Faith  Sulayman 

Spoke — ''However  just  and  wise 
"  Reported,  none  of  all  the  many 
''Suitors  to  my  palace  thronging 

"But  afar  I  scrutinize; 
"And  He  who  comes  not  empty-handed 

"Grows  to  Honour  in  mine  Eyes" 
After  this,  Balkis  a  Secret 

^  Solomon  and  the  Queen  of  Sheha,  who,  it  appears,  is  no  worse  in  one 
way  than  Solomon  in  another,  unless  in  Oriental  Eyes. 

[    67     ] 


JSrS  SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL. 

From  her  hidden  bosom  utter'dj 
Saying — ''Never  night  or  morning 
''Comely  Youth  before  me  passes 
"Whom  I  look  not  after ^  longing'' — 

"  If  this,  as  wise  Firdausi  says,  the  curse 

"  Of  better  women,  what  then  of  the  worse?  " 


The  Sage  his  satire  ended;  and  The  Shah, 
Determined  on  his  purpose,  but  the  means 
Resigning  to  Supreme  Intelligence, 
With  Magic-mighty  Wisdom  his  own  Will 
CoUeagued,  and  wrought  his  own  accomplishment. 
For  Lo !  from  Darkness  came  to  Light  A  Child, 
Of  carnal  composition  unattaint; 
(66)  A  Perfume  from  the  realm  of  Wisdom  wafted; 
A  Rosebud  blowing  on  the  Royal  stem; 
The  crowning  Jewel  of  the  Crown;  a  Star 
Under  whose  augury  triumph'd  the  Throne. 
For  whom  dividing,  and  again  in  one 
Whole  perfect  Jewel  re-uniting,  those 
Twin  Jewel-words  Salamat  and  Asman,* 
They  hail'd  him  by  the  title  of  Salaman. 
And  whereas  from  no  Mother  milk  he  drew. 
They  chose  for  him  a  Nurse — ^her  name  Absal — 

^  Salamat,  Security  from  Evil;  Asman,  Heaven. 

[     68     ] 


SALAMAN   AND    ABSAL.  JS?S 

So  young,  the  opening  roses  of  her  breast 

But  just  had  budded  to  an  infant's  lip; 

So  beautiful,  as  from  the  silver  line 

Dividing  the  musk-harvest  of  her  hair 

Down  to  her  foot  that  trampled  crowns  of  Kings, 

A  Moon  of  beauty  full;  who  thus  elect 

Should  in  the  garment  of  her  bounty  fold 

Salaman  of  auspicious  augury. 

Should  feed  him  with  the  flowing  of  her  breast. 

And,  once  her  eyes  had  open'd  upon  Him, 

They  closed  to  all  the  world  beside,  and  fed 

For  ever  doating  on  her  Royal  jewel 

Close  in  his  golden  cradle  casketed: 

Opening  and  closing  which  her  day's  delight, 

To  gaze  upon  his  heart-inflaming  cheek, —  (67) 

Upon  the  Babe  whom,  if  she  could,  she  would 

Have  cradled  as  the  Baby  of  her  eye.^ 

In  rose  and  musk  she  wash'd  him — to  his  lip 

Press'd  the  pure  sugar  from  the  honeycomb; 

And  when,  day  over,  she  withdrew  her  milk. 

She  made,  and  having  laid  him  in,  his  bed, 

Burn'd  all  night  like  a  taper  o'er  his  head. 

And  still  as  Morning  came,  and  as  he  grew. 
Finer  than  any  bridal-puppet,  which 

^  Literally,  Mardumak — the  Mannikin,  or  Pupil,  of  the  Eye,  corre- 
sponding  to  the  Image  so  frequently  used  by  our  old  Poets, 

[    69    ] 


eSSon  salaman  and  absal. 

To  prove  another's  love  a  woman  sends/ 
She  trick'd  him  up — with  fresh  Collyrium  dew 
Touch'd  his  narcissus  eyes — the  musky  locks 
Divided  from  his  forehead — and  embraced 
With  gold  and  ruby  girdle  his  fine  waist. 

So  for  seven  years  she  rear'd  and  tended  him: 
Nay,  when  his  still-increasing  moon  of  Youth 
Into  the  further  Sign  of  Manhood  pass'd 
Pursued  him  yet,  till  full  fourteen  his  years. 
Fourteen-day  full  the  beauty  of  his  face, 
(68)  That  rode  high  in  a  hundred  thousand  hearts. 
For,  when  Salaman  was  but  half -lance  high. 
Lance-like  he  struck  a  wound  in  every  one. 
And  shook  down  splendour  round  him  like  a  Sun. 


Soon  as  the  Lord  of  Heav'n  had  sprung  his  horse 
Over  horizon  into  the  blue  field, 
Salaman  kindled  with  the  wine  of  sleep. 
Mounted  a  barb  of  fire  for  the  Maidan; 
He  and  a  troop  of  Princes — Kings  in  blood, 
Kings  in  the  kingdom-troubling  tribe  of  beauty. 
All  young  in  years  and  courage,^  bat  in  hand 
Gallop'd  a-field,  toss'd  down  the  golden  ball 

^  See  Appendix. 

^  The  same  Persian  Word  signifying  Youth  and  Courage. 

[     70     ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  ^5,«™ 

And  chased,  so  many  crescent  Moons  a  full;^ 

And,  all  alike  intent  upon  the  Game, 

Salaman  still  would  carry  from  them  all 

The  prize,  and  shouting  "  Hal!  "  drive  home  the  ball. 

This  done,  Salajvian  bent  him  as  a  bow 

To  Archery — from  Masters  of  the  craft 

Call'd  for  an  unstrung  bow — ^himself  the  cord  (69) 

Fitted  unhelpt,^  and  nimbly  with  his  hand 

Twanging  made  cry,  and  drew  it  to  his  ear; 

Then,  fixing  the  three-feather'd  fowl,  discharged: 

And  whether  aiming  at  the  fawn  a-f oot. 

Or  bird  on  wing,  direct  his  arrow  flew, 

Like  the  true  Soul  that  cannot  but  go  true. 


When  night  came,  that  releases  man  from  toil. 
He  play'd  the  chess  of  social  intercourse; 
Prepared  his  banquet-hall  like  Paradise, 
Summoned  his  Houri-faced  musicians. 
And,  when  his  brain  grew  warm  with  wine,  the  veil 
Flung  off  him  of  reserve ;  taking  a  harp, 

^  See  Appendix. 

^  Borvs  being  so  gradually  stiffened,  according  to  the  age  and  strength 
of  the  Archer,  as  at  last  to  need  five  Hundred- weight  of  pressure  to 
bendf  says  an  old  Translation  of  Chardin,  who  describes  all  the  pro- 
cess up  to  bringing  up  the  string  to  the  ear,  "as  if  to  hang  it  there" 
before  shooting.  Then  the  first  trial  was,  who  could  shoot  highest: 
then,  the  mark,  S^c. 

[     71     ] 


SSioN  SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL. 

Between  its  dry  string  and  his  finger  quick 
Struck  fire:  or  catching  up  a  lute,  as  if 
A  child  for  chastisement,  would  pinch  its  ear 
To  wailing  that  should  aged  eyes  make  weep. 
(70)  Now  like  the  Nightingale  he  sang  alone; 
Now  with  another  lip  to  lip;  and  now 
Together  blending  voice  and  instrument; 
And  thus  with  his  associates  night  he  spent. 

His  Soul  rejoiced  in  knowledge  of  all  kind; 
The  fine  edge  of  his  Wit  would  split  a  hair, 
And  in  the  noose  of  apprehension  catch 
A  meaning  ere  articulate  in  word; 
Close  as  the  knitted  jewel  of  Parwm 
His  jewel  Verse  he  strung;  his  Rhetoric 
Enlarging  like  the  Mourners  of  the  Bier.^ 
And  when  he  took  the  nimble  reed  in  hand 
To  run  the  errand  of  his  Thought  along 
Its  paper  field — the  character  he  traced, 
Fine  on  the  lip  of  Youth  as  the  first  hair, 
Drove  Penmen,  as  that  Lovers,  to  despair. 

His  Bounty  like  a  Sea  was  fathomless 
That  bubbled  up  with  jewel,  and  flung  pearl 

^  The  Pleiades  and  the  Great  Bear.  This  is  otherrvise  prettily  applied 
in  the  Anvdri  Soheili — "When  one  grows  poor,  his  Friends,  heretofore 
compact  as  The  Pleiades,  disperse  wide  asunder  as  The  Mourners." 

[     72     ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  J«Ytion 


Where'er  it  touch'd,  but  drew  not  back  again; 

It  was  a  Heav'n  that  rain'd  on  all  below  cri) 

Dirhems  for  drops — 


But  here  that  inward  Voice 
Arrested  and  rebuked  me — "  Foolish  Jami! 
"  Wearing  that  indefatigable  pen 
"  In  celebration  of  an  alien  Shah 
"  Whose  Throne,  not  grounded  in  the  Eternal  World, 
"  If  Yesterday  it  were.  To-day  is  not, 
"  To-MORROW  cannot  be."  ^    But  I  replied; 
"  O  Fount  of  Light! — under  an  alien  name 
"  I  shadow  One  upon  whose  head  the  Crown 
"  Was  and  yet  Is,  and  Shall  be;  whose  Firman 
"  The  Kingdoms  Sev'n  of  this  World,  and  the  Seas, 
"  And  the  Sev'n  Heavens,  alike  are  subject  to. 
"  Good  luck  to  him  who  under  other  Name 
"  Instructed  us  that  Glory  to  disguise 
"  To  which  the  Initiate  scarce  dare  lift  his  eyes." 


Sate  a  Lover  in  a  Garden 
All  alone,  apostrophizing 


^  The  Hero  of  the  Story  being  of  Yunan — Ionia,  or  Greece  gener- 
ally (the  Persian  Geography  not  being  very  precise) — and  so  not  of 


The  Faith. 

[     73     ] 


SSoN  SALAMAN   AND    ABSAL. 

(72)  Many  a  flower  and  shrub  about  Mm, 

And  the  lights  of  Heav'n  above, 
Nightingaling  thus,  a  Noodle 
Heard  him,  and,  completely  puzzled, 
''What,"  quoth  he,  ''and  you  a  Lover, 
"Raving,  not  about  your  Mistress, 
"But  about  the  stars  and  roses — 

"What  have  these  to  do  with  Love?  " 
Answer' d  he:  "Oh  thou  that  aimest 
"Wide  of  Love,  and  Lovers'  language 

"Wholly  misinterpreting; 
"Sun  and  Moon  are  but  my  Lady's 

"Self,  as  any  Lover  knows; 
"Hyacinth  I  said,  and  meant  her 

"Hair — her  cheek  was  in  the  rose — 
"And  I  myself  the  wretched  weed 

"That  in  her  cypress  shadow  grows" 


And  now  the  cypress  stature  of  Salaman 
Had  reached  his  top,  and  now  to  blossom  full 
The  garden  of  his  Beauty ;  and  Absal, 
Fairest  of  hers,  as  of  his  fellows  he 
The  fairest,  long'd  to  gather  from  the  tree. 
C73;  But,  for  that  flower  upon  the  lofty  stem 

Of  Glory  grew  to  which  her  hand  fell  short, 

[     74     ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  J^Son 

She  now  with  woman's  sorcery  began 
To  conjure  as  she  might  within  her  reach. 
The  darkness  of  her  eyes  she  darkened  round 
With  surma,  to  benight  him  in  mid  day, 
And  over  them  adorn'd  and  arch'd  the  bows  ^ 
To  wound  him  there  when  lost:  her  musky  locks 
Into  so  many  snaky  ringlets  curl'd, 
In  which  Temptation  nestled  o'er  the  cheek 
Whose  rose  she  kindled  with  vermilion  dew. 
And  then  one  subtle  grain  of  musk  laid  there,^ 
The  bird  of  that  beloved  heart  to  snare. 
Sometimes  in  passing  with  a  laugh  would  break 
The  pearl-enclosing  ruby  of  her  lips; 
Or,  busied  in  the  room,  as  by  mischance 
Would  let  the  lifted  sleeve  disclose  awhile 
The  vein  of  silver  running  up  within : 
Or,  rising  as  in  haste,  her  golden  anklets 
Clash,  at  whose  sudden  summons  to  bring  down 
Under  her  silver  feet  the  golden  Crown. 
Thus,  by  innumerable  witcheries. 

She  went  about  soliciting  his  eyes,  (74) 

Through  which  she  knew  the  robber  unaware 
Steals  in,  and  takes  the  bosom  by  surprise. 

^  With  dark  Indigo-paint,  as  the  Archery  Bow  with  a  thin  Papyrus- 
like Bark. 
^  A  Patch,  sc. — "Noir  comme  le  Muse."     De  Sacy. 

[     75     ] 


eXon  salaman  and  absal. 

Burning  with  her  love  Zulaikha 
Built  a  chamber,  wall  and  ceiling 
Blank  as  an  untarnisht  mirror. 
Spotless  as  the  heart  of  Yusur. 
Then  she  made  a  cunning  painter 
Multiply  her  image  round  it; 
Not  an  inch,  of  wall  or  ceiling 
But  re-echoing  her  beauty. 
Then  amid  them  all  in  all  her 
Glory  sate  she  down,  and  sent  for 

YusuF — she  began  a  tale 

Of  Love — and  lifted  up  her  veil. 
Bashfully  beneath  her  burning 
Eyes  he  turnd  away;  but  turning 
Wheresoever,  still  about  him 
Saw  Zulaikha,  still  Zulaikha, 
Still,  without  a  veil,  Zulaikha. 
(75)  But  a  Voice  as  if  from  Canaan 

CalVd  him;  and  a  Hand  from  Darkness 

Touched;  and  ere  a  living  Lip 
Through  the  mirage  of  bewilder' d 
Eyes  seduced  him,  he  recoiled, 

And  let  the  skirt  of  danger  slip. 


[    76    ] 


SAI.AMAN   AND   ABSAL.  JJ^™ 


Paet  II. 


Alas  for  those  who  having  tasted  once 

Of  that  forbidden  vintage  of  the  lips 

That,  press'd  and  pressing,  from  each  other  draw 

The  draught  that  so  intoxicates  them  both. 

That,  while  upon  the  wings  of  Day  and  Night 

Time  rustles  on,  and  Moons  do  wax  and  wane, 

As  from  the  very  Well  of  Life  they  drink. 

And,  drinking,  fancy  they  shall  never  drain. 

But  rolling  Heaven  from  his  ambush  whispers, 

"So  in  my  license  is  it  not  set  down: 

"Ah  for  the  sweet  societies  I  make 

"At  Morning,  and  before  the  Nightfall  break ; 

"Ah  for  the  bliss  that  coming  Night  fills  up, 

"And  Morn  looks  in  to  find  an  empty  Cup !  " 


Once  in  Baghdad  a  poor  Arab, 
After  weary  days  of  fasting, 
Into  the  Khalifah's  banquet- 
Chamber,  where,  aloft  in  State 
Harun  the  Great  at  supper  sate. 

Pushed  and  pushing,  with  the  throng. 

Got  before  a  perfume-breathing 

[     77     ] 


(76) 


JSoN  SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL. 

Pasty,  like  the  lip  of  Shirin 

Luscious,  or  the  Poet's  song. 
Soon  as  seen,  the  famisht  clown 
Seizes  up  and  swallows  down. 
Then  his  mouth  undaunted  wiping — 
"Oh  Khalifah,  hear  me  swear, 
''While  I  breathe  the  dust  of  Baghdad, 
''Ne'er  at  any  other  Table 
"Than  at  Thine  to  sup  or  dine.'* 
Grimly  laugh' d  Harun,  and  answered: 
"Fool!  who  think' st  to  arbitrate 
"What  is  in  the  hands  of  Fate — 
"Take,  and  thrust  him  from  the  Gate! " 


While  a  full  Year  was  counted  by  the  Moon, 
Salaman  and  Absal  rejoiced  together. 
And  neither  Shah  nor  Sage  his  face  beheld. 
They  question'd  those  about  him,  and  from  them 
Heard  something:  then  himself  to  presence  summon'd, 
And  all  the  truth  was  told.    Then  Sage  and  Shah 
Struck  out  with  hand  and  foot  in  his  redress. 
(78)  And  first  with  Reason,  which  is  also  best; 

Reason  that  rights  the  wanderer;  that  completes 
The  imperfect ;  Reason  that  resolves  the  knot 

Of  either  world,  and  sees  beyond  the  Veil. 

[     78     ] 


SALAMAN   AND    ABSAL.  ^JJ^™ 

For  Reason  is  the  fountain  from  of  old 
From  which  the  Prophets  drew,  and  none  beside: 
Who  boasts  of  other  inspiration,  lies — 
There  are  no  other  Prophets  than  The  Wise. 


And  first  The  Shah:—  "  Salaman,  Oh  my  Soul, 

"  Light  of  the  eyes  of  my  Prosperity, 

"  And  making  bloom  the  court  of  Hope  with  rose ; 

"  Year  after  year,  Salaman,  like  a  bud 

"  That  cannot  blow,  my  own  blood  I  devour'd, 

"  Till,  by  the  seasonable  breath  of  God, 

"  At  last  I  blossom'd  into  thee,  my  Son; 

"  Oh,  do  not  wound  me  with  a  dagger  thron; 

"  Let  not  the  full-blown  rose  of  Royalty 

"  Be  left  to  wither  in  a  hand  unclean. 

"  For  what  thy  proper  pastime?    Bat  in  hand 

"  To  mount  and  manage  Rakhsh  ^  along  the  Field ; 

"  Not,  with  no  weapon  but  a  wanton  curl  (79) 

"  Idly  reposing  on  a  silver  breast. 

"  Go,  fly  thine  arrow  at  the  antelope 

"  And  lion — let  me  not  My  lion  see 

"  Slain  by  the  arrow  eyes  of  a  ghazal. 

"  Go,  challenge  Zal  or  Rustam  to  the  Field, 

^  "Lightning.'*     The  name  of  Rustam's  famous  Horse  in  the  Shah- 

Nameh. 

[  79  ] 


eSSon  salaman  and  absal. 

"  And  smite  the  warriors'  neck;  not,  flying  them, 

"  Beneath  a  woman's  foot  submit  thine  own. 

"  O  wipe  the  woman's  henna  from  thy  hand, 

"  Withdraw  thee  from  the  minion  ^  who  from  thee 

"  Dominion  draws,  and  draws  me  with  thee  down; 

"  Years  have  I  held  my  head  aloft,  and  all 

"  For  Thee — Oh  shame  if  thou  prepare  my  Fall!  " 


When  before  Shiruyeh's  dagger 

Kai  Khusrau,^  his  Father,  fell. 

He  declared  this  Parable — 
(80)  "Wretch! — There  was  a  branch  that  waooing 

"Wanton  o'er  the  root  he  drank  from, 
"At  a  draught  the  living  water 

"Drained  wherewith  himself  to  crown; 
"Died  the  root — and  with  him  died 

"The  branch — and  barren  was  brought  down! " 


The  Shah  ceased  counsel,  and  The  Sage  began. 
"  O  last  new  vintage  of  the  Vine  of  Life 

^  "Shah/*  and  "Shahid"  (A  Mistress). 

^  Khusrau  Parviz  (Chosroe  The  Victorious),  Son  of  NosHfRVAN  The 
Great;  slain,  after  Thirty  Years  of  prosperous  Reign,  hy  his  Son 
Shiruyeh,  who,  according  to  some,  was  in  love  with  his  Father's  mis- 
tress SHiRiN.  See  further  on  one  of  the  most  dramatic  Tragedies  in 
Persian  history. 

[     80     ] 


SALAMAN   AND    ABSAL.  ^^YSon 

*  Planted  in  Paradise ;  Oh  Master-stroke, 

*  And  all-concluding  flourish  of  the  Pen 

'  KuN  fa-yakun;^  Thyself  prime  Archetype, 

'  And  ultimate  Accomplishment  of  Man  ! 

'  The  Almighty  hand,  that  out  of  common  earth 

'  Thy  mortal  outward  to  the  perfect  form 

'  Of  Beauty  moulded,  in  the  fleeting  dust 

'  Inscribed  Himself,  and  in  thy  bosom  set 

'  A  mirror  to  reflect  Himself  in  Thee. 

*  Let  not  that  dust  by  rebel  passion  blown 

*  Obliterate  that  character:  nor  let 

'  That  Mirror,  sullied  by  the  breath  impure,  (8i) 

'  Or  form  of  carnal  beauty  f ore-possest, 

'  Be  made  incapable  of  the  Divine. 

'  Supreme  is  thine  Original  degree, 

'  Thy  Star  upon  the  top  of  Heaven ;  but  Lust 

'  Will  bring  it  down,  down  even  to  the  Dustl  " 


Quoth  a  Muezzin  to  the  crested 
Cock — "Oh  Prophet  of  the  Morning, 

"Never  Prophet  like  to  you 
"Prophesied  of  Dawn,  nor  Muezzin 
"With  so  shrill  a  voice  of  warning 

^  "Be  !  AND  IT  IS." — The  famous  Word  of  Creation  stolen  from  Gene- 
sis by  the  Kurdn. 

I     81      ] 


JSSoN  SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL. 

"Woke  the  sleeper  to  confession 
"Crying,  *La  allah  illa  'llah, 

"Muhammad  rasuluhu.' ^ 
"One,  methinks,  so  rarely  gifted 

"Should  have  prophesied  and  sung 

"In  Heav'n,  the  Bird  of  Heav'n  among, 
"Not  with  these  poor  hens  about  him, 

"Raking  in  a  heap  of  dung" 
"And"  replied  the  Cock,  "in  Heaven 
"Once  I  was;  hut  by  my  foolish 
(82)  "Lust  to  this  uncleanly  living 

"With  my  sorry  mates  about  me 

"Thus  am  fallen.     Otherwise, 
"I  were  prophesying  Dawn 

"Before  the  gates  of  Paradise, 


fy  2 


Of  all  the  Lover's  sorrows,  next  to  that 

Of  Love  by  Love  forbidden,  is  the  voice 

Of  Friendship  turning  harsh  in  Love's  reproof, 

And  overmuch  of  Counsel — whereby  Love 

Grows  stubborn,  and  recoiling  unsupprest 

Within,  devours  the  heart  within  the  breast. 

^  "There  is  no  God  but  God;  Muhammad  is  his  Prophet.'* 
^  J  ami,  as,  may  he,  other  Saintly  Doctors,  kept  soberly  to  one  Wife. 
But  wherefore,  under  the  Law  of  Muhammad,  should  the  Cock  be 
selected  (as  I  suppose  he  is)  for  a  "Caution/'  because  of  his  indul- 
gence in  Polygamy,  however  unusual  among  Birds? 

[     82     ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  ^^^^l 

Sala:ivian  heard;  his  Soul  came  to  his  lips; 

Reproaches  struck  not  Absal  out  of  him. 

But  drove  Confusion  in;  bitter  became 

The  drinking  of  the  sweet  draught  of  Delight, 

And  wan'd  the  splendour  of  his  Moon  of  Beauty. 

His  breath  was  Indignation,  and  his  heart 

Bled  from  the  arrow,  and  his  anguish  grew.  (83) 

How  bear  it? — By  the  hand  of  Hatred  dealt, 

Easy  to  meet — and  deal  with,  blow  for  blow; 

But  from  Love's  hand  which  one  must  not  requite, 

And  cannot  yield  to — what  resource  but  Flight? 

Resolv'd  on  which,  he  victuall'd  and  equipped 

A  Camel,  and  one  night  he  led  it  forth. 

And  mounted — ^he  with  Absal  at  his  side. 

Like  sweet  twin  almonds  in  a  single  shell. 

And  Love  least  murmurs  at  the  narrow  space 

That  draws  him  close  and  closer  in  embrace. 


When  the  Moon  of  Canaan  Yusuf 
In  the  prison  of  Egypt  darkened. 
Nightly  from  her  spacious  Palace- 

Chamber,  and  its  rich  array ^ 
Stole  ZuLAiKHA  like  a  fantom 
To  the  dark  and  narrow  dungeon 

Where  her  buried  Treasure  lay. 

[      83      ] 


eSSSon  salaman  and  absal. 

Then  to  those  about  her  wond'ring— 
"Were  my  Palace,''  she  replied, 
"Wider  than  Horizon-wide, 
"It  were  narrower  than  an  Ant's  eye, 
(84)  "Were  my  Treasure  not  inside: 

"And  an  Ant's  eye,  if  hut  there 
"My  lover.  Heaven's  horizon  were," 


Six  days  Salaman  on  the  Camel  rode, 
And  then  the  hissing  arrows  of  reproof 
Were  fallen  far  behind;  and  on  the  Seventh 
He  halted  on  the  Seashore ;  on  the  shore 
Of  a  great  Sea  that  reaching  like  a  floor 
Of  rolling  Firmament  below  the  Sky's 
From  Kaf  to  Kaf,  to  Gau  and  Mahi  ^  down 
Descended,  and  its  Stars  were  living  eyes. 
The  Face  of  it  was  as  it  were  a  range 
Of  moving  Mountains;  or  a  countless  host 
Of  Camels  trooping  tumultuously  up. 
Host  over  host,  and  foaming  at  the  lip. 
Within,  innumerable  glittering  things 

^Bull  and  Fish — the  lowest  Substantial  Base  of  Earth.  "He  first 
made  the  Mountains;  then  cleared  the  Face  of  the  Earth  from  Sea; 
then  fixed  it  fast  on  Gau;  Gau  on  Mahi;  and  Mahi  on  Air;  and  Air  on 
what?  on  Nothing;  Nothing  on  Nothing,  all  is  Nothing. — Enough." 
Attar;  quoted  in  De  Sacy's  Pendnamah,  xxxv. 

[     84     ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  ^Son 

Sharp  as  cut  Jewels,  to  the  sharpest  eye 

Scarce  visible,  hither  and  thither  slipping,  (85) 

As  silver  scissors  slice  a  blue  brocade ; 

But  should  the  Dragon  coil'd  in  the  abyss  ^ 

Emerge  to  light,  his  starry  counter-sign 

Would  shrink  into  the  depth  of  Heav'n  aghast. 

Salaman  eyed  the  moving  wilderness 

On  which  he  thought,  once  launcht,  no  foot,  nor  eye 

Should  ever  follow;  forthwith  he  devised 

Of  sundry  scented  woods  along  the  shore 

A  little  shallop  like  a  Quarter-moon, 

Wherein  Absal  and  He  like  Sun  and  Moon 

Enter'd  as  into  some  Celestial  Sign; 

That,  figured  like  a  bow,  but  arrow-like 

In  flight,  was  feather'd  with  a  little  sail, 

And,  pitcht  upon  the  water  like  a  duck, 

So  with  her  bosom  sped  to  her  Desire. 

When  they  had  saiFd  their  vessel  for  a  Moon, 
And  marr'd  their  beauty  with  the  wind  o'  the  Sea, 
Suddenly  in  mid  sea  reveal'd  itself  (se) 

^  The  Sidereal  Dragon,  whose  Head,  according  to  the  Paurdnic  (or 
poetic)  astronomers  of  the  East,  devoured  the  Sun  and  Moon  in 
Eclipse.  "But  we  know,"  said  Rdmachandra  to  Sir  W.  Jones,  "that 
the  supposed  Head  and  Tail  of  the  Dragon  mean  only  the  Nodes,  or 
points  formed  hy  intersections  of  the  Ecliptic  and  the  Moons  Orbit." 
Sir  W.  Jones'  Works,  vol.  iv.,  p.  74- 

[     85     ] 


SSSSoN  SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL. 

An  Isle,  beyond  imagination  fair; 
An  Isle  that  all  was  Garden ;  not  a  Flower, 
Nor  Bird  of  plumage  like  the  flower,  but  there; 
Some  like  the  Flower,  and  others  like  the  Leaf; 
Some,  as  the  Pheasant  and  the  Dove  adorn'd 
With  crown  and  collar,  over  whom,  alone, 
The  jeweird  Peacock  like  a  Sultan  shone; 
While  the  Musicians,  and  among  them  Chief 
The  Nightingale,  sang  hidden  in  the  trees 
Which,  arm  in  arm,  from  fingers  quivering 
With  any  breath  of  air,  fruit  of  all  kind 
Down  scattered  in  profusion  to  their  feet. 
Where  fountains  of  sweet  water  ran  between. 
And  Sun  and  shadow  chequer-chased  the  green. 
Here  Iram-garden  seem'd  in  secresy 
Blowing  the  rosebud  of  its  Revelation ;  ^ 
Or  Paradise,  forgetful  of  the  dawn 
Of  Audit,  lifted  from  her  face  the  veil. 

Salaman  saw  the  Isle,  and  thought  no  more 
Of  Further — there  with  Absal  he  sate  down, 
Absal  and  He  together  side  by  side 
Together  like  the  Lily  and  the  Rose, 
(87)  Together  like  the  Soul  and  Body,  one. 
Under  its  trees  in  one  another's  arms 

^  Note  in  Appendix, 

[     86     ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  J^YSon 

They  slept — they  drank  its  fountains  hand  in  hand — 
Paraded  with  the  Peacock — raced  the  Partridge — 
Chased  the  green  Parrot  for  his  stolen  fruit. 
Or  sang  divisions  with  the  Nightingale. 
There  was  the  Rose  without  a  thorn,  and  there 
The  Treasure  and  no  Serpent  ^  to  beware — 
Oh  think  of  such  a  Mistress  at  your  side 
In  such  a  Solitude,  and  none  to  chide! 


Said  to  Wamik  one  who  never 
Knew  the  Lover's  passion — "  Why 
''Solitary  thus  and  silent 
''Solitary  places  haunting, 
"Like  a  Dreamer,  like  a  Spectre, 

"Like  a  thing  about  to  die?  " 
Wamik  answered — "Meditating 
''Flight  with  Azrd  ^  to  the  Desert: 
"There  by  so  remote  a  Fountain 

''That,  whichever  way  one  travelVd, 
"League  on  league ,  one  yet  should  never  (ss) 

"See  the  face  of  Man;  for  ever 
"There  to  gaze  on  my  Beloved; 
"Gaze,  till  Gazing  out  of  Gazing 

^  The  supposed  guardian  of  buried  treasure. 

^  Wamik  and  Azrd  (Lover  and  Virgin)  two  typical  Lovers. 

[     87     ] 


SiSS  SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL. 

''Grew  to  Being  Her  I  gaze  on, 
"She  and  I  no  more,  hut  in  One 
"Undivided  Being  blended. 
''All  that  is  by  Nature  twain 
"Fears,  or  suffers  by,  the  pain 
"Of  Separation:  Love  is  only 

"Perfect  when  itself  transcends 
"Itself,  and,  one  with  that  it  loves, 

"In  undivided  Being  blends/' 


When  by  and  by  the  Shah  was  made  aware 
Of  that  heart-breaking  Flight,  his  royal  robe 
He  chang'd  for  ashes,  and  his  Throne  for  dust, 
And  wept  awhile  in  darkness  and  alone. 
Then  rose ;  and,  taking  counsel  from  the  Sage, 
Pursuit  set  everywhere  afoot:  but  none 
Could  trace  the  footstep  of  the  flying  Deer. 
Then  from  his  secret  Art  the  Sage-Vizyr 
A  Magic  Mirror  made;  a  Mirror  like 
The  bosom  of  All-wise  Intelligence 
(89)  Reflecting  in  its  mystic  compass  all 

Within  the  sev'n-f old  volume  of  the  World 
Involv'd;  and,  looking  in  that  Mirror's  face, 
The  Shah  beheld  the  face  of  his  Desire. 
Beheld  those  Lovers,  like  that  earliest  pair 

[      88      ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  ^^^^ 

Of  Lovers,  in  this  other  Paradise 

So  far  from  human  eyes  in  the  mid  sea. 

And  yet  within  the  magic  glass  so  near 

As  with  a  finger  one  might  touch  them,  isled. 

The  Shah  beheld  them;  and  compassion  touch'd 

His  eyes  and  anger  died  upon  his  lips; 

And  arm'd  with  Righteous  Judgment  as  he  was. 

Yet,  seeing  those  two  Lovers  with  one  lip 

Drinking  that  cup  of  Happiness  and  Tears  ^ 

In  which  Farewell  had  never  yet  been  flung,^ 

He  paused  for  their  Repentance  to  recall 

The  lifted  arm  that  was  to  shatter  all. 


The  Lords  of  Wrath  have  perish'd  by  the  blow 
Themselves  had  aim'd  at  others  long  ago. 
Draw  not  in  haste  the  sword,  which  Fate,  may  be, 
Will  sheathe,  hereafter  to  be  drawn  on  Thee. 


Farhad,  who  the  shapeless  mountain  (oo) 

Into  human  likeness  moulded^ 
Under  Shirin's  eyes  as  slavish 
Potters'  earth  himself  became, 

1  KpaTTjpa  fioKpov  ^6ovfjg  Km  SaKpvuv 
Kipvovreg  i^kwLVov  axpi^  £f  fdOifv. 

From  Theodorus  Prodromas,  as  quoted  by  Sir  W.  Jones. 

^  A  pebble  flung  into  a  Cup  being  a  signal  for  a  company  to  break  up, 

[     89     ] 


eSSon  salaman  and  absal. 

Then  the  secret  fire  of  jealous 
Frenzy,  catching  and  devouring 
Kai  Khusrau,  broke  into  flame. 

With  that  ancient  Hag  of  Darkness 
Plotting,  at  the  midnight  Banquet 
Farhad's  golden  cup  he  poison  d. 

And  in  Shirin's  eyes  alone 
Reign'd — But  Fate  that  Fate  revenges. 
Arms  Shiruyeh  with  the  dagger 
That  at  once  from  Shirin  tore. 

And  hurVd  him  lifeless  from  his  throne} 


(91)  But  as  the  days  went  on,  and  still  The  Shah 
Beheld  his  Son  how  in  the  Woman  lost, 
And  still  the  Crown  that  should  adorn  his  head, 
And  still  the  Throne  that  waited  for  his  foot. 
Both  trampled  under  by  a  base  desire, 
Of  which  the  Soul  was  still  unsatisfied — 
Then  from  the  sorrow  of  The  Shah  fell  Fire; 
To  Gracelessness  ungracious  he  became, 

^  One  story  is  that  Khusrau  had  promised  that  if  Farhdd  cut  through 
a  Mountain,  and  brought  a  Stream  through,  Shirin  would  he  his. 
Farhdd  rvas  on  the  point  of  achieving  his  work,  when  Khusrau  sent  an 
old  Woman  (here,  perhaps,  purposely  confounded  with  Fate)  to  tell 
him  Shirin  was  dead;  whereon  Farhdd  threw  himself  headlong  from 
the  Rock.  The  Sculpture  at  Beysitun  (or  Besitun),  where  Rawlinson 
has  deciphered  Darius  and  Xerxes,  was  traditionally  called  Farhad's. 

[     90     ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  ^^^ 

And,  quite  to  shatter  that  rebellious  lust. 

Upon  Salaman  all  his  Will^  with  all  ^ 

His  Sage-Vizyr's  Might-magic  arm'd,  discharged. 

And  Lo!  Salaman  to  his  Mistress  turn'd. 

But  could  not  reach  her — ^look'd  and  look'd  again, 

And  palpitated  tow'rd  her — ^but  in  vain! 

Oh  Misery!    As  to  the  Bankrupt's  eyes 

The  Gold  he  may  not  finger!  or  the  Well 

To  him  who  sees  a-thirst,  and  cannot  reach. 

Or  Heav'n  above  reveal'd  to  those  in  Hell! 

Yet  when  Salaman's  anguish  was  extreme, 

The  door  of  Mercy  open'd,  and  he  saw 

That  Arm  he  knew  to  be  his  Father's  reacht 

To  lift  him  from  the  pit  in  which  he  lay: 

Timidly  tow'rd  his  Father's  eyes  his  own 

He  lifted,  pardon-pleading,  crime-confest,  (92) 

And  drew  once  more  to  that  forsaken  Throne, 

As  the  stray  bird  one  day  will  find  her  nest. 


One  was  asking  of  a  Teacher ^ 
"How  a  Father  his  reputed 

"Son  for  his  should  recognise?  " 
Said  the  Master,  "By  the  stripling, 
"As  he  grows  to  manhood,  growing 

^He  Mesmerises  him! — See  also  further  on  this  Power  of  the  Will. 

[  91  ] 


eSSon  salaman  and  absal. 

''Like  to  Ms  reputed  Father, 
"Good  or  Evil,  Fool  or  Wise. 

"Lo  the  disregarded  Darnel 

"With  itself  adorns  the  Wheat- field, 

"And  for  all  the  vernal  season 

"Satisfies  the  farmer's  eye; 

"But  the  hour  of  harvest  coming, 

"And  the  thrasher  by  and  by, 

»  

"Then  a  barren  ear  shall  answer, 

"  'Darnel,  and  no  Wheat,  am  1/ 


(93)  Yet  Ah  for  that  poor  Lover!    "  Next  the  curse 
"  Of  Love  by  Love  forbidden,  nothing  worse 
"  Than  Friendship  turn'd  in  Love's  reproof  unkind, 
"And  Love  from  Love  divorcing" — Thus  I  said 
Alas,  a  worse,  and  worse,  is  yet  behind — 

Love's  back-blow  of  Revenge  for  having  fled! 

Salaman  bow'd  his  forehead  to  the  dust 
Before  his  Father ;  to  his  Father's  hand 
Fast — but  yet  fast,  and  faster,  to  his  own 
Clung  one,  who  by  no  tempest  of  reproof 
Or  wrath  might  be  dissever'd  from  the  stem 
She  grew  to:  till,  between  Remorse  and  Love, 
He  came  to  loathe  his  Life  and  long  for  Death. 

[    92    ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  ^^i™ 

And,  as  from  him  She  would  not  be  divorced. 

With  Her  he  fled  again :  he  fled — but  now 

To  no  such  Island  centred  in  the  sea 

As  lull'd  them  into  Paradise  before; 

But  to  the  Solitude  of  Desolation, 

The  Wilderness  of  Death.    And  as  before 

Of  sundry  scented  woods  along  the  shore 

A  shallop  he  devised  to  carry  them 

Over  the  waters  whither  foot  nor  eye 

Should  ever  follow  them,  he  thought — so  now 

Of  sere  wood  strewn  about  the  plain  of  Death, 

A  raft  to  bear  them  through  the  wave  of  Fire 

Into  Annihilation,  he  devised,  (94) 

Gathered,  and  built ;  and,  firing  with  a  Torch, 

Into  the  central  flame  Absal  and  He 

Sprung  hand  in  hand  exulting.    But  the  Sage 

In  secret  all  had  ordered;  and  the  Flame, 

Directed  by  his  self-fulfilling  Will, 

Devouring  Her  to  ashes,  left  untouched 

Salaman — all  the  baser  metal  burn'd, 

And  to  itself  the  authentic  Gold  return'd. 


[    93    ] 


SSSoN  SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL. 


Part  III. 

From  the  Beginning  such  has  been  the  Fate 
Of  Man,  whose  very  clay  was  soak'd  in  tears. 
For  when  at  first  of  common  Earth  they  took, 
And  moulded  to  the  stature  of  the  Soul, 
For  Forty  days,  full  Forty  days,  the  cloud 
Of  Heav'n  wept  over  him  from  head  to  foot: 
And  when  the  Forty  days  had  passed  to  Night, 
The  Sunshine  of  one  solitary  day 
Look'd  out  of  Heav'n  to  dry  the  weeping  clay.^ 
And  though  that  sunshine  in  the  long  arrear 
Of  darkness  on  the  breathless  image  rose. 
Yet  with  the  Living,  every  wise  man  knows 
Such  consummation  scarcely  shall  be  here ! 

Salaman  fired  the  pile;  and  in  the  flame 
That,  passing  him,  consumed  Absal  like  straw, 
Died  his  Divided  Self,  his  Individual 
Surviv'd,  and,  like  a  living  Soul  from  which 
The  Body  falls,  strange,  naked,  and  alone. 
Then  rose  his  cry  to  Heaven — his  eyelashes 
(96)  Wept  blood — his  sighs  stood  like  a  smoke  in  Heaven, 
And  Morning  rent  her  garment  at  his  anguish. 

^  Some  such  Legend  is  quoted  by  De  Sacy  and  D'Herbelot  from  some 
commentaries  on  the  Kurdn. 

[    9*    ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  ^?Son 

And  when  Night  came,  that  drew  the  pen  across 
The  written  woes  of  Day  for  all  but  him, 
Crouch'd  in  a  lonely  corner  of  the  house. 
He  seem'd  to  feel  about  him  in  the  dark 
For  one  who  was  not,  and  whom  no  fond  word 
Could  summon  from  the  Void  in  which  she  lay. 

And  so  the  Wise  One  found  him  where  he  sate 
Bow'd  down  alone  in  darkness ;  and  once  more 
Made  the  long-silent  voice  of  Reason  soimd 
In  the  deserted  Palace  of  his  Soul; 
Until  Salaman  lifted  up  his  head 
To  bow  beneath  the  Master;  sweet  it  seem'd. 
Sweeping  the  chaff  and  litter  from  his  own. 
To  be  the  very  dust  of  Wisdom's  door. 
Slave  of  the  Firman  of  the  Lord  of  Life, 
Who  pour'd  the  wine  of  Wisdom  in  his  cup. 
Who  laid  the  dew  of  Peace  upon  his  lips; 
Yea,  wrought  by  Miracle  in  his  behalf. 
For  when  old  Love  returned  to  Memory, 
And  broke  in  passion  from  his  lips,  The  Sage, 
Under  whose  waxing  Will  Existence  rose 
From  Nothing,  and,  relaxing,  waned  again. 
Raising  a  Fantom  Image  of  Absal, 

Set  it  awhile  before  Salaman's  eyes,  (97) 

Till,  having  sow'd  the  seed  of  comfort  there, 

[    95    ] 


ISSSS  SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL. 

It  went  again  down  to  Annihilation. 

But  ever,  as  the  Fantom  past  away. 

The  Sage  would  tell  of  a  Celestial  Love ; 

"ZuHRAH,"  ^  he  said,  "Zuhrah,  compared  with  whom 

"  That  brightest  star  that  bears  her  name  in  Heav'n 

"  Was  but  a  winking  taper;  and  Absal, 

"  Queen-star  of  Beauties  in  this  world  below, 

"  But  her  distorted  image  in  the  stream 

"Of  fleeting  Matter;  and  all  Eloquence, 

"  And  Soul-enchaining  harmonies  of  Song, 

"  A  far-off  echo  of  that  Harp  in  Heav'n 

"  Which  Dervish-dances  to  her  harmony." 

Salaman  listen'd,  and  inclined — again 
Entreated,  inclination  ever  grew; 
Until  The  Sage  beholding  in  his  Soul 
The  Spirit  ^  quicken,  so  effectually 
With  ZuHRAH  wrought,  that  she  reveal'd  herself 
In  her  pure  lustre  to  Salaman's  Soul, 
And  blotting  Absal's  Image  from  his  breast. 
There  reign'd  instead.     Celestial  Beauty  seen, 
(98)  He  left  the  Earthly;  and,  once  come  to  know 
Eternal  Love,  the  Mortal  he  let  go. 

^  "ZuHRAH."     The  Planetary  and  Celestial  Venus. 
2  "MaanV    The  Mystical  pass-word  of  the  Sufis,  to  express  the  tran- 
scendental Nerv  Birth  of  the  Soul. 

[    96    ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  ^^^ 

The  Crown  of  Empire  how  supreme  a  lot! 
The  Sultan's  Throne  how  lofty!    Yea,  but  not 
For  All — None  but  the  Heaven-ward  foot  may  dare 
To  mount — The  head  that  touches  Heaven  to  wear! 

When  the  Beloved  of  Royal  augury 

Was  rescued  from  the  bondage  of  Absal, 

Then  he  arose,  and  shaking  off  the  dust 

Of  that  lost  travel,  girded  up  his  heart, 

And  look'd  with  undefiled  robe  to  Heaven. 

Then  was  his  Head  worthy  to  wear  the  Crown, 

His  Foot  to  mount  the  Throne.    And  then  The  Shah 

From  all  the  quarters  of  his  World-wide  realm 

Summon'd  all  those  who  under  Him  the  ring 

Of  Empire  wore.  King,  Counsellor,  Amir; 

Of  whom  not  one  but  to  Salaman  did 

Obeisance,  and  lifted  up  his  neck 

To  yoke  it  under  His  supremacy. 

Then  The  Shah  crown'd  him  with  the  Golden  Crown, 

And  set  the  Golden  Throne  beneath  his  feet. 

And  over  all  the  heads  of  the  Assembly,  (99) 

And  in  the  ears  of  all,  his  Jewel-word 

With  the  Diamond  of  Wisdom  cut,  and  said: — 


[     97     ] 


(100) 


edS™  salaman  and  absal. 

'My  Son,^  the  Kingdom  of  the  World  is  not 

'  Eternal,  nor  the  sum  of  right  desire ; 

'  Make  thou  the  Law  reveal'd  of  God  thy  Law, 

'  The  voice  of  Intellect  Divine  within 

'  Interpreter ;  and  considering  To-day 

'  To-MORROw's  Seed-field,  ere  That  come  to  bear, 

*  Sow  with  the  harvest  of  Eternity. 

*  And,  as  all  Work,  and,  most  of  all,  the  Work 

*  That  Kings  are  born  to,  wisely  should  be  wrought, 

*  Where  doubtful  of  thine  own  sufficiency, 
'  Ever,  as  I  have  done,  consult  the  Wise. 

'  Turn  not  thy  face  away  from  the  Old  ways, 
'  That  were  the  canon  of  the  Kings  of  Old ; 
'  Nor  cloud  with  Tyranny  the  glass  of  Justice : 
'  By  Mercy  rather  to  right  Order  turn 

*  Confusion,  and  Disloyalty  to  Love. 

'  In  thy  provision  for  the  Realm's  estate, 
'  And  for  the  Honour  that  becomes  a  King, 

*  Drain  not  thy  People's  purse — the  Tyranny 
'  Which  Thee  enriches  at  thy  Subject's  cost, 

'  Awhile  shall  make  thee  strong;  but  in  the  end 

*  Shall  bow  thy  neck  beneath  thy  People's  hate, 
'  And  lead  thee  with  the  Robber  down  to  Hell. 

One  sees  J  ami  taking  advantage  of  his  Allegorical  Shah  to  read  a 
lesson  to  the  Living — whose  ears  Advice,  unlike  Praise,  scarce  ever 
reached,  unless  obliquely  and  by  Fable.  The  Warning  (and  doubtless 
with  good  reason)  is  principally  aimed  at  the  Minister, 

t    98     ] 


SALAMAN   AND   ABSAL.  ^^^^^ 

*  Thou  art  a  Shepherd,  and  thy  Flock  the  People, 
'  To  help  and  save,  not  ravage  and  destroy; 

'  For  which  is  for  the  other.  Flock  or  Shepherd? 
'  And  join  with  thee  True  men  to  keep  the  Flock — 
'  Dogs,  if  you  will — ^but  trusty — head  in  leash, 
'  Whose  teeth  are  for  the  Wolf,  not  for  the  Lamb, 
'  And  least  of  all  the  Wolf's  accomplices. 

*  For  Shahs  must  have  Vizyrs — but  be  they  Wise 

'  And  Trusty — ^knowing  well  the  Realm's  estate — 

*  Knowing  how  far  to  Shah  and  Subject  bound 
'  On  either  hand — not  by  extortion,  nor 

*  By  usury  wrung  from  the  People's  purse, 

'  Feeding  their  Master,  and  themselves  (with  whom 

*  Enough  is  apt  enough  to  make  rebel) 

*  To  such  a  surfeit  feeding  as  feeds  Hell. 

*  Proper  in  soul  and  body  be  they — pitiful 
'  To  Poverty — hospitable  to  the  Saint — 

*  Their  sweet  Access  a  salve  to  wounded  Hearts;  (loi) 
'  Their  Wrath  a  sword  against  Iniquity, 

*  But  at  thy  bidding  only  to  be  drawn ; 

'  Whose  Ministers  they  are,  to  bring  thee  in 
'  Report  of  Good  or  Evil  through  the  Realm : 
"  Which  to  confirm  with  thine  immediate  Eye, 

*  And  least  of  all,  remember — least  of  all, 

*  Suffering  Accuser  also  to  be  Judge, 
"By  surest  steps  up-builds  Prosperity." 

[     99     ] 


eS?5on  salaman  and  absal. 


Meaning  of  The  Story. 

Under  the  leaf  of  many  a  Fable  lies 

The  Truth  for  those  who  look  for  it;  of  this 

If  thou  wouldst  look  behind  and  find  the  Fruit, 

(To  which  the  Wiser  hand  hath  found  his  way) 

Have  thy  desire — No  Tale  of  Me  and  Thee, 

Though  I  and  Thou  be  its  Interpreters/ 

What  signifies  The  Shah?  and  what  The  Sage? 

And  what  Salaman  not  of  Woman  born? 

Who  was  Absal  who  drew  him  to  Desire? 

And  what  the  Kingdom  that  awaited  him 

When  he  had  drawn  his  Garment  from  her  hand? 

What  means  That  Sea?    And  what  that  Fiery  Pile? 

And  what  that  Heavenly  Zuhrah  who  at  last 

Clear'd  Absal  from  the  Mirror  of  his  Soul? 

Listen  to  me,  and  you  shall  understand 

The  Word  that  Lover  wrote  along  the  sand.^ 


(108)  The  incomparable  Creator,  when  this  World 
He  did  create,  created  first  of  all 

^  The  Story  is  of  Generals^  though  enacted  by  Particulars. 
^  See  page  60. 

I     100     ] 


SALAMAN   AND    ABSAL.  J^Son 

The  First  Intelligence  ^ — First  of  a  Chain 
Of  Ten  Intelligences,  of  which  the  Last 
Sole  Agent  is  in  this  our  Universe, 
Active  Intelligence  so  call'd;  The  One 
Distributer  of  Evil  and  of  Good, 

Of  Joy  and  Sorrow.     Himself  apart  from  Matter,       (io4) 
In  Essence  and  in  Energy — He  yet 
Hath  fashion'd  all  that  is — Material  Form, 
And  Spiritual,  all  from  Him — by  Him 
Directed  all,  and  in  his  Bounty  drown'd. 
Therefore  is  He  that  Firman-issuing  Shah 
To  whom  the  World  was  subject.    But  because 
What  He  distributes  to  the  Universe 
Another  and  a  Higher  Power  supplies, 

^  *' These  Ten  Intelligences  are  only  another  Form  of  the  Gnostic 
DcBmones.  The  Gnostics  held  that  Matter  and  Spirit  could  have  no 
Intercourse — they  were,  as  it  rvere,  incommensurate.  Horv,  then, 
granting  this  premise,  was  Creation  possible?  Their  answer  was  a 
kind  of  gradual  Elimination.  God,  the  'Actus  Purus,'  created  an 
Aeon;  this  Aeon  created  a  Second;  and  so  on,  until  the  Tenth  Aeon 
was  sufficiently  Material  (as  the  Ten  were  in  a  continually  descending 
Series)  to  affect  Matter,  and  so  cause  the  Creation  by  giving  to  Mat- 
ter the  Spiritual  Form. 

"Similarly  we  have  inSufiism  these  Ten  Intelligences  in  a  corre- 
sponding Series,  and  for  the  same  End. 

"ThereareTen  Intelligences,  and  Nine  Heavenly  Spheres,  of  which 
the  Ninth  is  the  Uppermost  Heaven,  appropriated  to  the  First  Intel- 
ligence; the  Eighth,  that  of  the  Zodiac,  to  the  Second;  the  Seventh, 
Saturn,  to  the  Third;  the  Sixth,  Jupiter,  to  the  Fourth;  the  Fifth, 
Mars,  to  the  Fifth;  the  Fourth,  The  Sun,  to  the  Sixth;  the  Third, 
Venus,  to  the  Seventh;  the  Second,  Mercury,  to  the  Eighth;  the  First, 
the  Moon,  to  the  Ninth;  and  The  Earth  is  the  peculiar  Sphere  of 
the  Tenth,  or  lowest  Intelligence,  called  The  Active.'*  E.  B.  C. — v. 
Appendix, 

[     101      ] 


^XoN  SALAMAN    AND   ABSAL. 

Therefore  all  those  who  comprehend  aright, 
That  Higher  in  The  Sage  will  recognise. 
HIS  the  Prime  Spirit  that,  spontaneously- 
Projected  by  the  Tenth  Intelligence, 
Was  from  no  Womb  of  Matter  reproduced 
A  special  Essence  called  The  Soul  of  Man  ; 
A  Child  of  Heaven,  in  raiment  unbeshamed 
Of  Sensual  taint,  and  so  Salaman  named. 

And  who  Absal? — The  Sense-adoring  Body, 

Slave  to  the  Blood  and  Sense — through  whom  The  Soul, 

Although  the  Body's  very  Life  it  be. 

Doth  yet  imbibe  the  knowledge  and  delight 

Of  things  of  Sense  ;  and  these  in  such  a  bond 

United  as  God  only  can  divide, 

As  Lovers  in  this  Tale  are  signified. 

(105)  And  what  the  Flood  on  which  they  sail'd,  with  those 
Fantastic  creatures  peopled;  and  that  Isle 
In  which  their  Paradise  awhile  they  made, 
And  thought,  for  ever? — That  false  Paradise 
Amid  the  fluctuating  Waters  found 
Of  Sensual  passion,  in  whose  bosom  lies 
A  world  of  Being  from  the  light  of  God 
Deep  as  in  unsubsiding  Deluge  drown'd. 

[      102     ] 


SALAMAN    AND    ABSAL.  ^^Son 

And  why  was  it  that  Absal  in  that  Isle 
So  soon  deceived  in  her  Delight,  and  He 
Fell  short  of  his  Desire? — that  was  to  show 
How  soon  the  Senses  of  their  Passion  tire, 
And  in  a  surfeit  of  themselves  expire. 

And  what  the  turning  of  Salaman's  Heart 
Back  to  the  Shah,  and  to  the  throne  of  Might 
And  Glory  yearning? — What  but  the  return 
Of  the  lost  Soul  to  his  true  Parentage, 
And  back  from  Carnal  error  looking  up 
Repentant  to  his  Intellectual  Right. 

And  when  the  Man  between  his  living  Shame 

Distracted,  and  the  Love  that  would  not  die. 

Fled  once  again — what  meant  that  second  Flight 

Into  the  Desert,  and  that  Pile  of  Fire 

On  which  he  fain  his  Passion  with  Himself  (loe) 

Would  immolate? — That  was  the  Discipline 

To  which  the  living  Man  himself  devotes. 

Till  all  the  Sensual  dross  be  scorcht  away, 

And,  to  its  pure  integrity  return'd. 

His  Soul  alone  survives.     But  forasmuch 

As  from  a  darling  Passion  so  divorced 

The  wound  will  open  and  will  bleed  anew. 

Therefore  The  Sage  would  ever  and  anon 

[      103      ] 


S?S  SALAMAN    AND   ABSAL. 

Raise  up  and  set  before  Salaman's  eyes 

That  Fantom  of  the  past;  but  evermore 

Revealing  one  Diviner,  till  his  Soul 

She  fiird,  and  blotted  out  the  Mortal  Love. 

For  what  is  Zuhrah? — ^What  but  that  Divine 

Original,  of  which  the  Soul  of  Man 

Darkly  possest,  by  that  fierce  Discipline 

At  last  he  disengages  from  the  Dust, 

And  flinging  off  the  baser  rags  of  Sense, 

And  all  in  Intellectual  Light  arrayed. 

As  Conqueror  and  King  he  mounts  the  Throne, 

And  wears  the  Crown  of  Human  Glory — ^Whence, 

Throne  over  Throne  surmounting,  he  shall  reign 

One  with  the  Last  and  First  Intelligence. 


(107)  This  is  the  meaning  of  this  Mystery, 

Which  to  know  wholly  ponder  in  thy  Heart, 
Till  all  its  ancient  Secret  be  enlarged. 
Enough — The  written  Simimary  I  close, 
And  set  my  Seal — 


[      104     ] 


APPENDIX. 


"To  thy  Harim  Dividuality 
*'No  entrance  finds  "  ^c.   (p.  56.) 

This  Stiff  Identification  with  Deity  (further  illustrated  in  the 
Story  of  Salaman's  first  flight)  is  shadowed  in  a  Parable  of  Jelalud- 
din^  of  which  here  is  an  outline.  "One  knocked  at  the  Beloved's 
Door;  and  a  Voice  asked  from  within,  'Who  is  there?'  and  he  an- 
swered, 'It  is  I.'  Then  the  Voice  said,  'This  House  will  not  hold  Me 
and  Thee.'  And  the  Door  was  not  opened.  Then  went  the  Lover 
into  the  Desert,  and  fasted  and  prayed  in  Solitude.  And  after  a 
Year  he  returned,  and  knocked  again  at  the  Door.  And  again  the 
Voice  asked,  'Who  is  there .^'  and  he  said,  'It  is  Thyself!' — and  the 
Door  was  opened  to  him." 


"0  darling  of  the  soul  of  Iflatun 

"To  whom  with  all  his  school  Aristo  hows.**     (p.  QS.) 

Some  Traveller  in  the  East — Professor  Eastwick,  I  think — tells 
us  that  in  endeavouring  to  explain  to  an  Eastern  Cook  the  nature  of 
an  Irish  Stew,  the  man  said  he  knew  well  enough  about  "Aristo." 
" Iflatun'  might  almost  as  well  have  been  taken  for  "Vol-au-vent." 


"Like  Noah*Sj  puff*d  with  Insolence  and  Pride/*  SfC.     (p.  64.) 

In  the  Kuran  God  engages  to  save  Noah  and  his  Family, — mean- 
ing all  who  believed  in  the  Warning.  One  of  Noah's  Sons  |  (Canaan  (109) 
or  Ham,  some  think)  would  not  believe.  "And  the  Ark  swam  with 
them  between  waves  like  Mountains,  and  Noah  called  up  to  his 
Son,  who  was  separated  from  him,  saying,  'Embark  with  us,  my  Son, 
and  stay  not  with  the  Unbelievers.'  He  answered,  'I  will  get  on  a 
Mountain,  which  will  secure  me  from  the  Water.'  Noah  replied, 
'There  is  no  security  this  Day  from  the  Decree  of  God,  except  for 
him  on  whom  he  shall  have  Mercy.'  And  a  Wave  passed  between 
them,  and  he  became  one  of  those  who  were  drowned.  And  it  was 
said,  'O  Earth,  swallow  up  thy  waters,  and  Thou,  O  Heaven,  withhold 

[      105      ] 


SSSi^oN  APPENDIX. 

thy  Rain!'  And  immediately  the  Water  abated,  and  the  Decree  was 
fulfilled,  and  the  Ark  rested  on  the  Mountain  Al  Judi;  and  it  was 
said,  'Away  with  the  ungodly  People!'  And  Noah  called  upon  his 
Lord,  and  said,  *0  Lord,  verily  my  Son  is  of  my  Family,  and  thy 
Promise  is  True;  for  Thou  art  the  most  just  of  those  who  exercise 
J  udgment.'  God  answered,  'O  Noah,  verily  he  is  not  of  thy  Family : 
this  intercession  of  thine  for  him  is  not  a  righteous  work.'  " — Sale's 
Kurdn,  vol.  ii.  p.  21. 


*'Finer  than  any  Bridal-puppet,  which 

"To  prove  another's  Love  a  Woman  sends  "  S^c,     (p.  69-) 

In  Atkinson's  version  of  the  "Kitabi  Kulsum  Naneh  "  [c.  xii.]  we 
find  among  other  Ceremonials  and  Proprieties  of  which  the  Book 
treats,  that  when  a  Woman  wished  to  ascertain  another's  Love,  she 
sent  a  Doll  on  a  Tray  with  flowers  and  sweetmeats,  and  judged  how 
far  her  affection  was  reciprocated  by  the  Doll's  being  returned  to  her 
drest  in  a  Robe  of  Honour,  or  in  Black.  The  same  Book  also  tells  of 
(110)  two  Dolls — Bride  and  Bridegroom,  |  I  suppose — being  used  on  such 
occasions;  the  test  of  Affection  being  whether  the  one  sent  were  re- 
turned with  or  without  its  Fellow. 


"The  Royal  Game  of  Chugdn."     (p.  71.) 

For  centuries  the  Royal  Game  of  Persia,  and  adopted  (Ouseley 
thinks)  under  varying  modifications  of  name  and  practice  by  other 
nations,  was  played  by  Horsemen,  who,  suitably  habited,  and  armed 
with  semicircular-headed  Bats  or  Sticks,  strove  to  drive  a  Ball 
through  a  Goal  of  upright  Pillars.  (See  Frontispiece.)  We  may 
call  it  "Horse-hockey,"  as  heretofore  played  by  young  Englishmen 
in  the  Maidan  of  Calcutta,  and  other  Indian  cities,  I  believe,  and  now 
in  England  itself  under  the  name  of  Polo. 

The  Frontispiece  to  this  version  of  the  Poem  is  accurately  copied 
from  an  Engraving  in  Sir  William's  Book,  which  he  says  (and  those 
who  care  to  look  into  the  Bodleian  ^  for  it  may  see),  is  "accurately 
copied  from  a  very  beautiful  Persian  MS.,  containing  the  works  of 
Hafiz,  transcribed  in  the  year  956  of  the  Hi j rah,  1549  of  Christ; 
the  MS.  is  in  my  own  Collection.  This  Delineation  exhibits  two 
Horsemen  contending  for  the  Ball ;  their  short  Jackets  seem  peculiarly 
adapted  to  this  Sport;  we  see  the  MiL,  or  Goals;  Servants  attend 
on  Foot,  holding  Chugans  in  readiness  for  other  Persons  who  may 

IMS.     Ouseley  20. 

[     106     ] 


APPENDIX.  ?«VS 


EDITION 


join  in  the  Amusement,  or  to  supply  the  place  of  any  that  may  be 
broken.  A  young  Prince  (as  his  Parr,  or  Feather,  would  indicate) 
receives  on  his  Entrance  into  the  Meidan,  or  Place  of  Exercise,  a 
Chugan  from  the  hands  of  a  bearded  Man,  very  plainly  dressed;  yet, 
as  an  intelligent  Painter  at  Ispahan  assured  me,  (and  as  appears 
I  from  other  Miniatures  in  the  same  Book)  this  Bearded  Figure  is  de-  (HI) 
signed  to  represent  Hafiz  himself,"  &c. 

The  Persian  legend  at  the  Top  Corner  is  the  Verse  from  Hafiz 
which  the  Drawing  illustrates: 

Shahsuvara  khiish  bemeid^n  amedy  giiy  bezann. 


The  Muezzin's  Cry.     (p.  82.) 

I  am  informed  by  a  distinguished  Arabic  Scholar  that  the  proper 
Cry  of  the  Muezzin  is,  with  some  slight  local  variations,  such  as  he 
heard  it  at  Cairo  and  Damascus: 

Allah  Akbqr,  Allah  Akbar  ; 
Allah  Akbar,  Allah  Akbar  ; 
Ishhad  M  allah  ilia  'llah  ; 
Ishhad  la  allah  ilia  'llah  ; 
Ishhad  la  allah  ilM  'llah  ;  ^ 
Ishhad  Muhammad  rasuliihu ; 
Ishhad  Muhammad  rasuliihu ; 
Ishhad  Muhammad  rasuliihu  ; 
Haya  'ala  's-saMt,  Hayd  'aid  's-saMt, 
Inna  's-salat,  khair  min  an-naum. 

"God  is  great"  (four  times);  "Confess  that  there  is  no  God  but 
God"  (three  times);  "Confess  that  Muhammad  is  the  prophet  of 
God"  (three  times);  "Come  to  Prayer,  Come  to  Prayer,  for  Prayer 
is  better  than  Sleep." 

[A  more  accurate  account  will  be  found  in  Lane's  Modern  Egyp- 
tians.] 


The  Garden  of  Iram.     (p.  86.)  (112) 

"Here  Iram-Garden  seem'd  in  secresy 
*'Blowing  the  rosebud  of  its  Revelation.** 

"Mahomet,"  says  Sir  W.  Jones,  "in  the  Chapter  of  The  Morning, 
towards  the  end  of  his  Alcoran,  mentions  a  Garden  called  'Irem,* 
which  is  no  less  celebrated  by  the  Asiatic  Poets  than  that  of  the  Hes- 

[     107     ] 


S7oN  APPENDIX. 

perides  by  the  Greeks.  It  was  planted^  as  the  Commentators  say,  by 
a  king  named  Shedad," — deep  in  the  Sands  of  Arabia  Felix, — "and 
was  once  seen  by  an  Arabian  who  wandered  far  into  the  Desert  in 
search  of  a  lost  Camel." 


The  Ten  Intelligences,     (p.  101.) 

A  curious  parallel  to  this  doctrine  is  quoted  by  Mr.  Morley  (Criti- 
cal Miscellanies,  Series  II.,  p.  318),  from  so  anti-gnostic  a  Doctor  as 
Paley,  in  Ch.  III.  of  his  Natural  Theology. 

"As  we  have  said,  therefore,  God  prescribes  limits  to  his  power, 
that  he  may  let  in  the  exercise,  and  thereby  exhibit  demonstrations,  of 
his  wisdom.  For  then — i.  e.,  such  laws  and  limitations  being  laid 
down,  it  is  as  though  some  Being  should  have  fixed  certain  rules ;  and, 
if  we  may  so  speak,  provided  certain  materials ;  and,  afterwards,  have 
committed  to  some  other  Being,  out  of  these  materials,  and  in  subor- 
dination jto  these  rules,  the  task  of  drawing  forth  a  Creation;  a  sup- 
position which  evidently  leaves  room,  and  induces  indeed  a  necessity, 
for  contrivance.  Nay,  there  may  be  many  such  Agents,  and  many 
ranks  of  these.  We  do  not  advance  this  as  a  doctrine  either  of  phi- 
losophy or  religion;  but  we  say  that  the  subject  may  be  safely  repre- 
sented under  this  view;  because  the  Deity,  acting  himself  by  general 
laws,  will  have  the  same  consequence  upon  our  reasoning,  as  if  he  had 
prescribed  these  laws  to  another." 

[Note.     The  pagination  in  the  margins  is  that  of  the  Third  edi- 
tion, 1879.] 


[     108     ] 


EXTRACTS   FROM   FITZGERALD'S   LET- 
TERS RELATING  TO  "EUPHRANOW 
THIRD  EDITION. 

To  C,  E.  Norton, 

Woodhridge,  August  5,  1881, 
.  .  .  It  has  all  made  me  think  of  a  very  little  Dia- 
logue I  once  wrote  on  the  matter,  thirty  years  ago  and 
more,  which  I  really  think  of  putting  into  shape  again: 
and,  if  I  do,  will  send  it  to  you,  by  way  of  picture  of  what 
our  Cambridge  was  in  what  I  think  were  better  days  than 
now,     .     .     . 

To  Hallam  Tennyson, 

Woodbridge,  May  28,  ]^1882\ 
My  dear  Hallam: 

I  believe  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  reviving  the  little 

thing  which  accompanies  this  Letter,    My  excuse  must  be 

that  I  have  often  been  askt  for  a  copy  when  I  had  no 

more  to  give;  and  a  visit  to  Cambridge  last  summer,  to 

the  old  familiar  places,  if  not  faces,  made  me  take  it  up 

once  more  and  turn  it  into  what  you  now  see,    I  should 

certainly  not  send  a  copy  to  you,  or  yours,  but  for  what 

relates  to  your  Father  in  it.    He  did  not  object,  so  far 

as  I  know,  to  what  I  said  of  him,  though  not  by  name,  in 

[      xi      ] 


EXTRACTS  FROM  FITZGERALD'S  LETTERS 

a  former  'Edition;  hut  there  is  more  of  him  in  this,  though 
still  not  by  name,  nor,  as  you  see,  intended  for  Publica- 
tion. All  of  this  you  can  read  to  him,  if  you  please,  at 
pp,  25  and  66.  I  do  not  ask  him  to  say  that  he  approves 
of  what  is  said,  or  meant  to  be  said,  in  his  honour;  and  I 
only  ask  you  to  tell  me  if  he  disapproves  of  its  going  any 
further.  I  owed  you  a  letter  in  return  for  the  kind  one 
you  sent  me;  and,  if  I  do  not  hear  from  you  to  the  con- 
trary, I  shall  take  silence,  if  not  for  consent,  at  least  not 
for  prohibition.  I  really  did,  and  do,  wish  my  first,  which 
is  also  my  last,  little  work  to  record,  for  a  few  years  at 
least,  my  love  and  admiration  of  that  dear  old  Fellow, 
my  old  Friend. 

To  R.  C.  Trench. 

July  3,  1861. 

.  .  .  What  your  Mother  says  of  the  Dresden  Ma- 
donna reminds  me  of  what  Tennyson  once  said:  that  the 
Attitude  of  The  Child  was  that  of  a  Man:  but  perhaps 
not  the  less  right  for  all  that.  As  to  the  Countenance,  he 
said  that  scarce  any  Mans  Face  could  look  so  grave  and 
rapt  as  a  Baby's  could  at  times.  He  once  said  of  his  own 
Child's,  'He  was  a  whole  hour  this  morning  worshipping 
the  Sunshine  playing  on  the  Bedpost.'  * 

To  C.  E.  Norton. 

Woodbridge,  June  9,  '82. 
I  told  you,  I  think,  but  I  scarce  know  when,  that  I 
would  send  you  a  very  little  Tract  of  mine  written  forty 

*  See  page  140. 

[     '^li     ] 


RELATING   TO   "EUPHRANOR." 

years  ago;  and  reformed  into  its  present  shape  in  conse- 
quence of  copies  being  askt  for  when  I  had  none  to  give. 
So  a  few  days  at  Cambridge  last  Summer,  among  the 
old  places,  though  not  faces,  set  me  off,  'Et  voild  qui  est 
fait/  and  posted  to  you  along  with  this  Letter,  together 
with  a  Copy  for  Professor  Goodwin,  The  first  and  last 
of  my  little  works:  and  I  do  think  a  pretty  specimen  of 
'chiselVd  Cherry-stone'  Having  which  opinion  myself, 
I  more  than  ever  deprecate  any  word  of  praise  from  any 
to  whom  I  send  it.  Nay,  I  even  assume  beforehand  that 
you  will  like  it  too:  and  Professor  Goodwin  also  (so  do 
not  let  him  write):  as  my  little  tribute  to  my  own  old 
Cambridge  sent  to  you  in  your  new,  I  think  I  shall  send 
it  to  Mr,  Lowell  too.  So  you  see  that  I  need  no  compli- 
ment, no,  nor  even  acknowledgment  of  it.    •    .    . 


[     xiii     ] 


EUPHRANOR 


EUPHRANOR, 

^  ^ag-^afi  €onbtxs:&mn  at  Cambrilifit. 
'  'tis  forty  tears  since. 


EUPHRANOR. 

During  the  time  of  my  pretending  to  practise  Medicine  at 
Cambridge,  I  was  aroused,  one  fine  forenoon  of  May,  by 
the  sound  of  some  one  coming  up  my  staircase,  two  or 
three  steps  at  a  time  it  seemed  to  me ;  then,  directly  after, 
a  smart  rapping  at  the  door;  and,  before  I  could  say, 
"  Come  in,"  Euphranor  had  opened  it,  and,  striding  up  to 
me,  seized  my  arm  with  his  usual  eagerness,  and  told  me 
I  must  go  out  with  him — "  It  was  such  a  day — sun  shin- 
ing— breeze  blowing — ^hedges  and  trees  in  full  leaf. — He 
had  been  to  Chesterton,  (he  said,)  and  pulFd  back  with 
a  man  who  now  left  him  in  the  lurch ;  and  I  must  take  his 
place."  I  told  him  what  a  poor  hand  at  the  oar  I  was, 
and,  such  walnut-shells  as  these  Cambridge  boats  were, 
I  was  sure  a  strong  fellow  like  him  must  rejoice  in  get- 
ting a  whole  Eight-oar  to  himself  once  in  a  while.  He 
laughed,  and  said,  "  The  pace,  the  pace  was  the  thing — 
However,  that  was  all  nothing,  but — in  short,  I  must  go 
with  him,  whether  for  a  row,  or  a  walk  in  the  fields,  or  a 
game  of  Billiards  at  Chesterton — whatever  I  liked — only 
go  I  must."  After  a  little  more  banter,  about  some 
possible  Patients,  I  got  up; [closed  some  very  weary  medi-  (2) 
cal  Treatise  I  was  reading;  on  with  coat  and  hat;  and  in 
three  minutes  we  had  run  downstairs,  out  into  the  open 
air;  where  both  of  us  calling  out  together  "  What  a  day!  " 
it  was,  we  struck  out  briskly  for  the  old  Wooden  Bridge, 
where  Euphranor  said  his  boat  was  lying. 

[    113    ] 


.:f5i?^.  EUPHRANOR. 


EDITION 


"  By-the-by,"  said  I,  as  we  went  along,  "  it  would  be 
a  charity  to  knock  up  poor  Lexilogus,  and  carry  him 
along  with  us." 

Not  much  of  a  charity,  Euphranor  thought — Lexilo- 
gus would  so  much  rather  be  left  with  his  books.  Which 
I  declared  was  the  very  reason  he  should  be  taken  from 
them;  and  Euphranor,  who  was  quite  good-humour'd, 
and  wish'd  Lexilogus  all  well  (for  we  were  all  three 
Yorkshiremen,  whose  families  lived  no  great  distance 
asunder),  easily  consented.  So,  without  more  ado,  we 
turn'd  into  Trinity  Great  gate,  and  round  by  the  right 
up  a  staircase  to  the  attic  where  Lexilogus  kept. 

The  door  was  sported,  as  they  say,  but  I  knew  he  must 
be  within;  so,  using  the  privilege  of  an  old  friend,  I 
shouted  to  him  through  the  letter-slit.  Presently  we 
heard  the  sound  of  books  falling,  and  soon  after  Lexilo- 
gus' thin,  pale,  and  spectacled  face  appear'd  at  the  half- 
open'd  door.  He  was  always  glad  to  see  me,  I  believe, 
howsoever  I  disturb'd  him;  and  he  smiled  as  he  laid  his 
hand  in  mine,  rather  than  return'd  its  pressure:  working 
hard,  as  he  was,  poor  fellow,  for  a  Fellowship  that  should 
repay  all  the  expense  of  sending  him  to  College. 

The  tea-things  were  still  on  the  table,  and  I  asked  him 
(though  I  knew  well  enough)  if  he  were  so  fashionable 
as  only  just  to  have  breakfasted? 

"  Oh — long  ago — directly  after  morning  Chapel." 
(8)       I  then  told  him  he  must  put  his  books  away,  and  come 
out  on  the  river  with  Euphranor  and  myself. 

"  He  could  not  possibly,"  he  thought; — "  not  so  early, 

[    114^    ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ^^Ss 

at  least — preparing  for  some  Examination,  or  course  of 
Lectures " 

"  Come,  come,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Euphranor,  "  that 
is  the  very  reason,  says  the  Doctor;  and  he  will  have  his 
way.     So  make  haste." 

I  then  told  him  (what  I  then  suddenly  remember'd) 
that,  beside  other  reasons,  his  old  Aunt,  a  Cambridge 
tradesman's  widow  whom  I  attended,  and  whom  Lexilo- 
gus  help'd  to  support  out  of  his  own  little  savings,  wanted 
to  see  him  on  some  business.  He  should  go  with  us  to 
Chesterton,  where  she  lodged ;  visit  her  while  Euphranor 
and  I  play'd  a  game  or  two  of  Billiards  at  the  Inn;  and 
afterwards  (for  I  knew  how  little  of  an  oars-man  he  was) 
we  would  all  three  take  a  good  stretch  into  the  Fields 
together. 

He  supposed  "  we  should  be  back  in  good  time  " ;  about 
which  I  would  make  no  condition;  and  he  then  resign'd 
himself  to  Destiny.  While  he  was  busy  changing  and 
brushing  his  clothes,  Euphranor,  who  had  walk'd  some- 
what impatiently  about  the  room,  looking  now  at  the 
books,  and  now  through  the  window  at  some  white  pigeons 
wheeling  about  in  the  clear  sky,  went  up  to  the  mantel- 
piece and  call'd  out,  "  What  a  fine  new  pair  of  screens 
Lexilogus  had  got!  the  present,  doubtless,  of  some  fair 
Lady." 

Lexilogus  said  they  were  a  present  from  his  sister  on 
his  birthday;  and  coming  up  to  me,  brush  in  hand,  asked 
if  I  recognised  the  views  represented  on  them? 

"  Quite  well,  quite  well,"  I  said—"  the  old  Church— 

[    115    ] 


r^TriX  EUPHRANOR. 


EDITION 


the   Yew  tree  —  the   Parsonage  —  one   cannot  mistake 
them." 

"  And  were  they  not  beautifully  done? " 
(4)       And  I  answer'd  without  hesitation,  "  they  were;  "  for 
I  knew  the  girl  who  had  painted  them,  and  that  (what- 
ever they  might  be  in  point  of  Art)   a  still  finer  spirit 
had  guided  her  hand. 

At  last,  after  a  little  hesitation  as  to  whether  he  should 
wear  cap  and  gown,  (which  I  decided  he  should,  for  this 
time  only,  not,)  Lexilogus  was  ready:  and  calling  out 
on  the  staircase  to  some  invisible  Bed-maker,  that  his 
books  should  not  be  meddled  with,  we  ran  downstairs, 
crossed  the  Great  Court — through  the  Screens,  as  they 
are  call'd,  perpetually  travers'd  by  Gyp,  Cook,  Bed- 
maker,  and  redolent  of  perpetual  Dinner; — and  so, 
through  the  cloisters  of  Neville's  Court,  out  upon  the 
open  green  before  the  Library.  The  sun  shone  broad  on 
the  new-shaven  expanse  of  grass,  while  holiday-seeming 
people  saunter'd  along  the  River-side,  and  under  the 
trees,  now  flourishing  in  freshest  green — the  Chestnut 
especially  in  full  fan,  and  leaning  down  his  white  cones 
over  the  sluggish  current,  which  seem'd  indeed  fitter  for 
the  slow  merchandise  of  coal,  than  to  wash  the  walls  and 
flow  through  the  groves  of  Academe. 

We  now  consider'd  that  we  had  miss'd  our  proper  point 
of  embarkation;  but  this  was  easily  set  right  at  a  slight 
expense  of  College  propriety.  Euphranor  calling  out  to 
some  one  who  had  his  boat  in  charge  along  with  others 
by  the  wooden  bridge,  we  descended  the  grassy  slope, 

[    116    ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ^^'^ 


EDITION 


stepp'd  in,  with  due  caution  on  the  part  of  Lexilogus  and 
myself,  and  settled  the  order  of  our  voyage.  Euphranor 
and  I  were  to  pull,  and  Lexilogus  (as  I  at  first  proposed) 
to  steer.  But  seeing  he  was  somewhat  shy  of  meddling 
in  the  matter,  I  agreed  to  take  all  the  blame  of  my  own 
awkwardness  on  myself. 

"And  just  take  care  of  this,  will  you,  Lexilogus?  "  said 
I  Euphranor,  handing  him  a  book  which  fell  out  of  the  (s) 
pocket  of  the  coat  he  was  taking  off. 

"  Oh,  books,  books!  "  I  exclaimed.  "  I  thought  we  were 
to  steer  clear  of  them,  at  any  rate.  Now  we  shall  have 
Lexilogus  reading  all  the  way,  instead  of  looking  about 
him,  and  inhaling  the  fresh  air  unalloy'd.  What  is  it — 
Greek,  Algebra,  German,  or  what?  " 

"  None  of  these,  however,"  Euphranor  said,  "  but  only 
Digby's  Godef  ridus  " ;  and  then  asking  me  whether  I  was 
ready,  and  I  calling  out,  "  Ay,  ay.  Sir,"  our  oars  plash'd 
in  the  water.  Safe  through  the  main  arch  of  Trinity 
bridge,  we  shot  past  the  Library,  I  exerting  myself  so 
strenuously  (as  bad  rowers  are  apt  to  do),  that  I  almost 
drove  the  boat  upon  a  very  unobtrusive  angle  of  the 
College  buildings.  This  danger  past,  however,  we  got 
on  better;  Euphranor  often  looking  behind  him  to  anti- 
cipate our  way;  and  counteracting  with  his  experienced 
oar  the  many  misdirections  of  mine.  Amid  all  this,  he 
had  leisure  to  ask  me  if  I  knew  those  same  Digby  books? 

"  Some  of  them,"  I  told  him—"  the  '  Broad  Stone  of 
Honour,'  for  one;  indeed  I  had  the  first  Protestant  edi- 
tion of  it,  now  very  rare." 

[    117    ] 


P™?;?.  EUPHRANOR. 


BDITION 


"  But  not  so  good  as  the  enlarged  Catholic,"  said 
Euphranor,  "  of  which  this  Godefridus  is  part." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  I  replied;  "  but  then,  on  the  other  hand, 
not  so  Catholic ;  which  you  and  Lexilogus  will  agree  with 
me  is  much  in  its  favour." 

Which  I  said  slyly,  because  of  Euphranor's  being 
rather  taken  with  the  Oxford  doctrine  just  then  coming 
into  vogue. 

"  You  cannot  forgive  him  that,"  said  he. 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  I,  "  one  can  forgive  a  true  man  any- 
thing." 
(6)       And  then  Euphranor  ask'd  me,  "  Did  I  not  remember 
Digby  himself  at  College? — perhaps  know  him?  " 

"Not  that"  I  answer'd,  but  remember'd  him  very  well. 
"  A  grand,  swarthy  Fellow,  who  might  have  stept  out  of 
the  canvas  of  some  knightly  portrait  in  his  Father's  hall 
— perhaps  the  living  image  of  one  sleeping  under  some 
cross-legg'd  Effigies  in  the  Church." 

"  And,  Hare  says,  really  the  Knight  at  heart  that  he 
represented  in  his  Books." 

"  At  least,"  I  answered,  "  he  pull'd  a  very  good  stroke 
on  the  river,  where  I  am  now  labouring  so  awkwardly." 

In  which  and  other  such  talk,  interrupted  by  the  little 
accidents  of  our  voyage,  we  had  threaded  our  way  through 
the  closely-packt  barges  at  Magdalen ;  through  the  Locks ; 
and  so  for  a  pull  of  three  or  four  miles  down  the  river  and 
back  again  to  the  Ferry;  where  we  surrender'd  our  boat, 
and  footed  it  over  the  fields  to  Chesterton,  at  whose 
Church  we  came  just  as  its  quiet  chimes  were  preluding 

[      118      ] 


EUPHRANOR.  /^«™^ 

Twelve  o'clock.  Close  by  was  the  humble  house  whither 
Lexilogus  was  bound.  I  look'd  in  for  a  moment  at  the 
old  lady,  and  left  him  with  her,  privately  desiring  him 
to  join  us  as  soon  as  he  could  at  the  Three  Tuns  Inn, 
which  I  preferred  to  any  younger  rival,  because  of  the 
many  pleasant  hours  I  had  spent  there  in  my  own  College 
days,  some  twenty  years  ago. 

When  Euphranor  and  I  got  there,  we  found  all  the 
tables  occupied ;  but  one,  as  usual,  would  be  at  our  service 
before  long.  Meanwhile,  ordering  some  light  ale  after 
us,  we  went  into  the  Bowling-green,  with  its  Lilac  bushes 
now  in  full  bloom  and  full  odour;  and  there  we  foimd, 
sitting  alone  upon  a  bench,  Lycion,  with  a  cigar  in  his 
mouth,  and  rolling  the  bowls  about  lazily  with  his  foot. 

"What!  Lycion!  and  all  alone!"  I  call'd  out. 

He  nodded  to  us  both — waiting,  he  said,  till  some  men  (7) 
had  finished  a  pool  of  billiards  upstairs — a  great  bore — 
for  it  was  only  just  begun!  and  one  of  the  fellows  "  a  man 
I  particularly  detest." 

"  Come  and  console  yourself  with  some  ale,  then,"  said 
I.  "  Are  you  ever  foolish  enough  to  go  pulling  on  the 
river,  as  we  have  been  doing? " 

"  Not  very  often  in  hot  weather;  he  did  not  see  the 
use,"  he  said,  "  of  perspiring  to  no  purpose." 

"  Just  so,"  replied  I,  "  though  Euphranor  has  not 
turn'd  a  hair,  you  see,  owing  to  the  good  condition  he  is 
in.  But  here  comes  our  liquor;  and  *  Sweet  is  Pleasure 
after  Pain,'  at  any  rate." 

We  then  sat  down  in  one  of  those  little  arbours  cut  into 

[     119     ] 


Emi??N  EUPHRANOR. 


the  Lilac  bushes  round  the  Bowling-green;  and  while 
Euphranor  and  I  were  quaffing  each  a  glass  of  Home- 
brew'd,  Lycion  took  up  the  volume  of  Digby,  which 
Euphranor  had  laid  on  the  table. 

"  Ah,  Lycion,"  said  Euphranor,  putting  down  his 
glass,  "  there  is  one  would  have  put  you  up  to  a  longer 
and  stronger  pull  than  we  have  had  to-day? " 

"  Chivalry "  said  Lycion,  glancing  carelessly  over 

the  leaves;  "  Don't  you  remember,"  —  addressing  me  — 
"  what  an  absurd  thing  that  Eglinton  Tournament  was? 
What  a  complete  failure!  There  was  the  Queen  of 
Beauty  on  her  throne — Lady  Seymour — who  alone  of  all 
the  whole  affair  was  not  a  sham — and  the  Heralds,  and 
the  Knights  in  full  Armour  on  their  horses — they  had 
been  practising  for  months,  I  believe — ^but  unluckily,  at 
the  very  moment  of  Onset,  the  rain  began,  and  the 
Knights  threw  down  their  lances,  and  put  up  their  um- 
brellas." 

I  laugh'd,  and  said  I  remembered  something  like  it 

(8)   I  had  occurred,  though  not  to  that  umbrella-point,  which 

I  thought  was  a  theatrical,  or  Louis  Philippe  Burlesque 

on  the  affair.     And  I  asked  Euphranor  "  what  he  had  to 

say  in  defence  of  the  Tournament "  ? 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  he  replied.  "  It  was  a  silly  thing, 
and  fit  to  be  laughed  at  for  the  very  reason  that  it  was 
a  sham,  as  Lycion  says.  As  Digby  himself  tells  us,"  he 
went  on,  taking  the  Book,  and  rapidly  turning  over  the 
leaves — "Here  it  is" — and  he  read:  "  *  The  error  that 
leads  men  to  doubt  of  this  first  proposition  ' — that  is,  you 

[    120    ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ^^^^ 

know,  that  Chivalry  is  not  a  thing  past,  but,  like  all  things 
of  Beauty,  eternal — '  the  error  that  leads  men  to  doubt 
of  this  first  proposition  consists  of  their  supposing  that 
Tournaments,  and  steel  Panoply,  and  Coat  arms,  and 
Aristocratic  institutions,  are  essential  to  Chivalry; 
whereas,  these  are,  in  fact,  only  accidental  attendants 
upon  it,  subject  to  the  influence  of  Time,  which  changes 
all  such  things.'  " 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Lycion,  "  your  man — whatever  his 
name  is — would  carry  us  back  to  the  days  of  King  Arthur, 
and  the  Seven  Champions,  whenever  they  were — ^that  one 
used  to  read  about  when  a  Child?  I  thought  Don  Quix- 
ote had  put  an  end  to  all  that  long  ago." 

"  Well,  he,  at  any  rate,"  said  Euphranor,  "  did  not 
depend  on  fine  Accoutrement  for  his  Chivalry." 

"  Nay,"  said  I,  "  but  did  he  not  believe  in  his  rusty 
armour — perhaps  even  the  paste-board  Visor  he  fitted  to 
it — as  impregnable  as  the  Cause " 

"  And  some  old  Barber's  bason  as  the  Helmet  of  Mam- 
brino,"  interposed  Lycion 

"  And  his  poor  Rocinante  not  to  be  surpass'd  by  the 
Bavieca  of  the  Cid;  believed  in  all  this,  I  say,  as  really 
as  in  the  Windmills  and  Wine-skins  being  the  Giants  and 
Sorcerers  he  was  to  annihilate?  " 

"  To  be  sure  he  did,"  said  Lycion;  "  but  Euphranor's  (o) 
Round-table  men — many  of  them  great  rascals,  I  believe 
— knew  a  real  Dragon,  or  Giant — when  they  met  him — 
better  than  Don  Quixote." 

"  Perhaps,  however,"  said  I,  who  saw  Euphranor's  col- 

[      121      ] 


™?^^  EUPHRANOR. 


EDITION 


our  rising,  "he  and  Digby  would  tell  us  that  all  such 
Giants  and  Dragons  may  be  taken  for  Symbols  of  certain 
Forms  of  Evil  which  his  Knights  went  about  to  encoun- 
ter and  exterminate." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Euphranor,  with  an  indignant  snort, 
"  every  Child  knows  that:  then  as  now  to  be  met  with  and 
put  down  in  whatsoever  shapes  they  appear  as  long  as 
Tyranny  and  Oppression  exist." 

"  Till  finally  extinguisht,  as  they  crop  up,  by  Euphra- 
nor and  his  Successors,"  said  Lycion. 

"  Does  not  Carlyle  somewhere  talk  to  us  of  a  *  Chivalry 
of  Labour  '?  "  said  I;  "  that  henceforward  not  'Arms  and 
the  Man,'  but  '  Tools  and  the  Man,'  are  to  furnish  the 
Epic  of  the  world." 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Lycion,  "  if  the  '  Table-Round  '  turn 
into  a  Tailor's  Board — ^Charge,  Chester,  charge!'  say 
I — only  not  exorbitantly  for  the  Coat  you  provide  for 
us — which  indeed,  like  true  Knights,  I  believe  you  should 
provide  for  us  gratis." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  I,  laughing,  "  but  then 
You  must  not  sit  idle,  smoking  your  cigar,  in  the  midst 
of  it;  but,  as  your  Ancestors  led  on  mail'd  troops  at  Agin- 
court,  so  must  you  put  yourself,  shears  in  hand,  at  the 
head  of  this  Host,  and  become  what  Carlyle  calls  'a  Cap- 
tain of  Industry,'  a  Master-tailor,  leading  on  a  host  of 
Journeymen  to  fresh  fields  and  conquests  new." 

"  Besides,"  said  Euphranor,  who  did  not  like  Carlyle, 

(10)  I  nor  relish  this  sudden  descent  of  his  hobby,  "  surely 

Chivalry  will  never  want  a  good  Cause  to  maintain, 

[     122     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  -^^^^ 

whether  private  or  public.  As  Tennyson  says,  King 
Arthur,  who  was  carried  away  wounded  to  the  island 
valley  of  Avilion,  returns  to  us  in  the  shape  of  a  '  modern 
Gentleman '  ;*  and,  the  greater  his  Power  and  oppor- 
tunity, the  more  demanded  of  him." 

"  Which  you  must  bear  in  mind,  Lycion,"  said  I,  "  if 
ever  you  come  to  legislate  for  us  in  yoiu*  Father's  Bor- 
ough." 

"  Or  out  of  it,  also,"  said  Euphranor,  "  with  something 
other  than  the  Doctor's  Shears  at  your  side;  as  in  case 
of  any  National  call  to  Arms." 

To  this  Lycion,  however,  only  tum'd  his  cigar  in  his 
mouth  by  way  of  reply,  and  look'd  somewhat  supercili- 
ously at  his  Antagonist.  And  I,  who  had  been  looking 
into  the  leaves  of  the  Book  that  Euphranor  had  left  open, 
said: 

"  Here  we  are,  as  usual,  discussing  without  having  yet 
agreed  on  the  terms  we  are  using.  Euphranor  has  told 
us,  on  the  word  of  his  Hero,  what  Chivalry  is  not:  let  him 
read  us  what  it  is  that  we  are  talking  about." 

I  then  handed  him  the  Book  to  read  to  us,  while  Lycion, 
lying  down  on  the  grass,  with  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  com- 
posed himself  to  inattention.     And  Euphranor  read: 

"  '  Chivalry  is  only  a  name  for  that  general  Spirit  or 
state  of  mind,  which  disposes  men  to  Heroic  and  Generous 
actions ;  and  keeps  them  conversant  with  all  that  is  Beauti- 

*  '*Who  may  he  challenged,  even  in  these  later  days,  to  no  mock  Tour- 
nament, Lycion,  in  his  Country's  defence,  and  with  something  other 
than  the  Doctor's  shears  at  his  side." — The  sentence  finishes  thus,  and 
the  two  subsequent  paragraphs  are  omitted  in  final  edition. 

[      123     ] 


,:fP™.  EUPHRANOR. 


BDITIOM 


f  ul  and  Sublime  in  the  Intellectual  and  Moral  world.  It 
will  be  found  that,  in  the  absence  of  conservative  prin- 
ciples, this  Spirit  more  generally  prevails  in  Youth  than 
in  the  later  periods  of  men's  lives:  and,  as  the  Heroic  is 
always  the  earliest  age  in  the  history  of  nations,  so  Youth, 
the  first  period  of  human  life,  may  be  considered  as  the 
(11)  Heroic  or | Chivalrous  age  of  each  separate  Man;  and 
there  are  few  so  unhappy  as  to  have  grown  up  without 
having  experienced  its  influence,  and  having  derived  the 
advantage  of  being  able  to  enrich  their  imaginations,  and 
to  soothe  their  hours  of  sorrow,  with  its  romantic  recol- 
lections. The  Anglo-Saxons  distinguished  the  period 
between  Childhood  and  Manhood  by  the  term  'Cnihthade,' 
Knighthood;  a  term  which  still  continued  to  indicate  the 
connexion  between  Youth  and  Chivalry,  when  Knights 
were  styled  'Children,'  as  in  the  historic  song  beginning 

"Childe  Rowland  to  the  dark  tower  came," 

an  excellent  expression,  no  doubt;  for  every  Boy  and 
Youth  is,  in  his  mind  and  sentiments,  a  Knight,  and  essen- 
tially a  Son  of  Chivalry.  Nature  is  fine  in  him.  Noth- 
ing but  the  circumstance  of  a  singular  and  most  degrad- 
ing system  of  Education  can  ever  totally  destroy  the 
action  of  this  general  law.  Therefore,  as  long  as  there 
has  been,  or  shall  be,  a  succession  of  sweet  Springs  in 
Man's  Intellectual  World;  as  long  as  there  have  been, 
or  shall  be.  Young  men  to  grow  up  to  maturity;  and 
until  all  Youthful  life  shall  be  dead,  and  its  source  with- 
ered for  ever;  so  long  must  there  have  been,  and  must 

[      124     ] 


I 


EUPHRANOR.  ^™^ 

there  continue  to  be,  the  spirit  of  noble  Chivalry.  To 
understand  therefore  this  first  and,  as  it  were,  natural 
Chivalry,  we  have  only  to  observe  the  features  of  the 
Youthful  age,  of  which  examples  surround  us.  For,  as 
Demipho  says  of  young  men: 

"Ecce  autem  similia  omnia:  omnes  congruunt: 
Unum  cognoris,  omnes  noris." 

Mark  the  courage  of  him  who  is  green  and  fresh  in  this 
Old  world.  Amyntas  beheld  and  dreaded  the  insolence 
of  the  Persians ;  but  not  so  Alexander,  the  son  of  Amyn- 
tas, aT£|v£OC  xs  scbv,  itac  xaxcbv  dxaQT]^  (says  Herodotus)  (12) 
o6Sa(id)C  S'cc  xaxe/siv  oUc,  xs  '^v.  When  Jason  had  related 
to  his  companions  the  conditions  imposed  by  the  King, 
the  first  impression  was  that  of  horror  and  despondency ; 
till  Peleus  rose  up  boldly,  and  said, 

"QpT]  (jLYjxcdaaQac  0  x'  ip^o[X£V  00  (xsv  ioXTca 
BooXfic,  ehai  Svscap,  oaov  x'  eiuc  xdpxsi  )(£tp(bv. 

*  If  Jason  be  unwilling  to  attempt  it,  I  and  the  rest  will 
undertake  the  enterprise;  for  what  more  can  we  suffer 
than  death? '  And  then  instantly  rose  up  Telamon  and 
Idas,  and  the  sons  of  Tyndarus,  and  (Enides,  although 

— 068s  Tcsp  Saoov  siravGcocovxac  iobXooc, 
'AvxsXXcDV. 

But  Argus,  the  Nestor  of  the  party,  restrained  their  im- 
petuous valour.'  " 

"  Scarce  the  Down  upon  their  lips,  you  see,"  (said  I,) 
"Freshmen; — so  that  you,   Euphranor,  who  are  now 

[      125      ] 


^™^  EUPHRANOR. 

Bachelor  of  Arts,  and  whose  upper  lip  at  least  begins 
to  show  the  stubble  of  repeated  harvests,  are,  alas, 
fast  declining  from  that  golden  prime  of  Knighthood, 
while  Lycion  here,  whose  shavings  might  almost  be 
counted " 

Here  Lycion,  who  had  endured  the  reading  with  an 
occasional  yawn,  said  he  wish'd  "  those  fellows  upstairs 
would  finish  their  pool." 

"  And  see  again,"  continued  I,  taking  the  book  from 
Euphranor's  hands — "  after  telling  us  that  Chivalry  is 
mainly  but  another  name  for  Youth,  Digby  proceeds  to 
define  more  particularly  what  that  is — '  It  is  a  remark  of 
Lord  Bacon,  that  "  for  the  Moral  part.  Youth  will  have 
the  pre-eminence,  as  Age  hath  for  the  Politic;  "  and  this 
has  always  been  the  opinion  which  is  allied  to  that  other 
belief,  that  the  Heroic  (the  Homeric  age)  was  the  most 
(13)  I  Virtuous  age  of  Greece.  When  Demosthenes  is  desir- 
ous of  expressing  any  great  and  generous  sentiment,  he 
uses  the  term  vsavcxov  cpp6vY](ia' — and  by  the  way,"  added 
I,  looking  up  parenthetically  from  the  book,  "  the  Per- 
sians, I  am  told,  employ  the  same  word  for  Youth  and 
Courage — '  and  it  is  the  saying  of  Plautus,  when  surprise 
is  evinced  at  the  Benevolence  of  an  old  man,  "  Benignitas 
hujus  ut  Adolescentuli  est."  There  is  no  difference,  says 
the  Philosopher,  between  Youthful  Age  and  Youthful 
Character ;  and  what  this  is  cannot  be  better  evinced  than 
in  the  very  words  of  Aristotle:  "  The  Young  are  ardent 
in  Desire,  and  what  they  do  is  from  Affection;  they  are 
tractable  and  delicate;  they  earnestly  desire  andarequickly 

[    126    ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ™?P, 


EDITION 


appeased;  their  wishes  are  intense,  without  comprehend- 
ing much,  as  the  thirst  and  hunger  of  the  weary;  they  are 
passionate  and  hasty,  and  liable  to  be  surprised  by  anger; 
for  being  ambitious  of  Honour,  they  cannot  endure  to  be 
despised,  but  are  indignant  when  they  suffer  injustice; 
they  love  Honour,  but  still  more  Victory;  for  Youth 
desires  superiority,  and  victory  is  superiority,  and  both  of 
these  they  love  more  than  Riches;  for  as  to  these,  of  all 
things,  they  care  for  them  the  least.  They  are  not  of 
corrupt  manners,  but  are  Innocent,  from  not  having 
beheld  much  wickedness;  and  they  are  credulous,  from 
having  been  seldom  deceived ;  and  Sanguine  in  hope,  for, 
like  persons  who  are  drunk  with  wine,  they  are  inflamed 
by  nature,  and  from  their  having  had  but  little  experience 
of  Fortune.  And  they  live  by  Hope,  for  Hope  is  of  the 
future,  but  Memory  is  of  the  past,  and  to  Youth  the 
Future  is  everything,  the  Past  but  little;  they  hope  all 
things,  and  remember  nothing:  and  it  is  easy  to  deceive 
them,  for  the  reasons  which  have  been  given ;  for  they  are 
willing  to  hope,  and  are  full  of  Courage,  being  passionate 
I  and  hasty,  of  which  tempers  it  is  the  nature  of  one  not  (u) 
to  fear,  and  of  the  other  to  inspire  confidence;  and  they 
are  easily  put  to  Shame,  for  they  have  no  resources  to 
set  aside  the  precepts  which  they  have  learned :  and  they 
have  lofty  souls,  for  they  have  never  been  disgraced  or 
brought  low;  and  they  are  unacquainted  with  Necessity; 
they  prefer  Honour  to  Advantage,  Virtue  to  Expedi- 
ency; for  they  live  by  Affection  rather  than  by  Reason, 
and  Reason  is  concerned  with  Expediency,  but  AfFec- 

[     127     ] 


E^B™^  EUPHRANOR. 

tion  with  Honour:  and  they  are  warm  friends  and  hearty 
companions,  more  than  other  men,  because  they  delight 
in  Fellowship,  and  judge  of  nothing  by  Utility,  and 
therefore  not  their  friends;  and  they  chiefly  err  in  doing 
all  things  over  much,  for  they  keep  no  medium.  They 
love  much,  and  they  dislike  much,  and  so  in  everything, 
and  this  arises  from  their  idea  that  they  know  everything. 
And  their  faults  consist  more  in  Insolence  than  in  actual 
wrong;  and  they  are  full  of  Mercy,  because  they  regard 
all  men  as  good,  and  more  virtuous  than  they  are ;  for  they 
measure  others  by  their  own  Innocence ;  so  that  they  sup- 
pose every  man  suffers  wrongfully."  '  So  that  Lycion, 
you  see,"  said  I,  looking  up  from  the  book,  and  tapping 
on  the  top  of  his  hat,  "  is,  in  virtue  of  his  eighteen  Simi- 
mers  only,  a  Knight  of  Nature's  own  dubbing — yes,  and 
here  we  have  a  list  of  the  very  qualities  which  constitute 
him  one  of  the  Order.  And  all  the  time  he  is  pretending 
to  be  careless,  indolent,  and  worldly,  he  is  really  bursting 
with  suppressed  Energy,  Generosity,  and  Devotion." 

"  I  did  not  try  to  understand  your  English  any  more 
than  your  Greek,"  said  Lycion;  "  but  if  I  can't  help  being 
the  very  fine  Fellow  whom  I  think  you  were  reading 
about,  why,  I  want  to  know  what  is  the  use  of  writing 
books  about  it  for  my  edification." 
(15)  "  O  yes,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  I,  "  it  is  like  giving  you 
an  Inventory  of  your  goods,  which  else  you  lose,  or  even 
fling  away,  in  your  march  to  Manhood — which  you  are 
so  eager  to  reach.  Only  to  repent  when  gotten  there ;  for 
I  see  Digby  goes  on — '  What  is  termed  Entering  the 

[      128     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ^--^ 

World ' — which  Manhood  of  course  must  do — *  assuming 
its  Principles  and  Maxims' — ^which  usually  follows — *  is 
nothing  else  but  departing  into  those  regions  to  which 
the  souls  of  the  Homeric  Heroes  went  sorrowing — 

"^6v  Tcoxjxov  yoocoaa,  Xcirooa'  dvSpox'^ta  xat  t^^t^v.'" 

"  Ah,  you  remember,"  said  Euphranor,  "  how  Lamb's 
friend,  looking  upon  the  Eton  Boys  in  their  Cricket-field, 
sighed  '  to  think  of  so  many  fine  Lads  so  soon  turning  into 
frivolous  Members  of  Parliament! '  " 

"  But  why  *  frivolous  '?  "  said  Lycion. 

"  Ay,  why  '  frivolous  '?  "  echoed  I,  "  when  entering  on 
the  Field  where  Euphranor  tells  us,  their  Knightly  service 
may  be  call'd  into  action." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Euphranor,  "  entering  before  suffi- 
ciently equipp'd  for  that  part  of  their  calling." 

"  Well,"  said  Lycion,  "  the  Laws  of  England  deter- 
mine otherwise,  and  that  is  enough  for  me,  and,  I  suppose, 
for  her,  whatever  your  ancient  or  modern  pedants  say  to 
the  contrary." 

"  You  mean,"  said  I,  "  in  settling  Twenty-one  as  the 
Age  of  *  Discretion,'  sufficient  to  manage,  not  your  own 
affairs  only,  but  those  of  the  Nation  also?  " 

The  hat  nodded. 

"  Not  yet,  perhaps,  accepted  for  a  Parliamentary 
Knight  complete,"  said  I,  "  so  much  as  Squire  to  some 
more  experienced,  if  not  more  valiant.  Leader.  Only 
providing  that  Neoptolemus  do  not  fall  into  the  hands 
of  a  too  politic  I  Ulysses,  and  under  him  lose  that  generous  (i6) 

[    129    ] 


E™??N  EUPHRANOR. 

Moral,  whose  Inventory  is  otherwise  apt  to  get  lost  among 
the  benches  of  St.  Stephen's — in  spite  of  preliminary 
Prayer." 

"  Aristotle's  Master,  I  think,"  added  Euphranor,  with 
some  mock  gravity,  "  would  not  allow  any  to  become 
Judges  in  his  Republic  till  near  to  middle  life,  lest  ac- 
quaintance with  Wrong  should  harden  them  into  a  dis- 
trust of  Humanity:  and  acquaintance  with  Diplomacy  is 
said  to  be  little  less  dangerous." 

"  Though,  by-the-way,"  interposed  I,  "  was  not  Plato's 
Master  accused  of  perplexing  those  simple  Affections 
and  Impulses  of  Youth  by  his  Dialectic,  and  making 
premature  Sophists  of  the  Etonians  of  Athens? " 

"By  Aristophanes,  you  mean,"  said  Euphranor,  with 
no  mock  gravity  now;  "whose  gross  caricature  help'd 
Anytus  and  Co.  to  that  Accusation  which  ended  in  the 
murder  of  the  best  and  wisest  Man  of  all  Antiquity." 

"  Well,  perhaps,"  said  I,  "  he  had  been  sufficiently 
punish'd  by  that  termagant  Wife  of  his — whom,  by-the- 
way,  he  may  have  taught  to  argue  with  him  instead  of  to 
obey.  Just  as  that  Son  of  poor  old  Strepsiades,  in  what 
you  call  the  Aristophanic  Caricature,  is  taught  to  rebel 
against  parental  authority,  instead  of  doing  as  he  was 
bidden;  as  he  would  himself  have  the  Horses  to  do  that 
he  was  spending  so  much  of  his  Father's  money  upon: 
and  as  we  would  have  our  own  Horses,  Dogs,  and  Chil- 
dren,— and  young  Knights." 

"  You  have  got  your  Heroes  into  fine  company,  Eu- 
phranor," said  Lycion,  who,  while  seeming  inattentive  to 

[     130     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ^™ 

all  that  went  against  him,  was  quick  enough  to  catch  at 
any  turn  in  his  favour. 

"  Why,  let  me  see,"  said  I,  taking  up  the  book  again, 
and  I  running  my  eye  over  the  passage — "  yes, — 'Ardent  (i7) 
of  desire/ — *^  Tractable/ — some  of  them  at  least — '  With- 
out comprehending  much ' — 'Ambitious ' — '  Despisers  of 
Riches^ — '  Warm  friends  and  hearty  Companions ' — re- 
ally very  characteristic  of  the  better  breed  of  Dogs  and 
Horses.  And  why  not?  The  Horse,  you  know,  has 
given  his  very  name  to  Chivalry,  because  of  his  associa- 
tion in  the  Heroic  Enterprises  of  Men, — Kl  mas  Hidalgo 
BrutOj  Calderon  calls  him.  He  was  sometimes  buried,  I 
think,  along  with  our  heroic  Ancestors — just  as  some 
favourite  wife  was  buried  along  with  her  husband  in  the 
East.  So  the  Muse  sings  of  those  who  believe  their  faith- 
ful Dog  will  accompany  them  to  the  World  of  Spirits — 
as  even  some  wise  and  good  Christian  men  have  thought 
it  not  impossible  he  may,  not  only  because  of  his  Moral, 
but " 

"  Well,"  said  Euphranor,  "  we  need  not  trouble  our- 
selves about  carrying  the  question  quite  so  far." 

"  Oh,  do  not  drop  your  poor  kinsman  just  when  you 
are  going  into  good  Company,"  said  Lycion. 

"  By-the-way,  Lycion,"  said  I,  "  has  not  your  Parlia- 
ment a  *  Whipper-in'  of  its  more  dilatory  members — or 
of  those  often  of  the  younger  ones,  I  think,  who  may  be 
diverting  themselves  with  some  stray  scent  elsewhere? " 

To  this  he  only  replied  with  a  long  whiff  from  his 
Cigar;  but  Euphranor  said: 

[    isi    ] 


^«™N  EUPHRANOR. 

"  Well,  come,  Lycion,  let  us  take  the  Doctor  at  his 
word,  and  turn  it  against  himself.  For  if  you  and 
I,  in  virtue  of  our  Youth,  are  so  inspired  with  all  this 
Moral  that  he  talks  of — why,  we — or,  rather,  you — 
are  wanted  in  Parliament,  not  only  to  follow  like  Dog  and 
Horse,  as  he  pretends,  but  also  to  take  the  lead ;  so  as  the 
(18)  [Generous  counsel,  the  vsavixbv  9p6v7j(xa, of  Youth,  may 
vivify  and  ennoble  the  cold  Politic  of  Age." 

"  Well,  I  remember  hearing  of  a  young  Senator,"  said 
I,  "who,  in  my  younger  days,  was  celebrated  for  his 
faculty  of  Cock-crowing  by  way  of  waking  up  his  more 
drowsy  Seniors,  I  suppose,  about  the  small  hours  of  the 
morning — or,  perhaps,  in  token  of  Victory  over  an  unex- 
pected Minority." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Euphranor,  laughing,  "  I  mean  seri- 
ously; as  in  the  passage  we  read  from  Digby,  Amyntas, 
the  Man  of  Policy,  was  wrong,  and  his  son  Alexander 
right." 

But  oddly  enough,  as  I  remember'd  the  story  in  He- 
rodotus, by  a  device  which  smack'd  more  of  Policy  than 
Generosity.  "  But  in  the  other  case,  Argus,  I  suppose, 
was  not  so  wrong  in  restraining  the  impetuosity  of  his 
Youthful  Crew,  who, — is  it  not  credibly  thought? — ^would 
have  fail'd,  but  for  Medea's  unexpected  magical  assist- 
ance? " 

Euphranor  was  not  clear  about  his. 

"  Besides,"  said  I,  "  does  not  this  very  vsavcxov  cpp6vY)(xa 
of  yours  result  from  that  vsavtxbv  condition — l6o^,  do  you 
call  it? — of  Body,  in  which  Youth  as  assuredly  profits  as 

[      132     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  -™^ 

in  the  Moral,  and  which  assuredly  flows,  as  from  a  Foun- 
tain of  *  Jouvence  that  rises  and  runs  in  the  open  '  Field 
rather  than  in  the  Hall  of  St.  Stephen's,  where  indeed  it 
is  rather  likely  to  get  clogg'd,  if  not  altogether  dried  up? 
As,  for  instance.  Animal  Spirit j  Animal  Courage j  San- 
guine Temper,  and  so  forth — all  which,  by  the  way,  says 
Aristotle,  inflame  Youth  not  at  all  like  Reasonable  peo- 
ple, but  *^  like  persons  drunk  with  wine  ^ — all  which,  for 
better  or  worse,  is  fermented  by  Cricket  from  good  Roast 
Beef  into  pure  Blood,  Muscle — and  Moral." 

"  Chivalry  refined  into  patent  Essence  of  Beef  1 "  said 
Euphranor,  only  half -amused. 

"  I  hope  you  like  the  taste  of  it,"  said  Lycion,  under  (i9) 
his  hat. 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,"  said  I,  laughing,  "  those  young 
Argonauts  needed  a  good  stock  of  it  to  work  a  much 
heavier  craft  than  we  have  been  pulling  to-day,  when  the 
wind  f  ail'd  them.  And  yet,  with  all  their  animal  Inebria- 
tion— whencesoever  derived — so  tractable  in  their  Moral 
as  to  submit  at  once  to  their  Politic  Leader — Argus,  was 
it  not?" 

"  '  The  Nestor  of  the  Party,'  Digby  calls  him,"  said 
Euphranor,  "  good,  old,  garrulous  Nestor,  whom,  some- 
how, I  think  one  seems  to  feel  more  at  home  with  than  any 
of  the  Homeric  Heroes." 

"  Aye,  he  was  entitled  to  crow  in  the  Grecian  Parlia- 
ment, fine  '  Old  Cock '  as  he  was,  about  the  gallant  ex- 
ploits of  his  Youth,  being  at  threescore  so  active  in  Body 
as  in  Spirit,  that  Agamemnon  declares,  I  think,  that  Troy 

[      133     ] 


E^S?K  EUPHRANOR. 


would  soon  come  down  had  he  but  a  few  more  such  Gen- 
erals. Ah  yes,  Euphranor!  could  one  by  so  full  Appren- 
ticeship of  Youth  become  so  thoroughly  seasoned  with  its 
Spirit,  that  all  the  Reason  of  Manhood,  and  Politic  of 
Age,  and  Experience  of  the  World,  should  serve  not  to 
freeze,  but  to  direct,  the  genial  Current  of  the  Soul,  so 
that — 

*Ev'n  while  the  vital  Heat  retreats  below, 
Ev'n  while  the  hoary  head  is  lost  in  Snow, 
The  Life  is  in  the  leaf,  and  still  between 
The  fits  of  falling  Snow  appears  the  streaky  Green' — 

that  Boy's  Heart  within  the  Man's  never  ceasing  to  throb 
and  tremble,  even  to  remotest  Age — then  indeed  your 
Senate  would  need  no  other  Youth  than  its  Elders  to 
vivify  their  counsel,  or  could  admit  the  Young  without 
danger  of  corrupting  them  by  ignoble  Policy. 

"  Well,  come,"  said  Euphranor  gaily,  after  my  rather 
(20)  I  sententious  peroration,  "  Lycion  need  not  be  condemn'd 
to  enter  Parliament — or  even  '  The  World  ' — unless  he 
pleases,  for  some  twenty  years  to  come,  if  he  will  follow 
P5i:hagoras,  who,  you  know.  Doctor,  devotes  the  first 
forty  years  of  his  Man's  allotted  Eighty  to  Childhood 
and  Youth ;  a  dispensation  which  you  and  I  at  least  shall 
not  quarrel  with." 

"  No,  nor  anyone  else,  I  should  suppose,"  said  I. 
"  Think,  my  dear  Lycion,  what  a  privilege  for  you  to 
have  yet  more  than  twenty  good  years'  expatiation  in  the 
Elysian  Cricket-field  of  Youth  before  pent  up  in  that 

[      1S4      ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ™SS. 


Close  Borough  of  your  Father's!  And  Euphranor, 
whom  we  thought  fast  sHpping  out  of  his  Prime  as  his 
Youth  attained  a  beard,  is  in  fact  only  just  entering  upon 
it.  And,  most  wonderful  of  all,  I,  who  not  only  have 
myself  enter'd  the  World,  but  made  my  bread  by  bring- 
ing others  into  it  these  fifteen  years,  have  myself  only 
just  ceased  to  be  a  Boy! " 

What  reply  Lycion  might  have  deign'd  to  all  this,  I 
know  not;  for  just  now  one  of  his  friends  looked  out 
again  from  the  Billiard-room  window,  and  called  out  to 
him,  "  the  coast  was  clear."  On  which  Lycion  getting 
up,  and  muttering  something  about  its  being  a  pity  we 
did  not  go  back  to  Trap-ball,  and  I  retorting  that  we 
could  carry  it  forward  into  Life  with  us,  he  carelessly 
nodded  to  us  both,  and  with  an  ''Au  Revoir"  lounged 
with  his  Cigar  into  the  house. 

Then  Euphranor  and  I  took  each  a  draught  of  the 
good  liquor  which  Lycion  had  declined  to  share  with  us; 
and,  on  setting  down  his  tumbler,  he  said: 

"  Ah!  you  should  have  heard  our  friend  Skythrops  com- 
menting on  that  Inventory  of  Youth,  as  you  call  it, 
which  he  happened  to  open  upon  in  my  rooms  the  other 
day." 

"  Perhaps  the  book  is  rather  apt  to  open  there  of  its 
jown  accord,"  said  I.     "  Well — and  what  did  old  Sky-  (21) 
throps  say?  " 

"  Oh,  you  may  anticipate  —  *  the  same  old  Heathen 
talk,'  he  said — *  very  well  for  a  Pagan  to  write,  and  a 
Papist  to  quote — '  and,  according  to  you,  Doctor,  for 

[      1S5      ] 


E^D^i??^  EUPHRANOR. 

Horse  and  Dog  to  participate  in,  and  for  Bullock  to 
supply." 

"  But  I  had  been  mainly  bantering  Lycion,"  I  said ; 
"  as  Euphranor  also,  I  supposed  with  his  Pythagorean 
disposition  of  Life.  Lycion  would  not  much  have  cared 
had  I  derived  them  from  the  angels.  As  for  that  Ani- 
mal condition  to  which  I  had  partly  referr'd  them,  we 
Doctors  were  of  old  notorious  on  that  score,  not  choosing 
your  Moralist  and  Philosopher  to  carry  off  all  the  fee. 
But  '  The  Cobbler  to  his  Last ' — or,  the  Tailor  to  his 
Goose,  if  I  might  be  call'd  in,  as  only  I  profess'd,  to 
accommodate  the  outer  Man  with  what  Sterne  calls  his 
Jerkin,  leaving  its  Lining  to  your  Philosopher  and 
Divine." 

"Sterne!"  ejaculated  Euphranor;  "just  like  him — 
Soul  and  Body  all  of  a  piece." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  I,  laughing;  "  your  Lining  is  often 
of  a  finer  material,  you  know." 

"  And  often  of  a  coarser,  as  in  Sterne's  own  case,  I 
believe." 

"  Well,  then,  I  would  turn  Mason,  or  Bricklayer,"  I 
said ;  "  and  confine  myself  to  the  House  of  Clay,  in  which, 
as  the  Poets  tell  us,  the  Soul  is  Tenant — *  The  Body's 
Guest ' — as  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  calls  him ;  would  that 
do?" 

"  Better,  at  any  rate,  than  Jerkin  and  Lining." 

But  here  the  same  difficulty  presented  itself.  For,  how- 
ever essentially  distinct  the  Tenant  from  his  Lodging,  his 
Health,  as  we  of  the  material  Faculty  believed,  in  some 

[    136    ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ^™n 

I  measure  depended  on  the  salubrity  of  the  House,  in  (22) 
which  he  is  not  merely  a  Guest,  but  a  Prisoner,  and  from 
which  I  knew  Euphranor  thought  he  was  forbidden  to 
escape  by  any  violent  self -extrication.     Dryden  indeed 
tells  us  of — 

"A  fiery  Soul  that,  working  out  its  way. 
Fretted  the  pigmy  Body  to  decay. 
And  o'er-informed  this  Tenement  of  Clay." — 

"  But  that  was  the  Soul  of  an  Achitophel,"  Euphranor 
argued,  "  whose  collapse,  whether  beginning  from  within 
or  without,  was  of  less  than  little  moment  to  the  world. 
But  the  truly  grand  Soul  possesses  himself  in  peace,  or, 
if  he  suffer  from  self -neglect,  or  over-exertion  in  striving 
after  the  good  of  others — ^why,  that  same  Dryden — or 
Waller,  it  may  be — says  that  such  an  one  becomes,  not 
weaker,  but  stronger,  by  that  Bodily  decay,  whether  of 
Infirmity,  or  of  Old  Age,  which  lets  in  new  light  through 
the  chinks  of  dilapidation — if  not,  as  my  loftier  Words- 
worth has  it,  some  rays  of  that  Original  Glory  which  he 
brought  with  him  to  be  darken'd  in  the  Body  at  Birth." 

"  But  then,"  I  said,  "  if  your  crazy  Cottage  won't  fall 
to  pieces  at  once,  but,  after  the  manner  of  creaking  gates, 
go  creaking — or,  as  the  Sailors  say  of  their  boats,  *  com- 
plaining '  on — ^making  the  Tenant,  and  most  likely  all 
his  Neighbours,  complain  also,  and  perpetually  calling  on 
the  Tenant  for  repairs,  and  this  when  he  wants  to  be  about 
other  more  important  Business  of  his  own?  To  think 
how  much  time — and  patience — a  Divine  Soul  has  to 

[     137     ] 


™J?»  EUPHRANOK. 


EDITION 


waste  over  some  little  bit  of  Cheese,  perhaps,  that,  owing 
to  bad  drainage,  will  stick  in  the  stomach  of  an  otherwise 
Seraphic  Doctor." 

Euphranor  laughed  a  little;  and  I  went  on;  "Better 
(28)  I  surely,  for  all  sakes,  to  build  up  for  her — as  far  as  we 
may — for  we  cannot  yet  ensure  the  foundation — a  spa- 
cious, airy,  and  wholesome  Tenement  becoming  so  Divine 
a  Tenant,  of  so  strong  a  foundation  and  masonry  as  to 
resist  the  wear  and  tear  of  Elements  without,  and  herself 
within.  Yes;  and  a  handsome  house  withal — unless  in- 
deed you  think  the  handsome  Soul  will  fashion  that  about 
herself  from  within — like  a  shell — ^which,  so  far  as  her 
Top-storey,  where  she  is  supposed  chiefly  to  reside,  I  think 
may  be  the  case." 

"  Ah,"  said  Euphranor,  "  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of 
all  human  Souls,  as  I  think,  could  scarce  accomplish  that." 

"  Socrates?  "  said  I.  "  No;  but  did  not  he  profess  that 
his  Soul  was  naturally  an  ugly  soul  to  begin  with?  So, 
by  the  time  he  had  beautified  her  within,  it  was  too  late 
to  re-front  her  Outside,  which  had  case-hardened,  I  sup- 
pose. But  did  not  he  accompany  Alcibiades,  not  only 
because  of  his  Spiritual,  but  also  of  his  Physical  Beauty, 
in  which,  as  in  the  Phidian  statues,  the  Divine  Original 
of  Man  was  supposed  to  reflect  Himself,  and  which  has 
been  accepted  as  such  by  Christian  Art,  and  indeed  by 
all  Peoples  who  are  furthest  removed  from  that  of  the 
Beast? " 

"  Even  of  Dog  and  Horse?  "  said  Euphranor,  smiling. 

"  Even  my  sturdy  old  Philosopher  Montaigne — who, 

[      138      ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ^™^ 

bjT'  the  way,  declares  that  he  rates  *  La  Beaute  a  deux 
doigts  de  la  Bonte  .  .  .  non  seulement  aux  hommes  qui 
me  servent,  mais  aux  betes  aussi' — quotes  your  Aristotle, 
saying  that  we  owe  a  sort  of  Homage  to  those  who  resem- 
ble the  Statues  of  the  Gods  as  to  the  Statues  themselves. 
And  thus  Socrates  may  have  felt  about  Alcibiades,  who, 
in  those  earlier  and  better  days  when  Socrates  knew  him, 
might  almost  be  taken  as  a  counterpart  of  the  Picture  of 
Youth,  with  all  its  Virtues  and  defects,  which  Aristotle 
has  drawn  for  us." 

"  Or,  what  do  you  say.  Doctor,  to  Aristotle's  own  Pupil,  (24) 
Alexander,  who  turned  out  a  yet  more  astonishing  Phe- 
nomenon?— I  wonder.  Doctor,  what  you,  with  all  your 
theories,  would  have  done  had  such  an  '  Enfant  terrible  ' 
as  either  of  them  been  put  into  your  hands." 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  I  should  have  the  advantage  of 
first  laying  hold  of  him  on  coming  into  the  World,  which 
was  not  the  case  with  Aristotle,  or  with  the  Doctors  of 
his  time,  was  it?  " 

Euphranor  thought  not. 

"  However,  I  know  not  yet  whether  I  have  ever  had 
an  Infant  Hero  of  any  kind  to  deal  with ;  none,  certainly, 
who  gave  any  indication  of  any  such  *  clouds  of  glory  '  as 
your  Wordsworth  tells  of,  even  when  just  arrived  from 
their  several  homes — in  Alexander's  case,  of  a  somewhat 
sulphureous  nature,  according  to  Skythrops,  I  doubt. 
No,  nor  of  any  young  Wordsworth  neither  under  our 
diviner  auspices." 

"Nay,  but,"  said  Euphranor,  "he  tells  us  that  our 

[     139     ] 


/B^i??N  EUPHRANOR. 

Birth  is  but  a  '  Sleep  and  a  forgetting '  of  something 
which  must  take  some  waking-time  to  develope." 

"  But  which,  if  I  remember  aright,  is  to  begin  to  darken 
*  with  shades  of  the  Prison-house,'  as  Wordsworth  calls  it, 
that  begin  to  close  about  '  the  growing  Boy.'  But  I  am 
too  much  of  a  Philistine,  as  you  Germans  have  it,  to  com- 
prehend the  Transcendental.  All  I  know  is,  that  I  have 
not  yet  detected  any  signs  of  the  *  Heaven  that  lies  about 
our  Infancy,'  nor  for  some  while  after — no,  not  even 
peeping  through  those  windows  through  which  the  Soul 
is  said  more  immediately  to  look,  but  as  yet  with  no  more 
speculation  in  them  than  those  of  the  poor  whelp  of  the 
Dog  we  talked  of — in  spite  of  a  nine  days'  start  of  him." 
(25)  "  Nevertheless,"  said  Euphranor,  "  I  have  heard  tell  of 
another  Poet's  saying  that  he  knew  of  no  human  outlook 
so  solemn  as  that  from  an  Infant's  Eyes ;  and  how  it  was 
from  those  of  his  own  he  learn'd  that  those  of  the  Divine 
Child  in  Raffaelle's  Sistine  Madonna  were  not  over- 
charged with  expression,  as  he  had  previously  thought 
they  might  be." 

"  I  think,"  said  I,  "  you  must  have  heard  of  that  from 
me,  who  certainly  did  hear  something  like  it  from  the 
Poet  himself,  who  used  to  let  fall — not  lay  down — ^the 
word  that  settled  the  question,  sesthetic  or  other,  which 
others  hammer'd  after  in  vain.  Yes;  that  was  on  occa- 
sion, I  think,  of  his  having  watch'd  his  Child  one  mornmg 
*"  worshipping  the  Sunbeam  on  the  Bed-post ' — I  suppose 
the  worship  of  Wonder,  such  as  I  have  heard  grown-up 
Children  tell  of  at  first  sight  of  the  Alps,  or  Niagara; 

[     140     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ™™^ 

or  such  stay-at-home  Islanders  as  ourselves  at  first 
sight  of  the  Sea,  from  such  a  height  as  Flamborough 
Head." 

"  Some  farther-seeing  Wonder  than  dog  or  kitten  are 
conscious  of,  at  any  rate,"  said  Euphranor. 

"  Ah,  who  knows?  I  have  seen  both  of  them  watch- 
ing that  very  Sunbeam  too — the  Kitten  perhaps  play- 
ing with  it,  to  be  sure.  If  but  the  Philosopher  or  Poet 
could  live  in  the  Child's  or  kitten's  Brain  for  a  while! 
The  Bed-post  Sun-worship,  however,  was  of  a  Child  of 
several  months — and  RafFaelle's — a  full  year  old,  would 
you  say? " 

"  Nay,  you  know  about  such  matters  better  than  I,"  said 
Euphranor,  laughing. 

"  Well,  however  it  may  be  with  young  Wordsworth, 
RafFaelle's  child  certainly  was  *  drawing  Clouds  of  Glory  ' 
from  His  Home,  and  we  may  suppose  him  conscious  of  it 
— lyes,  and  of  his  Mission  to  dispense  that  glory  to  the  (26) 
World.  And  I  remember  how  the  same  Poet  also  noticed 
the  Attitude  of  the  Child,  which  might  otherwise  seem 
somewhat  too  magisterial  for  his  age." 

Euphranor  knew  the  Picture  by  Engraving  only;  but 
he  observed  how  the  Divine  Mother's  eyes  also  were  di- 
lated, not  as  with  Human  Mother's  Love,  but  as  with 
awe  and  Wonder  at  the  Infant  she  was  presenting  to  the 
World,  as  if  silently  saying,  "  Behold  your  King!  " 

"  Why,"  said  I,  "  do  not  some  of  you  believe  the 
'  Clouds  of  Glory '  to  have  been  drawn  directly  from 
herself?  " 

[      141      ] 


S?oN  EUPHRANOR. 

"  ISTonsense,  nonsense,  Doctor — ^you  know  better,  as  did 
Raffaelle  also,  I  believe,  in  spite  of  the  Pope." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  I,  "  your  Wordsworth  Boy  has  also 
his  Divine  Mission  to  fulfil  in  confessing  that  of  Raf- 
faelle's.  But,  however  it  may  be  with  that  Mother  and 
Child,  does  not  one — of  your  Germans,  I  think — say  that, 
with  us  mortals,  it  is  from  the  Mother's  eyes  that  Religion 
dawns  into  the  Child's  Soul? — ^the  Religion  of  Love,  at 
first,  I  suppose,  in  gratitude  for  the  flowing  breast  and 
feeding  hand  below." 

"  Perhaps — in  some  degree,"  said  Euphranor.  "  As 
you  were  saying  of  that  Sun-worshipper,  one  cannot 
fathom*  how  far  the  Child  may  see  into  the  Mother's  eyes 
any  more  than  all  that  is  to  be  read  in  them." 

"  To  be  developed  between  them  thereafter,  I  suppose," 
said  I,  "  when  the  Mother's  lips  interpret  the  Revelation 
of  her  Eyes,  and  lead  up  from  her  Love  to  the  perception 
of  some  Invisible  Parent  of  all." 

"  Ah,"  said  Euphranor,  "  how  well  I  remember  learn- 
ing to  repeat  after  her,  every  morning  and  night,  *  Our 
Father  which  art  in  Heaven.'  " 
(27)  "  In  your  little  white  Surplice,  like  Sir  Joshua's  little 
Samuel — on  whom  the  light  is  dawning  direct  from 
Heaven,  I  think — ^from  Him  to  whom  you  were  half- 
articulately  praying  to  *  make  me  a  dood  Boy '  to  them. 
And,  by-and-by.  Watts  and  Jane  Taylor's,  of  the  Star 
Daisy  in  the  grass,  and  the  Stars  in  Heaven. 

Tor  ever  singing  as  they  shine, 
The  Hand  that  made  us  is  Divine.' " 
[     142     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ^^^ 

"  Ah,"  said  Euphranor,  "  and  beautiful  some  of  those 
early  things  of  Watts  and  Jane  Taylor  are.  They  run 
in  my  head  still." 

"  As  why  should  they  not?  "  said  I,  "  you  being  yet  in 
your  Childhood,  you  know.  Why,  I,  who  have  left  it 
some  way  behind  me,  to  be  sure,  am  constantly  reminded 
of  them  in  the  nurseries  I  am  so  often  call'd  into  from 
which  they  are  not  yet  banisht  by  more  aesthetic  verse.  As 
also,  I  must  say,  of  some  yet  more  early,  and  profane, 
such  as  '  Rock-a-bye  Baby  on  the  Tree-top,'  with  that 
catastrophe  which  never  f  ail'd  to  '  bring  the  House  down  ' 
along  with  the  Bough  which  is, — Mother's  Arms.  Then 
there  was  '  Little  Bopeep  whose  stray  flock  came  back  to 
her  of  themselves,  carrying  their  tails  behind  them  ' — and 
*  Little  Boy  Blue '  who  was  less  fortunate.  Ah,  what 
a  pretty  little  picture  he  makes  '  under  the  haycock ' — 
like  one  of  your  Greek  Idylls,  I  think,  and  quite  '  suitable 
to  this  present  Month  of  May,'  as  old  Izaak  says.  Let 
me  hear  if  you  remember  it.  Sir." 

And  Euphranor,  like  a  good  boy,  repeated  the  verses.* 

"  And  then,"  said  I,  "  the  echoes  of  those  old  London  (28) 
Bells  whose  Ancestors  once  recall'd  Whittington  back  to 
be  their  Lord  Mayor:  and  now  communicating  from 
their  several  Steeples  as  to  how  the  account  with  St. 
Clement's  was  to  be  paid — which,  by-the-by,  I  remember 

*  "  Little  Boy  Blue,  come  blow  your  horn ; 

The  Cow's  in  the  meadow^  the  Sheep  in  the  com. 
Is  this  the  way  you  mind  your  Sheep, 
Under  the  haycock  fast  asleep  f  " 

*'The  'meadow/  *'  said  I,  by  way  of  annotation,  "being,  you  know, 
of  grass  reserved  for  meadowing,  or  mowing.** 

[      143     ] 


,TS™  EUPHRANOR. 


EDITION 


being  thus  summarily  settled  by  an  old  College  Friend 
of  mine — 

'Confound  you  all! 
Said  the  Great  Bell  of  Paul' ; 

only,  I  am  afraid,  with  something  more  Athanasian  than 
'Confound  ' — ^though  he  was  not  then  a  Dignitary  of  the 
Church.  Then  that  Tragedy  of  'Cock  Robin  '—the  Fly 
that  saw  it  with  that  little  Eye  of  his — and  the  Owl  with 
his  spade  and  ^ShowV — proper  old  word  that  too — and 
the  Bull  who  the  Bell  could  pull  —  and  —  but  I  doubt 
whether  you  will  approve  of  the  Rook  reading  the  Burial 
Service,  nor  do  I  like  bringing  the  Lark,  only  for  a 
rhyme's  sake,  down  from  Heaven,  to  make  the  responses. 
And  all  this  illustrated  by  appropriate  '  Gays,' — as  they 
call  them  in  Suffolk — and  recited,  if  not  intoned,  accord- 
ing to  the  different  Characters." 

"  Plato's  '  Music  of  Education,'  I  suppose,"  said  Eu- 
phranor. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  warming  with  my  subject;  "  and  then, 
beside  the  True  Histories  of  Dog  and  Horse  whose 
example  is  to  be  followed.  Fables  that  treat  of  others. 
Lions,  Eagles,  Asses,  Foxes,  Cocks,  and  other  feather'd 
or  four-footed  Creatures,  who,  as  in  Cock  Robin's  case, 
(29)  I  talk  as  well  as  act,  but  with  a  Moral — ^more  or  less  com- 
mendable— provided  the  Moral  be  dropt.  Then  as  your 
punning  friend  Plato,  you  told  me,  says  that  Thaimias — 
Wonder — is  Father  of  Iris,  who  directly  communicates 
between  Heaven  and  Earth — as  in  the  case  of  that  Bed- 

[      144      ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ™^^^ 


EDITION 


post-kissing  Apollo — you,  being  a  pious  man,  doubtless 
had  your  Giants,  Genii,  Enchanters,  Fairies,  Ogres, 
Witches,  Ghosts " 

But  Euphranor  was  decidedly  against  admitting  any 
Ghost  into  the  Nursery,  and  even  Witches,  remembering 
little  Lamb's  childish  terror  at  Her  of  Endor. 

"  Oh,  but,"  said  I,  "  She  was  a  real  Witch,  you  know, 
though  represented  by  Stackhouse;  who  need  not  figure 
among  the  Musicians,  to  be  sure.  You,  however,  as  Ly- 
cion  says,  have  your  Giants  and  Dragons  to  play  with — ^by 
way  of  Symbol,  if  you  please — and  you  must  not  grudge 
your  younger  Brethren  in  Arms  that  redoubtable  Jack 
who  slew  the  Giants  whom  you  are  to  slay  over  again,  and 
who  for  that  very  purpose  climb'd  up  a  Bean-stalk  some 
way  at  least  to  Heaven — an  Allegory  that,  as  Sir  Thomas 
Browne  says,  *  admits  of  a  wide  solution.'  " 

"Ah,"  said  my  companion,  "I  remember  how  you  used 
to  climb  up  the  Poplar  in  our  garden  by  way  of  Bean- 
stalk, looking  out  upon  us  now  and  then,  till  lost  among 
the  branches.    You  could  not  do  that  now.  Doctor." 

"No  more  than  I  could  up  Jack's  own  Bean-stalk.  I 
was  a  thin  slip  of  a  Knight  then,  not  long  turned  of 
Twenty,  I  suppose — almost  more  like  a  Giant  than  a 
Jack  to  the  rest  of  you — but  children  do  not  mind  such 
disproportions.  No — I  could  better  play  one  of  the  three 
Bears  growling  for  his  mess  of  porridge  now.  But,  in 
default  of  my  transcendental  illustration  of  Jack,  he  and 
his  like  are  well  |  represented  in  such  Effigies  as  your  friend  (so) 
Plato  never  dream'd  of  in  his  philosophy,  though  Phidias 

[      145      ] 


^,SS^  EUPHRANOR. 


and  Praxiteles  may  have  sketcht  for  their  Children  what 
now  is  multiplied  by  Engraving  into  every  Nursery." 

"Not  to  mention  Printing,  to  read  about  what  is  repre- 
sented," said  Euphranor. 

"I  do  not  know  what  to  say  about  that/'  said  I.  "Does 
not  your  Philosopher  repudiate  any  but  Oral  instruction?" 

"Notwithstanding  all  which,  I  am  afraid  we  must  learn 
to  read,"  said  Euphranor,  "in  these  degenerate  days." 

"Well,  if  needs  must,"  said  I,  "you  may  learn  in  the 
most  musical  way  of  all.  Do  you  not  remember  the  prac- 
tice of  our  Forefathers? 

*To  Master  John,  the  Chamber-maid 
A  Horn-book  gives  of  Ginger-bread; 
And,  that  the  Child  may  learn  the  better, 
As  he  can  name,  he  eats  the  Letter.' 

"Oh,  how  I  used  to  wish,"  said  Euphranor,  "there  had 
been  any  such  royal  road  to  Grammar  which  one  had  to 
stumble  over  some  years  after." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  but  there  is  now,  I  believe,  a  Comic 
Grammar — as  well  as  a  Comic  History  of  Rome — and  of 
England." 

"Say  no  more  of  all  that,  pray,  Doctor.  The  old  Tro- 
pria  quae  maribus'  was  better  Music,  uncouth  as  it  was,  and 
almost  as  puzzling  as  an  Oracle.  I  am  sure  it  is  only  now 
— when  I  try — that  I  understand  the  meaning  of  the  rule 
I  then  repeated  mechanically — like  a  Parrot  you  would 
say." 

"Sufficiently   intelligible,   however,"    said    I,    "to   be 

[     146     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ™™^ 

mechanically  applied  in  distinguishing  the  different  parts 
I  of  Speech,  and  how  related  to  one  another;  how  a  verb  (3i) 
governs  an  accusative,  and  an  adjective  agrees  with  a 
noun ;  to  all  which  you  are  guided  by  certain  terminations 
of  2iSj  a  J  urrij  and  dOj  das,  dat,  and  so  on;  till  you  are 
able  to  put  the  scattered  words  together,  and  so  ford 
through  a  sentence.  And  the  old  uncouth  Music,  as  you 
call  it,  nevertheless  served  to  fix  those  rules  in  the 
memory." 

"  But  all  that  is  changed  now! "  said  Euphranor; 
"  Nominative  and  Accusative  are  turned  into  Subjective, 
Objective,  and  what  not." 

"  Darkening  the  unintelligible  to  Boys,"  said  I,  "  what- 
ever it  may  afterwards  to  men.  *  Floreat  Etona ! '  say  I, 
with  her  old  Lily,  and  *  Propria  quae  maribus,'  always  pro- 
viding there  be  not  too  much  of  it — even  could  it  be  con- 
strued, like  the  Alphabet,  into  Ginger-bread." 

"  Well,"  said  Euphranor,  "  I  think  you  took  pretty 
good  care  that  we  should  not  suffer  an  indigestion  of  the 
latter,  when  you  were  among  us  at  home.  Doctor.  What 
with  mounting  that  Bean-stalk  yourself,  and  clearing  us 
out  of  the  Schoolroom  into  the  Garden,  wet  or  dry,  re- 
gardless of  Aunt's  screaming  from  the  window  for  us  to 
come  in,  when  a  Cloud  was  coming  up  in  the  Sky " 

"  Or  a  little  dew  lying  on  the  Grass." 

"  Why,  I  believe  you  would  have  a  Child's  shoes  made 
with  holes  in  them  on  purpose  to  let  in  water,  as  Locke 
recommends,"  said  Euphranor,  laughing. 

"  I  wouldn't  keep  him  within  for  having  none,  whole 

[     147     ] 


EmSoN  EUPHRANOR. 

shoes,  or  whole  clothes — ^no,  nor  any — only  the  Police 
would  interfere." 

"  But  the  Child  catches  cold." 
"  Put  him  to  bed  and  dose  him." 

"  But  he  dies." 
(82)       "  Then,  as  a  sensible  woman  said,  '  is  provided  for.' 
Your  own  Plato,  I  think,  says  it  is  better  the  weakly  ones 
should  die  at  once ;  and  the  Spartans,  I  think,  kill'd  them 
oiF." 

"  Come,  come.  Doctor,"  said  Euphranor.  "  I  really 
think  you  gave  us  colds  on  purpose  to  be  called  in  to 
cure  them." 

"  No,  no ;  that  was  before  I  was  a  Doctor,  you  know. 
But  I  doubt  that  I  was  the  Lord  of  Mis-rule  sometimes, 
though,  by  the  way,  I  am  certain  that  I  sometimes  recom- 
mended a  remedy,  not  when  you  were  sick,  but  when  you 
were  sorry — without  a  cause — I  mean,  obstinate,  or  self- 
willed  against  the  little  Discipline  you  had  to  submit  to." 

Euphranor  looked  comically  at  me. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  you  know — a  slap  on  that  part  where 
the  Rod  is  to  be  applied  in  after  years — and  which  I  had, 
not  long  before,  suffered  myself." 

''  That  is  almost  out  of  date  now,  along  with  other  Spar- 
tan severities  even  in  Criminal  cases,"  said  Euphranor. 

"  Yes,  and  the  more  the  pity  in  both  cases.  How  much 
better  in  the  Child's  than  being  shut  up,  or  additionally 
tasked — ^revenging  a  temporary  wrong  with  a  lasting  in- 
jury. And,  as  for  your  public  Criminal — ^my  wonder  is 
that  even  modern  squeamishness  does  not  see  that  a  public 

[     148     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  -^-^ 

application  of  the  Rod  or  Lash  on  the  bare  back  in  the 
Marketplace  would  be  more  likely  to  daunt  the  Culprit, 
and  all  Beholders,  from  future  Misdemeanour  than 
months  of  imprisonment,  well-boarded,  lodged,  and  cared 
for,  at  the  Country's  cost." 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  Euphranor,  "  I  do  not  remember 
your  Advice  being  taken  in  our  case,  much  as  I,  for  one, 
may  have  deserved  it." 

"  No,"  said  I ;  "  your  Father  was  gone,  you  know,  and  (ss) 
your  Mother  too  tender-hearted  —  indulgent,  I  might 
say." 

"  Which,  with  all  your  Spartan  discipline,  I  know  you 
think  the  better  extreme,"  said  Euphranor. 

"Oh,  far  the  better!"  said  I—"  letting  the  Truth 
come  to  the  surface — the  ugliest  Truth  better  than  the 
fairest  Falsehood  which  Fear  naturally  brings  with  it,  and 
all  the  better  for  determining  outwardly,  as  we  Doctors 
say,  than  repressed  to  rankle  within.  Why,  even  with- 
out fear  of  spank  or  Rod,  you  remember  how  your 
Wordsworth's  little  Harry  was  taught  the  practice  of 
Lying,  who,  simply  being  teased  with  well-meaning  ques- 
tions as  to  why  he  liked  one  place  better  than  another, 
caught  at  a  Weather-cock  for  a  reason  why.  Your 
mother  was  wiser  than  that.  I  dare  say  she  did  not 
bother  you  about  the  meaning  of  the  Catechism  she 
taught  you,  provided  you  generally  understood  that 
you  were  to  keep  your  hands  from  picking  and  steal- 
ing, and  your  tongue  from  evil-speaking,  lying,  and 
slandering.      She  did  not  insist,   as   Skythrops   would 

[     149    ] 


Z^SS^  EUPHRANOR. 

have  had  you,  on  your  owning  yourselves  Children  of 
the  Devil." 

"No,  no!" 

"  I  should  not  even  wonder  if,  staunch  Churchwoman 
as  she  was,  she  did  not  condemn  you  to  go  more  than  once 
of  a  Sunday  to  Church — perhaps  not  to  be  shut  up  for 
two  hours'  morning  Service  in  a  Pew,  without  being  al- 
lowed to  go  to  sleep  there ;  nor  tease  you  about  Text  and 
Sermon  afterward.  For,  if  she  had,  you  would  not,  I 
believe,  have  been  the  determined  Churchman  you  are." 

"  Ah,  I  remember  so  well,"  said  Euphranor,  "  her  tell- 
(34)  ing|a  stricter  neighbour  of  ours  that,  for  all  she  saw,  the 
Child  generally  grew  up  with  clean  opposite  inclinations 
and  ways  of  thinking,  from  the  Parent." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  that  is  the  way  from  Parent  to  Child, 
and  from  Generation  to  Generation;  and  so  the  World 
goes  round." 

"  And  we — Brothers  and  Sister,  I  mean  " —  said  Eu- 
phranor, "  now  catch  ourselves  constantly  saying  how 
right  she  was  in  the  few  things  we  ever  thought  her  mis- 
taken about.     God  bless  her!" 

He  took  a  long  pull  at  his  glass,  and  was  silent  some 
little  while — she  had  died  a  few  years  ago — and  then  he 
said: 

"  However,  even  she  began  in  time  to  find  '  the  Boys 
too  much  for  her,'  as  she  said — for  which  you.  Doctor,  as 
you  say,  are  partly  accountable;  besides,  we  should  have 
our  livelihood  to  earn,  unlike  your  born  Heroes;  and 
must  begin  to  work  sooner  rather  than  later.     Our  Friend 

[      150      ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ™'?" 


EDITION 


Skythrops'  ipse  had  already  warned  her  of  our  innate, 
and  steadily  growing,  Depravity,  and,  when  I  was  seven 
or  eight  years  old,  came  to  propose  taking  me  under  his 
wing,  at  what  he  called  his  '  Seminary  for  young  Gentle- 


men.' " 


"  I  see  him,"  said  I,  "  coming  up  the  shrubbery  walk 
in  a  white  tie,  and  with  a  face  of  determined  asperity — 
the  edge  of  the  Axe  now  turned  toward  the  Criminal. 
Aye,  I  was  gone  away  to  Edinburgh  by  that  time ;  indeed 
I  think  he  waited  till  I  was  well  out  of  the  way.  Well, 
what  did  he  say?  " 

"  Oh,  he  explained  his  scheme,  whatever  it  was " 

"  And — oh,  I  can  tell  you — ^some  eight  or  ten  hours 
a  day  of  Grammar  and  Arithmetic,  Globes,  History,  and 
as  I  Dickens  says,  ^General  Christianity';  and,  by  way  of  (35) 
Recreation,  two  hours'  daily  walk  with  himself  and  his 
sallow  Pupils,  two  and  two  along  the  Highroad,  improved 
with  a  running  commentary  by  Skythrops — with  perhaps 
a  little  gymnastic  gallows  in  his  gravel  Play-ground, 
without  room  or  time  for  any  generous  exercise.  Your 
mother,  I  hope,  gave  him  a  biscuit  and  a  glass  of  Sherry, 
and,  with  all  due  thanks,  let  him  go  back  the  way  he  came." 
"  His  Plan  does  not  please  you.  Doctor? " 
"  And  if  it  did — and  it  only  wanted  reversing — he 
would  not.  No  Boy  with  any  Blood  in  his  veins  can 
profit  from  a  Teacher  trying  to  graft  from  dead  wood 
upon  the  living  sapling.  Even  the  poor  Women's  ^Pre- 
paratory Establishments  ^  for  '  Young  Gentlemen '  are 
better;  however  narrow  their  notions  and  routine,  they 

[      151      ] 


EmS?N  EUPHRANOR. 

do  not  at  heart  dislike  a  little  of  the  Devil  in  the  other 
sex,  however  intolerant  of  him  in  their  own." 

"  Well,  we  were  committed  to  neither,"  said  Euphra- 
nor,  "  but  to  a  nice  young  Fellow  who  came  to  be  Curate 
in  the  Parish,  and  who  taught  us  at  home,  little  but  well 
— among  other  things — a  little  Cricket." 

"Bravo!"  said  I. 

"  Then  Uncle  James,  you  know,  hearing  that  I  was 
rather  of  a  studious  turn — '  serious,'  he  called  it — ^took 
it  into  his  head  that  one  of  his  Brother's  family  should  be 
a  Parson,  and  so  undertook  to  pay  my  way  at  Westmin- 
ster, which  he  thought  an  aristocratic  School,  and  handy 
for  him  in  the  City.  In  which,  perhaps,  you  do  not  dis- 
agree with  him.  Doctor? " 

"  No,"  said  I ;  "  though  not  bred  up  at  any  of  them  my- 
self, I  must  confess  I  love  the  great  ancient.  Royal,  aye, 
and  aristocratic  Foundations — Eton  with  her  '  Henry's 
(36)  I  holy  Shade  ' — why,  Gray's  verses  were  enough  to  endear 
it  to  me — and  under  the  walls  of  his  Royal  Castle,  all 
reflected  in  the  water  of  old  Father  Thames,  as  he  glides 
down  the  valley;  and  Winchester  with  her  William  of 
Wykeham  entomb'd  in  the  Cathedral  he  built  beside  his 
School " 

"  And  Westminster,  if  you  please.  Doctor,  under  the 
Shadow  of  its  glorious  old  Abbey,  where  Kings  are 
crown'd  and  buried,  and  with  Eton's  own  River  flowing 
beside  it  in  ampler  proportions." 

"  Though  not  so  sweet,"  said  I.  "  However,  excepting 
that  fouler  water — and  fouler  air — and  some  other  less 

[      152     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  /^«™ 

wholesome  associations  inseparable  from  such  a  City,  I  am 
quite  ready  to  pray  for  your  Westminster  among  those 
other  '  Royal  and  Religious  Foundations '  whom  the 
Preacher  invites  us  to  pray  for  at  St.  Mary's.  But  with 
Eton  we  began,  you  know,  looking  with  Charles  Lamb 
and  his  Friend  at  the  fine  Lads  there  playing;  and  there 
I  will  leave  them  to  enjoy  it  while  they  may,  *  strangers 
yet  to  Pain ' — and  Parliament — to  sublime  their  Beef- 
steak into  Chivalry  in  that  famous  Cricket-field  of  theirs 
by  the  side  of  old  Father  Thames  murmuring  of  so  many 
Generations  of  chivalric  Ancestors." 

"  We  must  call  down  Lycion  to  return  thanks  for  that 
compliment,"  said  Euphranor;  "he  is  an  Eton  man,  as 
were  his  Fathers  before  him,  you  know,  and,  I  think, 
proud,  as  your  Etonians  are,  of  his  School,  in  spite  of  his 
affected  Indifference." 

"  Do  you  know  what  sort  of  a  Lad  he  was  while  there?  " 
said  I. 

"  Oh,  always  the  Gentleman." 

"  Perhaps  somewhat  too  much  so  for  a  Boy." 

"  No,  no,  I  do  no  mean  that — I  mean  essentially  hon- 
our-1  able,  truthful,  and  not  deficient  in  courage,  I  believe,  (37) 
whenever  it  was  called  for;  but  indolent,  and  perhaps 
fonder  too  of  the  last  new  Novel,  and  the  Cigar  and 
Easy-chair,  to  exert  himself  in  the  way  you  like." 

"  Preparing  for  the  Club,  Opera,  Opera-glass,  'De- 
jeuner dansant/  etcetera,  if  not  for  active  service  in 
Parliament.  Eton  should  provide  for  those  indolent 
Children  of  hers." 

[     153     ] 


E^D^iJo^N  EUPHRANOR. 

"  Well,  she  has  provided  her  field,  and  old  Father 
Thames,  as  you  say,  and  Boys  are  supposed  to  take  pretty 
good  care  of  themselves  in  making  use  of  them." 

"  Not  always,  however,  as  we  see  in  Lycion's  case,  nor 
of  others,  who,  if  they  do  not  '  sacrifice  the  Living  Man 
to  the  Dead  Languages,'  dissipate  him  among  the  Fine 
Arts,  Music,  Poetry,  Painting,  and  the  like,  in  the  inter- 
val. Why,  did  not  those  very  Greeks  of  whom  you  make 
so  much — and,  as  I  believe,  your  modern  Germans — make 
Gymnastic  a  necessary  part  of  their  education? " 

"  But  you  would  not  have  Eton  Boys  compelled  to 
climb  and  tumble  like  monkeys  over  gymnastic  poles  and 
gallows  as  we  saw  with  Skythrops'  *  Young  Gentle- 
men'?" 

"  Perhaps  not;  but  what  do  you  say  now  to  some  good 
Military  Drill,  with  March,  Counter-march,  Encounter, 
Bivouac  '  Wacht  am  Rhein  ' — Encampment — that  is,  by 
Father  Thames — and  such-like  Exercises  for  which  Eton 
has  ample  room,  and  which  no  less  a  Man — although  a 
Poet — than  John  Milton,  enjoin'd  as  the  proper  prepara- 
tion for  War,  and,  J  say,  carrying  along  with  them  a  sense 
of  Order,  Self-restraint,  and  Mutual  Dependence,  no  less 
necessary  in  all  the  relations  of  Peace? " 

"  We  might  all  of  us  have  been  the  better  for  that,  I 
suppose,"  said  Euphranor. 
(38)  "  And  only  think,"  said  I,  "if — as  in  some  German 
School  —  Fellenberg's,  I  think  —  there  were,  beside  the 
Playground,  a  piece  of  Arable  to  work  in — perhaps  at 
a  daily  wage  of  provender  according  to  the  work  done — 

[      154      ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ^™^ 

what  illumination  might  some  young  Lycion  receive,  as 
to  the  condition  of  the  Poor,  *  unquenchable  by  logic  and 
statistics/  says  Carlyle,  '  when  he  comes,  as  Duke  of 
Logwood,  to  legislate  in  Parliament.'  " 

"  Better  Log  than  Brute,  however,"  answer'd  Euphra- 
nor.  "  You  must  beware.  Doctor,  lest  with  all  your 
Ploughing  and  other  Beef -compelling  Accomplishments 
you  do  not  sink  the  Man  in  the  Animal,  as  was  much  the 
case  with  our  *  Hereditary  Rulers  '  of  some  hundred  years 
ago." 

"  *My]8£V  ayav,'  "  said  I;  "let  us  but  lay  in— when  only 
laid  in  it  can  be — such  a  store  of  that  same  well-concocted 
stuff  as  shall  last  us  all  Life's  journey  through,  with  all 
its  ups  and  downs.  Nothing,  say  the  Himters,  that  Blood 
and  Bone  won't  get  over." 

"  Be  there  a  good  Rider  to  guide  him! "  said  Euphra- 
nor ;  "  and  that^  in  Man's  case,  I  take  it  is — if  not  yet 
the  Reason  we  talked  of — a  Moral  such  as  no  Beast  that 
breathes  is  conscious  of.  You  talk  of  this  Animal  virtue, 
and  that — why,  for  instance,  is  there  not  a  moral,  as  dis- 
tinguisht  from  an  animal  Courage,  to  face,  not  only  the 
sudden  danger  of  the  field,  but  something  far-off  com- 
ing, far  foreseen,  and  far  more  terrible — Cranmer's  for 
instance " 

"  Which,"  said  I,  "  had  all  but  failed — all  the  more 
honour  for  triumphing  at  last!  But  Hugh  Latimer, 
I  think,  had  wrought  along  with  his  Father's  hinds  in 
Leicestershire.  Anyhow,  there  is  no  harm  in  having  two 
I  strings  to  your  Bow,  whichever  of  them  be  the  strongest.  (39) 

I     155      ] 


^?N  EUPHRANOR. 

The  immortal  Soul  obliged,  as  she  is,  to  take  the  Field 
of  Mortality,  would  not  be  the  worse  for  being  mounted 
on  a  good  Animal,  though  I  must  not  say  with  the  Hunt- 
ers, till  the  Rider  seems  '  part  of  his  horse.'  As  to  your 
Reason — ^he  is  apt  to  crane  a  little  too  much  over  the  ' 
hedge,  as  they  say,  till,  by  too  long  considering  the 
^How/  he  comes  to  question  the  'Whyf  and,  the  longer 
looking,  the  less  liking,  shirks  it  altogether,  or  by  his 
Indecision  brings  Horse  and  Rider  into  the  Ditch.  Ham- 
let lets  us  into  the  secret — luckily  for  us  enacting  the  very 
moral  he  descants  on — ^when  he  reflects  on  his  own  imbe- 
cility of  action : 

«  '  Whether  it  be 
Bestial  oblivion,  or  some  craven  scruple 
Of  thinking  too  precisely  on  the  Event, 
A  thought  which,  quarter'd,  hath  but  one  part  Wisdom, 
And  ever  three  parts  Coward — I  do  not  know 
Why  yet  I  live  to  say,  "This  thing^s  to  do," 
Sith  I  have  Cause,  and  Will,  and  Strength,  and  Means, 
To  do't.' 

Not  in  his  case  surely  ''oblivion/  with  such  reminders, 
supernatural  and  other,  as  he  had:  nor  as  in  our  case, 
with  the  Ditch  before  our  Eyes:  nor  want  of  Courage, 
which  was  his  Royal  inheritance;  but  the  Willj  which  he 
reckon'd  on  as  surely  as  on  Strength  and  Means — was 
he  so  sure  of  that?  He  had  previously  told  us  how  *  The 
native  hue  of  Resolution ' — ^how  like  that  glow  upon  the 
cheek  of  healthy  Youth! — 

[     156    ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ^^ 

'  The  native  hue  of  Resolution, 
Is  sickled  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  Thought, 
And  Enterprises  of  great  pith  and  moment 
With  this  regard,  their  currents  turn  awry, 
And  lose  the  name  of  Action.' 

He  had,  he  tells  his  College  Friends,  forgone  his  ^Cus-  (40) 
torn  of  Exercises ' — among  others,  perhaps,  his  Cricket, 
at  Wittenberg  too  soon,  and  taken  to  reasoning  about '  To 
be,  or  not  to  be  ' — otherwise  he  would  surely  have  bowl'd 
his  wicked  uncle  down  at  once." 

"Though  not  without  calling  'Playl'  I  hope,"  said 
Euphranor,  laughing. 

"  At  any  rate,  not  while  his  Adversary's  back  was 
turned,  and  so  far  prepared,  inasmuch  as  he  was  engaged 
in  repentant  Prayer.  And  that  is  the  reason  Hamlet 
gives  for  not  then  despatching  him,  lest,  being  so  em- 
ployed, he  should  escape  the  future  punishment  of  his 
crime.  An  odd  motive  for  the  youthful  Moral  to  have 
reasoned  itself  into." 

"  His  Father  had  been  cut  off  unprepared,  and  per- 
haps, according  to  the  Moral  of  those  days,  could  only 
be  avenged  by  such  a  plenary  Expiation." 

"  Perhaps ;  or,  perhaps — and  Shakespeare  himself  may 
not  have  known  exactly  why — Hamlet  only  made  it  an 
excuse  for  delaying  what  he  had  to  do,  as  delay  he  does, 
till  vengeance  seems  beyond  his  reach  when  he  suffers 
himself  to  be  sent  out  of  the  country.  For  you  know 
the  Habit  of  Resolving  without  Doing,  as  in  the  Closet, 

[     157     ] 


^°xia  EUPHRANOR. 

gradually  snaps  the  connexion  between  them,  and  the  case 
becomes  chronically  hopeless." 

Euphranor  said  that  I  had  stolen  that  fine  Moral  of 
mine  from  a  Volume  of  "  Newman's  Sermons  "  which 
he  had  lent  me,  as  I  agreed  with  him  was  probably  the 
case;  and  then  he  said: 

"  Well,  Bowling  down  a  King  is,  I  suppose,  a  ticklish 
Business,  and  the  Bowler  may  miss  his  aim  by  being  too 
long  about  taking  it:  but,  in  Cricket  proper,  I  have  most 
(41)  wonder'd  at  the  Batter  who  has  to  decide  |  whether  to  block, 
strike,  or  tip,  in  that  twinkling  of  an  eye  between  the 
ball's  delivery,  and  its  arrival  at  his  wicket." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  and  the  Boxer  who  puts  in  a  blow 
with  one  hand  at  the  same  moment  of  warding  one  off 
with  the  other." 

"  *  Gladiatorem  in  arena,'  "  said  Euphranor. 

"  Yes ;  what  is  called  Presence  of  mind/  where  there 
is  not  time  to  'make  it  upf  And  all  the  more  necessary 
and  remarkable  in  proportion  to  the  Danger  involved. 
As  when  the  Hunter's  horse  falling  with  him  in  full  cry, 
he  braces  himself,  between  saddle  and  ground,  to  pitch 
clear  of  his  horse — as  Fielding  tells  us  that  brave  old  Par- 
son Adams  did,  when  probably  thinking  less  of  his  horse 
than  of  those  Sermons  he  carried  in  his  saddle-bags." 

"  Ah!  "  said  Euphranor,  "  Parson  Adams  was  so  far 
a  lucky  man  to  have  a  Horse  at  all,  which  we  poor  fellows 
now  can  hardly  afford.  I  remember  how  I  used  to  envy 
those  who — for  the  fun,  if  for  nothing  else — followed 
brave  old  Sedgwick  across  country,  thorough  brier,  thor- 

[      158     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ™«J^ 

ough  mire.  Ah !  that  was  a  Lecture  after  your  own  heart. 
Doctor;  something  more  than  peripatetic,  and  from  one 
with  plenty  of  the  Boy  in  him  when  over  Seventy,  I 
beheve." 

"  Well,  there  again,"  said  I,  "  your  great  Schools  might 
condescend  to  take  another  hint  from  abroad  where  some 
one — Fellenberg  again,  I  think — had  a  Riding-house  in 
his  much  poorer  School,  where  you  might  learn  not  only 
to  sit  your  horse  if  ever  able  to  provide  one  for  yourself, 
but  also  to  saddle,  bridle,  rub  him  down,  with  the  V55- 
s^ss '  which  I  fancy  was  heard  on  the  morning  of  Agin- 
court — if,  by  the  way,  one  horse  was  left  in  all  the  host." 

"  Well,  come,"  said  Euphranor,  "  the  Gladiator,  at  any 
I  rate,  is  gone — and  the  Boxer  after  him — and  the  Hunter,  i^2) 
I  think,  going  after  both;  perhaps  the  very  Horse  he 
rides  gradually  to  be  put  away  by  Steam  into  some 
jMuseum  among  the  extinct  Species  that  Man  has  no 
longer  room  or  business  for." 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  I.  "  War  is  not  gone  with  the 
Gladiator,  and  cannon  and  rifle  yet  leave  room  for  hand- 
to-hand  conflict,  as  may  one  day — which  God  forbid! — 
come  to  proof  in  our  own  sea-girt  Island.  If  safe  from 
abroad,  some  Ruffian  may  still  assault  you  in  some  shady 
lane — nay,  in  your  own  parlour — at  home,  when  you  have 
nothing  but  your  own  strong  arm,  and  ready  soul  to  direct 
it.  Accidents  will  happen  in  the  best-regulated  families. 
The  House  will  take  fire,  the  Coach  will  break  down,  the 
Boat  will  upset; — is  there  no  gentleman  who  can  swim,  to 
save  himself  and  others;  no  one  do  more  to  save  the  Maid 

[     159    ] 


^£S.  EUPHRANOR. 

snoring  in  the  garret,  than  helplessly  looking  on — or  turn- 
ing away?  Some  one  is  taken  ill  at  midnight;  John  is 
drunk  in  bed;  is  there  no  Gentleman  can  saddle  Dobbin 
— ^much  less  get  a  Collar  over  his  Head,  or  the  Crupper 
over  his  tail,  without  such  awkwardness  as  brings  on  his 
abdomen  the  kick  he  fears,  and  spoils  him  for  the  journey? 
And  I  do  maintain,"  I  continued,  "  having  now  gotten 
*  the  bit  between  my  teeth' — ^maintain  against  all  Comers 
that,  independent  of  any  bodily  action  on  their  part,  these, 
and  the  like  Accomplishments,  as  you  call  them,  do  carry 
with  them,  and,  I  will  say,  with  the  Soul  incorporate,  that 
habitual  Instinct  of  Courage,  Resolution,  and  Decision, 
which,  together  with  the  Good  Himaour  which  good 
animal  Condition  goes  so  far  to  ensure,  do,  I  say,  prepare 
and  arm  the  Man  not  only  against  the  greater,  but  against 
those  minor  Trials  of  Life  which  are  so  far  harder  to 
(43)  encounter  I  because  of  perpetually  cropping  up;  and  thus 
do  cause  him  to  radiate,  if  through  a  narrow  circle,  yet, 
through  that,  imperceptibly  to  the  whole  world,  a  happier 
atmosphere  about  him  than  could  be  inspired  by  Closet- 
loads  of  Poetry,  Metaphysic,  and  Divinity.  No  doubt 
there  is  danger,  as  you  say,  of  the  Animal  overpowering 
the  Rational,  as,  I  maintain,  equally  so  of  the  reverse; 
no  doubt  the  high-mettled  Colt  will  be  likeliest  to  run 
riot,  as  may  my  Lad,  inflamed  with  Aristotle's  '  Wine  of 
Youth,'  into  excesses  which  even  the  virtuous  Berkeley 
says  are  the  more  curable  as  lying  in  the  Passions; 
whereas,  says  he,  '  the  dry  Rogue  who  sets  up  for  Judg- 
ment is  incorrigible.'  But,  whatever  be  the  result.  Vigour, 

[     160    ] 


EUPHRANOR.  JJ^™ 


EDITION 


of  Body,  as  of  Spirit,  one  must  have,  subject  like  all  good 
things  to  the  worst  corruption — Strength  itself,  even  of 
Evil,  being  a  kind  of  Virtus  which  Time,  if  not  good 
Counsel,  is  pretty  sure  to  moderate;  whereas  Weakness 
is  the  one  radical  and  Incurable  Evil,  increasing  with 
every  year  of  Life. — Which  fine  Moral,  or  to  that  effect, 
you  will  also  find  somewhere  in  those  Sermons,  whose 
Authority  I  know  you  cannot  doubt." 

"  And  thus,"  said  Euphranor,  "  after  this  long  tirade, 
you  turn  out  the  young  Knight  from  Cricket  on  the 
World." 

"  Nay,"  said  I,  "  did  I  not  tell  you  from  the  first  I 
would  not  meddle  with  your  Digby  any  more  than  your 
Wordsworth?  I  have  only  been  talking  of  ordinary  man- 
kind so  as  to  provide  for  Locke's  'totus,  teres/  and— ex- 
cept in  the  matter  of  waistband — *^  rotundus  ^  man,  suffi- 
ciently accoutred  for  the  campaign  of  ordinary  Life.  And 
yet,  on  second  thought,  I  do  not  see  why  he  should  not 
do  very  fairly  well  for  one  of  the  *  Table-round,'  if  King 
I  Arthur  himself  is  to  be  looked  for,  and  found,  as  the  Poet  (^) 
says,  in  the  *  Modern  Gentleman,'  whose  '  stateliest  port ' 
will  not  be  due  to  the  Reading-desk,  or  Easy-chair.  At 
any  rate,  he  will  be  sufficiently  qualified,  not  only  to  shoot 
the  Pheasant  and  hunt  the  Fox,  but  even  to  sit  on  the 
Bench  of  Magistrates — or  even  of  Parliament — not  un- 
provided with  a  quotation  or  two  from  Horace  or  Virgil." 

Euphranor  could  not  deny  that,  laughing. 

"  Or  if  obliged,  poor  fellow — Younger  son,  perhaps — 
to  do  something  to  earn  him  Bread — or  Claret — for  his 

[     161     ] 


™?°  EUPHRANOR. 


BDITIOJN' 


Old  Age,  if  not  prematurely  knocked  on  the  head — 
whether  not  well-qualified  for  Soldier  or  Sailor?  " 

"  Nor  that." 

"  As  for  the  Church,  (which  is  your  other  Gentlemanly 
Profession,)  you  know  your  Bishop  can  consecrate  Tom 
or  Blifil  equally  by  that  Imposition " 

"  Doctor,  Doctor,"  broke  in  Euphranor,  "  you  have 
been  talking  very  well;  don't  spoil  it  by  one  of  your 
grimaces." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  I,— "Oh,  but  there  is  still  the  Law, 
in  which  I  would  rather  trust  myself  with  Tom  than 
Bhfil,"  added  I.  "  Well,  what  else?  Surgery?  which  is 
said  to  need  '  the  Lion's  Heart.'  " 

"  But  also  the  Lady's  Hand,"  replied  he,  smiling. 

"  Not  in  drawing  one  of  the  Molares,  I  assure  you. 
However,  thus  far  I  do  not  seem  to  have  indisposed  him 
for  the  Professions  which  his  Rank  usually  opens  to  him ; 
or  perhaps  even,  if  he  had  what  you  call  a  Genius  in  any 
direction,  might,  amid  all  his  Beef -compelling  Exercises, 
light  upon  something,  as  Pan  a-hunting,  and,  as  it  were 
(45)  '  unaware,'  says  Bacon,  discover'd  that  Ceres  whom] 
the  more  seriously-searching  Gods  had  looked  for  in 
vain." 

"  Not  for  the  sake  of  Rent,  I  hope,"  said  Euphranor, 
laughing. 

"  Or  even  a  turn  for  looking  into  Digby  and  Aristotle, 
as  into  a  Mirror — could  he  but  distinguish  his  own  face 
in  it." 

Euphranor,  upon  whose  face  no  sign  of  any  such  self- 

[     162     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ™- 

consciousness  appeared,  sat  for  a  little  while  silent,  and 
then  said: 

"  Do  you  remember  that  fine  passage  in  Aristophanes' 
Clouds — lying  libel  as  it  is — between  the  Ahaio^  and 
"ASiTtoc  Aoyoc  ? " 

I  had  forgotten,  I  said,  my  little  Latin  and  less  Greek ; 
and  he  declared  I  must  however  read  this  scene  over  again 
with  him.  "  It  is,  you  see,  Old  Athens  pleading  against 
Young;  whom  after  denouncing,  for  relinquishing  the 
hardy  Discipline  and  simple  severe  Exercises  that  reared 
the  Mapa9(ovo[xdxcoc  ''AvSpac  for  the  Warm  Bath,  the 
Dance,  and  the  Law  Court;  he  suddenly  turns  to  the 
Young  Man  who  stands  hesitating  between  them,  and  in 
those  Verses,  musical — 

'AXX'  ooy  Xi7uap6c  ye  xac  siavQvjc — " 

"  Come,  my  good  fellow,"  said  I,  "  you  must  inter- 
pret." And  Euphranor,  looking  down,  in  undertone 
repeated: 

"O  listen  to  me,  and  so  shall  you  be  stout-hearted  and  fresh  as  a 

Daisy ; 
Not  ready  to  chatter  on  every  matter,  nor  bent  over  books  till 

you're  hazy : 
No  splitter  of  straws,  no  dab  at  the  Laws,  making  black  seem 

white  so  cunning; 
But  scamp'ring  down  out  o'  the  town,  and  over  the  green  Meadow 

running. 
Race,  wrestle,  and  play  with  your  fellows  so  gay,  like  so  many   (46) 

Birds  of  a  feather, 

[     163     ] 


^SS^  EUPHRANOR. 

All  breathing  of  Youth,  Good-humour,  and  Truth,  in  the  time  of 

the  jolly  Spring  weather, 
In  the  jolly  Spring-time,  when  the  Poplar  and  Lime  dishevel  their 

tresses  together." 

"  Well,  but  go  on,"  said  I,  when  he  stopp'd,  "  I  am 
sure  there  is  something  more  of  it,  now  you  recall  the 
passage  to  me — about  broad  shoulders  and " 

But  this  was  all  he  had  cared  to  remember. 

I  then  asked  him  who  was  the  translator;  to  which  he 
replied  with  a  shy  smile,  'twas  more  a  paraphrase  than  a 
translation,  and  I  might  criticise  it  as  I  liked.  To  which 
I  had  not  much  to  object,  I  said — perhaps  the  trees  "  di- 
shevelling their  tresses  "  a  little  Cockney;  which  he  agreed 
it  was.*  And  then,  turning  off,  observed  how  the  degra- 
dation which  Aristophanes  satirized  in  the  Athenian  youth 
went  on  and  on,  so  that,  when  Rome  came  to  help  Greece 
against  Philip  of  Macedon,  the  Athenians,  says  Livy, 
could  contribute  little  to  the  common  cause  but  declama- 
tion and  despatches — *  quibus  solum  valent.' 

"Aye,"  said  I,  "  and  to  think  that  when  Livy  was  so 
writing  of  Athens,  his  own  Rome  was  just  beginning  to 
go  downhill  in  the  same  way  and  for  the  same  causes : 

'Nescit  equo  rudis 
/  Haerere  ingenuus  puer, 

Venarique  timet,  ludere  doctior 

■'*'  On  a  subsequent  reference  to  the  original.  We  expanded  the  last 
line  into  the  following  Couplet — whether  for  better  or  worse: 

Until  with  a  cool  reed  drawn  from  the  pool  of  a  neighbouring  Water- 
nymph  crown' d,  you 

Lie  atretcht  at  your  ease  in  the  shade  of  the  trees  that  whisper  above 
and  around  you.     [Note  added  in  final  addition.] 

[      164      ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ^^°^ 

Grseco  seu  jubeas  trocho, 

Seu  malis  vetita  legibus  alea : '  * 

unlike  those  early  times,  when  Heroic  Father  begot 
and  bred  Heroic  Son;  Generation  following  Generation, 
crown'd  with  Laurel  and  with  Oak;  under  a  system  of 
I  Education,  the  same  Livy  says,  handed  down,  as  it  were  (47) 
an  Art,  from  the  very  foundation  of  Rome,  and  filling 
her  Parliament  with  Generals,  each  equal,  he  rhetorically 
declares,  to  Alexander. — But  come,  my  dear  fellow,"  said 
I,  jumping  up,  "  here  have  I  been  holding  forth  like  a 
little  Socrates,  while  the  day  is  passing  over  our  heads. 
We  have  forgotten  poor  Lexilogus,  who  (I  should  not 
wonder)  may  have  stolen  away,  like  your  fox,  to  Cam- 
bridge.'* 

Euphranor,  who  seemed  to  linger  yet  awhile,  never- 
theless foUow'd  my  example.  On  looking  at  my  watch 
I  saw  we  could  not  take  anything  like  the  walk  we  had 
proposed  and  yet  be  at  home  by  their  College  dinner  ;t 
so  as  it  was  I  who  had  wasted  the  day,  I  would  stand 
the  expense,  I  said,  of  dinner  at  the  Inn ;  after  which  we 
could  all  return  at  our  ease  to  Cambridge  in  the  Even- 
ing. As  we  were  leaving  the  Bowling-green,  I  called 
up  to  Lycion,  who  thereupon  appeared  at  the  Billiard- 
room  window  with  his  coat  off,  and  asked  him  if  he  had 
nearly  finish'd  his  Game?  By  way  of  answer,  he  asked 
us  if  we  had  done  with  our  Ogres  and  Giants?  whom,  on 
the  contrary,  I  said,  we  were  now  running  away  from 

*  When,  says  Horace,  the  Boy  of  gentle  blood,  adept  enough  at  feats 
of  trivial  dexterity,  had  no  seat  on  the  Horse,  nor  courage  to  follow 
the  Hounds —     [Substituted  for  the  Latin  in  final  edition.] 
f  Then  at  S.SO  p.  m. 

[     165     ] 


r°™  EUPHRANOR. 


KDITION 


that  we  might  live  to  fight  another  day — ^would  he  come 
with  us  into  the  fields  for  a  walk?  or,  if  he  meant  to  go 
on  with  his  Billiards,  would  he  dine  with  us  on  our  return? 
"  Not  walk  with  us,"  he  said ;  and  when  I  spoke  of  dinner 
again,  seemed  rather  to  hesitate;  but  at  last  said,  "  Very 
well;  "  and,  nodding  to  us,  retired  with  his  cue  into  the 
room. 

Then  Euphranor  and  I,  leaving  the  necessary  orders 
within,  return'd  a  little  way  to  look  for  Lexilogus,  whom 
(48)  we  I  soon  saw,  like  a  man  of  honour  as  he  was,  coming  on 
his  way  to  meet  us.  In  less  than  a  minute  we  had  met; 
and  he  apologized  for  having  been  delay' d  by  one  of 
Aunt  Martha's  asthma-fits,  during  which  he  had  not  liked 
to  leave  her. 

After  a  brief  condolence,  we  all  three  turn'd  back; 
and  I  told  him  how,  after  all,  Euphranor  and  I  had  play'd 
no  Billiards,  but  had  been  arguing  all  the  time  about 
Digby  and  his  books. 

Lexilogus  smiled,  but  made  no  remark,  being  natu- 
rally little  given  to  Speech.  But  the  day  was  delightful, 
and  we  walk'd  briskly  along  the  road,  conversing  on  many 
topics,  till  a  little  further  on  we  got  into  the  fields.  These 
— for  it  had  been  a  warm  May — ^were  now  almost  in  their 
Prime,  (and  that  of  the  Year,  Crabbe  used  to  say,  fell 
with  the  mowing,)  crop-thick  with  Daisy,  Clover,  and 
Buttercup;  and,  as  we  went  along,  Euphranor,  whose 
thoughts  still  ran  on  what  we  had  been  talking  about, 
quoted  from  Chaucer  whom  we  had  lately  been  looking 
at  together: 

[    166    ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ™™» 

"Embrouded  was  he  as  it  were  a  Mede, 
AUe  ful  of  fresshe  Floures,  white  and  rede," 

and  added,  "  What  a  picture  was  that,  by  the  way,  of  a 
young  Knight! " 

I  had  half -forgotten  the  passage,  and  Lexilogus  had 
never  read  Chaucer:  so  I  begg'd  Euphranor  to  repeat 
it;  which  he  did,  with  an  occasional  pause  in  his  Mem- 
ory, and  jog  from  mine. 

'  With  him  ther  was  his  Sone,  a  yonge  Squier, 
A  Lover,  and  a  lusty  Bacheler, 
With  Lockes  cruU,  as  they  were  laide  in  presse; 
Of  Twenty  yere  of  age  he  was,  I  gesse; 
Of  his  Stature  he  was  of  even  lengthe,  (49) 

And  wonderly  deliver,  and  grete  of  Strengthe; 
And  he  hadde  be  somtime  in  Chevachie, 
In  Flaundres,  in  Artois,  and  in  Picardie, 
And  borne  him  wel,  as  of  so  litel  space. 
In  hope  to  stonden  in  his  Ladies  grace. 
Embrouded  was  he  as  it  were  a  Mede, 
Alle  ful  of  fresshe  Floures,  white  and  rede; 
Singing  he  was,  or  floyting  alle  the  day; 
He  was  as  fresshe  as  is  the  moneth  of  May: 
Short  was  his  Goune  with  sieves  long  and  wide, 
Wel  coude  he  sitte  on  Hors,  and  fay  re  ride. 
He  coude  Songes  make,  and  well  endite. 
Juste,  and  eke  dance,  and  wel  pourtraie  and  write. 
So  hote  he  loved  that  by  nightertale 
He  slep  no  more  than  doth  the  Nightingale. 
Curteis  he  was,  lowly,  and  servisable. 
And  carf  before  his  Fader  at  the  table.' 
[     167     ] 


^^i?S,  EUPHRANOR. 


"  Chaucer,  however,"  said  Euphranor,  when  he  had 
finished  the  passage,  "  credited  his  young  Squire  with 
other  Accomplishments  than  you  would  trust  him  with, 
Doctor.  See,  he  dances,  draws,  and  even  indites  songs 
— somewhat  of  a  Dilettante,  after  all." 

"  But  also,"  I  added,  "  is  *  grete  of  Strengthe,'  '  coude 
fayre  ride,'  having  already  *  borne  him  wel  in  Chevachie.' 
Besides,"  continued  I,  (who  had  not  yet  subsided^  I  sup- 
pose, from  the  long  swell  of  my  former  sententiousness, ) 
"  in  those  days,  you  know,  there  was  scarce  any  Reading, 
which  now,  for  better  or  worse,  occupies  so  much  of  our 
time;  Men  left  that  to  Clerk  and  Schoolman;  contented, 
as  we  before  agreed,  to  follow  their  bidding  to  Pilgrim- 
age and  Holy  war.  Some  of  those  gentler  Accomplish- 
ments may  then  have  been  needed  to  soften  manners, 
just  as  rougher  ones  to  strengthen  ours.  And,  long  after 
that.  Sir  Philip  Sidney  might  well  indulge  in  a  little  Son- 
(50)  |neteering,  amid  all  those  public  services  which  ended  at 
Zutf en ;  as  later  on,  in  the  Stuart  days,  Lord  Dorset  troll 
oiF — ''  To  all  you  Ladies  now  on  Land/  from  the  Fleet 
that  was  just  going  into  Action  off  the  coast  of  Holland." 

"  Even  Master  Samuel  Pepys,"  said  Euphranor,  laugh- 
ing, "  might  sit  with  a  good  grace  down  to  practise  his 
^Beauty  retire/  after  riding  to  Huntingdon  and  back, 
as  might  Parson  Adams  have  done  many  years  after." 

"  They  were  both  prefigured  among  those  Canterbury 
Pilgrims  so  many  years  before,"  said  I.  "  Only  think 
of  it!  Some  nine-and-twenty,  I  think,  'by  aventure 
yfalle  in  feleweship,'  High  and  Low,  Rich  and  Poor, 

[     168     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ™™ 


EDITION 


Saint  and  Sinner,  Cleric  and  Lay,  Knight,  Ploughman, 
Prioress,  Wife  of  Bath,  Shipman,  hunting  Abbot-like 
Monk,  Poor  Parson — (Adams'  Progenitor) — ^Webster 
(Pepys') — on  rough-riding  '  Stot '  or  ambling  Palfrey, 
marshall'd  by  mine  Host  of  the  Tabard  to  the  music  of 
the  Miller's  Bag-pipes,  on  their  sacred  errand  to  St. 
Thomas';  and  one  among  them  taking  note  of  all  in 
Verse  still  fresh  as  the  air  of  those  Kentish  hills  they 
travelled  over  on  that  April  morning  four  hundred  years 
ago." 

"  Lydgate  too,  I  remember,"  said  Euphranor,  "  tells 
of  Chaucer's  good-humour'd  encouragement  of  his  Bro- 
ther-poets— I  cannot  now  recollect  the  lines,"  he  added, 
after  pausing  a  little.* 

"  A  famous  Man  of  Business  too,"  said  I,  "  employ'd  (5i) 
by  Princes  at  home  and  abroad.     And  ready  to  fight  as 
to  write;  having,  he  says,  when  some  City  people  had 
accused  him  of  Untruth,  *  prepared  his  body  for  Mars 
his  doing,  if  any  contraried  his*  saws.'  " 

"A  Poet  after  your  own  heart.  Doctor,  sound  in  wind 
and  limb.  Mind  and  Body.  In  general,  however,  they 
are  said  to  be  a  sickly,  irritable,  inactive,  and  solitary 


race." 


"  Not  our  'Canterbury  Pilgrim  '  for  one,"  said  I;  "  no, 

*  The  verses  Euphranor  could  not  remember  are  these: 

^^For  Chaucer  that  my  Master  was,  and  knew 
What  did  belong  to  writing  Verse  and  Prose, 

Ne'er  stumbled  at  small  faults,  nor  yet  did  view 
With  scornful  eyes  the  works  and  books  of  those 

That  in  his  time  did  write,  nor  yet  would  taunt 

At  any  man,  to  fear  him  or  to  daunt.'* 

[     169    ] 


Emi??«  EUPHRANOR. 


nor  his  successor,  William  Shakespeare,  who,  after  a 
somewhat  roving  Knighthood  in  the  country,  became 
a  Player,  Play-wright,  and  Play-manager  in  London, 
where,  after  managing  (as  not  all  managers  do)  to  make 
a  sufficient  fortune,  he  returned  home  again  to  settle  in 
his  native  Stratford — whither  by  the  way  he  had  made 
occasional  Pilgrimages  before — on  horseback,  of  course — 
putting  up — for  the  night — at  the  Angel  of  Oxford — 
about  which  some  stories  are  told " 

"As  fabulous  as  probably  those  of  his  poaching  in 
earlier  days,"  said  Euphranor. 

"  Well,  however  that  may  be — and  I  constantly  believe 
in  the  poaching  part  of  the  Story — to  Stratford  he  finally 
retired,  where  he  built  a  house,  and  planted  Mulberries, 
and  kept  company  with  John-a-Combe,  and  the  neigh- 
bouring Knights  and  Squires — except  perhaps  the  Lucys 
— as  merrily  as  with  the  Wits  of  London;  all  the  while 
supplying  his  own  little  'Globe  ' — and,  from  it, '  the  Great 
globe  itself,'  with  certain  manuscripts,  in  which  (say  his 
Fellow-players  and  first  Editors)  Head  and  hand  went 
so  easily  together  as  scarce  to  leave  a  blot  on  the  pages 
they  traveird  over." 

"  Somewhat  resembling  Sir  Walter  Scott's,  I  think," 
said  Euphranor,  "  in  that  love  for  Country  home,  and 
(52)  Country  I  neighbour — aye,  and  somewhat  also  in  that  easy 
intercourse  between  Head  and  hand  in  composition  which 
those  who  knew  them  tell  of — however  unequal  in  the 
result.     Do  you  remember  Lockhart's  saying  how  glibly 

[    170    ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ™«° 


EDITION 


Sir  Walter's  pen  was  heard  to  canter  over  the  paper,  be- 
fore '  Atra  Cura  '  saddled  herself  behind  him?  " 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  I;  "'Magician  of  the  North'  they 
call'd  him  in  my  own  boyish  days;  and  such  he  is  to  me 
now;  though  maybe  not  an  Archi-magus  like  him  of 
Stratford,  to  set  me  down  in  Rome,  Athens,  Egypt,  with 
their  Heroes,  Heroines,  and  Conmioners,  moving  and 
talking  as  living  men  and  women  about  me,  howsoever 
'  larger  than  human  '  through  the  breath  of  Imagination 
in  which  he  has  clothed  them." 

"  Somebody — your  Carlyle,  I  believe,"  said  Euphra- 
nor,  "  lays  it  down  that  Sir  Walter's  Characters  are  in 
general  fashioned  from  without  to  within — ^the  reverse 
of  Shakespeare's  way — and  Nature's." 

"  What,"  said  I,  "  according  to  old  Sartor's  theory, 
beginning  from  the  over-coat  of  temporary  Circumstance, 
through  the  temporary  Tailor's  *  Just-au-corps,'  till  arriv- 
ing at  such  centre  of  Humanity  as  may  lie  within  the 
bodily  jerkin  we  talk'd  of?  " 

"  Something  of  that  sort,  I  suppose,"  said  Euphranor; 
"  but  an  you  love  me.  Doctor,  no  more  of  that  odious  old 
jerkin,  whether  Sterne's  or  Carlyle's." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  if  the  Sartor's  charge  hold  good,  it 
must  lie  against  the  Heroes  and  Heroines  of  the  later, 
half -historical,  Romances;  in  which,  nevertheless,  are 
scenes  where  our  Elizabeth,  and  James,  and  Lewis  of 
France  figure,  that  seem  to  me  as  good  in  Character  and 
Circumstance  as  any  in  that  Henry  the  Eighth,  which 

[     171     ] 


/b™k  euphranor. 

(53)  has  always  till  quite  |  lately  been  accepted  for  Shake- 
speare's. But  Sartor's  self  will  hardly  maintain  his  charge 
against  the  Deanses,  Dumbiedykes,  Ochiltrees,  Baillies, 
and  others  of  the  bona-fide  Scotch  Novels,  with  the  likes 
of  whom  Scott  fell  '  in  f eleweship  '  from  a  Boy,  riding 
about  the  country — '  born  to  be  a  trooper,'  he  said  of 
himself;  no,  nor  with  the  Bradwardines,  Bothwells, 
Maccombicks,  Macbriars,  and  others,  Highlander,  Low- 
lander,  Royalist,  Roundhead,  Churchman  or  Covenanter, 
whom  he  animated  with  the  true  Scottish  blood  which 
ran  in  himself  as  well  as  in  those  he  lived  among,  and  so 
peopled  those  stories  which  are  become  Household  His- 
tory to  us.  I  declare  that  I  scarce  know  whether 
Macbeth's  blasted  heath  would  move  me  more  than 
did  the  first  sight  of  the  Lammermoor  Hills  when  I 
rounded  the  Scottish  coast  on  first  going  to  Edinburgh; 
or  of  that  ancient  '  Heart  of  Mid-Lothian '  when  I  got 
there.  But  the  domestic  Tragedy  naturally  comes  more 
nearly  home  to  the  bosom  of  your  Philistine." 

"  Sir  Walter's  stately  neighbour  across  the  Tweed," 
said  Euphranor,  "  took  no  great  account  of  his  Novels, 
and  none  at  all  of  his  Verse — though,  by  the  way,  he  did 
call  him  'Great  Minstrel  of  the  Border '  after  revisiting 
Yarrow  in  his  company;  perhaps  he  meant  it  only  of 
the  Minstrelsy  which  Scott  collected,  you  know." 

"  Wordsworth?  "  said  I — "  a  man  of  the  Milton  rather 
than  of  the  Chaucer  and  Shakespeare  type — without 
humour,  like  the  rest  of  his  Brethren  of  the  Lake." 

"  Not  but  he  loves  Chaucer  as  much  as  you  can,  Doc- 

[     172     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ^"^^ 

tor,  for  those  fresh  touches  of  Nature,  and  tenderness  of 
Heart — insomuch  that  he  has  re-cast  the  Jew  of  Lincoln's 
Story  into  a  form  more  available  for  modem  readers." 

"  And  successfully? " 

"Ask  Lexilogus — Ah!  I  forget  that  he  never  read  (54) 
Chaucer;  but  I  know  that  he  loves  Wordsworth  next  to 
his  own  Cowper." 

Lexilogus  believed  that  he  liked  the  Poem  in  question, 
but  he  was  not  so  familiar  with  it  as  with  many  other  of 
Wordsworth's  pieces. 

"  Ah,  you  and  I,  Euphranor,"  said  I,  "  must  one  day 
teach  Lexilogus  the  original  before  he  is  become  too  great 
a  Don  to  heed  such  matters." 

Lexilogus  smiled,  and  Euphranor  said  that  before  that 
time  came  Lexilogus  and  he  would  teach  me  in  return  to 
love  Wordsworth  more  than  I  did — or  pretended  to  do. 
Not  only  the  Poet,  but  the  Man,  he  said,  who  loved  his 
Home  as  well  as  Shakespeare  and  Scott  loved  theirs — 
aye,  and  his  Country  Neighbours  too,  though  perhaps  in 
a  sedater  way;  and,  as  so  many  of  his  Poems  show,  as 
sensible  as  Sir  Walter  of  the  sterling  virtues  of  the  Moun- 
taineers and  Dalesmen  he  lived  among,  though,  maybe, 
not  of  their  humour. 

"  Was  he  not  also  pretty  exact  in  his  office  of  stamp- 
distributor  among  them? "  asked  I. 

"  Come,  you  must  not  quarrel,  Doctor,  with  the  Busi- 
ness which,  as  with  Chaucer  and  Shakespeare,  may  have 
kept  the  Poetic  Element  in  due  proportion  with  the  rest 
— including,  by  the  way,  such  a  store  of  your  Animal, 

[     173     ] 


^,SS^  EUPHRANOR. 

laid  in  from  constant  climbing  the  mountain,  and  skating 
on  the  lake,  that  he  may  still  be  seen,  I  am  told,  at  near 
upon  Eighty,  travelling  with  the  shadow  of  the  cloud  up 
Helvellyn." 

"  Bravo,  Old  Man  of  the  Mountains!  "  said  I.  "  But, 
nevertheless,  it  would  not  have  been  amiss  with  him 
had  he  been  sent  earlier,  and  further,  from  his  moun- 
tain-mother's lap,  and  had  some  of  his — conceit,  I 
(55)  I  must  not  call  it — Pride,  then — ^taken  out  of  him  by  a 
freer  intercourse  with  men." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Euphranor,  again  laughing,  "  you 
would  knock  a  young  Apollo  about  like  the  rest  of  us 
common  pottery? " 

"  I  think  I  should  send  young  Wordsworth  to  that 
Military  Drill  of  ours,  and  see  if  some  rough-riding 
would  not  draw  some  of  that  dangerous  Sensibility 
which  '  young  Edwin '  is  apt  to  mistake  for  poetical 
Genius." 

"  Gray  had  more  than  that  in  him,  I  know,"  said  Eu- 
phranor; "but  I  doubt  what  might  have  become  of  his 
poetry  had  such  been  the  discipline  of  his  Eton  day." 

"  Perhaps  something  better — perhaps  nothing  at  all — 
and  he  the  happier  man." 

"  But  not  yoUj  Doctor — for  the  loss  of  his  Elegy — 
with  all  your  talk." 

"No;  I  am  always  remembering,  and  always  forget- 
ting it;  remembering,  I  mean,  the  several  stanzas,  and 
forgetting  how  they  link  together;  partly,  perhaps,  be- 
cause of  each  being  so  severally  elaborated.     Neither 

[     174    ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ^^^ 

Yeomanry  Drill — ^nor  daily  Plough — drove  the  Muse  out 
of  Burns." 

"  Nor  the  Melancholy  neither,  for  that  matter,"  said 
Euphranor.  "  Those  '  Banks  and  braes '  of  his  could 
not  bestow  on  him  even  the  '  momentary  joy  '  which  those 
Eton  fields  '  beloved  in  vain '  breathed  into  the  heart  of 
Gray." 

"  Are  you  not  forgetting,"  said  I,  "  that  Burns  was 
not  then  singing  of  himself,  but  of  some  forsaken  dam- 
sel, as  appears  by  the  second  stanza,  which  few,  by  the 
way,  care  to  remember?  As  unremember'd  it  may  have 
been,"  I  continued,  after  a  pause,  "  by  the  only  living — 
and  like  to  live — Poet  I  had  known,  when,  so  many  years 
after,  he  found  himself  beside  that  *  bonnie  Doon  '  and — 
whether  it  I  were  from  recollection  of  poor  Burns,  or  of  (66) 
'  the  days  that  are  no  more '  which  haunt  us  all,  I  know 
not — I  think  he  did  not  know — but,  he  somehow  '  broke,' 
as  he  told  me,  *  broke  into  a  passion  of  tears ' — Of  tears 
which,  during  a  pretty  long  and  intimate  intercourse,  I 
had  never  seen  glisten  in  his  eye  but  once,  when  reading 
Virgil — *  dear  old  Virgil,'  as  he  call'd  him — ^together :  and 
then  of  the  burning  of  Troy  in  the  Second  ^neid — 
whether  moved  by  the  catastrophe's  self,  or  the  majesty  of 
the  Verse  it  is  told  in — or,  as  before,  scarce  knowing  why. 
For,  as  King  Arthur  shall  bear  witness,  no  young  Edwin 
he,  though,  as  a  great  Poet,  comprehending  all  the  softer 
stops  of  human  Emotion  in  that  Diapason*  where  the  In- 
tellectual, no  less  than  what  is  call'd  the  Poetical,  faculty 

*  'Register*  for  'Diapason'  in  final  edition. 

[     175     ] 


^™N  EUPHRANOR. 

predominated.  As  all  who  knew  him  know,  a  Man  at 
all  points,  Euphranor — like  your  Digby,  of  grand  pro- 
portion and  feature,  significant  of  that  inward  Chivalry, 
becoming  his  ancient  and  honourable  race ;  when  himself 
a  *  Yonge  Squier,'  like  him  in  Chaucer  *grete  of  strengthe,' 
that  could  hurl  the  crow-bar  further  than  any  of  the  neigh- 
bouring clowns,  whose  humours,  as  well  as  of  their  bet- 
ters,— Knight,  Squire,  Landlord  and  Land-tenant, — ^he 
took  quiet  note  of,  like  Chaucer  himself.  Like  your 
Wordsworth  on  the  Mountain,  he  too,  when  a  Lad,  abroad 
on  the  Wold;  sometimes  of  a  night  with  the  Shepherd; 
watching  not  only  the  Sheep*  on  the  greensward,  whom 
individually  he  knew,  but  also 

*The  fleecy  Star  that  bears 
Andromeda  far  off  Atlantic  seas' 

along  with  those  other  Zodiacal  constellations  which  Aries, 
I  think,  leads  over  the  field  of  Heaven.  He  then  ob- 
served also  some  of  those  uncertain  phenomena  of  Night : 
(57)  unsur-jmised  apparitions  of  the  Northern  Aurora,  by 
some  shy  glimpses  of  which  no  winter — no,  nor  even  sum- 
mer— night,  he  said,  was  utterly  unvisited;  and  those 
strange  voices,  whether  of  creeping  brook,  or  copses  mut- 
tering to  themselves  far  off — perhaps  the  yet  more  im- 
possible Sea — ^together  with  *  other  sounds  we  know 
not  whence  they  come,'  says  Crabbe,  but  all  inaudible  to 
the  ear  of  Day.  He  was  not  then,  I  suppose,  unless  the 
Word  spontaneously  came  upon  him,  thinking  how  to 

*  Tlock'  for  'Sheep/  in  final  edition. 

[     176     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ,^-Kr>^ 

turn  what  he  saw  and  heard  into  Verse ;  a  premeditation 
that  is  very  likely  to  defeat  itself.*  For  is  not  what  we 
call  Poetry  said  to  be  an  Inspiration,  which,  if  not  kin- 
dling at  the  sudden  collision,  or  recollection,  of  Reality, 
will  yet  less  be  quicken'd  by  anticipation,  howsoever  it 
may  be  controll'd  by  afterthought?  " 

Something  to  this  effect  I  said,  though,  were  it  but  for 
lack  of  walking  breath,  at  no  so  long-winded  a  flight  t  of 
eloquence.  And  then  Euphranor,  whose  lungs  were  in 
so  much  better  order  than  mine,  though  I  had  left  him  so 
little  opportunity  for  using  them,  took  up  where  I  left 
off,  and  partly  read,  and  partly  told  us  of  a  delightful 
passage  from  his  .Godef ridus,  to  this  effect,  that,  if  the 
Poet  could  not  invent,  neither  could  his  Reader  under- 
stand him,  when  he  told  of  Ulysses  and  Diomed  listening 
to  the  crane  clanging  in  the  marsh  by  night,  without  hav- 
ing experienced  something  of  the  sort.  And  so  we  went 
on,  partly  in  jest,  partly  in  earnest,  drawing  Philosophers 
of  all  kinds  into  the  same  net  in  which  we  had  entangled 
the  Poet  and  his  Critic — How  the  Moralist  who  worked 
alone  in  his  closet  was  apt  to  mismeasure  Humanity,  and 
be  very  angry  when  the  cloth  he  cut  out  for  him  would 
not  fit — how  the  best  Histories  were  written  by  those  who 
themselves  had  been  actors  in  them — Gibbon,  one  of  the 
next  best,  1 1  believe,  recording  how  the  discipline  of  the  (58) 

*  "Previously  breathing,  as  it  were,  upon  the  mirror  which  is  to  re- 
ceive the  Image  that  most  assuredly  flashes  Reality  into  words." — 
Paragraph  so  ends  in  final  edition, 
t  'Stretch'  for  'flight,'  in  final  edition. 

[     177     ] 


^™oN  EUPHRANOR. 


Hampshire  Militia  he  served  as  Captain  in — ^how  odd  he 
must  have  looked  in  the  uniform! — enlighten'd  him  as  to 
the  evolutions  of  a  Roman  Legion — -And  so  on  a  great 
deal  more;  till,  suddenly  observing  how  the  sun  had  de- 
clined from  his  meridian,  I  look'd  at  my  watch,  and  ask'd 
my  companions  did  not  they  begin  to  feel  hungry,  like 
myself  ?  They  agreed  with  me ;  and  we  turn'd  homeward : 
and  as  Lexilogus  had  hitherto  borne  so  little  part  in  the 
conversation,  I  began  to  question  him  about  Herodotus 
and  Strabo,  (whose  books  I  had  seen  lying  open  upon  his 
table,)  and  drew  from  him  some  information  about  the 
courses  of  the  Nile  and  the  Danube,  and  the  Geography 
of  the  Old  World :  till,  all  of  a  sudden,  our  conversation 
skipt  from  Olympus,  I  think,  to  the  hills  of  Yorkshire 
— our  own  old  hills — and  the  old  friends  and  neighbours 
who  dwelt  among  them.  And  as  we  were  thus  talking, 
we  heard  the  galloping  of  Horses  behind  us,  (for  we  were 
now  again  upon  the  main  road,)  and,  looking  back  as 
they  were  just  coming  up,  I  recognised  Phidippus  for 
one  of  the  riders,  with  two  others  whom  I  did  not  know. 
I  held  up  my  hand,  and  call'd  out  to  him  as  he  was  pass- 
ing; and  Phidippus,  drawing  up  his  Horse  all  snorting 
and  agitated  with  her  arrested  course,  wheel'd  back  and 
came  along-side  of  us. 

I  ask'd  him  what  he  was  about,  galloping  along  the 
road;  I  thought  scientific  men  were  more  tender  of  their 
horses'  legs  and  feet.  But  the  roads,  he  said,  were  quite 
soft  with  the  late  rains;  and  they  were  only  trying  each 
other's  speed  for  a  mile  or  so. 

By  this  time  his  two  companions  had  pulled  up  some 

[     178     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ^«J?-^ 

way  forward,  and  were  calling  him  to  come  on;  but  he 
said,  laughing,  "  they  had  quite  enough  of  it,"  and  ad- 
[dress'd  himself  with  many  a  "  Steady!  "  and  "  So!  So!  "  (59) 
to  pacify  Miss  Middleton,  as  he  called  her,  who  still 
caper'd,  plung'd,  and  snatch'd  at  her  bridle;  his  friends 
shouting  louder  and  louder — "  Why  the  Devil  he  didn't 
come  on? " 

He  waved  his  hand  to  them  in  return;  and  with  a 
"  Confound  "  and  "  Deuce  take  the  Fellow,"  they  set  off 
away  toward  the  town.  On  which  Miss  Middleton  began 
afresh,  plunging,  and  blowing  out  a  peony  nostril  after 
her  flying  fellows;  until,  what  with  their  dwindling  in 
distance,  and  some  expostulation  address'd  to  her  by  her 
Master  as  to  a  fractious  Child,  she  seem'd  to  make  up 
her  mind  to  the  indignity,  and  composed  herself  to  go 
pretty  quietly  beside  us. 

I  then  asked  him  did  he  not  remember  Lexilogus, — 
(Euphranor  he  had  already  recognised,) — and  Phidip- 
pus,  who  really  had  not  hitherto  seen  who  it  was,  (Lexil- 
ogus looking  shyly  down  all  the  while, )  call'd  out  heartily 
to  him,  and,  wheeling  his  mare  suddenly  behind  us,  took 
hold  of  his  hand,  and  began  to  inquire  about  his  family 
in  Yorkshire. 

"  One  would  suppose,"  said  I,  "  you  two  fellows  had 
not  met  for  years." 

"  It  was  true,"  Phidippus  said,  "  they  did  not  meet  as 
often  as  he  wish'd;  but  Lexilogus  would  not  come  to  his 
rooms,  and  he  did  not  like  to  disturb  Lexilogus  at  his 
books;  and  so  the  time  went  on." 

I  then  inquired  about  his  own  reading,  which,  though 

[    179    ] 


^^™N  EUPHRANOR. 


not  much,  was  not  utterly  neglected,  it  seemed;  and  he 
said  he  had  meant  to  ask  one  of  us  to  beat  something  into 
his  stupid  head  this  summer  in  Yorkshire. 

Lexilogus,  I  knew,  meant  to  stop  at  Cambridge  all  the 
long  Vacation ;  but  Euphranor  said  he  should  be  at  home, 
for  anything  he  then  knew,  and  they  could  talk  the  mat- 
(60)  ter|over  when  the  time  came.  We  then  again  fell  to  talk- 
ing of  our  County;  and  among  other  things  I  asked 
Phidippus  if  his  horse  were  Yorkshire, — of  old  famous 
for  its  breed,  as  well  as  of  Riders, — and  how  long  he  had 
her,  and  so  forth. 

Yorkshire  she  was,  a  present  from  his  Father,  "  and 
a  great  pet,"  he  said,  bending  down  his  head,  which  Miss 
Middleton  answered  by  a  dip  of  hers,  shaking  the  bit  in 
her  mouth,  and  breaking  into  a  little  canter,  which  how- 
ever was  easily  suppress'd. 

"Miss  Middleton?"  said  I—"  what,  by  Bay  Middle- 
ton  out  of  Coquette,  by  Tomboy  out  of  High-Life  Below- 
Stairs,  right  up  to  Mahomet  and  his  Mares? " 

"  Right,"  he  answered,  laughing,  "  as  far  as  Bay  Mid- 
dleton was  concerned." 

"  But,  Phidippus,"  said  I,  "  she's  as  black  as  a 
coal!" 

"And  so  was  her  Dam,  a  Yorkshire  Mare,"  he  an- 
swered; which,  I  said,  saved  the  credit  of  all  parties. 
Might  she  perhaps  be  descended  from  our  famous  "  York- 
shire Jenny,"  renowned  in  Newmarket  Verse?  But 
Phidippus  had  never  heard  of  "  Yorkshire  Jenny,"  nor 
of  the  Ballad,  which  I  promised  to  acquaint  him  with,  if 

[     180     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ™i?S 


£DmON 


he  would  stop  on  his  way  back,  and  dine  with  us  at  Ches- 
terton, where  his  Mare  might  have  her  Dinner  too — all 
of  us  Yorkshiremen  except  Lycion,  whom  he  knew  a  little 
of.  There  was  to  be  a  Boat-race,  however,  in  the  even- 
ing, which  Phidippus  said  he  must  leave  us  to  attend,  if 
dine  with  us  he  did;  for,  though  not  one  of  the  Crew  on 
this  occasion,  (not  being  one  of  the  best,)  he  must  yet  see 
his  own  Trinity  boat  keep  the  head  of  the  River.  As 
to  that,  I  said,  we  were  all  bound  the  same  way,  which 
indeed  Euphranor  had  proposed  before ;  and  so  the  whole 
affair  was  settled. 

As  we  went  along,  I  began  questioning  him  concerning 
I  some  of  those  Equestrian  difficulties  which  Euphranor  (6i) 
and  I  had  been  talking  of:  all  which  Phidippus  thought 
was  only  my  usual  banter — "  he  was  no  Judge — I  must 
ask  older  hands,"  and  so  forth — ^until  we  reach'd  the  Inn, 
when  I  begg'd  Euphranor  to  order  dinner  at  once,  while 
I  and  Lexilogus  accompanied  Phidippus  to  the  Stable. 
There,  after  giving  his  mare  in  charge  to  the  hostler  with 
due  directions  as  to  her  toilet  and  table,  he  took  off  her 
saddle  and  bridle  himself,  and  adjusted  the  head-stall. 
Then,  followed  out  of  the  stable  by  her  flaming  eye  and 
pointed  ears,  he  too  pausing  a  moment  on  the  threshold 
to  ask  me  "  was  she  not  a  Beauty?  "  (for  he  persisted  in 
the  delusion  of  my  knowing  more  of  the  matter  than  I 
chose  to  confess, )  we  crossed  over  into  the  house. 

There,  having  wash'd  our  hands  and  faces,  we  went 
up  into  the  Billiard-room,  where  we  found  Euphranor  and 
Lycion  playing, — Lycion  very  lazily,  like  a  man  who  had 

[      181      ] 


/r>™?N  EUPHRANOR. 

already  too  much  of  it,  but  yet  nothing  better  to  do. 
After  a  short  while,  the  girl  came  to  tell  us  all  was  ready ; 
and,  after  that  slight  hesitation  as  to  precedence  which 
Englishmen  rarely  forget  on  the  least  ceremonious  occa- 
sions,— Lexilogus,  in  particular,  pausing  timidly  at  the 
door,  and  Euphranor  pushing  him  gently  forward, — ^we 
got  down  to  the  little  Parlour,  very  airy  and  pleasant, 
with  its  windows  opening  on  the  bowling-green,  the 
table  laid  with  a  clean  white  cloth,  and  upon  that  a  dish 
of  smoking  beef -steak,  at  which  I,  as  master  of  the  Feast, 
and,  as  Euphranor  slyly  intimated,  otherwise  entitled,  sat 
down  to  officiate.  For  some  time  the  clatter  of  knife  and 
fork,  and  the  pouring  of  ale,  went  on,  mix'd  with  some 
conversation  among  the  young  men  about  College  mat- 
ters: till  Lycion  began  to  tell  us  of  a  gay  Ball  he 
(62)  had  lately  been  at,  and  of  the  Families | there;  among 
whom  he  named  three  young  Ladies  from  a  neighbour- 
ing County,  by  far  the  handsomest  women  present,  he 
said. 

"  And  very  accomplish'd,  too,  I  am  told,"  said  Euphra- 
nor. 

"  Oh,  as  for  that,"  replied  Lycion,  "  they  Valse  very 
well."     He  hated  "  your  accomplished  women,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  there,"  said  Euphranor,  "  I  suppose  the  Doc- 
tor will  agree  with  you." 

I  said,  certainly  Valsing  would  be  no  great  use  to 
me  personally — unless,  as  some  Lady  of  equal  size  and 
greater  rank  had  said,  I  could  meet  with  a  concave 
partner. 

[     182     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ."J,™^ 

"  One  knows  so  exactly,"  said  Lycion,  "  what  the  Doc- 
tor would  choose, — a  woman 

'Well  versed  in  the  Arts 
Of  Pies,  Puddings,  and  Tarts,' 

as  one  used  to  read  of  somewhere,  I  remember." 

"  Not  forgetting,"  said  I,  "  the  being  able  to  help  in 
compounding  a  pill  or  a  plaister;  which  I  dare  say  your 
Great-grandmother  knew  something  about,  Lycion,  for 
in  those  days,  you  know.  Great  ladies  studied  Simples. 
Well,  so  I  am  fitted, — as  Lycion  is  to  be  with  one  who 
can  False  through  life  with  him." 

"  'And  follow  so  the  ever-rolling  Year 
With  profitable  labour  to  their  graves,'  " 

added  Euphranor,  laughing. 

"  I  don't  want  to  marry  her,"  said  Lycion  testily. 

"  Then  Euphranor,"  said  I,  "  will  advertise  for  a 
*  Strong-minded '  Female,  able  to  read  Plato  with  him, 
and  Wordsworth,  and  Digby,  and  become  a  Mother  of 
Heroes.  As  to  Phidippus  there  is  no  doubt — ^Diana 
Vernon — " 

But  Phidippus  disclaimed  any  taste  for  Sporting 
ladies. 

"  Well,  come,"  said  I,  passing  round  a  bottle  of  sherry  (63) 
I  had  just  call'd  for,  "  every  man  to  his  liking,  only  all 
of  you  taking  care  to  secure  the  accomplishments  of 
Health  and  Good-humour." 

"  Ah,  there  it  is,  out  at  last! "  cried  Euphranor,  clap- 

[      183     ] 


EB™N  EUPHRANOR. 

ping  his  hands ;  "  I  knew  the  Doctor  would  choose  for 
us  as  Frederic  for  his  Grenadiers." 

"  So  you  may  accommodate  me,"  said  I,  "  with  a  motto 
from  another  old  Song  whenever  my  time  comes ; 

*Give  Isaac  the  Nymph  who  no  beauty  can  boast, 
But  Health  and  Good-humour  to  make  her  his  toast.' 

Well,  every  man  to  his  fancy — Here's  to  mine! — And 
when  we  have  finish 'd  the  bottle,  which  seems  about  equal 
to  one  more  errand  round  the  table,  we  will  adjourn,  if 
you  like,  to  the  Bowling-green,  which  Euphranor  will 
tell  us  was  the  goodly  custom  of  our  Forefathers,  and  I 
can  recommend  as  a  very  wholesome  after-dinner  exer- 
cise." 

"  Not,  however,  till  we  have  the  Doctor's  famous  Ballad 
about  Miss  Middleton's  possible  Great-Great-Grand- 
mother," cried  Euphranor,  "  by  way  of  Pindaric  close  to 
this  Heroic  entertainment,  sung  from  the  Chair,  who 
probably  composed  it " 

"As  little  as  could  sing  it,"  I  assured  him. 

"  Oh,  I  remember,  it  was  the  Jockey  who  rode  her!  " 

"  Perhaps  only  his  Helper,"  answered  I ;  "  such  bad 
grammar,  and  rhyme,  and  altogether  want  of  what  your 
man — ^how  do  you  call  him — g.o.e.t.h.e. — 'Gewtyf  will 
that  do? — calls,  I  believe,  Art" 

"Who  nevertheless  maintained,"*said  Euphranor, "that 
the  Ballad  was  scarcely  possible  but  to  those  who  simply 
saw  with  their  Eyes,  heard  with  their  Ears — and,  I  really 

*  *Once  declares'  for  'maintained,*  in  final  edition. 

[     184     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  J™.^, 


EDITION 


I  think  he  said,  fought  with  their  fists, — I  suppose  also  felt  (64) 
with  their  hearts — without  any  notion  of  'Art ' — although 
Goethe  himself,  Schiller,  and  Riickert,  and  other  of  your 
aesthetic  Germans,  Doctor,  have  latterly  done  best  in  that 
line,  I  believe." 

"  Better  than  Cowper's  *  Royal  George,' "  said  I, 
"  where  every  word  of  the  narrative  iells^  as  from  a  Sea- 
man's lips? " 

"  That  is  something  before  our  time.  Doctor." 

"  Better  then  than  some  of  Campbell's  which  f  oUow'd 
it?  or  some  of  Sir  Walter's?  or  *  The  Lord  of  Burleigh,' 
which  is  later  than  all?  But  enough  that  my  poor  Jock 
may  chance  to  sing  of  his  Mare  as  well  as  Shenstone  of 
his  Strephon  and  Delia." 

"  Or  more  modern  Bards  of  Codes  in  the  Tiber,  or 
Regulus  in  the  Tub,"  said  Euphranor.  —  "But  come! 
Song  from  the  Chair  I "  he  call'd  out,  tapping  his  glass 
on  the  table,  which  Phidippus  echoed  with  his. 

So  with  a  prelusive  "  Well  then,"  I  began — 

"  Til  sing  you  a  Song,  and  a  merry,  merry  Song* — 

By  the  way,  Phidippus,  what  an  odd  notion  of  merri- 
ment is  a  Jockey's,  if  this  Song  be  a  sample.  I  think  I 
have  observed  they  have  grave,  taciturn  faces,  especially 
when  old,  which  they  soon  get  to  look.  Is  this  from 
much  wasting,  to  carry  little  Flesh — and  large — Respon- 
sibility? " 

"Doctor,  Doctor,  leave  your — faces,  and  begin!"  in- 
terrupted Euphranor.     "  I  must  call  the  Chair  to  Order." 

[      185      ] 


(65) 


^°xi?S.  EUPHRANOR. 

Thus  admonish'd,  with  some  slight  interpolations,  (to 
be  jump'd  by  the  ^Esthetic,)  I  repeated  the  poor  Ballad 
which,  dropt  I  know  not  how  nor  when  into  my  ear,  had 
managed,  as  others  we  had  talk'd  of,  to  chink  itself  in 
some  corner  of  a  memory  that  should  have  been  occupied 
with  other  professional  jargon  than  a  "  Jockey's." 

I. 

''I'll  sing  you  a  Song,  and  a  merry,  merry  Song, 
Concerning  our  Yorkshire  Jen ; 
Who  never  yet  ran  with  Horse  or  Mare, 
That  ever  she  cared  for  a  pin. 

n. 

When  first  she  came  to  Newmarket  town, 
The  Sportsmen  aU  view'd  her  around ; 

All  the  cry  was,  'Alas,  poor  wench, 
Thou  never  can  run  this  ground  1' 

m. 

When  they  came  to  the  starting-post. 

The  Mare  look'd  very  smart ; 
And  let  them  all  say  what  they  will. 

She  never  lost  her  start — 

— ^which  I  don't  quite  understand,  by  the  way:  do  you, 
Lycion?  " — No  answer. 

IV. 

"When  they  got  to  the  Two-mile  post. 
Poor  Jenny  was  cast  behind : 
She  was  cast  behind,  she  was  cast  behind, 
All  for  to  take  her  wind. 
[     186    ] 


EUPHRANOR.  -™^ 


V. 


When  they  got  to  the  Three-mile  post, 
The  Mare  looked  very  pale — 

(Phidippus!  " — His  knee  moved  under  the  table — )' 

"She  laid  down  her  ears  on  her  bonny  neck, 
And  by  them  all  did  she  sail; 

VI.         (A  ccelerando, ) 

*Come  follow  me,  come  follow  me. 

All  you  who  run  so  neat ; 
And  ere  that  you  catch  me  again, 
I'll  make  you  well  to  sweat.' 

vn.  (Grandioso.)  (66) 

When  she  got  to  the  Winning-post, 

The  people  all  gave  a  shout : 
And  Jenny  click'd  up  her  Lily-white  foot. 

And  jump'd  like  any  Buck. 

vm. 

The  Jockey  said  to  her,  'This  race  you  have  run. 

This  race  for  me  you  have  got ; 
You  could  gallop  it  all  over  again. 

When  the  rest  could  hardly  trot ! '  " 

"  They  were  Four-mile  Heats  in  those  days,  you  see, 
would  pose  your  modern  Middletons,  though  Miss  Jenny, 
laying  back  her  ears — away  from  catching  the  Wind, 

[     187     ] 


ED™oN  EUPHRANOR. 


some  think — and  otherwise  'palef  with  the  distended  vein 
and  starting  sinew  of  that  Three-mile  crisis,  nevertheless, 
on  coming  triumphantly  in,  click'd  up  that  lily-white  foot 
of  hers,  (of  which  one,  I  have  heard  say,  is  as  good  a  sign 
as  all  four  white  are  a  bad,)  and  could,  as  the  Jockey 
thought,  have  gallop'd  it  all  over  again — Can't  you  see 
him,  Phidippus,  for  once  forgetful  of  his  professional 
stoicism,  (but  I  don't  think  Jockeys  were  quite  so  politic 
then,)  bending  forward  to  pat  the  bonny  Neck  that  mea- 
sured the  Victory,  as  he  rides  her  slowly  back  to  the — 
Weighing-house,  is  it? — foUow'd  by  the  scarlet-coated 
Horsemen  and  shouting  People  of  those  days? — all  silent, 
and  pass'd  away  for  ever  now,  unless  from  the  memory 
of  one  pursy  Doctor,  who,  were  she  but  alive,  would 
hardly  know  Jenny's  head  from  her  tail — ^And  now  will 
you  have  any  more  wine?  "  said  I,  holding  up  the  empty 
decanter. 

Phidippus,  hastily  finishing  his  glass,  jump'd  up;  and, 
the  others  following  him  with  more  or  less  alacrity,  we 
all  sallied  forth  on  the  Bowling-green.  As  soon  as  there, 
(67)  |Lycion  of  course  puU'd  out  his  Cigar-case,  (which  he 
had  eyed,  I  saw,  with  really  good-humoured  resignation 
during  the  Ballad,)  and  oiFer'd  it  all  round,  telling 
•  Phidippus  he  could  recommend  the  contents  as  some  of 
Pontet's  best.  But  Phidippus  did  not  smoke,  he  said; 
which,  together  with  his  declining  to  bet  on  the  Boat-race, 
caused  Lycion,  I  thought,  to  look  on  him  with  some  in- 
dulgence. 

And  now  Jack  was  rolled  upon  the  green ;  and  I  bowl'd 

[     188     ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ^^^^ 

after  him  first,  pretty  well;  then  Euphranor  still  better; 
then  Lycion,  with  great  indifference  and  indifferent  suc- 
cess; then  Phidippus,  who  about  rivalFd  me;  and  last  of 
all,  Lexilogus,  whom  Phidippus  had  been  instructing  in 
the  mystery  of  the  bias  with  some  little  side-rolls  along 
the  turf,  and  who,  he  said,  only  wanted  a  little  practice 
to  play  as  well  as  the  best  of  us. 

Meanwhile,  the  shadows  lengthen'd  along  the  grass,  and 
after  several  bouts  of  play,  Phidippus,  who  had  to  ride 
round  by  Cambridge,  said  he  must  be  off  in  time  to  see 
his  friends  start.  We  should  soon  follow,  I  said;  and 
Euphranor  asked  him  to  his  rooms  after  the  race.  But 
Phidippus  was  engaged  to  sup  with  his  crew. 

"  Where  you  will  all  be  drunk,"  said  I. 

"  No;  there,"  said  he,  "  you  are  quite  mistaken.  Doctor." 

"  Well,  well,"  I  said,  "  away,  then,  to  your  race  and 
your  supper." 

"  '  Msia  acorppovoc  7]Xat(OT:oo,'  "  added  Euphranor, 
smiling. 

"  Msxd,  'with,'  or  *after,'  "  said  Phidippus,  putting  on 
his  gloves. 

"  Well,  go  on.  Sir,"  said  I,  "  Scbcppovoc?  " 

"  A  temperate — something  or  other — " 

"^HXCXKOTOO?" 

"  Supper?" — he  hesitated,  smiling — "  *  After  a  temper-  (68) 
ate  supper? '  " 

"  Go  down.  Sir;  go  down  this  instant!"  I  roar'd  out 
to  him  as  he  ran  from  the  bowling-green.  And  in  a  few 
minutes  we  heard  his  mare's  feet  shuffling  over  the  stable 

[     189    ] 


™?^.  EUPHRANOR. 


EDITION 


threshold,  and  directly  afterwards  breaking  into  a  retreat- 
ing canter  beyond. 

Shortly  after  this,  the  rest  of  us  agreed  it  was  time  to 
be  gone.  We  walk'd  along  the  fields  by  the  Church, 
(purposely  to  ask  about  the  sick  Lady  by  the  way,) 
cross'd  the  Ferry,  and  mingled  with  the  crowd  upon  the 
opposite  shore;  Townsmen  and  Gownsmen,  with  the  tas- 
sell'd  Fellow-commoner  sprinkled  here  and  there — Read- 
ing men  and  Sporting  men — Fellows,  and  even  Masters 
of  Colleges,  not  indifferent  to  the  prowess  of  their  re- 
spective Crews — all  these,  conversing  on  all  sorts  of  topics, 
from  the  slang  in  BelFs  Life  to  the  last  new  German 
Revelation,  and  moving  in  ever-changing  groups  down 
the  shore  of  the  river,  at  whose  farther  bend  was  a  little 
knot  of  Ladies  gathered  up  on  a  green  knoll  faced  and 
illuminated  by  the  beams  of  the  setting  sun.  Beyond 
which  point  was  at  length  heard  some  indistinct  shouting, 
which  gradually  increased,  until  "  They  are  off — ^they 
are  coming! "  suspended  other  conversation  among  our- 
selves ;  and  suddenly  the  head  of  the  first  boat  turn'd  the 
corner ;  and  then  another  close  upon  it ;  and  then  a  third ; 
the  crews  pulling  with  all  their  might  compacted  into  per- 
fect rhythm;  and  the  crowd  on  shore  turning  round  to 
follow  along  with  them,  waving  hats  and  caps,  and  cheer- 
ing, "  Bravo,  St.  John's!  "  "  Go  it.  Trinity!  "—the  high 
crest  and  blowing  forelock  of  Phidippus's  mare,  and  he 
himself  shouting  encouragement  to  his  crew,  conspicuous 
over  all — until,  the  boats  reaching  us,  we  also  were  caught 
(69)  up  in  I  the  returning  tide  of  spectators,  and  hurried  back 

[    190    ] 


EUPHRANOR.  ™- 

toward  the  goal;  where  we  arrived  just  in  time  to  see  the 
Ensign  of  Trinity  lowered  from  its  pride  of  place,  and 
the  Eagle  of  St.  John's  soaring  there  instead.  Then, 
waiting  a  little  while  to  hear  how  the  winner  had  won, 
and  the  loser  lost,  and  watching  Phidippus  engaged  in 
eager  conversation  with  his  defeated  brethren,  I  took 
Euphranor  and  Lexilogus  imder  either  arm  (Lycion 
having  got  into  better  company  elsewhere,)  and  walk'd 
home  with  them  across  the  meadow  leading  to  the  town, 
whither  the  dusky  troops  of  Gownsmen  with  all  their  con- 
fused voices  seem'd  as  it  were  evaporating  in  the  twilight, 
while  a  Nightingale  began  to  be  heard  among  the  flower- 
ing Chestnuts  of  Jesus. 

FINIS. 


[    m    1 


EXTRACTS  FROM  FITZGERALD'S  LET- 
TERS RELATING   TO   ''AGAMEMNON' 
SECOND  EDITION. 

To  Fanny  Kemble. 

ILowestoft,  April,  1876,'] 
.  .  .  Quaritch  has  begun  to  print  Agamemnon 
now — so  leisurely  that  I  fancy  he  wishes  to  wait  till  the 
old  Persian  is  exhausted,  and  so  join  the  two,  I  certainly 
am  in  no  hurry;  for  I  fully  believe  we  shall  only  get 
abused  for  the  Greek  in  proportion  as  we  were  praised 
for  the  Persian — in  England,  I  mean:  for  you  have  made 
America  more  favourable. 

To  Fanny  Kemble. 

Woodbridge:  July  31,  1876, 
.  ,  .  I  shall  send  you  Quaritch' s  Reprint  of  'Aga- 
memnon': which  is  just  done  after  many  blunders.  The 
revises  were  not  sent  me,  as  I  desired:  so  several  things 
are  left  as  I  meant  not:  but  'enfin  here  it  is  at  last  so  fine 
that  I  am  ashamed  of  it.  For,  whatever  the  merit  of  it 
may  be,  it  can't  come  near  all  this  fine  Paper,  Margin, 
etc,  which  Quaritch  will  have  as  counting  on  only  a  few 
buyers,  who  will  buy — in  America  almost  wholly,  I  think 
— And,  as  this  is  wholly  due  to  you,  I  send  you  the  Re- 
print, however  little  different  to  what  you  had  before. 

[      XV      ] 


EXTRACTS  FROM  FITZGERALD'S  LETTERS 

To  Mrs,  Cowell 

12  Marine  Terrace,  Lowestoft,  March  11,  '77. 
,  .  .  //  the  Pall  Mall  Critic  knew  Greek,  I  am 
rather  surprised  he  should  have  vouchsafed  even  so  much 
praise  as  the  words  you  quoted.  But  I  certainly  have 
found  that  those  few  whom  I  meant  it  for,  not  Greek 
scholars,  have  been  more  interested  in  it  than  I  ex- 
pected,    ... 

To  Fanny  Kemble, 

[June,  1877.] 

I  think  I  never  told  you — what  is  the  fact,  however — 
that  I  had  wished  to  dedicate  Agamemnon  to  you,  but 
thought  I  could  not  do  so  without  my  own  name  ap- 
pended. Whereas,  I  could,  very  simply,  as  I  saw  after- 
wards when  too  late.  If  ever  he  is  reprinted  I  shall  (un- 
less you  forbid)  do  as  I  desired  to  do:  for,  if  for  no  other 
reason,  he  would  probably  never  have  been  published  but 
for  you.  Perhaps,  he  had  better  [have']  remained  in  pri- 
vate Life  so  far  as  England  is  concerned. 

To  C.  E,  Norton, 

Woodbridge,  August  21,  '77, 
.     .     .     Which  leads  me  to  say  that  some  one  sent  me 
a  number  of  your  American  '  Nation '  with  a  Review  of 
my   redoubtable  Agamemnon:   written   by   a  superior 

[     xvi     ] 


RELATING  TO   "AGAMEMNON." 

hand,  and,  I  think,  quite  discriminating  in  its  distribu- 
tion of  Blame  and  Praise:  though  I  will  not  say  the 
Praise  was  not  more  than  deserved;  but  it  was  where  de- 
served, I  think. 


To  C.  E.  Norton. 

Woodbridge,  Dec.  15,  '78. 
.  .  .  Agamemnon  haunted  me,  until  I  laid  his 
Ghost  so  far  as  I  myself  was  concerned.  By  the  way,  I 
see  that  Dr.  Kennedy,  Professor  of  Greek  at  our  Cam- 
bridge, has  published  a  Translation  of  Agamemnon  in 
'rhythmic  English'  So,  at  any  rate,  I  have  been  the 
cause  of  waking  up  two  great  men  (Browning  and  Ken- 
nedy) and  a  minor  Third  (I  forget  his  name)*  to  the 
Trial,  if  it  were  only  for  the  purpose  of  extinguishing 
my  rash  attempt.     •    •     • 

"Now  for  a  word  on  FitzGerald's  principles  of  transla- 
''  tion.  The  unhappy  translator  is  always  being  impaled 
"  on  the  horns  of  a  dilemma.  If  he  translates  literally, 
"  he  produces  stuffs  no  mortal  can  read.  ...If,  on 
"  the  other  hand,  he  makes  a  good  and  readable  thing  of 
"  it,  then  arise  all  the  people  who  know  the  original,  and 
"  begin  to  peck  at  it  like  domestic  fowl.  If  one  steers  a 
"  middle  course,  one  pleases  nobody.  FitzGerald  boldly 
''  adopted  the  principle  that  what  is  wanted  in  a  transla- 
*  Lord  Carnarvon. 

[     xvii     ] 


EXTRACTS  FROM  FITZGERALD'S  LETTERS 

tion  is  this :  To  give  people  who  don't  know  the  original 
a  sort  of  idea  of  the  effect  it  produces  on  people  who 
do.  For  this  end  we  must  throw  all  attempt  at  a  literal 
translation  to  the  wind.  We  must  soak  ourselves  in  the 
spirit  of  an  author^  and  reproduce  that  spirit  in  as  good 
poetic  style  as  we  may  he  master  of.  So,  not  only  with 
Omar  J  hut  with  his  other  translations  too,  he  omits  whole 
passages,  puts  in  hits  of  his  own,  modifies  and  arranges 
everything,  and  makes — a  poem.  It  is  interesting  to 
compare  Paley's  translation  of  the  Agamemnon  of 
JEschylus  with  FitzGerald's  from  this  point  of  view, 
Paley  assures  us  himself,  in  his  Preface  (and  I  suppose 
he  ought  to  know),  that  his  is  readable  and  tolerably 
literal,  and  then  offers  us  such  gems  as: '  You  are  some 
'  crazy-headed  person,  or  possessed  by  some  god ';  or, 
again,  'And  my  inward  parts  do  not  vainly  bode — the 
'heart  that  whirls  in  eddies  against  the  midriff,  while 
'  it  'justly  looks  for  a  fulfilment  of  its  fears,'  Really,  if 
Mschylus  is  that  sort  of  thing,  why  do  we  rise  up  early 
and  so  late  take  rest  that  we  may  proceed  B.A,  in  Arts? 
Now  listen  to  another  bit  from  FitzGerald,  about 
Helen's  flight  from  Menelaus: — 

"Not  beside  thee  in  the  chamber, 
Menelaus,  any  more; 
But  with  him  she  fled  with,  pillowed. 
On  the  summer  softly-hillow^d 
Ocean,  into  dimple  wreathing 
Underneath  a  breeze  of  amber 
[     xviii     ] 


RELATING  TO   "AGAMEMNON." 

Air  that,  as  from  Eros  breathing, 
FilVd  the  sail  and  flew  before; 
Floating  on  the  summer  seas 
Like  some  sweet  Effigies 
Of  Eirene^s  self,  or  sweeter 
Aphrodite,  sweeter  still: 
With  the  Shepherd,  from  whose  luckless 
Hand  upon  the  Phrygian  hill. 
Of  the  three  Immortals,  She 
The  fatal  prize  of  Beauty  bore. 
Floating  with  him  O'er  the  foam 
She  rose  from,  to  the  Shepherd's  home 
On  the  Ionian  shore." 

''  There  is  hardly  a  word,  hardly  a  single  word  of  all  that 
"  in  2Eschylus.  But  which  of  the  two  gives  one  the  im- 
"  pression  that  ^schylus  gives — Paley  or  FitzGerald?  " 

[From  a  Paper  read  before  the  Literary  Society  of  University  Col- 
lege, London,  on  January  24th,  1896,  by  Arthur  Piatt,  Professor 
of  Greek.] 


[  ^^  ] 


AGAMEMNON 


AGAMEMNON 


A  TRAGEDY 


TAKEN   FROM  iESCHYLUS, 


LONDON: 

BERNARD    QUARITCH, 

15  PICCADILLY. 

1876. 


This  Version — or  Per-version — of  JEschylus  was  originally 
printed  to  be  given  away  among  Friends,,  who  either  knew  noth- 
ing of  the  Original,  or  would  be  disposed  to  excuse  the  liberties 
taken  with  it  by  an  unworthy  hand.* 

*  The  second  edition  (1876)  reads  **a  less  worthy  hand:'*  and  has  the  follow- 
ing two  additional  paragraphs : 

Such  as  it  is,  however,  others,  whom  I  do  not  know,  have  asked  for  copies 
when  I  had  no  more  copies  to  give.  So  Mr.  Quaritch  ventures  on  pub- 
hshing  it  on  his  own  account,  at  the  risk  of  facing  much  less  indulgent 
critics. 

I  can  add  little  more  to  the  Apology  prefixed  to  the  private  edition. 


PREFACE. 

At  J.  the  Choruses  in  this  Tragedy  call  for  a  more  lyrical 
Interpreter  than  myself.  But  even  I  might  have  done 
better  with  the  first,  by  mingling  fragments  of  the  so 
oft-told  Story,  with  such  dark  and  ill-ominous  presage  as 
would  accumulate  as  Time  went  on. 

So  much  for  the  matter.  As  for  the  manner;  I  think 
that  some  such  form  as  Tennyson  has  originated  in  his 
version  of  the  Battle  of  Brunanburh  might  well  be 
adopted  in  this  case,  as  in  many  other  of  ^schylus' 
Choruses — such  as  in  the  Persae,  the  Seven  against 
Thebes,  and  the  Eumenides — the  question  being  whether 
such  a  trochaic  gallop  may  not  over-ride  the  Iambic  Blank 
Verse  Dialogue  that  follows  it. 

I  suppose  that  a  literal  version  of  this  play,  if  possible, 
would  scarce  be  intelligible.  Even  were  the  dialogue  al- 
ways clear,  the  lyric  Choruses,  which  make  up  so  large  a 
part,  are  so  dark  and  abrupt  in  themselves,  and  therefore 
so  much  the  more  mangled  and  tormented  by  copyist  and 
commentator,  that  the  most  conscientious  translator  must 
not  only  jump  at  a  mean-|ing,  but  must  bridge  over  a  (iv) 
chasm;  especially  if  he  determine  to  complete  the  an- 
tiphony  of  Strophe  and  Antistrophe  in  English  verse. 

Thus,   encumbered   with   forms  which   sometimes,   I 

[    m    ] 


^^S?N  PREFACE. 


think,  hang  heavy  on  ^schylus  himself;^  struggling 
with  indistinct  meanings,  obscure  allusions,  and  even  with 
puns  which  some  have  tried  to  reproduce  in  English ;  this 
grand  play,  which  to  the  scholar  and  the  poet,  lives, 
breathes,  and  moves  in  the  dead  language,  has  hitherto 
seemed  to  me  to  drag  and  stifle  under  conscientious  trans- 
lation into  the  living;  that  is  to  say,  to  have  lost  that 
which  I  think  the  drama  can  least  afford  to  lose  all  the 
world  over.  And  so  it  was  that,  hopeless  of  succeeding 
where  as  good  versifiers,  and  better  scholars,  seemed  to  me 
to  have  failed,  I  came  first  to  break  the  bounds  of  Greek 
Tragedy;  then  to  swerve  from  the  Master's  footsteps; 
(v)  and  so,  one  j  license  drawing  on  another  to  make  all  of  a 
piece,  arrived  at  the  present  anomalous  conclusion.  If  it 
has  succeeded  in  shaping  itself  into  a  distinct,  consistent 
and  animated  Whole,  through  which  the  reader  can  follow 
without  halting,  and  not  without  accelerating  interest 
from  beginning  to  end,  he  will  perhaps  excuse  my  ac- 
,  knowledged  transgressions,*  and  will  not  disdain  the 
Jade  that  has  carried  him  so  far  so  well  till  he  find  him- 
self mounted  on  a  Thorough-bred  whose  thunder-clothed 
neck  and  long-resounding  pace  shall  better  keep  up 
with  the  Original. 

For  to  re-create  the  Tragedy,  body  and  soul,  into  Eng- 
lish, and  make  the  Poet  free  of  the  language  which  reigns 

^  For  instance,  the  long  antiphonal  dialogue  of  the  Chorus  debating 
'  what  to  do — or  whether  do  anything — after  hearing  their  master  twice 
cry  out  (in  pure  Iambics  also)  that  he  is  murdered. 
*  In  the  edition  of  1 876  this  sentence  ends  thus, — unless  as  well  or 
better  satisfied  by  some  more  faithful  Interpreter,  or  by  one  more  en- 
titled than  myself  to  make  free  with  the  Original. 

[     198     ] 


•  PREFACE  THIRD 

JTJVJIiX'iri.^^Jl..  EDITION 

over  that  half  of  the  world  never  dreamt  of  in  his  philos- 
ophy, must  be  reserved — especially  the  Lyric  part — for 
some  Poet,  worthy  of  that  name,  and  of  congenial 
Genius  with  the  Greek.  Would  that  every  one  such  would  (vi) 
devote  himself  to  one  such  work!  whether  by  Translation, 
Paraphrase,  or  Metaphrase,  to  use  Dryden's  definition, 
whose  Alexander's  Feast,  and  |  some  fragments  of  whose 
Plays,  indicate  that  he,  perhaps,  might  have  rendered 
such  a  service  to  iEschylus  and  to  us.  Or,  to  go  further 
back  in  our  own  Drama,  one  thinks  what  Marlowe  might 
have  done;  himself  a  translator  from  the  Greek;  some- 
thing akin  to  ^schylus  in  his  genius;  still  more  in  his 
grandiose,  and  sometimes  authadostomous  verse ;  of  which 
some  lines  relating  to  this  very  play  fall  so  little  short  of 
Greek,  that  I  shall  but  shame  my  own  by  quoting  them 
before  hand; 

"Is  this  the  face  that  launch'd  a  thousand  ships, 
And  burnt  the  topless  towers  of  Ilium? 
Sweet  Helen,  make  me  immortal  with  a  kiss!" 


[     199     ] 


DRAMATIS    PERSONS. 

Agamemnon,  King  of  Argos, 

Clytemnestra,  his  Queen, 

^GiSTHUS,  Ms  Cousin. 

Cassandra,  Daughter  of  King  Priam, 

Herald. 

Chorus  of  ancient  Councillors. 


The  scene  is  at  Argos. 


AGAMEMNON. 

[Agamemnon's  Palace:  a  Warder  on  the  Battlements,^ 

Warder. 

[Once  more,  once  more,  and  once  again  once  more] 

I  crave  the  Gods'  compassion,  and  release 

From  this  inexorable  watch,  that  now 

For  one  whole  year,  close  as  a  couching  dog. 

On  Agamemnon's  housetop  have  I  kept. 

Contemplating  the  muster  of  the  stars 

And  those  transplendent  Djniasties  of  Heav'n  * 

That,  as  alternately  they  rise  and  fall, 

Draw  Warmth  and  Winter  over  mortal  man. 

Thus,  and  thus  long,  I  say,  at  the  behest  (2) 

Of  the  man-minded  Woman  who  here  rules. 

Here  have  I  watch'd  till  yonder  mountain-top 

Shall  kindle  with  a  signal-light  from  Troy. 

And  watch'd  in  vain,  couch'd  on  the  barren  stone. 

Night  after  night,  night  after  night,  alone, 

Ev'n  by  a  wandering  dream  unvisited, 

^  The  commentators  generally  understand  these  XapLTCpoo?  Sovaaia? 
to  mean  Sun  and  Moon.  Blomfield,  I  believe,  admits  they  may  he  the 
Constellations  by  which  the  seasons  were  anciently  marked,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  Pleiades  further  on  in  the  Play.  The  Moon,  I  suppose, 
had  no  part  to  play  in  such  a  computation;  and,  as  for  the  Sun,  the 
beacon-fire  surely  implies  a  night-watch. 

[     201      ] 


?r^l^n^  AGAMEMNON. 


EDITION 


To  which  the  terror  of  my  post  denies 

The  customary  passage  of  closed  eyes. 

From  which,  when  haply  nodding,  I  would  scare 

Forbidden  sleep,  or  charm  long  night  away 

With  some  old  ballad  of  the  good  old  times. 

The  foolish  song  falls  presently  to  tears, 

Remembering  the  glories  of  this  House, 

Where  all  is  not  as  all  was  wont  to  be, — 

No,  nor  as  should — Alas,  these  royal  walls. 

Had  they  but  tongue  (as  ears  and  eyes,  men  say) 

Would  tell  strange  stories! — But,  for  fear  they  should. 

Mine  shall  be  mute  as  they  are.     Only  this — 

And  this  no  treason  surely — ^might  I  but. 

But  once  more  might  I,  see  my  lord  again 

Safe  home !     But  once  more  look  upon  his  face ! 

But  once  more  take  his  hand  in  mine! — 

Hilloa! 
(s)  The  words  scarce  from  my  lips — Have  the  Gods  heard? 
Or  am  I  dreaming  wide  awake?  as  wide 
Awake  I  am— The  Light!     The  Light!     The  Light! 
Long  look'd  for,  long  despair'd  of,  on  the  Height! 
Oh  more  to  me  than  all  the  stars  of  night! 
More  than  the  Morning-star! — ^more  than  the  Sun 
Who  breaks  my  nightly  watch,  this  rising  one 
Which  tells  me  that  my  year-long  night  is  done ! 
When,  shaking  off  the  collar  of  my  watch, 

[      202      ] 


AGAMEMNON.  iSon 

I  first  to  Clytemnestra  shall  report 
Such  news  as,  if  indeed  a  lucky  cast 
For  her  and  Argos,  sure  a  Main  to  me! 
But  grant  the  Gods,  to  all!     A  master-cast, 
More  than  compensating  all  losses  past ; 
And  lighting  up  our  altars  with  a  fire 
Of  Victory  that  never  shall  expire! 

[  Eivit  Warder.    Daylight  gradually  dawns, 
and  enter  slowly  Chorus. 

Chorus. 


Another  rising  of  the  sun 

That  rolls  another  year  away, 
Sees  us  through  the  portal  dun 

Dividing  night  and  day 
Like  to  phantoms  from  the  crypt  (4) 

Of  Morpheus  or  of  Hades  slipt. 

Through  the  sleeping  city  creeping. 
Murmuring  an  ancient  song 
Of  unvindicated  wrong. 
Ten  year  told  as  ten  year  long 
Since  to  revenge  the  great  abuse 

To  Themis  done  by  Priam's  son, 
The  Brother-Princes  that,  co-heir 
Of  Athens,  share  his  royal  chair, 

[      203      ] 


EmiZ  AGAMEMNON. 

And  from  the  authentic  hand  of  Zeus 
His  delegated  sceptre  bear, 

Startled  Greece  with  such  a  cry 
For  Vengeance  as  a  plunder'd  pair 
Of  Eagles  over  their  aerial  lair 
Screaming,  to  whirlpool  lash  the  waves  of  air. 

II. 

The  Robber,  blinded  in  his  own  conceit. 

Must  needs  think  Retribution  deaf  and  blind. 

Fool !  not  to  know  what  tongue  was  in  the  wind. 
When  Tellus  shudder'd  under  flying  feet, 

When  stricken  Ocean  under  alien  wings; 
{B)  Was  there  no  Phcebus  to  denounce  the  flight 

From  Heav'n?     Nor  those  ten  thousand  Eyes  of 

Night? 
And,  were  no  other  eye  nor  ear  of  man 
Or  God  awake,  yet  universal  Pan, 

For  ever  watching  at  the  heart  of  things, 
And  Zeus,  the  Warden  of  domestic  Right, 

And  the  perennial  sanctity  of  Kings, 
Let  loose  the  Fury  who,  though  late 
Retarded  in  the  leash  of  Fate, 

Once  loosed,  after  the  Sinner  springs; 
Over  Ocean's  heights  and  hollows. 
Into  cave  and  forest  follows, 

[     204     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^^^Ss 

Into  fastest  guarded  town, 
Close  on  the  Sinner's  heel  insists. 
And,  turn  or  baffle  as  he  lists. 

Dogs  him  inexorably  down. 


m. 

Therefore  to  revenge  the  debt 

To  violated  Justice  due. 
Armed  Hellas  hand  in  hand 

The  iron  toils  of  Ares  drew 
Over  water,  over  land. 

Over  such  a  tract  of  years ;  (e) 

Draught  of  blood  abroad,  of  tears 

At  home,  and  unexhausted  yet: 
All  the  manhood  Greece  could  muster. 

And  her  hollow  ships  enclose ; 
All  that  Troy  from  her  capacious 

Bosom  pouring  forth  oppose; 
By  the  ships,  beneath  the  wall. 

And  about  the  sandy  plain. 
Armour-glancing  file  advancing. 

Fighting,  flying,  slaying,  slain: 
And  among  them,  and  above  them, 
Crested  Heroes,  twain  by  twain. 

Lance  to  lance,  and  thrust  to  thrust, 

[     205     ] 


/^^^^  AGAMEMNON. 

Front-erect,  and,  in  a  moment, 

One  or  other  roU'd  in  dust. 
Till  the  better  blood  of  Argos 

Soaking  in  the  Trojan  sand. 
In  her  silent  half  dispeopled 

Cities,  more  than  half  unmanned. 
Little  more  of  man  to  meet 
Than  the  helpless  child,  or  hoary 
Spectre  of  his  second  childhood, 

Tottering  on  triple  feet, 
(7)  Like  the  idle  waifs  and  strays 

Blown  together  from  the  ways 

Up  and  down  the  windy  street. 

IV. 

But  thus  it  is ;  All  bides  the  destined  Hour 
And  Man,  albeit  with  Justice  at  his  side. 

Fights  in  the  dark  against  a  secret  Power 
Not  to  be  conquer'd — and  how  pacified? 


For,  before  the  Navy  flush'd 
Wing  from  shore,  or  lifted  oar 

To  foam  the  purple  brush'd; 

While  about  the  altar  hush'd 

Throng'd  the  ranks  of  Greece  thick-fold, 

[     206     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ™™^ 

Ancient  Chalcas  in  the  bleeding 
Volume  of  the  Future  reading 

Evil  things  foresaw,  foretold: 
That,  to  revenge  some  old  disgrace 

Befall'n  her  sylvan  train. 
Some  dumb  familiar  of  the  Chase 

By  Menelaus  slain, 
The  Goddess  Artemis  would  vex  (s) 

The  fleet  of  Greece  with  storms  and  checks: 

That  Troy  should  not  be  reach'd  at  all. 
Or — as  the  Gods  themselves  divide 
In  Heav'n  to  either  mortal  side — 

rf  ever  reach'd,  should  never  fall — 
Unless  at  such  a  loss  and  cost 
As  counterpoises  Won  and  Lost. 

VI. 

The  Elder  of  the  Royal  Twain 
Listcn'd  in  silence,  daring  not  arraign 

111  omen,  or  rebuke  the  raven  lips : 
Then  taking  up  the  tangled  skein 

Of  Fate,  he  pointed  to  the  ships ; 
He  sprang  aboard:  he  gave  the  sign; 

And  blazing  in  his  golden  arms  ahead. 
Draws  the  long  Navy  in  a  glittering  line 

After  him  like  a  meteor  o'er  the  main. 

[     207     ] 


ED^iZ  AGAMEMNON. 


VII. 

So  from  Argos  forth:  and  so 

O'er  the  roUing  waters  they, 
Till  in  the  roaring  To-and-fro 

Of  rock-lockt  Aulis  brought  to  stay: 
(9)  There  the  Goddess  had  them  fast: 

With  a  bitter  northern  blast 

Blew  ahead  and  block'd  the  way: 
Day  by  day  delay;  to  ship 

And  tackle  damage  and  decay; 
Day  by  day  to  Prince  and  People 

Indignation  and  dismay. 
"All  the  while  that  in  the  ribb'd 
"Bosom  of  their  vessels  cribb'd, 
"Tower-crown'd  Troy  above  the  waters 
"Yonder,  quaffing  from  the  horn 
"Of  Plenty,  laughing  them  to  scorn — " 

So  would  one  to  other  say ; 
And  man  and  chief  in  rage  and  grief 

Fretted  and  consumed  away. 

VIII. 

Then  to  Sacrifice  anew: 
And  again  within  the  bleeding 
Volume  of  the  Future  reading, 

[      208      ] 


AGAMEMNON.  JJ'^^ 

EDITION 

Once  again  the  summon'd  Seer 

Evil,  Evil,  still  fore-drew. 
Day  by  day,  delay,  decay  Cio; 

To  ship  and  tackle,  chief  and  crew: 
And  but  one  way — one  only  way  to  appease 
The  Goddess,  and  the  wind  of  wrath  subdue; 
One  way  of  cure  so  worse  than  the  disease, 

As,  but  to  hear  propound. 
The  Atreidse  struck  their  sceptres  to  the  ground. 

IX. 

After  a  death-deep  pause. 
The  Lord  of  man  and  armament  his  voice 
Lifted  into  the  silence — "Terrible  choice! 
"  To  base  imprisonment  of  wind  and  flood, 

"Whether  consign  and  sacrifice  the  band 
"Of  heroes  gathered  in  my  name  and  cause; 
"Or  thence  redeem  them  by  a  daughter's  blood — 

"A  daughter's  blood  shed  by  a  father's  hand; 
"Shed  by  a  father's  hand,  and  to  atone 

"The  guilt  of  One — ^who,  could  the  God  endure 

"Propitiation  by  the  Life  impure, 
"Should  wash  out  her  transgression  with  her  own." 


[     209     1 


EmimN  AGAMEMNON. 

(W  X. 

But,  breaking  on  that  iron  multitude. 
The  Father's  cry  no  kindred  echo  woke: 

And  in  the  sullen  silence  that  ensued 
An  unrelenting  iron  answer  spoke. 

XI. 

At  last  his  neck  to  that  unnatural  yoke 
He  bow'd:  his  hand  to  that  unnatural  stroke: 
With  growing  purpose,  obstinate  as  the  wind 
That  block'd  his  fleet,  so  block'd  his  better  mind. 
To  all  the  Father's  heart  within  him  blind — 
For  thus  it  fares  with  men ;  the  seed 
Of  Evil,  sown  by  seeming  Need, 
Grows,  self-inf atuation-nurst, 
From  evil  Thought  to  evil  Deed, 
Incomprehensible  at  first. 
And  to  the  end  of  Life  accurst. 

XII. 

And  thus,  the  blood  of  that  one  innocent 
Weigh'd  light  against  one  great  accomplishment, 
(12)  At  last — at  last — ^in  the  meridian  blaze 

Of  Day,  with  all  the  Gods  in  Heaven  agaze. 
And  armed  Greece  below — ^he  came  to  dare — 
After  due  preparation,  pomp,  and  prayer, 
[     210     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ™SJi, 

He  came — ^the  wretched  father — came  to  dare — 

Himself — with  sacrificial  knife  in  hand, — 

Before  the  sacrificial  altar  stand, 
To  which — her  sweet  lips,  sweetly  wont  to  sing 

Before  him  in  the  banquet-chamber,  gagg'd. 
Lest  one  ill  word  should  mar  the  impious  thing; 
Her  saffron  scarf  about  her  fluttering, 

Dumb  as  an  all-but-speaking  picture,  dragg'd 
Through  the  remorseless  soldiery — 

But  soft!— 

While  I  tell  the  more  than  oft- 
Told  Story,  best  in  silence  found, 

Incense-breathing  fires  aloft 
Up  into  the  rising  fire. 
Into  which  the  stars  expire, 

Of  Morning  mingle;  and  a  sound 
As  of  Rumour  at  the  heel 

Of  some  great  tiding  gathers  groimd; 

And  from  portals  that  disclose 

Before  a  fragrant  air  that  blows 

Them  open,  what  great  matter.  Sirs,  (is) 

Thus  early  Clytemnestra  stirs. 

Hither  through  the  palace  gate 

Torch  in  hand,  and  step-elate, 

Advancing,  with  the  kindled  Eyes 

As  of  triumphant  Sacrifice? 
[     211     ] 


KmSoN  AGAMEMNON. 

[Enter  Clytemnestra. 

Oh,  Clytemnestra,  my  obeisance 

Salutes  your  coming  footstep,  as  her  right 

Who  rightly  occupies  the  fellow-chair 

Of  that  now  ten  years  widow'd  of  its  Lord. 

But — be  it  at  your  pleasure  ask'd,  as  answered — 

What  great  occasion,  almost  ere  Night's  self 

Rekindles  into  Morning  from  the  Sun, 

Has  woke  your  Altar-fire  to  Sacrifice? 

Clytemnestra. 

Oh,  never  yet  did  Night — 
Night  of  all  Good  the  Mother,  as  men  say, 
Conceive  a  fairer  issue  than  To-day! 
Prepare  your  ear.  Old  man,  for  tidings  such 
As  youthful  hope  would  scarce  anticipate. 

(14)  Chorus. 

I  have  prepared  them  for  such  news  as  such 
Preamble  argues. 

Clytemnestra. 

What  if  you  be  told — 
Oh  mighty  sum  in  one  small  figure  cast! — 
That  ten-year-toil'd-for  Troy  is  ours  at  last? 

[     212     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ™^^ 


Chorus. 

"If  told!" — Once  more! — the  word  escaped  our  ears. 
With  many  a  baffled  rumour  heretofore 
Slipp'd  down  the  wind  of  wasted  Expectation. 

Clytemnestra. 

Once  more  then;  and  with  unconditional 
Assurance  having  hit  the  mark  indeed 
That  Rumour  aimed  at — Troy,  with  all  the  towers 
Our  burning  vengeance  leaves  aloft,  is  ours. 
Now  speak  I  plainly? 

Chorus. 

Oh!  to  make  the  tears 
That  waited  to  bear  witness  in  the  eye 
Start,  to  convict  our  incredulity! 

Clytemnestra.  (15) 

Oh,  blest  conviction  that  enriches  you 
That  lose  the  cause  with  all  the  victory! 

Chorus. 
Ev'n  so.     But  how  yourself  convinced  before? 

[      213      ] 


™™^  AGAMEMNON. 


Clytemnestra. 
By  no  less  sure  a  witness  than  the  God. 

Chorus. 
What,  in  a  dream? 

Clytemnestra. 

I  am  not  apt  to  trust 
The  vacillating  witnesses  of  Sleep. 

Chorus. 

Ay — but  as  surely  undeluded  by 

The  waking  Will,  that  what  we  strongly  would 

Imaginates? 

Clytemnestra. 
Ay,  like  a  doating  girl. 

(16)  Chorus. 

Oh,  Clytemnestra,  pardon  mere  Old  Age 
That,  after  so  long  starving  upon  Hope, 
But  slowly  brooks  his  own  Accomplishment. 
The  Ten-year  war  is  done  then!     Troy  is  taken! 
The  Gods  have  told  you,  and  the  Gods  tell  true — 
But — ^how?  and  when? 

[     214     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^^^^S^ 


Clytemnestra. 

Ev'n  with  the  very  birth 
Of  the  good  Night  which  mothers  this  best  Day. 

Chorus. 

To-day!    To-night!  but  of  Night's  work  in  Troy 
Who  should  inform  the  scarce  awaken'd  ear 
Of  Morn  in  Argos? 

Clytemnestra. 

Hephaistos,  the  lame  God, 

And  spriteliest  of  mortal  messengers; 

Who,  springing  from  the  bed  of  burning  Troy, 

Hither,  by  fore-devis'd  Intelligence 

Agreed  upon  between  my  Lord  and  me. 

Posted  from  dedicated  Height  to  Height 

The  reach  of  land  and  sea  that  lies  between.  (9) 

And,  first  to  catch  him  and  begin  the  game. 

Did  Ida  fire  her  forest-pine,  and,  waving 

Handed  him  on  to  that  Hermaean  steep 

Of  Lemnos;  Lemnos  to  the  summit  of 

Zeus-consecrated  Athos  lifted;  whence, 

As  by  the  giant  taken,  so  despatch'd. 

The  Torch  of  Conquest,  traversing  the  wide 

iEgsean  with  a  sunbeam-stretching  stride, 

[     215     ] 


^jSSi,  AGAMEMNON. 

Struck  up  the  drowsy  watchers  on  Makistos; 
Who,  flashing  back  the  challenge,  flash'd  it  on 
To  those  who  watch'd  on  the  Messapian  height. 
With  whose  quick-kindling  heather  heap'd  and  fired 
The  meteor-bearded  messenger  refresh'd. 
Clearing  Asopus  at  a  bound,  struck  fire 
From  old  Kithseron;  and,  so  little  tired 
As  waxing  even  wanton  with  the  sport. 
Over  the  sleeping  water  of  Gorgopis 
Sprung  to  the  Rock  of  Corinth ;  thence  to  the  cliffs 
Which  stare  down  the  Saronic  Gulf,  that  now 
Began  to  shiver  in  the  creeping  Dawn; 
Whence,  for  a  moment  on  the  neighbouring  top 
Of  Arachnseum  lighting,  one  last  bound 
Brought  him  to  Agamemnon's  battlements. 
(10)  By  such  gigantic  strides  in  such  a  Race 
Where  First  and  Last  alike  are  Conquerors, 
Posted  the  travelling  Fire,  whose  Father-light 
Ida  conceived  of  burning  Troy  to-night. 

Chorus. 

Woman,  your  words  man-metal  ring,  and  strike 
Ev'n  from  the  tuneless  fibre  of  Old  Age 
Such  martial  unison  as  from  the  lips 
Shall  break  into  full  Pgean  by  and  by. 

[    216    ] 


AGAMEMNON.  -™ 


Clytemnestra. 


Aye,  think — think — think,  old  man,  and  in  your  soul, 

As  if  'twere  mirror'd  in  your  outward  eye. 

Imagine  what  wild  work  a-doing  there — 

In  Troy — to-night — to-day — this  moment — ^how 

Harmoniously,  as  in  one  vessel  meet 

Esil  and  Oil,  meet  Triumph  and  Despair, 

Sluiced  by  the  sword  along  the  reeking  street, 

On  which  the  Gods  look  down  from  burning  air. 

Slain,  slaying — dying,  dead — about  the  dead 

Fighting  to  die  themselves — ^maidens  and  wives 

Lockt  by  the  locks,  with  their  barbarian  young,  (ii) 

And  torn  away  to  slavery  and  shame 

By  hands  all  reeking  with  their  Champion's  blood. 

Until,  with  execution  weary,  we 

Fling  down  our  slaughter-satiated  swords. 

To  gorge  ourselves  on  the  unfinish'd  feasts 

Of  poor  old  Priam  and  his  sons ;  and  then, 

RoU'd  on  rich  couches  never  spread  for  us, 

Ev'n  now  our  sleep -besotted  foreheads  turn 

Up  to  the  very  Sun  that  rises  here. 

Such  is  the  lawful  game  of  those  who  win 

Upon  so  just  a  quarrel — so  long  fought: 

Provided  always  that,  with  jealous  care. 

Retaliation  wreaking  upon  those 

[     217     ] 


™?;?v  AGAMEMNON. 


EDITION 


Who  our  insulted  Gods  upon  them  drew, 
We  push  not  Riot  to  their  Altar-foot; 
Remembering,  on  whichever  mortal  side 
Engaged,  the  Gods  are  Gods  in  heav'n  and  earth, 
And  not  to  be  insulted  unavenged. 
This  let  us  take  to  heart,  and  keep  in  sight ; 
Lest,  having  run  victoriously  thus  far, 
And  turn'd  the  very  pillar  of  our  race, 
Before  we  reach  the  long'd-for  goal  of  Home 
Nemesis  overtake,  or  trip  us  up ; 
(12)  Some  ere  safe  shipp'd:  or,  launch'd  upon  the  foam, 
Ere  touch'd  the  threshold  of  their  native  shore ; 
Yea,  or  that  reach'd,  the  threshold  of  the  door 
Of  their  own  home;  from  whatsoever  corner 
The  jealous  Power  is  ever  on  the  watch 
To  compass  arrogant  Prosperity. 
These  are  a  woman's  words ;  for  men  to  take. 
Or  disregarded  drop  them,  as  they  will; 
Enough  for  me,  if  having  won  the  stake, 
I  pray  the  Gods  with  us  to  keep  it  still. 

[EiVit  Clytemnestra. 

Chorus. 

Oh,  sacred  Night, 
From  whose  unfathomable  breast 
Creative  Order  formed  and  saw 

[     218      ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^^^^ 

Chaos  emerging  into  Law: 
And  now,  committed  with  Eternal  Right, 
Who  didst  with  star-entangled  net  invest 

So  close  the  guilty  City  as  she  slept. 
That  when  the  deadly  fisher  came  to  draw. 
Not  one  of  all  the  guilty  fry  through  crept. 

n.  (13) 

Oh,  Nemesis, 

Night's  daughter!  in  whose  bosoming  abyss 
Secretly  sitting  by  the  Sinner's  sleeve, 
Thou  didst  with  self -confusion  counterweave 

His  plot;  and  when  the  fool  his  arrow  sped, 
Thine  after-shot  didst  only  not  dismiss 

Till  certain  not  to  miss  the  guilty  head. 

in. 

Some  think  the  Godhead,  couching  at  his  ease 
Deep  in  the  purple  Heav'ns,  serenely  sees 

Insult  the  altar  of  Eternal  Right. 

Fools !     For  though  Fortune  seem  to  misrequite, 

And  Retribution  for  awhile  forget ; 

Sooner  or  later  she  reclaims  the  debt 

With  usury  that  triples  the  amount 

Of  Nemesis  with  running  Time's  account. 
[     219     ] 


BDmoN  AGAMEMNON. 


IV. 

For  soon  or  late  sardonic  Fate 

With  Man  against  himself  conspires; 
Puts  on  the  mask  of  his  desires: 
Up  the  steps  of  Time  elate 
(W  Leads  him  blinded  with  his  pride, 

And  gathering  as  he  goes  along 
The  fuel  of  his  suicide : 
Until  having  topp'd  the  pyre 
Which  Destiny  permits  no  higher, 
Ambition  sets  himself  on  fire;    • 
In  conflagration  like  the  crime 
Conspicuous  through  the  world  and  time 
Down  amidst  his  brazen  walls 
The  accumulated  Idol  falls 
To  shapeless  ashes;  Demigod 
Under  the  vulgar  hoof  down-trod 
Whose  neck  he  trod  on;  not  an  eye 
To  weep  his  fall,  nor  lip  to  sigh 
For  him  a  prayer;  or,  if  there  were. 
No  God  to  listen,  or  reply. 

V. 

And  as  the  son  his  father's  guilt  may  rue; 
And,  by  retort  of  justice,  what  the  son 

[     220     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^jSS^ 

Has  sinn'd,  to  ruin  on  the  father  run; 
So  may  the  many  help  to  pay  the  due 

Of  guilt,  remotely  implicate  with  one. 
And  as  the  tree  'neath  which  a  felon  cowers,  (is) 

With  all  its  branch  is  blasted  by  the  bolt 

Of  Justice  launch'd  from  Heav'n  at  his  revolt; 
Thus  with  old  Priam,  with  his  royal  line, 

Kindred  and  people ;  yea,  the  very  towers 
They  crouch'd  in,  built  by  masonry  divine. 


VI. 

Like  a  dream  through  sleep  she  glided 

Through  the  silent  city  gate. 
By  a  guilty  Hermes  guided 
On  the  feather'd  feet  of  Theft; 
Leaving  between  those  she  left 
And  those  she  fled  to  lighted  Discord, 

Unextinguishable  Hate; 
Leaving  him  whom  least  she  should, 
Menelaus  brave  and  good. 
Scarce  believing  in  the  mutter'd 
Rumour,  in  the  worse  than  utter'd 

Omen  of  the  wailing  maidens. 
Of  the  shaken  hoary  head ; 
Of  deserted  board  and  bed. 
[    221     ] 


kbAiSn  AGAMEMNON. 

For  the  phantom  of  the  lost  one 
Haunts  him  in  the  wonted  places; 
(16)  Hall  and  Chamber,  where  he  paces 

Hither,  Thither,  listening,  looking, 

Phantom-like  himself  alone; 
Till  he  comes  to  loathe  the  faces 
Of  the  marble  mute  Colossi, 
Godlike  forms,  and  half -divine, 
Founders  of  the  Royal  line. 
Who  with  all  unf  alter'd  Quiet 
Witness  all  and  make  no  sign. 
But  the  silence  of  the  chambers, 

And  the  shaken  hoary  head, 
And  the  voices  of  the  mourning 
Women,  and  of  ocean  wailing. 
Over  which  with  unavailing 
Arms  he  reaches,  as  to  hail 
The  phantom  of  a  flying  sail — 
All  but  answer.  Fled!  fled!  fled! 
False!  dishonour'd!  worse  than  dead! 

VII. 

At  last  the  sun  goes  down  along  the  bay. 
And  with  him  drags  detested  Day. 
He  sleeps ;  and,  dream-like  as  she  fled,  beside 
His  pillow,  Dream  indeed,  behold !  his  Bride 

[      222      ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^h^d^ 

Once  more  in  more  than  bridal  beauty  stands;  (i7) 

But,  ever  as  he  reaches  forth  his  hands, 

Slips  from  them  back  into  the  viewless  deep, 

On  those  soft  silent  wings  that  walk  the  ways  of  sleep. 


VIII. 

Not  beside  thee  in  the  chamber, 

Menelaus,  any  more ; 
But  with  him  she  fled  with,  pillow'd 
On  the  summer  sof  tly-billow'd 
Ocean,  into  dimple  wreathing 

Underneath  a  breeze  of  amber 
Air  that,  as  from  Eros  breathing, 

Fiird  the  sail  and  flew  before ; 
Floating  on  the  summer  seas 
Like  some  sweet  Effigies 
Of  Eirene's  self,  or  sweeter 

Aphrodite,  sweeter  still : 
With  the  Shepherd,  from  whose  luckless 

Hand  upon  the  Phrygian  hill 
Of  the  three  Immortals,  She 

The  fatal  prize  of  Beauty  bore,  (W 

Floating  with  him  o'er  the  foam 
She  rose  from,  to  the  Shepherd's  home 
On  the  Ionian  shore. 

[      223      ] 


---^  AGAMEMNON. 


IX. 


Down  from  the  City  to  the  water-side 
Old  Priam,  with  his  princely  retinue. 
By  many  a  wondering  Phrygian  foUow'd,  drew 
To  welcome  and  bear  in  the  Goddess-bride, 
Whom  some  propitious  wind  of  Fortune  blew 
From  whence  they  knew  not  o'er  the  waters  wide. 
Among  the  Trojan  people  to  abide, 
A  pledge  of  Love  and  Joy  for  ever — Yes; 
As  one  who  drawing  from  the  leopardess 
Her  suckling  cub,  and,  fascinated  by 
The  little  Savage  of  the  lustrous  eye, 
Bears  home,  for  all  to  fondle  and  caress. 
And  be  the  very  darling  of  the  house 
It  makes  a  den  of  blood  of  by  and  by. 


For  the  wind,  that  amber  blew, 

Tempest  in  its  bosom  drew, 
(19)  Soon  began  to  hiss  and  roar; 

And  the  sweet  Effigies 

That  amber  breeze  and  summer  seas 
Had  wafted  to  the  Ionian  shore, 
By  swift  metamorphosis 

[      224      ] 


AGAMEMNON.  „^^™^ 

Turn'd  into  some  hideous,  hated, 
Fury  of  Revenge,  and  fated 

Hierophant  of  Nemesis; 
Who,  growing  with  the  day  and  hour, 
Grasp'd  the  wall,  and  topp'd  the  tower, 
And,  when  the  time  came,  by  its  throat 
The  victim  City  seized,  and  smote. 


XI. 

But  now  to  be  resolved,  whether  indeed 

Those  fires  of  Night  spoke  truly,  or  mistold 
To  cheat  a  doating  woman;  for,  behold, 
Advancing  from  the  shore  with  solemn  speed, 

A  Herald  from  the  Fleet,  his  footsteps  rolFd 
In  dust.  Haste's  thirsty  consort,  but  his  brow 
Check-shadow'd  with  the  nodding  Olive-bough; 
Who  shall  interpret  us  the  speechless  sign 
Of  the  fork'd  tongue  that  preys  upon  the  pine. 


Herald.  (20) 

Oh,  Fatherland  of  Argos,  back  to  whom 
After  ten  years  do  I  indeed  return 
Under  the  dawn  of  this  auspicious  day! 
Of  all  the  parted  anchors  of  lost  Hope 

[     225      ] 


EmiJois  AGAMEMNON. 

That  this,  depended  least  on,  yet  should  hold ; 

Amid  so  many  men  to  me  so  dear 

About  me  dying,  that  myself  exempt 

Return  to  live  what  yet  of  life  remains 

Among  my  own ;  among  my  own  at  last 

To  share  the  blest  communion  of  the  Dead! 

Oh,  welcome,  welcome,  welcome  once  again 

My  own  dear  Country  and  the  light  she  draws 

From  the  benignant  Heav'ns;  and  all  the  Gods 

Who  guard  her;  Zeus  Protector  first  of  all; 

And  Phcebus,  by  this  all-restoring  dawn 

Who  heals  the  wounds  his  arrows  dealt  so  fast 

Beside  Scamander;  and  not  last  nor  least 

Among  the  Powers  engaged  upon  our  side, 

Hermes,  the  Herald's  Patron,  and  his  Pride ; 

Who,  having  brought  me  safely  through  the  war, 

NTow  brings  me  back  to  tell  the  victory 

Into  my  own  beloved  country's  ear; 

(21)  Who,  all  the  more  by  us,  the  more  away. 

Beloved,  will  greet  with  Welcome  no  less  dear 

This  remnant  of  the  unremorseful  spear. 

And,  oh,  you  Temples,  Palaces,  and  throned 

Colossi,  that  affront  the  rising  sun. 

If  ever  yet,  your  marble  foreheads  now 

Bathe  in  the  splendour  of  returning  Day 

To  welcome  back  your  so  long  absent  Lord; 

[    226    ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^^^^^ 

Who  by  Zeus'  self  directed  to  the  spot 
Of  Vengeance,  and  the  special  instrument 
Of  Retribution  put  into  his  hands, 
Has  undermined,  uprooted,  and  destroyed, 
Till  scarce  one  stone  upon  another  stands, 
The  famous  Citadel,  that,  deeply  cast 
For  crime,  has  all  the  forfeit  paid  at  last. 

Chorus. 

Oh  hail  and  welcome.  Herald  of  good  news! 
Welcome  and  hail!  and  doubt  not  thy  return 
As  dear  to  us  as  thee. 

Herald. 

To  me  so  dear. 
After  so  long  despaired  of,  that,  for  fear 
Life's  after-draught  the  present  should  belie,  (22) 

One  might  implore  the  Gods  ev'n  now  to  die! 

Chorus. 
Oh,  your  soul  hunger 'd  after  home! 

Herald. 

So  sore, 

That  sudden  satisfaction  of  once  more 

Return  weeps  out  its  surfeit  at  my  eyes. 

[     227     ] 


BmifoN  AGAMEMNON. 


Chorus. 

And  ours,  you  see,  contagiously,  no  less 

The  same  long  grief,  and  sudden  joy,  confess. 

Herald. 

What!  Argos  for  her  missing  children  yearn'd 
As  they  for  her,  then? 

Chorus. 

Ay ;  perhaps  and  more. 
Already  pining  with  an  inward  sore. 

(28)  Herald. 

How  so? 

Chorus. 

Nay,  Silence,  that  has  best  endured 
The  pain,  may  best  dismiss  the  memory. 

Herald. 

Ev'n  so.    For  who,  unless  the  God  himself. 
Expects  to  live  his  life  without  a  flaw? 
Why,  once  begin  to  open  that  account. 
Might  not  we  tell  for  ten  good  years  to  come 
Of  all  we  suffer'd  in  the  ten  gone  by? 

[     228      ] 


AGAMEMNON.  Z^,™^ 

Not  the  mere  course  and  casualty  of  war, 
Alarum,  March,  Battle,  and  such  hard  knocks 
As  foe  with  foe  expects  to  give  and  take ; 
But  all  the  complement  of  miseries 
That  go  to  swell  a  long  campaign's  account. 
Cramm'd  close  aboard  the  ships,  hard  bed,  hard  board : 
Or  worse  perhaps  while  foraging  ashore 
In  winter  time;  when  if  not  from  the  walls. 
Pelted  from  Heav'n  by  Day,  to  couch  by  Night 
Between  the  falling  dews  and  rising  damps  (24) 

That  elf 'd  the  locks,  and  set  the  body  fast 
With  cramp  and  ague ;  or,  to  mend  the  matter, 
Good  mother  Ida  from  her  winter  top 
Flinging  us  down  a  coverlet  of  snow. 
Or  worst  perhaps  in  Summer,  toiling  in 
The  bloody  harvest-field  of  torrid  sand. 
When  not  an  air  stirr'd  the  fierce  Asian  noon. 
And  ev'n  the  sea  sleep-sicken'd  in  his  bed. 
But  why  lament  the  Past,  as  past  it  is? 
If  idle  for  the  Dead  who  feel  no  more. 
Idler  for  us  to  whom  this  blissful  Dawn 
Shines  doubly  bright  against  the  stormy  Past; 
Who,  after  such  predicament  and  toil. 
Boast,  once  more  standing  on  our  mother  soil. 

That  Zeus,  who  sent  us  to  revenge  the  crime 
Upon  the  guilty  people,  now  recalls 

[     229     ] 


m1^?n^  AGAMEMNON. 


EDITION 


To  hang  their  trophies  on  our  temple  walls 
For  monumental  heir-looms  to  all  time. 

Chorus. 

Oh,  but  Old  age,  however  slow  to  learn, 
Not  slow  to  learn,  nor  after  you  repeat, 
(25)  Lesson  so  welcome,  Herald  of  the  Fleet! 
But  here  is  Clytemnestra ;  be  you  first 
To  bless  her  ears,  as  mine,  with  news  so  sweet, 

Clytemnestra. 

I  sang  my  Song  of  Triumph  ere  he  came. 

Alone  I  sang  it  while  the  City  slept. 

And  these  wise  Senators,  with  winking  eyes, 

Look'd  grave,  and  weigh'd  mistrustfully  my  word. 

As  the  light  coinage  of  a  woman's  brain. 

And  so  they  went  their  way.    But  not  the  less 

From  those  false  fires  I  lit  my  altar  up. 

And,  woman-wise,  held  on  my  song,  until 

The  City  taking  up  the  note  from  me. 

Scarce  knowing  why,  about  that  altar  flock'd, 

Where,  like  the  Priest  of  Victory,  I  stood. 

Torch-handed,  drenching  in  triumphant  wine 

The  flame  that  from  the  smouldering  incense  rose. 

Now  what  more  needs?    This  Herald  of  the  Day 

[     230     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  third 

EDITION 

Adds  but  another  witness  to  the  Night; 

And  I  will  hear  no  more  from  other  lips, 

Till  from  my  husband  Agamemnon  all. 

Whom  with  all  honour  I  prepare  to  meet.  (26) 

Oh,  to  a  loyal  woman  what  so  sweet 

As  once  more  wide  the  gate  of  welcome  fling 
To  the  loved  Husband  whom  the  Gods  once  more 

After  long  travail  home  triumphant  bring; 
Where  he  shall  find  her,  as  he  left  before, 
Fix'd  like  a  trusty  watchdog  at  the  door. 
Tractable  him-ward,  but  inveterate 
Against  the  doubtful  stranger  at  the  gate ; 

And  not  a  seal  within  the  house  but  still 
Inviolate,  under  a  woman's  trust 
Incapable  of  taint  as  gold  of  rust. 

lEa^it  Clytemnestra. 

Herald. 
A  boast  not  misbeseeming  a  true  woman. 

Chorus. 

For  then  no  boast  at  all.    But  she  says  well; 
And  Time  interprets  all.    Enough  for  us 
To  praise  the  Gods  for  Agamemnon's  safe, 
And  more  than  safe  return.    And  Menelaus, 
The  other  half  of  Argos— What  of  him? 

[     231      ] 


^^,SS^  AGAMEMNON. 


Herald. 


{27)  Those  that  I  most  would  gladden  with  good  news, 

And  on  a  day  like  this — with  fair  but  false 

I  dare  not. 

Chorus. 

What,  must  fair  then  needs  be  false? 

Herald. 

Old  man,  the  Gods  grant  somewhat,  and  withhold 
As  seems  them  good:  a  time  there  is  for  Praise, 
A  time  for  Supplication:  nor  is  it  well 
To  twit  the  celebration  of  their  largess. 
Reminding  them  of  something  they  withhold. 

Chorus. 

Yet  till  we  know  how  much  withheld  or  granted. 
We  know  not  how  the  balance  to  adjust 
Of  Supplication  or  of  Praise. 

Herald. 

Alas, 
The  Herald  who  returns  with  downcast  eyes, 
(28)  And  leafless  brow  prophetic  of  Reverse, 
Let  him  at  once — at  once  let  him,  I  say. 
Lay  the  whole  burden  of  Ill-tidings  down 

[      232      ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^^iS^, 

In  the  mid  market-place.    But  why  should  one 
Returning  with  the  garland  on  his  brow 
Be  stopp'd  to  name  the  single  missing  leaf 
Of  which  the  Gods  have  stinted  us  I 

Chorus. 

Alas, 

The  putting  of  a  fearful  question  by 

Is  but  to  ill  conjecture  worse  reply! 

You  bring  not  back  then — do  not  leave  behind — 

What  Menelaus  was? 

Herald. 

The  Gods  forbid  I 
Safe  shipp'd  with  all  the  host. 

Chorus. 

Well  but— how  then? 
Surely  no  tempest — 

Herald.  (W 

Ay!  by  that  one  word 
Hitting  the  centre  of  a  boundless  sorrow ! 

Chorus. 

Well,  but  if  peradventure  from  the  fleet 
Parted — not  lost? 

[      233      ] 


SSi,  AGAMEMNON. 


Herald. 

None  but  the  eye  of  Day, 
Now  woke,  knows  all  the  havoc  of  the  Night. 
For  Night  it  was;  all  safe  aboard — sail  set. 
And  oars  all  beating  home ;  when  suddenly. 
As  if  those  old  antagonists  had  sworn 
New  strife  between  themselves  for  our  destruction. 
The  sea,  that  tamely  let  us  mount  his  back. 
Began  to  roar  and  plunge  under  a  lash 
Of  tempest  from  the  thundering  heavens  so  fierce 
As,  falling  on  our  fluttering  navy,  some 
Scatter'd,  or  whirl'd  away  like  flakes  of  foam; 
Or,  huddling  wave  on  wave,  so  ship  on  ship 
Like  fighting  eagles  on  each  other  fell, 
(80)  And  beak,  and  wing,  and  claws,  entangled,  tore 
To  pieces  one  another,  or  dragg'd  down. 
So  when  at  last  the  tardy-rising  Sun 
Survey'd,  and  show'd,  the  havoc  Night  had  done. 
We,  whom  some  God — or  Fortune's  self,  I  think — 
Seizing  the  helm,  had  steer'd  as  man  could  not. 
Beheld  the  waste  ^gsean  wilderness 
Strown  with  the  shatter'd  forest  of  the  fleet. 
Trunk,  branch,  and  foliage ;  and  yet  worse,  I  ween. 
The  flower  of  Argos  floating  dead  between. 
Then  we,  scarce  trusting  in  our  own  escape, 

[      234      ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ™- 

And  saving  such  as  yet  had  life  to  save. 
Along  the  heaving  wilderness  of  wave 
Went  ruminating,  who  of  those  we  miss'd 
Might  yet  survive,  who  lost;  the  saved,  no  doubt, 
As  sadly  speculating  after  us. 
Of  whom,  if  Menelaus — and  the  Sun, 
(A  prayer  which  all  the  Gods  in  Heav'n  fulfil!) 
Behold  him  on  the  water  breathing  still; 
Doubt  not  that  Zeus,  under  whose  special  showers 
And  suns  the  royal  growth  of  Atreus  towers. 
Will  not  let  perish  stem,  and  branch,  and  fruit. 
By  loss  of  one  corroborating  root. 

Chorus.  (si) 

Oh,  Helen,  Helen,  Helen  I  oh,  fair  name 
And  fatal,  of  the  fatal-fairest  dame 

That  ever  blest  or  blinded  human  eyes! 
Of  mortal  women  Queen  beyond  compare. 

As  she  whom  the  foam  lifted  to  the  skies 
Is  Queen  of  all  who  breathe  inmiortal  air! 

Whoever,  and  from  whatsoever  wells 

Of  Divination,  drew  the  syllables 
By  which  we  name  thee ;  who  shall  ever  dare 
In  after  time  the  fatal  name  to  wear, 
Or  would,  to  be  so  fatal,  be  so  fair! 

[     235     ] 


EmifoN  AGAMEMNON. 

Whose  dowry  was  a  Husband's  shame; 
Whose  nuptial  torch  was  Troy  in  jflame; 
Whose  bridal  Chorus,  groans  and  cries; 
Whose  banquet,  brave  men's  obsequies; 
Whose  Hymenaeal  retinue. 
The  winged  dogs  of  War  that  flew 
Over  lands  and  over  seas. 
Following  the  tainted  breeze. 
Till,  Scamander  reed  among. 
Their  fiery  breath  and  bloody  tongue 
The  fatal  quarry  found  and  slew; 
(S2)  And,  having  done  the  work  to  which 
The  God  himself  halloo'd  them,  back 
Return  a  maim'd  and  scatter'd  pack. 


II. 

And  he  for  whose  especial  cause 
Zeus  his  winged  instrument 

With  the  lightning  in  his  claws 
From  the  throne  of  thunder  sent: 

He  for  whom  the  sword  was  drawn : 

Mountain  ashes  fell'd  and  sawn; 
And  the  armed  host  of  Hellas 

Cramm'd  within  them,  to  discharge 

On  the  shore  to  bleed  at  large ; 

[     236     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ™- 

He,  in  mid  accomplishment 

Of  Justice,  from  his  glory  rent! 

What  ten  years  had  hardly  won, 

In  a  single  night  undone ; 

And  on  earth  what  saved  and  gain'd. 

By  the  ravin  sea  distrain'd. 

III. 

Such  is  the  sorrow  of  this  royal  house; 

But  none  in  all  the  City  but  forlorn 
Under  its  own  peculiar  sorrow  bows.  (33) 

For  the  stern  God  who,  deaf  to  human  love. 

Grudges  the  least  abridgment  of  the  tale 
Of  human  blood  once  pledged  to  him,  above 
The  centre  of  the  murder-dealing  crowd 

Suspends  in  air  his  sanguinary  scale; 
And  for  the  blooming  Hero  gone  a-field 

Homeward  remits  a  beggarly  return 
Of  empty  helmet,  fallen  sword  and  shield, 

And  some  light  ashes  in  a  little  urn. 

IV. 

Then  wild  and  high  goes  up  the  cry 
To  heav'n,  "So  true!  so  brave!  so  fair! 
"The  young  colt  of  the  flowing  hair 

[     237     ] 


--^,  AGAMEMNON. 

"And  flaming  eye,  and  now — look  there! 
"Ashes  and  arms!"  or,  "Left  behind 
"Unburied,  in  the  sun  and  wind 
"To  wither,  or  become  the  feast 
"Of  bird  obscene,  or  unclean  beast; 
"The  good,  the  brave,  without  a  grave — 
"All  to  redeem  her  from  the  shame 
"To  which  she  sold  her  self  and  name!" — 
(34)  For  such  insinuation  in  the  dark 
About  the  City  travels  like  a  spark; 

Till  the  pent  tempest  into  lightning  breaks. 
And  takes  the  topmost  pinnacle  for  mark. 


V. 

But  avaunt  all  evil  omen! 
Perish  many,  so  the  State 
They  die  for  live  inviolate; 
Which,  were  all  her  mortal  leafage 
In  the  blast  of  Ares  scattered, 
So  herself  at  heart  unshatter'd. 
In  due  season  she  retrieves 
All  her  wasted  wealth  of  leaves. 
And  age  on  age  shall  spread  and  rise 
To  cover  earth  and  breathe  the  skies. 
While  the  rival  at  her  side 

[      238      ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^°™^ 

Who  the  wrath  of  Heav'n  defied, 
By  the  lashing  blast,  or  flashing 
Bolt  of  Heav'n  comes  thunder-crashing, 
Top  and  lop,  and  trunk  and  bough, 
Down,  for  ever  down.    And  now. 
He  to  whom  the  Zeus  of  Vengeance 

Did  commit  the  bolt  of  Fate —  (35) 

Agamemnon — how  shall  I, 
With  a  Psean  not  too  high 
For  mortal  glory,  to  provoke 
From  the  Gods  a  counter-stroke; 
Nor  below  desert  so  lofty 

Suitably  felicitate? 
Such  as  chasten'd  Age  for  due 
May  give,  and  Manhood  take  for  true. 
For,  as  many  men  comply 
From  founts  no  deeper  than  the  eye 

With  others'  sorrows;  many  more, 
With  a  Welcome  from  the  lips. 
That  far  the  halting  heart  outstrips, 

Fortime's  Idol  fall  before. 
Son  of  Atreus,  I  premise. 

When  at  first  the  means  and  manhood 
Of  the  cities  thou  didst  stake 
For  a  wanton  woman's  sake, 

I  might  grudge  the  sacrifice ; 

[      239     ] 


E^iSlsr  AGAMEMNON. 

But,  the  warfare  once  begun, 
Hardly  fought  and  hardly  won, 
Now  from  Glory's  overflowing 
Horn  of  Welcome  all  her  glowing 
(36)       Honours,  and  with  uninvidious 
Hand,  before  your  advent  throwing, 
I  salute,  and  bid  thee  welcome, 
Son  of  Atreus,  Agamemnon, 
Zeus'  revenging  Right-hand,  Lord 

Of  taken  Troy  and  righted  Greece; 
Bid  thee  from  the  roving  throne 

Of  War  the  reeking  steed  release ; 
Leave  the  laurell'd  ship  to  ride 
Anchor'd  in  her  country's  side, 
And  resume  the  royal  helm 
Of  thy  long-abandon'd  realm: 
What  about  the  State  or  Throne 
Of  good  or  evil  since  has  grown, 

Alter,  cancel,  or  complete; 
And  to  well  or  evil-doer. 

Even-handed  Justice  mete. 


[      240      ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^A^Sii 


Enter  Agamemnon  in  his  chariot,  Cassandra  (^7) 

following  in  another, 

Agamemnon. 

First,  as  first  due,  my  Country  I  salute, 

And  all  her  tutelary  Gods;  all  those 

Who,  having  sent  me  forth,  now  bring  me  back, 

After  full  retribution  wrought  on  those 

Who  retribution  owed  us,  and  the  Gods 

In  full  consistory  determined;  each. 

With  scarce  a  swerving  eye  to  Mercy's  side. 

Dropping  his  vote  into  the  urn  of  blood. 

Caught  and  consuming  in  whose  fiery  wrath. 

The  stately  City,  from  her  panting  ashes 

Into  the  nostril  of  revolted  Heav'n* 

Gusts  of  expiring  opulence  puffs  up.^ 

For  which,  I  say,  the  Gods  alone  be  thank'd ; 

By  whose  connivance  round  about  the  wall 

We  drew  the  belt  of  Ares,  and  laid  bare 

The  flank  of  Ilium  to  the  Lion-horse,^  (38) 

*"  Into  the  face  of  the  revolted  heavens."     (Edition  of  1876.) 

^  Those  who  know  the  Greek  will  scarce  accuse  me  of  over-alliteration 

in  this  line,  which  runs  in  the  original  thus, 

Spodos  propempei  pionas  ploutou  pnoas. 
^  Dr.  Donaldson  tells  us  in  his  Varronianus  (says  Paley),  that  the 
Lion  was  the  symbol  of  the  Atreidce;  and  Pausanias  writes  that  part 
of  the  ancient  walls  of  Mycence  was  yet  standing  in  his  day,  and 
Lions  on  the  gate.  Wordsworth  (Athens  and  Attica)  says  the  Lion 
was  often  set  up  to  commemorate  a  victory. 

[     241      ] 


^^JSir  AGAMEMNON. 


Who  sprung  by  night  over  the  city  wall, 
And  foal'd  his  iron  progeny  within, 
About  the  setting  of  the  Pleiades/ 
Thus  much  by  way  of  prelude  to  the  Gods. 
For  you,  oh  white-hair'd  senators  of  Argos, 
Your  measured  Welcome,  I  receive  for  just; 
Aware  on  what  a  tickle  base  of  fortune 
The  monument  of  human  Glory  stands ; 
And,  for  humane  congratulation,  knowing 
How,  smile  as  may  the  mask,  the  man  behind 
Frets  at  the  fortune  that  degrades  his  own. 
This,  having  heard  of  from  the  wise,  myself. 
From  long  experience  in  the  ways  of  men. 
Can  vouch  for — what  a  shadow  of  a  shade 
Is  human  loyalty;  and,  as  a  proof, 
Of  all  the  Host  that  fiU'd  the  Grecian  ship, 
(39)  And  pour'd  at  large  along  the  field  of  Troy, 
One  only  Chief — and  he,  too,  like  yourself. 
At  first  with  little  stomach  for  the  cause — 
The  wise  Odysseus — once  in  harness,  he 
With  all  his  might  pulFd  in  the  yoke  with  me. 
Through  envy,  obloquy,  and  opposition : 
And  in  Odysseus'  honour,  live  or  dead — 
For  yet  we  know  not  which — shall  this  be  said. 
Of  which  enough.    For  other  things  of  moment 

'^ "About  the  setting  of  the  Pleiades"  is  about  the  end  of  Autumn. 

[     242     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  Jh™, 

EDITION 

To  which  you  point,  or  human  or  divine, 
We  shall  forthwith  consider  and  adjudge 
In  seasonable  council;  what  is  well. 
Or  in  our  absence  well  deserving,  well 
Establish  and  requite ;  what  not,  redress 
With  salutary  caution;  or,  if  need, 
With  the  sharp  edge  of  Justice;  and  to  health 
Restore,  and  right,  our  ailing  Commonwealth. 
Now,  first  of  all,  by  my  own  altar-hearth 
To  thank  the  Gods  for  my  return,  and  pray 
That  Victory,  which  thus  far  by  my  side 
Has  flown  with  us,  with  us  may  still  abide. 

Enter  Clytemnestea  from  the  Palace.  (4o) 

Clytemnestra. 

Oh  Men  of  Argos,  count  it  not  a  shame 

If  a  fond  wife,  and  one  whom  riper  years 

From  Youth's  becoming  bashfulness  excuse. 

Dares  own  her  love  before  the  face  of  men; 

Nor  leaving  it  for  others  to  enhance. 

Simply  declares  the  wretched  widowhood 

Which  these  ten  years  she  has  endured,  since  first 

Her  husband  Agamemnon  went  to  Troy. 

'Tis  no  light  matter,  let  me  tell  you.  Sirs, 

A  woman  left  in  charge  of  house  and  home — 

[      243      ] 


^^^^S^  AGAMEMNON. 

And  when  that  house  and  home  a  Kingdom — and 
She  left  alone  to  rule  it — and  ten  years! 
Beside  dissent  and  discontent  at  home, 
Storm'd  from  abroad  with  contrary  reports. 
Now  fair,  now  foul ;  but  still  as  time  wore  on 
Growing  more  desperate;  as  dangerous 
Unto  the  widow'd  kingdom  as  herself. 
Why,  had  my  husband  there  but  half  the  wounds 
Fame  stabb'd  him  with,  he  were  before  me  now. 
Not  the  whole  man  we  see  him,  but  a  body 
Gash'd  into  network;  ay,  or,  had  he  died 
(41)  But  half  as  often  as  Report  gave  out. 

He  would  have  needed  thrice  the  cloak  of  earth 

To  cover  him,  that  triple  Geryon 

Lies  buried  under  in  the  world  below. 

Thus,  back  and  forward  baffled,  and  at  last 

So  desperate — that,  if  I  be  here  alive 

To  tell  the  tale,  no  thanks  to  me  for  that, 

Whose  hands  had  twisted  round  my  neck  the  noose 

Which  others  loosen'd — ^my  Orestes  too 

In  whose  expanding  manhood  day  by  day 

My  Husband  I  perused — and,  by  the  way, 

Whom  wonder  not,  my  Lord,  not  seeing  here; 

My  simple  mother-love,  and  jealousy 

Of  civil  treason — ever  as  you  know. 

Most  apt  to  kindle  when  the  lord  away — 

[     244     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ™™^ 

Having  bestow'd  him,  out  of  danger's  reach. 

With  Strophius  of  Phocis,  wholly  yours 

Bound  by  the  generous  usages  of  war. 

That  make  the  once-won  foe  so  fast  a  friend. 

Thus,  widow'd  of  my  son  as  of  his  sire. 

No  wonder  if  I  wept — ^not  drops,  but  showers. 

The  ten  years'  night  through  which  I  watch'd  in  vain 

The  star  that  was  to  bring  him  back  to  me ;  (42) 

Or,  if  I  slept,  a  sleep  so  thin  as  scared 

Even  at  the  slight  incursion  of  the  gnat ; 

And  yet  more  thick  with  visionary  terrors 

Than  thrice  the  waking  while  had  occupied. 

Well,  I  have  borne  all  this :  all  this  have  borne, 

Without  a  grudge  against  the  wanderer. 

Whose  now  return  makes  more  than  rich  amends 

For  all  ungrateful  absence — Agamemnon, 

My  Lord  and  Husband ;  Lord  of  Argos ;  Troy's 

Conf  ounder ;  Mainstay  of  the  realm  of  Greece ; 

And  Master-column  of  the  house  of  Atreus — 

Oh  wonder  not  that  I  accumulate 

All  honour  and  endearment  on  his  head! 

If  to  his  country,  how  much  more  to  me. 

Welcome,  as  land  to  sailors  long  at  sea. 

Or  water  in  the  desert;  whose  return 

Is  fire  to  the  forsaken  winter-hearth; 

Whose  presence,  like  the  rooted  Household  Tree 

[     245      ] 


/^™^  AGAMEMNON. 

That,  winter-dead  so  long,  anew  puts  forth 
To  shield  us  from  the  Dogstar,  what  time  Zeus 
Wrings  the  tart  vintage  into  blissful  juice. 
Down  from  the  chariot  thou  standest  in, 
Crown'd  with  the  flaming  towers  of  Troy,  descend, 
(43)  And  to  this  palace,  rich  indeed  with  thee, 
But  beggar-poor  without,  return!     And  ye. 
My  women,  carpet  all  the  way  before. 
From  the  triumphal  carriage  to  the  door. 
With  all  the  gold  and  purple  in  the  chest 

Stored  these  ten  years ;  and  to  what  purpose  stored. 
Unless  to  strew  the  footsteps  of  their  Lord 
Returning  to  his  unexpected  rest! 

Agamemnon. 

Daughter  of  Leda,  Mistress  of  my  house. 

Beware  lest  loving  Welcome  of  your  Lord, 

Measuring  itself  by  his  protracted  absence. 

Exceed  the  bound  of  rightful  compliment. 

And  better  left  to  other  lips  than  yours. 

Address  me  not,  address  me  not,  I  say 

With  dust-adoring  adulation,  meeter 

For  some  barbarian  Despot  from  his  slave; 

Nor  with  invidious  Purple  strew  my  way. 

Fit  only  for  the  footstep  of  a  God 

Lighting  from  Heav'n  to  earth.    Let  whoso  will 

[    246    ] 


AGAMEMNON. 


THIRD 
EDITION 


Trample  their  glories  underfoot,  not  I. 

Woman,  I  charge  you,  honour  me  no  more 

Than  as  the  man  I  am ;  if  honour-worth, 

Needing  no  other  trapping  but  the  fame  (44) 

Of  the  good  deed  I  clothe  myself  withal; 

And  knowing  that,  of  all  their  gifts  to  man, 

No  greater  gift  than  Self -sobriety 

The  Gods  vouchsafe  him  in  the  race  of  life: 

Which,  after  thus  far  running,  if  I  reach 

The  goal  in  peace,  it  shall  be  well  for  me. 

Clytemnestra. 

Why,  how  think  you  old  Priam  would  have  walk'd 
Had  he  returned  to  Troy  your  conqueror, 
As  you  to  Hellas  his? 

Agamemnon. 

What  then?     Perhaps 
Voluptuary  Asiatic-like, 
On  gold  and  purple. 

Clytemnestra. 

Well,  and  grudging  this, 
When  all  that  out  before  your  footsteps  flows 
Ebbs  back  into  the  treasury  again; 

[      247      ] 


emSon  AGAMEMNON. 

Think  how  much  more,  had  Fate  the  tables  turn'd, 
(45)  Irrevocably  from  those  coffers  gone, 
For  those  barbarian  feet  to  walk  upon, 
To  buy  your  ransom  back? 

Agamemnon. 

Enough,  enough! 
I  know  my  reason. 

Clytemnestra. 

What!  the  jealous  God? 
Or,  peradventure,  yet  more  envious  man? 

Agamemnon. 
And  that  of  no  small  moment. 

Clytemnestra. 

No;  the  one 
Sure  proof  of  having  won  what  others  would. 

Agamemnon. 
No  matter — Strife  but  ill  becomes  a  woman. 

Clytemnestra. 

And  frank  submission  to  her  simple  wish 

How  well  becomes  the  Soldier  in  his  strength! 

[      248      ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^™^ 


AgAIVIEMNON.  (46) 

And  I  must  then  submit? 

Clytemnestra. 

Aye,  Agamemnon, 
Deny  me  not  this  first  Desire  on  this 
First  Morning  of  your  long-desired  Return. 

Agamemnon. 

But  not  till  I  have  put  these  sandals  off. 
That,  slave-like,  too  officiously  would  pander 
Between  the  purple  and  my  dainty  feet. 
For  fear,  for  fear  indeed,  some  Jealous  eye 
From  heav'n  above,  or  earth  below,  should  strike 
The  Man  who  walks  the  earth  Immortal-like. 
So  much  for  that.     For  this  same  royal  maid, 
Cassandra,  daughter  of  King  Priamus, 
Whom,  as  the  flower  of  all  the  spoil  of  Troy, 
The  host  of  Hellas  dedicates  to  me; 
Entreat  her  gently;  knowing  well  that  none 
But  submit  hardly  to  a  foreign  yoke; 
And  those  of  Royal  blood  most  hardly  brook. 
That  if  I  sin  thus  trampling  underfoot 

[      249      ] 


Em™N  AGAMEMNON. 

A  woof  in  which  the  Heav'ns  themselves  are  dyed, 
(4:1)  The  jealous  God  may  less  resent  his  crime, 
Who  mingles  human  mercy  with  his  pride. 

Clytemnestra. 

The  Sea  there  is,  and  shall  the  sea  be  dried? 
Fount  inexhaustibler  of  purple  grain 
Than  all  the  wardrobes  of  the  world  could  drain; 

And  Earth  there  is,  whose  dusky  closets  hide 
The  precious  metal  wherewith  not  in  vain 

The  Gods  themselves  this  Royal  house  provide; 

For  what  occasion  worthier,  or  more  meet, 

Than  now  to  carpet  the  victorious  feet 

Of  Him  who,  thus  far  having  done  their  will. 

Shall  now  their  last  About-to-be  fulfil. 

[Agamemnon  descends  from  his  chariot,  and  goes  with 
Clytemnestra  into  the  house,  Cassandra  remaining,^ 

Chorus. 

About  the  nations  runs  a  saw, 
That  Over-good  ill-fortune  breeds; 

And  true  that,  by  the  mortal  law, 
(48)  Fortune  her  spoilt  children  feeds 

To  surfeit,  such  as  sows  the  seeds 

Of  Insolence,  that,  as  it  grows. 

The  flower  of  Self -repentance  blows. 

[     250     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^^^^^ 

And  true  that  Virtue  often  leaves 

The  marble  walls  and  roofs  of  kings, 
And  underneath  the  poor  man's  eaves 

On  smoky  rafter  folds  her  wings. 

II. 

Thus  the  famous  city,  flown 
With  insolence,  and  overgrown, 
Is  humbled :  all  her  splendour  blown 
To  smoke:  her  glory  laid  in  dust; 
Who  shall  say  by  doom  unjust? 
But  should  He  to  whom  the  wrong 
Was  done,  and  Zeus  himself  made  strong 
To  do  the  vengeance  He  decreed — 
At  last  returning  with  the  meed 

He  wrought  for — should  the  jealous  Eye 

That  blights  full-blown  prosperity 
Pursue  him — then  indeed,  indeed, 
Man  should  hoot  and  scare  aloof  (49) 

Good-fortune  lighting  on  the  roof; 
Yea,  even  Virtue's  self  forsake 
If  Glory  f  ollow'd  in  the  wake ; 
Seeing  bravest,  best,  and  wisest 

But  the  playthings  of  a  day, 
Which  a  shadow  can  trip  over. 

And  a  breath  can  puff^  away. 

[     251      ] 


^™2,  AGAMEMNON. 


Clytemnestra  (re-entering). 

Yet  for  a  moment  let  me  look  on  her — 
This,  then,  is  Priam's  daughter — 
Cassandra,  and  a  Prophetess,  whom  Zeus 
Has  giv'n  into  my  hands  to  minister 
Among  my  slaves.    Didst  thou  prophesy  that? 
Well — some  more  famous  have  so  f all'n  before — 
Ev'n  Herakles,  the  son  of  Zeus,  they  say 
Was  sold,  and  bow'd  his  shoulder  to  the  yoke. 

Chorus. 

And,  if  needs  must  a  captive,  better  far 
Of  some  old  house  that  affluent  Time  himself 
(50)  Has  taught  the  measure  of  prosperity. 
Than  drunk  with  sudden  superfluity. 

Clytemnestra. 

Ev'n  so.     You  hear?     Therefore  at  once  descend 
From  that  triumphal  chariot — ^And  yet 
She  keeps  her  station  still,  her  laurel  on, 
Disdaining  to  make  answer. 

Chorus. 

Nay,  perhaps. 
Like  some  stray  swallow  blown  across  the  seas. 
Interpreting  no  twitter  but  her  own. 

[      252      ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ™^° 


EDITION 


Clytemnestra. 

But,  if  barbarian,  still  interpreting 
The  universal  language  of  the  hand. 

Chorus. 

Which  yet  again  she  does  not  seem  to  see. 
Staring  before  her  with  wide-open  eyes 
As  in  a  trance. 

ClYTEMNESTRA.  (51) 

Ay,  ay,  a  prophetess — 
Phoebus  Apollo's  minion  once — ^Whose  now? 
A  time  will  come  for  her.     See  you  to  it: 

A  greater  business  now  is  on  my  hands: 
For  lo !  the  fire  of  Sacrifice  is  lit. 

And  the  grand  victim  by  the  altar  stands. 

lEiVit  ClYTEMNESTRA. 

Chorus  (continuing). 

Still  a  muttered  and  half -blind 

Superstition  haunts  mankind. 
That,  by  some  divine  decree 

Yet  by  mortal  undivined 

Mortal  Fortune  must  not  over- 
Leap  the  bound  he  cannot  see; 

[     253      ] 


E^'iiJo^N  AGAMEMNON. 

For  that  even  wisest  labour 

Lofty-building,  builds  to  fall, 
Evermore  a  jealous  neighbour 

Undermining  floor  and  wall. 
So  that  on  the  smoothest  water 

Sailing,  in  a  cloudless  sky. 
The  wary  merchant  overboard 
Flings  something  of  his  precious  hoard 
(52)  To  pacify  the  jealous  eye. 

That  will  not  suffer  man  to  swell 
Over  human  measure.     Well, 
As  the  Gods  have  order'd  we 
Must  take — I  know  not — ^let  it  be. 
But,  by  rule  of  retribution. 

Hidden,  too,  from  human  eyes, 
Fortune  in  her  revolution. 

If  she  fall,  shall  fall  to  rise ; 
And  the  hand  of  Zeus  dispenses 

Even  measure  in  the  main: 
One  short  harvest  recompenses 

With  a  glut  of  golden  grain; 
So  but  men  in  patience  wait 

Fortune's  counter-revolution 
Axled  on  eternal  Fate ; 
And  the  Sisters  three  that  twine, 

[     ^54i     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^^o'i. 

Cut  not  short  the  vital  line; 
For  indeed  the  purple  seed 
Of  life  once  shed — 

Cassandra. 
Phoebus  Apollo! 

Chorus.  (58) 

Hark! 
The  lips  at  last  unlocking. 

Cassandra. 

Phoebus !    Phoebus ! 

Chorus. 

Well,  what  of  Phoebus,  maiden?  though  a  name 

'Tis  but  disparagement  to  call  upon 

In  misery. 

Cassandra. 

Apollo!    Apollo!    Again! 
Oh,  the  burning  arrow  through  the  brain! 
Phcebus  Apollo!    Apollo! 

Chorus. 

Seemingly 
Possessed  indeed — whether  by — 

[     255      ] 


^^'f^^  AGAMEMNON. 


EDITION 


Cassandra. 

Phoebus!    Phoebus! 
Thorough  trampled  ashes,  blood,  and  fiery  rain, 
(54)  Over  water  seething,  and  behind  the  breathing 
Warhorse  in  the  darkness — till  you  rose  again — 
Took  the  helm — took  the  rein — 

Chorus. 

As  one  that  half  asleep  at  dawn  recalls 
A  night  of  Horror! 

Cassandra. 

Hither,  whither,  Phoebus?    And  with  whom, 
Leading  me,  lighting  me — 

Chorus. 

I  can  answer  that — 

Cassandra. 

Down  to  what  slaughter-house? 

Fob!  the  smell  of  carnage  through  the  door 

Scares  me  from  it — drags  me  tow'rd  it — 

Phoebus!  Apollo!  Apollo! 

[    ^56    ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ™«^^^ 


Chorus.  (^^) 

One  of  the  dismal  prophet-pack,  it  seems, 
That  hunt  the  trail  of  blood.    But  here  at  fault — 
This  is  no  den  of  slaughter,  but  the  house 
Of  Agamenmon. 

Cassandra, 

Down  upon  the  towers 
Phantoms  of  two  mangled  Children  hover — and  a  f am- 

ish'd  man. 
At  an  empty  table  glaring,  seizes  and  devours! 

Chorus. 

Thyestes  and  his  children  1    Strange  enough 
For  any  maiden  from  abroad  to  know, 
Or,  knowing — 

Cassandra. 

And  look!  in  the  chamber  below 
The  terrible  Woman,  listening,  watching. 
Under  a  mask,  preparing  the  blow 
In  the  fold  of  her  robe — 

Chorus.  (56) 

Nay,  but  again  at  fault: 

For  in  the  tragic  story  of  this  House — 

[     257     ] 


m^^S?.  AGAMEMNON. 


EDITION 


Unless,  indeed,  the  fatal  Helen — 

No  woman — 

Cassandra. 

No  Woman — Tisiphone!  Daughter 
Of  Tartarus — love-grinning  Woman  above, 
Dragon-tail'd  under — honey-tongued,  Harpy-claw'd, 
Into  the  glittering  meshes  of  slaughter 
She  wheedles,  entices,  him  into  the  poisonous 
Fold  of  the  serpent — 

Chorus. 

Peace,  mad  woman,  peace! 
Whose  stony  lips  once  open  vomit  out 
Such  uncouth  horrors. 

Cassandra. 

I  tell  you  the  lioness 

Slaughters  the  Lion  asleep ;  and  lifting 

(57)  Her  blood-dripping  fangs  buried  deep  in  his  mane, 

Glaring  about  her  insatiable,  bellowing 

Bounds  hither — Phoebus,  Apollo,  Apollo,  Apollo! 

Whither  have  you  led  me,  under  night  alive  with  fire. 

Through  the  trampled  ashes  of  the  city  of  my  sire, 

From  my  slaughtered  kinsmen,  fallen  throne,  insulted 

shrine. 

Slave-like  to  be  butcher'd,  led  the  daughter  of  a  Royal 

line! 

[    258    ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^^^ 

Chorus. 

And  so  returning,  like  a  nightingale 
Returning  to  the  passionate  note  of  woe 
By  which  the  silence  first  was  broken! 

Cassandra. 

Oh, 
A  nightingale,  a  nightingale,  indeed. 
That,  as  she  "Itys!  Itys!  Itys!"  so 
I  "Helen!    Helen!    Helen!"  having  sung 
Amid  my  people,  now  to  those  who  flung 
And  trampled  on  the  nest,  and  slew  the  young. 
Keep  crying  "Blood!  blood!  blood!"  and  none  will  heed!  (58) 
Now  what  for  me  is  this  prophetic  weed. 
And  what  for  me  is  this  immortal  crown. 
Who  like  a  wild  swan  from  Scamander's  reed 
Chaunting  her  death-song  float  Cocytus-down? 
There  let  the  fatal  Leaves  to  perish  lie! 
To  perish,  or  enrich  some  other  brow 
With  that  all-fatal  gift  of  Prophecy 
They  palpitated  under  Him  who  now. 
Checking  his  flaming  chariot  in  mid  sky, 
With  divine  irony  sees  disadorn 
The  wretch  his  love  has  made  the  people's  scorn, 
The  raving  quean,  the  mountebank,  the  scold. 
Who,  wrapt  up  in  the  ruin  she  foretold 

[     259     ] 


Emi?oN  AGAMEMNON. 

With  those  who  would  not  listen,  now  descends 
To  that  dark  kingdom  where  his  empire  ends. 

Chorus. 

Strange  that  Apollo  should  the  laurel  wreath 
Of  Prophecy  he  crown'd  your  head  withal 
Himself  disgrace.     But  something  have  we  heard 
Of  some  divine  revenge  for  slighted  love. 


(59)  Cassandra. 

Ay — and  as  if  in  malice  to  attest 

With  one  expiring  beam  of  Second-sight 
Wherewith  his  victim  he  has  cursed  and  blest, 

Ere  quench'd  for  ever  in  descending  night; 
As  from  behind  a  veil  no  longer  peeps 
The  Bride  of  Truth,  nor  from  their  hidden  deeps 
Darkle  the  waves  of  Prophecy,  but  run 
Clear  from  the  very  fountain  of  the  Sun. 
Ye  call'd — and  rightly  call'd  me — bloodhound ;  ye 
That  like  old  lagging  dogs  in  self -despite 
Must  follow  up  the  scent  with  me ;  with  me. 
Who  having  smelt  the  blood  about  this  house 
Already  spilt,  now  bark  of  more  to  be. 
For,  though  you  hear  them  not,  the  infernal  Choir 

[     260     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ™?-, 

Whose  dread  antiphony  forswears  the  lyre, 
Who  now  are  chaunting  of  that  grim  carouse 
Of  blood  with  which  the  children  fed  their  Sire, 
Shall  never  from  their  dreadful  chorus  stop 
Till  all  be  counter-pledged  to  the  last  drop. 

Chorus. 

Hinting  at  what  indeed  has  long  been  done. 

And  widely  spoken,  no  Apollo  needs;  (60) 

And  for  what  else  you  aim  at — still  in  dark 

And  mystic  language — 

Cassandra. 

Nay,  then,  in  the  speech, 
She  that  reproved  me  was  so  glib  to  teach — 
Before  yon  Sun  a  hand's-breadth  in  the  skies 
He  moves  in  shall  have  moved,  those  age-sick  eyes 
Shall  open  wide  on  Agamemnon  slain 
Before  your  very  feet.     Now,  speak  I  plain? 

Chorus. 
Blasphemer,  hush! 

Cassandra. 

Aye,  hush  the  mouth  you  may,     . 

But  not  the  murder. 

[    261     ] 


iSSifoN  AGAMEMNON. 


Chorus. 
Murder!    But  the  Gods- 

(61)  Cassandra. 

Who  even  now  are  their  accomplices. 

Chorus. 
Woman!    Accomplices — With  whom? — 

Cassandra. 


The  Gods! 


With  Her, 


Who  brandishing  aloft  the  axe  of  doom, 

That  just  has  laid  one  victim  at  her  feet. 
Looks  round  her  for  that  other,  without  whom 

The  banquet  of  revenge  were  incomplete. 
Yet  ere  I  fall  will  I  prelude  the  strain 
Of  Triumph,  that  in  full  I  shall  repeat 
When,  looking  from  the  twilight  Underland, 
I  welcome  Her  as  she  descends  amain, 
Gash'd  like  myself,  but  by  a  dearer  hand. 
For  that  old  murder'd  Lion  with  me  slain. 
Rolling  an  awful  eyeball  through  the  gloom 
He  stalks  about  of  Hades  up  to  Day, 
Shall  rouse  the  whelp  of  exile  far  away, 
(62)  His  only  authentic  offspring,  ere  the  grim 
Wolf  crept  between  his  Lioness  and  him; 

[     262      ] 


AGAMEMNON.  /-- 

Who  with  one  stroke  of  Retribution,  her 
Who  did  the  deed,  and  her  adulterer. 
Shall  drive  to  hell;  and  then,  himself  pursued 
By  the  wing'd  Furies  of  his  Mother's  blood. 
Shall  drag  about  the  yoke  of  Madness,  till 
Released,  when  Nemesis  has  gorged  her  fill. 
By  that  same  God,  in  whose  prophetic  ray 
Viewing  To-morrow  mirror'd  as  To-day, 
And  that  this  House  of  Atreus  the  same  wine 
Themselves  must  drink  they  brew'd  for  me  and  mine ; 
I  close  my  lips  for  ever  with  one  prayer. 
That  the  dark  Warder  of  the  World  below 
Would  ope  the  portal  at  a  single  blow. 


Chorus. 

And  the  raving  voice,  that  rose 

Out  of  silence  into  speech 

Over-shooting  human  reach. 
Back  to  silence  foams  and  blows. 

Leaving  all  my  bosom  heaving — 
Wrath  and  raving  all,  one  knows; 
Prophet-seeming,  but  if  ever  (68) 

Of  the  Prophet-God  possest. 

By  the  Prophet's  self  conf  est 
God-abandon'd — woman's  shrill 

[      263      ] 


Emi?oN  AGAMEMNON. 

Anguish  into  tempest  rising, 
Louder  as  less  listen'd. 

Still- 
Spite  of  Reason,  spite  of  Will, 
What  unwelcome,  what  unholy. 
Vapour  of  Foreboding,  slowly- 
Rising  from  the  central  soul's 
Recesses,  all  in  darkness  rolls? 
What!  shall  Age's  torpid  ashes 
Kindle  at  the  random  spark 
Of  a  raving  maiden? — Hark! 
What  was  that  behind  the  wall? 
A  heavy  blow — a  groan — a  fall — 
Some  one  crying — Listen  further — 
Hark  again  then,  crying  "Murder! " 
Some  one — who  then?    Agamemnon? 
Agamemnon? — Hark  again! 
Murder!  murder!  murder!  murder! 
Help  within  there!    Help  without  there! 
Break  the  doors  in! — 

(64)  ClYTEMNESTRA. 

{Appearing  from  within,  where  lies  Agamemnon  dead. )  ^ 

Spare  your  pain. 
Look!     I  who  but  just  now  before  you  all 

^  Hermann  says,  "Tractis  tabulatis'* — the  scene  drawing — *'conspici- 
tur  Clytemnestra  in  conclavi  stans  ad  corpus  Agamemnonis" 

[     264     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ™J?J^ 

Boasted  of  loyal  wedlock  unashamed, 

Now  unashamed  dare  boast  the  contrary. 

Why,  how  else  should  one  compass  the  defeat 

Of  him  who  underhand  contrives  one's  own. 

Unless  by  such  a  snare  of  circumstance 

As,  once  enmesh'd,  he  never  should  break  through? 

The  blow  now  struck  was  not  the  random  blow 

Of  sudden  passion,  but  with  slow  device 

Prepared,  and  levelled  with  the  hand  of  time. 

I  say  it  who  devised  it;  I  who  did; 

And  now  stand  here  to  face  the  consequence. 

Ay,  in  a  deadlier  web  than  of  that  loom 

In  whose  blood-purple  he  divined  his  doom. 

And  fear'd  to  walk  upon,  but  walk'd  at  last, 

Entangling  him  inextricably  fast, 

I  smote  him,  and  he  bellow'd ;  and  again 

I  smote,  and  with  a  groan  his  knees  gave  way; 

And,  as  he  fell  before  me,  with  a  third  (65) 

And  last  libation  from  the  deadly  mace 

I  pledged  the  crowning  draught  to  Hades  due, 

The  subterranean  Saviour — of  the  Dead  1  ^ 

At  which  bt  spouted  up  the  Ghost  in  such 

A  burst  of  purple  as,  bespatter'd  with. 

No  less  did  I  rejoice  than  the  green  ear 

^  At  certain   Ceremonies,  the  Third  and  crowning  Libation  rvas  to 
Zeus  Soter;  and  thus  ironically  to  Pluto. 

[     265     ] 


EDmoN  AGAMEMNON. 

Rejoices  in  the  largess  of  the  skies 
That  fleeting  Iris  follows  as  it  flies. 


Chorus. 

Oh  woman,  woman,  woman! 

By  what  accursed  root  or  weed 

Of  Earth,  or  Sea,  or  Hell,  inflamed, 

Darest  stand  before  us  unashamed 

And,  daring  do,  dare  glory  in  the  deed! 

Clytemnestra. 

Oh,  I  that  dream'd  the  fall  of  Troy,  as  you 
Belike  of  Troy's  destroyer.     Dream  or  not, 
Here  lies  your  King — my  Husband — Agamemnon, 
Slain  by  this  right  hand's  righteous  handicraft. 
(66)  Like  you,  or  like  it  not,  alike  to  me ; 
To  me  alike  whether  or  not  you  share 
In  making  due  libation  over  this 
Great  Sacrifice — if  ever  due,  from  him 
Who,  having  charged  so  deep  a  bowl  of  blood, 
Himself  is  forced  to  drink  it  to  the  dregs. 

Chorus. 

Woman,  what  blood  but  that  of  Troy,  which  Zeus 

Foredoom'd  for  expiation  by  his  hand 

[    266    ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^,SS^ 

For  whom  the  penalty  was  pledged?    And  now. 

Over  his  murder'd  body,  Thou 

Talk  of  Hbation !— Thou !     Thou !     Thou  I 

But  mark!     Not  thine  of  sacred  wine 

Over  his  head,  but  ours  on  thine 

Of  curse,  and  groan,  and  torn-up  stone, 

To  slay  or  storm  thee  from  the  gate. 

The  City's  curse,  the  People's  hate. 

Execrate,  exterminate — 

Clytemnestra. 

Ay,  ay,  to  me  how  lightly  you  adjudge 

Exile  or  death,  and  never  had  a  word 

Of  counter-condemnation  for  Him  there ;  (67) 

Who,  when  the  field  throve  with  the  proper  flock 

For  Sacrifice,  forsooth  let  be  the  beast. 

And  with  his  own  hand  his  own  innocent 

Blood,  and  the  darling  passion  of  my  womb — 

Her  slew — to  lull  a  peevish  wind  of  Thrace. 

And  him  who  cursed  the  city  with  that  crime 

You  hail  with  acclamation ;  but  on  me, 

Who  only  do  the  work  you  should  have  done. 

You  turn  the  axe  of  condemnation.    Well; 

Threaten  you  me,  I  take  the  challenge  up ; 

Here  stand  we  face  to  face;  win  Thou  the  game, 

And  take  the  stake  you  aim  at;  but  if  I — 

[     267     ] 


^-^iSi,  AGAMEMNON. 

Then,  by  the  Godhead  that  for  me  decides. 
Another  lesson  you  shall  learn,  though  late. 

Chorus. 

Man-mettled  evermore,  and  now 
Manslaughter-madden'd !     Shameless  brow! 
But  do  you  think  us  deaf  and  blind 

Not  to  know,  and  long  ago, 
What  Passion  under  all  the  prate 
Of  holy  Justice  made  thee  hate 
Where  Love  was  due,  and  love  where — 

(68)  ClYTEMNESTRA. 

Nay,  then,  hearl 
By  this  dead  Husband,  and  the  reconciled 
Avenging  Fury  of  my  slaughter'd  child, 
I  swear  I  will  not  reign  the  slave  of  fear 
While  he  that  holds  me,  as  I  hold  him,  dear. 
Kindles  his  fire  upon  this  hearth:  my  fast 
Shield  for  the  time  to  come,  as  of  the  past. 
Yonder  lies  he  that  in  the  honey'd  arms 
Of  his  Chryseides  under  Troy  walls 
Dishonoured  mine :  and  this  last  laurelFd  wench, 
Prophetic  messmate  of  the  rower's  bench. 
Thus  far  in  triumph  his,  with  him  along 
Shall  go,  together  chaunting  one  death-song, 

[     268     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^^^5. 

To  Hades — fitting  garnish  for  the  feast 
Which  Fate's  avenging  hand  through  mine  hath  drest.* 

Chorus. 

Woe,  woe,  woe,  woe! 
That  death  as  sudden  as  the  blow 
That  laid  Thee  low  would  me  lay  low 
Where  low  thou  liest,  my  sovereign  Lord! 
Who  ten  years  long  to  Trojan  sword  (69) 

Devoted,  and  to  storm  abroad, 

In  one  ill  woman's  cause  accurst, 
Liest  slain  before  thy  palace  door 

By  one  accursedest  and  worst ! 

Clytemnestra. 

Call  not  on  Death,  old  man,  that,  call'd  or  no, 

Comes  quick;  nor  spend  your  ebbing  breath  on  me, 
Nor  Helena:  who  but  as  arrows  be 

Shot  by  the  hidden  hand  behind  the  bow. 

Chorus. 

Alas,  alas!     The  Curse  I  know 

That  round  the  House  of  Atreus  clings, 

About  the  roof,  about  the  walls. 

Shrouds  it  with  his  sable  wings; 
*  "  Has  drest."  (Edition  of  1876.) 

[     269     ] 


^,SS^  AGAMEMNON. 

And  still  as  each  new  victim  falls, 
And  gorged  with  kingly  gore, 

Down  on  the  bleeding  carcase  flings. 
And  croaks  for  "More,  more,  morel" 


(70)  Clytemnestra. 

Ay,  now,  indeed,  you  harp  on  likelier  strings. 
Not  I,  nor  Helen,  but  that  terrible 
Alastor  of  old  Tantalus  in  Hell; 
Who,  one  sole  actor  in  the  scene  begun 
By  him,  and  carried  down  from  sire  to  son. 

The  mask  of  Victim  and  Avenger  shifts: 
And,  for  a  last  catastrophe,  that  grim 

Guest  of  the  abominable  banquet  lifts 
His  head  from  Hell,  and  in  my  person  cries 
For  one  full-grown  sufficient  sacrifice, 

Requital  of  the  feast  prepared  for  him 
Of  his  own  flesh  and  blood — ^And  there  it  lies. 


Chorus. 

Oh,  Agamemnon!     Oh,  my  Lord  I 

Who,  after  ten  years  toil'd; 

After  barbarian  lance  and  sword 

Encounter'd,  fought,  and  foil'd; 
[    270    ] 


THIRD 
EDITION 


AGAMEMNON. 

Returning  with  the  just  award 

Of  Glory,  thus  inglorious  by 

Thine  own  domestic  Altar  die. 
Fast  in  the  spider  meshes  coil'd  (7i) 

Of  Treason  most  abhorr'd! 


Clytemnestra. 

And  by  what  retribution  more  complete, 
Than,  having  in  the  meshes  of  deceit 
Enticed  my  child,  and  slain  her  like  a  fawn 
Upon  the  altar;  to  that  altar  drawn 
Himself,  like  an  unconscious  beast,  full-fed 
With  Conquest,  and  the  garland  on  his  head. 
Is  slain?  and  now,  gone  down  among  the  Ghost, 
Of  taken  Troy  indeed  may  make  the  most. 
But  not  one  unrequited  murder  boast. 


Chorus. 

Oh,  Agamemnon,  dead,  dead,  dead,  dead,  dead! 

What  hand,  what  pious  hand  shall  wash  the  wound 
Through  which  the  sacred  spirit  ebb'd  and  fled! 

With  reverend  care  compose,  and  to  the  ground 

Conmiit  the  mangled  form  of  Majesty, 

And  pour  the  due  libation  o'er  the  mound  1 

[    271    ] 


™™^  AGAMEMNON. 

C^^)  Clytemnestra. 

This  hand,  that  struck  the  guilty  life  away, 
The  guiltless  carcase  in  the  dust  shall  lay 
With  due  solemnities:  and  if  with  no 
Mock  tears,  or  howling  counterfeit  of  woe, 
On  this  side  earth ;  perhaps  the  innocent  thing, 
Whom  with  paternal  love  he  sent  before. 
Meeting  him  by  the  melancholy  shore, 
Her  arms  about  him  with  a  kiss  shall  fling. 
And  lead  him  to  his  shadowy  throne  below. 

Chorus. 
Alas!  alas!  the  fatal  rent 
Which  through  the  house  of  Atreus  went, 
Gapes  again;  a  purple  rain 
Sweats  the  marble  floor,  and  falls 
From  the  tottering  roof  and  walls. 
The  Daemon  heaving  under;  gone 
The  master-prop  they  rested  on: 
And  the  storm  once  more  awake 

Of  Nemesis ;  of  Nemesis 
Whose  fury  who  shall  slake! 

(73)  Clytemnestra. 

Ev'n  I ;  who  by  this  last  grand  victim  hope 
The  Pyramid  of  Vengeance  so  to  cope, 

[     272     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^^^y 

That — and  methinks  I  hear  him  in  the  deep 

Beneath  us  growhng  tow'rd  his  rest — the  stern 

Alastor  to  some  other  roof  may  turn, 
Leaving  us  here  at  last  in  peace  to  keep 
What  of  hf  e's  harvest  yet  remains  to  reap. 

Chorus. 

Thou  to  talk  of  reaping  Peace 

Who  sowest  Murder!    Woman,  cease! 

And,  despite  that  iron  face — 

Iron  as  the  bloody  mace 

Thou  bearest — boasting  as  if  Vengeance 

Centred  in  that  hand  alone; 
Know  that.  Fury  pledg'd  to  Fury, 
Vengeance  owes  himself  the  debts 
He  makes,  and  while  he  serves  thee,  whets 

His  knife  upon  another  stone, 
Against  thyself,  and  him  with  thee 
Colleaguing,  as  you  boast  to  be, 
The  tools  of  Fate.     But  Fate  is  Zeus; 
Zeus — who  for  awhile  permitting  (74) 

Sin  to  prosper  in  his  name. 
Shall  vindicate  his  own  abuse ; 
And  having  brought  his  secret  thought 

To  light,  shall  break  and  fling  to  shame 
The  baser  tools  with  which  he  wrought. 

[     273     ] 


^^r'n^n^  AGAMEMNON. 


EDITION 


iEoiSTHUs:  Clytemnestra:  Chorus. 

All  hail,  thou  daybreak  of  my  just  revenge! 
In  which,  as  waking  from  injurious  sleep, 
Methinks  I  recognize  the  Gods  enthroned 
In  the  bright  conclave  of  eternal  Justice, 
Revindicate  the  wrongs  of  man  to  man! 
For  see  this  man — so  dear  to  me  now  dead — 
Caught  in  the  very  meshes  of  the  snare 
By  which  his  father  Atreus  netted  mine. 
For  that  same  Atreus  surely,  was  it  not? 
Who,  wrought  by  false  Suspicion  to  fix'd  Hate,^ 
From  Argos  out  his  younger  brother  drove. 
My  sire — Thyestes — drove  him  like  a  wolf, 
Keeping  his  cubs — save  one — ^to  better  purpose. 
For  when  at  last  the  home-heartbroken  man 
Crept  humbly  back  again,  craving  no  more 
(75)  Of  his  own  country  than  to  breathe  its  air 
In  liberty,  and  of  her  fruits  as  much 
As  not  to  starve  withal — ^the  savage  King, 
With  damnable  alacrity  of  hate, 
And  reconciliation  of  revenge. 
Bade  him,  all  smiles,  to  supper — such  a  supper. 
Where  the  prime  dainty  was — ^my  brother's  flesh, 

Who,  first  suspecting  falsely^  and  anon 
Detesting  him  his  false  stispicion  wronged,  &c. 

[     274     ] 


AGAMEMNON.  /ifiimN 

So  maim'd  and  dipt  of  human  likelihood, 

That  the  unsuspecting*  Father,  light  of  heart, 

And  quick  of  appetite,  at  once  fell  to. 

And  ate — ate — what,  with  savage  irony 

As  soon  as  eaten,  told — the  wretched  man 

Disgorging  with  a  shriek,  down  to  the  ground 

The  table  with  its  curst  utensil  dashed, 

And,  grinding  into  pieces  with  his  heel, 

Cried,  loud  enough  for  Heav'n  and  Hell  to  hear, 

"Thus  perish  all  the  race  of  Pleisthenes !" 

And  now  behold!  the  son  of  that  same  Atreus 

By  me  the  son  of  that  Thyestes  slain 

Whom  the  kind  brother,  sparing  from  the  cook, 

Had  with  his  victim  pack'd  to  banishment; 

Where  Nemesis — (so  sinners  from  some  nook. 

Whence  least  they  think  assailable,  assailed)  — 

Rear'd  me  from  infancy  till  fully  grown. 

To  claim  in  full  my  father's  bloody  due.  C^^^ 

Ay,  I  it  was — none  other — far  away 

Who  spun  the  thread,  which  gathering  day  by  day 

Mesh  after  mesh,  inch  upon  inch,  at  last 

Reach'd  him,  and  wound  about  him,  as  he  lay. 

And  in  the  supper  of  his  smoking  Troy 

Devour'd  his  own  destruction — scarce  condign 

Return  for  that  his  Father  forced  on  mine. 

*  Unspecting.     (Edition  of  1876.) 

[     275     ] 


,S,™N  •  AGAMEMNON. 


Chorus. 

^gisthus,  only  things  of  baser  breed 
Insult  the  fallen;  fall'n  too,  as  you  boast, 
By  one  who  plann'd  but  dared  not  do  the  deed. 
This  is  your  hour  of  triumph.     But  take  heed ; 
The  blood  of  Atreus  is  not  all  outrun 
With  this  slain  King,  but  flowing  in  a  son. 
Who  saved  by  such  an  exile  as  your  own 
For  such  a  counter-retribution — 

iEoiSTHUS. 

Oh, 

You  then,  the  nether  benchers  of  the  realm. 
Dare  open  tongue  on  those  who  rule  the  helm? 
(-77;  Take  heed  yourselves;  for,  old  and  dull  of  wit. 
And  harden'd  as  your  mouth  against  the  bit, 
Be  wise  in  time ;  kick  not  against  the  spurs ; 
Remembering  Princes  are  shrewd  taskmasters. 

Chorus. 

Beware  thyself,  bewaring  me ; 
Remembering  that,  too  sharply  stirr'd. 
The  spurrer  need  beware  the  spurr'd; 

As  thou  of  me ;  whose  single  word 

[    276    ] 


AGAMEMNON.  ^™^ 


Shall  rouse  the  City — yea,  the  very 
Stones  you  walk  upon,  in  thunder 

Gathering  o'er  your  head,  to  bury 
Thee  and  thine  Adultress  under! 

^GISTHUS. 

Raven,  that  with  croaking  jaws 
Unorphean,  undivine, 

After  you  no  City  draws ; 
And  if  any  vengeance,  mine 

Upon  your  wither'd  shoulders— 


Chorus.  (78) 

Thine! 
Who  daring  not  to  strike  the  blow 
Thy  worse  than  woman-craft  designed, 
To  worse  than  woman — 

iEoiSTHUS. 

Soldiers,  ho! 

Clytemnestea. 

* 

Softly,  good  iEgisthus,  softly;  let  the  sword  that  has  so 

deep 
Drunk  of  righteous  Retribution  now  within  the  scabbard 

sleep!  , 

[     277     ] 


kSo^n  AGAMEMNON. 

And  if  Nemesis  be  sated  with  the  blood  already  spilt, 

Even  so  let  us,  nor  carry  lawful  Justice  into  Guilt. 

Sheathe  your  sword;  dismiss  your  spears;  and  you,  Old 
men,  your  howling  cease. 

And,  ere  ill  blood  come  to  running,  each  unto  his  home  in 
peace, 
(79)  Recognizing  what  is  done  for  done  indeed,  as  done  it  is. 

And  husbanding  your  scanty  breath  to  pray  that  nothing 
more  amiss. 

Farewell.     Meanwhile,  you  and  I,  ^gisthus,  shall  de- 
liberate, 

When  the  storm  is  blowing  under,  how  to  settle  House 
and  State. 


[     278     ] 


PLAKNED,    DESIGNED  AND  SUPERINTENDED 

BY   WILLIAM   PATTEN 

PRINTED    AT   THE    DE  VINNE    PRESS 

BEGUN   IN   JANUARY,    IQOI 


/?OJ? 

U.3 


iiiiiMfiniiiiifiii 


IPi 


ii