Skip to main content

Full text of "The poetical works of Robert Browning"

See other formats 


Google 


This  is  a  digital  copy  of  a  book  that  was  preserved  for  generations  on  library  shelves  before  it  was  carefully  scanned  by  Google  as  part  of  a  project 

to  make  the  world's  books  discoverable  online. 

It  has  survived  long  enough  for  the  copyright  to  expire  and  the  book  to  enter  the  public  domain.  A  public  domain  book  is  one  that  was  never  subject 

to  copyright  or  whose  legal  copyright  term  has  expired.  Whether  a  book  is  in  the  public  domain  may  vary  country  to  country.  Public  domain  books 

are  our  gateways  to  the  past,  representing  a  wealth  of  history,  culture  and  knowledge  that's  often  difficult  to  discover. 

Marks,  notations  and  other  maiginalia  present  in  the  original  volume  will  appear  in  this  file  -  a  reminder  of  this  book's  long  journey  from  the 

publisher  to  a  library  and  finally  to  you. 

Usage  guidelines 

Google  is  proud  to  partner  with  libraries  to  digitize  public  domain  materials  and  make  them  widely  accessible.  Public  domain  books  belong  to  the 
public  and  we  are  merely  their  custodians.  Nevertheless,  this  work  is  expensive,  so  in  order  to  keep  providing  tliis  resource,  we  liave  taken  steps  to 
prevent  abuse  by  commercial  parties,  including  placing  technical  restrictions  on  automated  querying. 
We  also  ask  that  you: 

+  Make  non-commercial  use  of  the  files  We  designed  Google  Book  Search  for  use  by  individuals,  and  we  request  that  you  use  these  files  for 
personal,  non-commercial  purposes. 

+  Refrain  fivm  automated  querying  Do  not  send  automated  queries  of  any  sort  to  Google's  system:  If  you  are  conducting  research  on  machine 
translation,  optical  character  recognition  or  other  areas  where  access  to  a  large  amount  of  text  is  helpful,  please  contact  us.  We  encourage  the 
use  of  public  domain  materials  for  these  purposes  and  may  be  able  to  help. 

+  Maintain  attributionTht  GoogXt  "watermark"  you  see  on  each  file  is  essential  for  in  forming  people  about  this  project  and  helping  them  find 
additional  materials  through  Google  Book  Search.  Please  do  not  remove  it. 

+  Keep  it  legal  Whatever  your  use,  remember  that  you  are  responsible  for  ensuring  that  what  you  are  doing  is  legal.  Do  not  assume  that  just 
because  we  believe  a  book  is  in  the  public  domain  for  users  in  the  United  States,  that  the  work  is  also  in  the  public  domain  for  users  in  other 
countries.  Whether  a  book  is  still  in  copyright  varies  from  country  to  country,  and  we  can't  offer  guidance  on  whether  any  specific  use  of 
any  specific  book  is  allowed.  Please  do  not  assume  that  a  book's  appearance  in  Google  Book  Search  means  it  can  be  used  in  any  manner 
anywhere  in  the  world.  Copyright  infringement  liabili^  can  be  quite  severe. 

About  Google  Book  Search 

Google's  mission  is  to  organize  the  world's  information  and  to  make  it  universally  accessible  and  useful.   Google  Book  Search  helps  readers 
discover  the  world's  books  while  helping  authors  and  publishers  reach  new  audiences.  You  can  search  through  the  full  text  of  this  book  on  the  web 

at|http: //books  .google  .com/I 


I 


Bbqukkt  of 
UiviKe  Eanb  Pond 

C.E.  laVS.  A.K.    (M<».>    1911 


Qrad.  R.  R.  2 

PR 


THE    POETICAL   WORKS 


of 


ROBERT  BROWNING 


VOL.   VJI. 
A  RIS  TOP  HA  NES'   A  POL  OG  Y 
THE   AGAMEMNON   OF  AiSCHYLUS 
PACCHIAROTTO   \ 
\AND 
HOW  HE    WORKED  IN   DISTEMPER 
WITH  OTHER  POEMS 


New  Dork 

MACMILLAN   AND   CO. 

1894 


THE    POETICAL    WORKS 


of 


ROBERT    BROWNING 


VOL,   XIII, 

ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 
THE  AGAMEMNON  OF  ^SCHYLUS 


MACMILLAN     AND     CO. 

1894 


\ 


o 


0 


CONTENTS. 


■^o^- 


PAGE 

ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY i 


THE  AGAMEMNON  OF  iESCHYLUS 259 


PERSONS  IN   THE 
TRANSCRIBED  PLAY  OF  "  HERAKLES** 


Amphitruon  . 

i 

Megara  ^ 

LUKOS 
HERAKLE6 

Iris 

LUTTA  (Madness) 

Messenger 

Theseus 

Choros  of  Aged  Thebans 


ARISTOPHANES'    APOLOGY; 

INCLUDING 

A   TRANSCRIPT    FROM    EURIPIDES; 

BEING  THE 

LAST  ADVENTURE    OF  BALAUSTION. 


V. 
XIII. 


i  eat  no  carrion ;  when  you  sacrifice 
Some  cleanly  creature~call  me  for  a  slice ' 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY. 

1875. 


Wind,  wave,  and  bark,  bear  Euthukles  and  me, 
Bakustion,  from — not  sorrow  but  despair. 
Not  memory  but  the  present  and  its  pang  ! 
Athenai,  live  thou  hearted  in  my  heart : 
Never,  while  I  live,  may  I  see  thee  more. 
Never  again  may  these  repugnant  orbs 
Ache  themselves  blind  before  the  hideous  pomp, 
The  ghastly  mirth  which  mocked  thine  overthrow 
— Death's  entry,  Haides'  outrage ! 

Doomed  to  die,- 
Fire  should  have  flung  a  passion  of  embrace 
About  thee  till,  resplendently  inarmed, 
(Temple  by  temple  folded  to  his  breast, 
AU  thy  white  wonder  fainting  out  in  ash) 
Lightly  some  vaporous  sigh  of  soul  escaped, 
And  so  the  Immortals  bade  Athenai  back ! 
Or  earth  might  sunder  and  absorb  thee,  save, 

B2 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Buried  below  Olumpos  and  its  gods, 

Akropolis  to  dominate  her  realm 

For  Kore,  and  console  the  ghosts ;  or,  sea, 

What  if  thy  watery  plural  vastitude, 

Rolling  unanimous  advance,  had  rushed. 

Might  upon  might,  a  moment, — stood,  one  stare, 

Sea-face  to  city-face,  thy  glaucous  wave 

Glassing  that  marbled  last  magnificence, — 

Till  fate's  pale  tremulous  foam-flower  tipped  the  grey, 

And  when  wave  broke  and  overswarmed  and,  sucked 

To  bounds  back,  multitudinously  ceased. 

Let  land  again  breathe  unconfused  with  sea, 

Attike  was,  Athenai  was  not  now ! 

Such  end  I  could  have  borne,  for  I  had  shared. 
But  this  which,  glanced  at,  aches  within  my  orbs 
To  blinding, — bear  me  thence,  bark,  wind  and  wave ! 
Me,  Euthukles,  and,  hearted  in  each  heart, 
Athenai,  undisgraced  as  Pallas'  self. 
Bear  to  my  birthplace,  Helios'  island-bride, 
Zeus'  darling :  thither  speed  us,  homeward-bound, 
Wafted  already  twelve  hours'  sail  away 
From  horror,  nearer  by  one  sunset  Rhodes ! 

Why  should  despair  be?    Since,  distinct  above 
Man's  wickedness  and  folly,  flies  the  wind 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  5 

And  floats  the  cloud,  free  transport  for  our  soul 

Out  of  its  fleshly  durance  dim  and  low, — 

Since  disembodied  soul  anticipates 

(Thought-borne  as  now,  in  rapturous  unrestraint) 

Above  all  crowding,  crystal  silentness. 

Above  all  noise,  a  silver  solitude  :— 

Surely,  where  thought  so  bears  soul,  soul  in  time 

May  permanently  bide,  "  assert  the  wise," 

There  live  in  peace,  there  work  in  hope  once  more — 

O  nothing  doubt,  Philemon !     Greed  and  strife, 

Hatred  and  cark  and  care,  what  place  have  they 

In  yon  blue  liberality  of  heaven? 

How  the  sea  helps !     How  rose-smit  earth  will  rise 

Breast-high  thence,    some  bright  morning,    and  be 

Rhodes! 
Heaven,  earth  and  sea,  my  warrant — in  their  name, 
Beheve^o'er  £dsehood,  truth  is  surely  sphered. 
O'er  ugliness  beams  beauty,  o'er  this  world 
Extends  that  realm  where,  "  as  the  wise  assert," 
Philemon,  thou  shalt  see  Euripides 
Clearer  than  mortal  sense  perceived  the  man ! 

A  sunset  nearer  Rhodes,  by  twelve  hoiurs'  sweep 
Of  surge  secured  from  horror  ?    Rather  say. 
Quieted  out  of  weakness  into  strength. 
I  dare  invite,  survey  the  scene  my  sense 


.  ARISTOPHANES-   APOLOGY 

Staggered  to  apprehend :  for,  disenvolved 
From  the  mere  outside  anguish  and  contempt, 
Slowly  a  justice  centred  in  a  doom 
Reveals  itself.    Ay,  pride  succumbed  to  pride', 
Oppression  met  the  oppressor  and  was  matched. 
Athenai's  vaunt  braved  Sparta's  violence 
Til!,  in  the  shock,  prone  fell  Peiraios,  low 
Rampart  and  bulwark  lay,  as, — timing  stroke 
Of  hammer,  axe,  and  beam  hoist,  poised  and  swung,— 
The  very  flute-girls  blew  their  laughing  best, 
In  dance  about  the  conqueror  while  he  bade 
Music  and  merriment  help  enginery 
Batter  down,  break  to  pieces  all  the  trust 
Of  citizens  once,  slaves  now.     See  what  walls 
Play  substitute  for  the  long  double  range 
Themistoklean,  heralding  a  guest 
From  harbour  on  to  citadel !    Each  side 
Their  senseless  walls  demolished  stone  by  stone, 
See, — outer  wall  as  stonelike, — heads  and  hearts, — 
Athenai's  terror-stricken  populace ! 
Prattlers,  tongue-tied  in  crouching  abjectness, — 
Braggarts,  who  wring  hands  wont  to  flourish  swords- 
Sophist  and  rhetorician,  demagogue, 
(Argument  dumb,  authority  a  jest) 
Dikast  and  heliast,  pleader,  litigant. 
Quack-priest,  sham -prophecy- retailer,  scout 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

O'  the  customs,  sycophant,  whate'er  the  style, 
Altar-scrap-snatcher,  pimp  and  parasite, — 
Rivalities  at  truce  now  each  with  each, 
Stupefied  mud-banks, — such  an  use  they  serve ! 
While  the  one  order  which  performs  exact 
To  promise,  functions  feithful  last  as  first. 
What  is  it  but  the  city's  lyric  troop, 
Chantress  and  psaltress,  flute-girl,  dancing-girl? 
Athenai's  harlotry  takes  laughing  care 
llieir  patron  miss  no  pipings,  late  she  loved. 
But  deathward  tread  at  least  the  kordax-step. 

Die  then,  who  pulled  such  glory  on  your  heads ! 
There  let  it  grind  to  powder !     Perikles ! 
The  living  are  the  dead  now :  death  be  life  I 
Why  should  the  sunset  yonder  waste  its  wealth? 
Prove  thee  Olympian !    If  my  heart  supply 
Inviolate  the  structure, — ^true  to  type. 
Build  me  some  spirit-place  no  flesh  shall  find. 
As  Pheidias  may  inspire  thee :  slab  on  slab, 
Renew  Athenai,  quarry  out  the  cloud, 
Convert  to  gold  yon  west  extravagannee ! 
*Neath  Propulaia,  from  Akropolis 
By  vapoury  grade  and  grade,  gold  all  the  way. 
Step  to  thy  snow-Pnux,  mount  thy  Bema-cloud, 
Thunder  and  lighten  thence  a  Hellas  through 


8  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

That  shall  be  better  and  more  beautiful 

And  too  august  for  Sparte's  foot  to  spurn  1 

Chasmed  in  the  crag,  again  our  Theatre 

Predominates,  one  purple :  Staghunt-month, 

Brings  it  not  Dionusia?    Hail,  the  Three ! 

Aischulos,  Sophokles,  Euripides 

Compete,  gain  prize  or  lose  prize,  godlike  still. 

Nay,  lest  they  lack  the  old  god-exercise — 

Their  noble  want  the  unworthy, — ^as  of  old, 

(How  otherwise  should  patience  crown  their  might?) 

What  if  each  find  his  ape  promoted  man, 

His  censor  raised  for  antic  service  still  ? 

Some  new  Hermippos  to  pelt  Perikles, 

Kratinos  to  swear  Pheidias  robbed  a  shrine, 

Eruxis — I  suspect,  Euripides, 

No  brow  will  ache  because  with  mop  and  mow 

He  gibes  my  poet !    There 's  a  dog-faced  dwarf 

That  gets  to  godship  somehow,  yet  retains 

His  apehood  in  the  Egyptian  hierarchy. 

More  decent,  indecorous  just  enough : 

Why  should  not  dog-ape,  graced  in  due  degree, 

Grow  Momos  as  thou  Zeus  ?    Or  didst  thou  sigh 

Rightly  with  thy  Makaria  ?     "After  life. 

Better  no  sentiency  than  turbulence ; 

Death  cures  the  low  contention."    Be  it  so ! 

Yet  progress  means  contention,  to  my  mind. 


^  _.  ..  I 


ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

Euthukles,  who,  except  for  love  that  speaks, 

Art  silent  by  my  side  while  words  of  mine 

Provoke  that  foe  from  which  escape  is  vain 

Henceforward,  wake  Athenai's  fate  and  fall, — 

Memories  asleep  as,  at  the  altar-foot 

Those  Furies  in  the  Oresteian  song, — 

Do  I  amiss  who,  wanting  strength,  use  craft. 

Advance  upon  the  foe  I  cannot  fly. 

Nor  feign  a  snake  is  dormant  though  it  gnaw? 

That  fete  and  fall,  once  bedded  in  our  brain. 

Roots  itself  past  upwrenching ;  but  coaxed  forth, 

Encouraged  out  to  practise  fork  and  fang, — 

Perfiaps,  when  satiate  with  prompt  sustenance, 

It  may  pine^  likelier  die  than  if  left  swell 

In  peace  by  our  pretension  to  ignore. 

Or  pricked  to  threefold  fury,  should  our  stamp 

Bruise  and  not  brain  the  pest. 

A  middle  course ! 
What  hinders  that  we  treat  this  tragic  theme 
As  the  Three  taught  when  either  woke  some  woe, 
— How  Klutaimnestra  hated,  what  the  pride 
Of  lokast^  why  Medcia  clove 
Nature  asunder.     Small  rebuked  by  large, 
We  feh  our  puny  hates  refine  to  air. 
Our  poor  prides  sink,  prevent  the  humbling  hand. 


10  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Our  petty  passions  purify  their  tide. 
So,  Euthukles,  permit  the  tragedy 
To  re-enact  itself^  this  voyage  through, 
Till  sunsets  end  and  sunrise  brighten  Rhodes ! 
Majestic  on  the  stage  of  memory, 
Peplosed  and  kothorned,  let  Athenai  fall 
Once  more,  nay,  oft  again  till  life  conclude, 
Lent  for  the  lesson :  Choros,  I  and  thou  ! 
What  else  in  life  seems  piteous  any  more 
After  such  pity,  or  proves  terrible 
Beside  such  terror? 

Still — since  Phrunichos 
Offended,  by  too  premature  a  touch 
Of  that  Milesian  smart-place  freshly  frayed— 
(Ah,  my  poor  people,  whose  prompt  remedy 
Was — fine  the  poet,  not  reform  thyself !) 
Beware  precipitate  approach  1    Rehearse 
Rather  the  prologue,  well  a  year  away, 
Than  the  main  misery,  a  sunset  old. 
What  else  but  fitting  prologue  to  the  piece 
Style  an  adventure,  stranger  than  my  first 
By  so  much  as  the  issue  it  enwombed 
Lurked  big  beyond  Balaustion's  littleness? 
Second  supreme  adventure  I    O  that  Spring, 
Th^t  eve  I  told  the  earlier  to  my  friends  1 


T- 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  ii 

Where  are  the  four  now,  with  each  red-ripe  mouth 

Crumpled  so  close,  no  quickest  breath*it  fetched 

Could  disengage  the  lip-flower  furled  to  bud 

For  fear  Admetos, — shivering  head  and  foot, 

As  with  sick  soul  and  blind  averted  face 

He  trusted  hand  forth  to  obey  his  friend, — 

Should  find  no  wife  in  her  cold  hand's  response, 

Nor  see  the  disenshrouded  statue  start 

Alkestis,  live  the  life  and  love  the  love ! 

I  wonder,  does  the  streamlet  ripple  still, 

Outsmoothing  galingale  and  watermint 

Its  mat-floor?  while  at  brim,  'twixt  sedge  and  sedge, 

What  bubblings  past  Baccheion,  broadened  much, 

Pricked  by  the  reed  and  fretted  by  the  fly, 

Oared  by  the  boatman-spider's  pair  of  arms ! 

Lenaia  was  a  gladsome  month  ago — 

Euripides  had  taught  "  Andromeda : " 

Next   month,   would    teach    "  Kresphontes " — which 

same  month 
Someone  from  Phokis,  who  companioned  me 
Since  all  that  happened  on  those  temple-steps, 
Would  marry  me  and  turn  Athenian  too. 
Now !  if  next  year  the  masters  let  the  slaves 
Do  Bacchic  service  and  restore  mankind 
That  trilogy  whereof,  't  is  noised,  one  play 
Presents  the  Bacchai, — no  Euripides 


12  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Will  teach  the  chores,  nor  shall  we  be  tinged 
By  any  such  grand  sunset  of  his  soul, 
Exiles  from  dead  Athenai, — not  the  live 
That 's  in  the  cloud  there  with  the  new-bom  star  I 

Speak  to  the  infinite  intelligence, 

Sing  to  the  everlasting  sympathy ! 

Winds  .belly  sail,  and  drench  of  dancing  brine 

Buffet  our  boat-side,  so  the  prore  bound  free ! 

Condense  our  voyage  into  one  great  day 

Made  up  of  sunset-closes :  eve  by  eve, 

Resume  that  memorable  night-discourse 

When, — like  some  meteor-brilliance,  fire  and  filth. 

Or  say,  his  own  Amphitheos,  deity 

And  dung,  who,  bound  on  the  gods'  embassage. 

Got  men's  acknowledgment  in  kick  and  cuff — 

AVe  made  acquaintance  with  a  visitor 

Ominous,  apparitional,  who  went 

Strange  as  he  came,  but  shall  not  pass  away. 

Let  us  attempt  that  memorable  talk. 

Clothe  the  adventure's  every  incident 

With  due  expression  :  may  not  looks  be  told, 

Gesture  made  speak,  and  speech  so  amplified 

That  words  find  blood-warmth  which,  cold-writ,  they  lose? 

Recall  the  night  we  heard  the  news  from  Thrace, 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  13 

One  year  ago,  Athenai  still  herself. 

We  two  were  sitting  silent  in  the  house, 
Yet  cheerless  hardly.     Euthukles,  forgive ! 
I  somehow  speak  to  unseen  auditors. 
Not  j^  but — Euthukles  had  entered,  grave, 
Grand,  may  I  say,  as  who  brings  laurel-branch 
And  message  from  the  tripod :  such  it  proved. 

He  first  removed  the  garland  from  his  brow, 
Then  took  my  hand  and  looked  into  my  face. 

"  Speak  good  words ! "  much  misgiving  faltered  I. 

"  Good  words,  the  best,  Balaustion  !  He  is  crowned, 
Gone  with  his  Attic  ivy  home  to  feast. 
Since  Aischulos  required  companionship. 
Pour  a  libation  for  Euripides  1 " 

Wlien  we  had  sat  the  heavier  silence  out — 

"  Dead  and  triumphant  still ! "  began  reply 

To  my  eye's  question.     "  As  he  willed  he  worked : 

And,  as  he  worked,  he  wanted  not,  be  sure. 

Triumph  his  whole  life  through,  submitting  work 

To  work's  right  judges,  never  to  the  wrong — 

To  competency,  not  ineptitude. 


14  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

When  he  had  run  hfe's  proper  race  and  worked 
Quite  to  the  stade's  end,  there  remained  to  try 
The  stade's  turn,  should  strength  dare  the  double 

course. 
Half  the  diaulos  reached,  the  hundred  plays 
Accomplished,  force  in  its  rebound  sufficed 
To  lift  along  the  athlete  and  ensure 
A  second  wreath,  proposed  by  fools  for  first, 
The  statist's  olive  as  the  poet's  bay. 
Wiselier,  he  suffered  not  a  twofold  aim 
Retard  his  pace,  confuse  his  sight ;  at  once 
Poet  and  statist ;  though  the  multitude 
Girded  him  ever  *  All  thine  aim  thine  art? 
The  idle  poet  only?     No  regard 
For  civic  duty,  public  service,  here? 
We  drop  our  ballot-bean  for  Sophokles ! 
Not  only  could  he  write  "  Antigon^," 
But — since  (we  argued)  whoso  penned  that  piece 
Might  just  as  well  conduct  a  squadron, — straight 
Good-naturedly  he  took  on  him  command, 
Got  laughed  at,  and  went  back  to  making  plays, 
Having  allowed  us  our  experiment 
Respecting  the  fit  use  of  faculty.' 
No  whit  the  more  did  athlete  slacken  pace. 
Soon  the  jeers  grew :  *  Cold  hater  of  his  kind, 
A  sea-cave  suits  him,  not  the  vulgar  hearth ! 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  15 

What  need  of  tongue-talk,  with  a  bookish  store 

Would  stock  ten  cities? '    Shadow  of  an  ass ! 

No  whit  the  worse  did  athlete  touch  the  mark 

And,  at  the  turning-point,  consign  his  scorn 

O'  the  scomers  to  that  final  trilogy 

*  Hupsipule,'  *  Phoinissai,'  and  the  Match 

Of  Life  Contemplative  with  Active  Life, 

Zethos  against  Amphion.     Ended  so  ? 

Nowise ! — began  again ;  for  heroes  rest 

Dropping  shield's  oval  o'er  the  entire  man, 

And  he  who  thus  took  Contemplation's  prize 

Turned  stade-point  but  to  face  Activity. 

Out  of  all  shadowy  hands  extending  help 

For  life's  decline  pledged  to  youth's  labour  stiil. 

Whatever  renovation  flatter  age, — 

Society  with  pastime,  solitude 

With  peace, — he  chose  the  hand  that  gave  the  heart, 

Bade  Macedonian  Archelaos  take 

The  leavings  of  Athenai,  ash  once  flame. 

For  fifty  politicians'  frosty  work, 

One  poet's  ash  proved  ample  and  to  spare : 

He  propped  the  state  and  filled  the  treasury, 

Counselled  the  king  as  might  a  meaner  soul, 

Furnished  the  friend  with  what  shall  stand  in  stead 

Of  crown  and  sceptre,  star  his  name  about 

When  these  are  dust ;  for  him,  Euripides 


1 6  ARISTOPHANES'   APOLOGY 

Last  the  old  hand  on  the  old  phorminx  flung, 
Clashed  thence  *  Alkaion,'  maddened  *  Pentheus '  up ; 
Then  music  sighed  itself  away,  one  moan 
Iphigeneia  made  by  Aulis'  strand ; 
With  her  and  music  died  Euripides. 

"  The  poet-friend  who  followed  him  to  Thrace, 
Agathon,  writes  thus  much :  the  merchant-ship 
Moreover  brings  a  message  from  the  king 
To  young  Euripides,  who  went  on  board 
This  morning  at  Mounuchia :  all  is  true." 

I  said  "  Thank  Zeus  for  the  great  news  and  good ! " 

"  Nay,  the  report  is  running  in  brief  fire 
Through  the  town's  stubbly  furrow,"  he  resumed : 
— "  Entertains  brightly  what  their  favourite  styles 
*  The  City  of  Gapers '  for  a  week  perhaps. 
Supplants  three  luminous  tales,  but  yesterday 
Pronounced  sufficient  lamps  to  last  the  month : 
How  Glauketes,  outbidding  Morsimos, 
Paid  market-price  for  one  Kopaic  eel 
A  thousand  drachmai,  and  then  cooked  his  prize 
Not  proper  conger-fashion  but  in  oil 
And  nettles,  as  man  fries  the  foam-fish-kind ; 
How  all  the  captains  of  the  triremes,  late 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  17 

Victors  at  Arginousai,  on  return 
Will,  for  reward,  be  straightway  put  to  death ; 
How  Mikon  wagered  a  Thessalian  mime 
Trained  him  by  Lais,  looked  on  as  complete, 
Against  Leogoras'  blood-mare  koppa-marked, 
Valued  six  talents, — swore,  accomplished  so, 
The  girl  could  swallow  at  a  draught,  nor  breathe, 
A  choinix  of  unmixed  Mendesian  wine ; 
And  having  lost  the  match  will — dine  on  herbs  1 
Three  stories  late  a-flame,  at  once  extinct, 
Outblazed  by  just  *  Euripides  is  dead ' ! 

"  I  met  the  concourse  from  the  Theatre, 
The  Audience  flocking  homeward :  victory 
Again  awarded  Aristophanes 
Precisely  for  his  old  play  chopped  and  changed 
*The  Female  Celebrators  of  the  Feast' — 
That  Thesmophoria,  tried  a  second  time. 
*  Never  ^uch  full  success ! '—  assured  the  folk, 
Who  yet  stopped  praising  to  have  word  of  mouth 
With  *  Euthukles,  the  bard's  own  intimate, 
Balaustion's  husband,  the  right  man  to  ask.' 

"  *  Dead,  yes,  but  how  dead,  may  acquaintance  know? 
You  were  the  couple  constant  at  his  cave : 
Tell  us  now,  is  it  true  that  women,  moved 

XIII.  c 


i8  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

By  reason  of  his  liking  Krateros  .  .  .' 

"  I  answered  *  He  was  loved  by  Sokrates.' 

"  *  Nay,'  said  another,  '  envy  did  the  work ! 
For,  emulating  poets  of  the  place, 
One  Arridaios,  one  Krateues,  both 
Established  in  the  royal  favour,  these  .  .  .' 

"  Protagoras  instructed  him,"  said  I. 

" */%2^,'  whistled  Comic  Platon,  *hear  the  fact! 

T  was  well  said  of  your  friend  by  Sophokles 

"  He  hate  our  women?    In  his  verse,  belike  : 

But  when  it  comes  to  prose-work, — ha,  ha,  ha ! " 

New  climes  don't  change  old  manners :  so,  it  chanced. 

Pursuing  an  intrigue  one  moonless  night 

With  Arethousian  Nikodikos'  wife, 

(Come  now,  his  years  were  simply  seventy-five) 

Crossing  the  palace-court,  what  haps  he  on 

But  Archelaos'  pack  of  hungry  hounds  ? 

Who  tore  him  piecemeal  ere  his  cry  brought  help.' 

"I  asked :  Did  not  you  write  *The  Festivals 7 
You  best  know  what  dog  tore  him  when  alive. 
You  others,  who  now  make  a  ring  to  hear, 


# 


p.' 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  xg 

Have  not  you  just  enjoyed  a  second  treaty 
Proclaimed  that  ne'er  was  play  more  worthy  prize 
Than  this,  myself  assisted  at,  last  year, 
And  gave  its  worth  to, — spitting  on  the  same  ? 
Appraise  no  poetry, — price  cuttlefish, 
Or  that  seaweed-alphestes,  scorpion-sort. 
Much  famed  for  mixing  mud  with  fantasy 
On  midnights !    I  interpret  no  foul  dreams.'' 

If  so  said  Euthukles,  so  could  not  I, 
Balaustion,  say.    After  ^' Lusistrate '- 
No  more  for  me  of  "  people's  privilege," 
No  witnessing  "  the  Grand  old  Comedy 
Coeval  with  our  freedom,  which,  curtailed, 
Were  freedom's  deathblow :  relic  of  the  past. 
When  Virtue  laughingly  told  truth  to  Vice, 
Uncensured,  since  the  stem  mouth,  stuffed  with 

flowers, 
Through  poetry  breathed  satire,  perfumed  blasl 
Which  sense  snuffed  up  while  searched  unto  the 

bone  1 " 
I  was  a  stranger :  "  For  first  joy,"  urged  friends, 
"  Go  hear  our  Comedy,  some  patriot  piece 
That  plies  the  selfish  advocates  of  war 
With  argument  so  unevadable 
That  crash  fall  Kleons  whom  the  finer  play 

ca 


20  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Of  reason,  tickling,  deeper  wounds  no  whit 

Than  would  a  spear-thrust  from  a  savory-stalk ! 

No :  you  hear  knave  and  fool  told  crime  and  fault, 

And  see  each  scourged  his  quantity  of  stripes. 

'  Rough  dealing,  awkward  language,'  whine  our  fops : 

The  world  's  too  squeamish  now  to  bear  plain  words 

Concerning  deeds  it  acts  with  gust  enough : 

But,  thanks  to  wine-lees  and  democracy, 

We  Ve  still  our  stage  where  truth  calls  spade  a  spade  I 

Ashamed  ?    Phuromachos'  detree  provides 

The  sex  may  sit  discreetly,  witness  all, 

Sorted,  the  good  with  good,  the  gay  with  gay. 

Themselves  unseen,  no  need  to  force  a  blush. 

A  Rhodian  wife  and  ignorant  so  long  ? 

Go  hear  next  play  1 " 

I  heard  "  Lusistrat^." 
Waves,  said  to  wash  pollution  from  the  world, 
Take  that  plague- memory,  cure  that  pustule  caught 
As,  past  escape,  I  sat  and  saw  the  piece 
By  one  appalled  at  Phaidra's  fate, — ^the  chaste, 
Whom,  because  chaste,  the  wicked  goddess  chained 
To  that  same  serpent  of  unchastity 
She  loathed  most,  and  who,  coiled  so,  died  distraught 
Rather  than  make  submission,  loose  one  limb 
Love-wards,  at  lambency  of  honeyed  tongue. 
Or  torture  of  the  scales  which  scraped  her  snOw 


%  '  ^ 


ARiSTOFHAMES'  APOLOGY  21 

— I  say,  the  piece  by  him  who  chaiiged  this  piece 
(Because  Euripides  shrank  not  to  teach, 
If  gods  be  strong  and  wicked,  man,  though  weak, 
May  prove  their  match  by  willing  to  be  good) 
With  infamies  the  Scythian's  whip  should  cure — 
"  Such  outrage  done  the  public — Phaidra  named ! 
Such  purpose  to  corrupt  ingenuous  youth. 
Such  insult  cast  on  female  character ! " — 
Why,  when  I  saw  that  bestiality — 
So  beyond  all  brute-beast  imagining, 
That  when,  to  point  the  moral  at  the  close. 
Poor  Salabaccho,  just  to  show  how  fair 
Was  "  Reconciliation,"  stripped  her  charms, 
That  exhibition  simply  bade  us  breathe, 
Seemed  something  healthy  and  commendable 
After  obscenity  grotesqued  so  much 
It  slunk  away  revolted  at  itself. 
Henceforth  I  had  my  answer  when  our  sage 
Pattern-proposing  seniors  pleaded  grave 
"  You  fail  to  fathom  here  the  deep  design  ! 
All 's  acted  in  the  interest  of  truth, 
Religion,  and  those  manners  old  and  dear 
Which  made  our  city  great  when  citizens 
Like  Aristeides  and  like  Miltiades 
Wore  each  a  golden  tettix  in  his  hair." 
What  do  they  wear  now  under— Kleophon? 


9a  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Well,  for  such  reasons, — I  am  out  of  breath, 

But  loathsomeness  we  needs  must  hurry  past, — 

I  did  not  go  to  see,  nor  then  nor  now. 

The  "  Thesmophoriazousai."    But,  since  males 

Choose  to  brave  first,  blame  afterward,  nor  brand 

Without  fair  taste  of  what  they  stigmatize, 

Euthukles  had  not  missed  the  first  display, 

Original  portrait  of  Euripides 

By  "Virtue  laughingly  reproving  Vice": 

"Virtue," — the  author,  Aristophanes, 

Who  mixed  an  image  out  of  his  own  depths, 

Ticketed  as  I  tell  you.     Oh,  this  time 

No  more  pretension  to  recondite  worth  ! 

No  joke  in  aid  of  Peace,  no  demagogue 

Pun-pelleted  from  Pnux,  no  kordax-dance 

Overt  helped  covertly  the  Ancient  Faith ! 

All  now  was  muck,  home^-produce,  honestman 

The  author's  soul  secreted  to  a  play 

Which  gained  the  prize  that  day  we  heard  the  death. 

I  thought  "  How  thoroughly  death  alters  things ! 
Where  is  the  wrong  now,  done  our  dead  and  great  ? 
How  natural  seems  grandeur  in  relief. 
Cliff-base  with  frothy  spites  against  its  calm ! " 

Euthukles  interposed — he  read  my  thought — 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  23 

'*  O'er  them,  too,  in  a  moment  came  the  change. 

The  crowd 's  enthusiastic,  to  a  man : 

Since,  rake  as  such  may  please  the  ordure-heap 

Because  of  certain  sparkles  presumed  ore. 

At  first  flash  of  true  lightning  overhead, 

They  look  up,  nor  resume  their  search  too  soon. 

The  insect-scattering  sign  is  evident, 

And  nowhere  winks  a  fire-fly  rival  now, 

Nor  bustles  any  beetle  of  the  brood 

With  trundled  dung-ball  meant  to  menace  heaven. 

Contrariwise,  the  cry  is  *  Honour  him  ! ' 

*  A  statue  in  the  theatre ! '  wants  one ; 

Another  '  Bring  the  poet's  body  back, 

Bury  him  in  Peiraios :  o'er  his  tomb 

Let  Alkamenes  carve  the  music-witch, 

The  songstress-seiren,  meed  of  melody : 

Thoukudides  invent  his  epitaph ! ' 

To-night  the  whole  town  pays  its  tribute  thus.** 

Our  tribute  should  not  be  the  same,  my  friend  1 

Statue  ?    Within  our  heart  he  stood,  he  stands ! 

As  for  the  vest  outgrown  now  by  the  form, 

I^w  flesh  that  clothed  high  soul, — a  vesture's  fate — 

Why,  let  it  fade,  mix  with  the  elements 

There  where  it,  falling,  freed  Euripides ! 

But  for  the  soul  that 's  tutelary  now 


k^.^^ 


24  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Till  time  end,  o'er  the  world  to  teach  and  bless — 
How  better  hail  its  freedom  than  by  first 
Singing,  we  two,  its  own  song  back  again, 
Up  to  that  face  from  which  flowed  beauty— face 
Now  abler  to  see  triumph  and  take  love 
Than  when  it  glorified  Athenai  once  ? 

The  sweet  and  strange  Alkestis,  which  saved  me, 
Secured  me — you,  ends  nowise,  to  my  mind, 
In  pardon  of  Admetos.     Hearts  are  fain 
To  follow  cheerful  weary  Herakles 
Striding  away  from  the  huge  gratitude. 
Club  shouldered,  lion-fleece  round  loin  and  flank. 
Bound  on  the  next  new  labour  "  height  o'er  height 
Ever  surmounting, — destiny's  decree ! " 
Thither  He  helps  us :  that 's  the  story's  end ; 
He  smiling  said  so,  when  I  told  him  mine — 
My  great  adventure,  how  Alkestis  helped. 
Afterward,  when  the  time  for  parting  fell. 
He  gave  me,  with  two  other  precious  gifts. 
This  third  and  best,  consummating  the  grace 
"  Herakles,"  writ  by  his  own  hand,  each  line. 

"  If  it  have  worth,  reward  is  still  to  seek. 

Somebody,  I  forget  who,  gained  the  prize 

And  proved  arch-poet :  time  must  show !"  he  smiled : 


ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY  25 

''Take  this,  and,  when  the  noise  tires  out,  judge  me — 
Some  day,  not  slow  to  dawn,  when  somebody — 
Who?  I  foiget — proves  nobody  at  all ! " 

Is  not  that  day  come?    What  if  you  and  I 

Re-sing  the  song,  inaugurate  the  fome? 

We  have  not  waited  to  acquaint  ourselves 

With  song  and  subject ;  we  can  prologuize 

How,  at  Eurustheus'  bidding — hate  strained  hard, — 

Herakles  had  departed,  one  time  more, 

On  his  last  labour,  worst  of  all  the  twelve; 

Descended  into  Haides,  thence  to  drag 

The  triple-headed  hound,  which  sun  should  see 

Spite  of  the  god  whose  darkness  whelped  the  Fear. 

Down  went  the  hero,  "  back— how  should  he  come  ?  " 

So  laughed  King  Lukos,  an  old  enemy. 

Who  judged  that  absence  testified  defeat 

Of  the  land's  loved  one, — since  he  saved  the  land 

And  for  that  service  wedded  M^ara 

Daughter  of  Thebai,  realm  her  child  should  rule. 

Ambition,  greed  and  malice  seized  their  prey. 

The  Heradeian  House,  defenceless  left. 

Father  and  wife  and  child,  to  trample  out 

Trace  of  its  hearth-fire :  since  extreme  old  age 

Wakes  pity,  woman's  wrong  wins  championship, 

And  child  may  grow  up  man  and  take  revenge; 


26  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

Hence  see  we  that,  from  out  their  palace-home 
Hunted,  for  last  resource  they  cluster  now 
Couched  on  the  cold  ground,  hapless  supplicants 
About  their  courtyard  altar, — Household  Zeus 
It  is,  the  Three  in  funeral  garb  beseech, 
Delaying  death  so,  till  deliverance  come — 
When  did  it  ever  ? — from  the  deep  and  dark. 
And  thus  breaks  silence  old  Amphitruon's  voice.  .  .  . 
Say  I  not  true  thus  far,  my  Euthukles? 

Suddenly,  torch-light !  knocking  at  the  door. 
Loud,  quick,  "  Admittance  for  the  revels'  lord ! " 
Some  unintelligible  Komos-cry — 
Raw-flesh  red^  no  cap  upon  his  head^ 
DionusoSy  BacchoSy  PhaleSy  lacchoSy 
In  let  him  reel  with  the  kid-skin  at  his  heely 
Where  it  buries  in  the  spread  of  the  bushy  myrtle- 
bed/ 
(Our  Rhodian  Jackdaw-song  was  sense  to  that !) 
Then  laughter,  outbursts  ruder  and  more  rude. 
Through  which,  with  silver  point,  a  fluting  pierced, 
And  ever  "  Open,  open,  Bacchos  bids ! " 

But  at  last — one  authoritative  word, 
One  name  of  an  immense  significance : 
For  Euthukles  rose  up,  threw  wide  the  door. 


ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY  vj 

There  trooped  the  Choros  of  the  Comedy 
Crowned  and  triumphant  \  first,  those  flushed  Fifteen 
Men  that  wore  women's  garb,  grotesque  disguise. 
Then  marched  the  Three, — who  played  Mnesilochos, 
Who,  Toxotes,  and  who,  robed  right,  masked  rare, 
Monkeyed  our  Great  and  Dead  to  heart's  content 
That  morning  in  Athenai.     Masks  were  down 
And  robes  doffed  now ;  the  sole  disguise  was  drink. 

Mixing  with  these — I  know  not  what  gay  crowd, 
Girl-dancers,  flute-boys,  and  pre-eminent 
Among  them, — doubtless  draped  with  such  reserve 
As  stopped  fear  of  the  fifty-drachma  fine 
(Beside  one's  name  on  public  fig-tree  nailed) 
Which  women  pay  who  in  the  streets  walk  bare,  — 
Behold  Elaphion  of  the  Persic  dance ! 
Who  lately  had  frisked  fawn-foot,  and  the  rest, 
— ^AU  for  the  Patriot  Cause,  the  Antique  Faith, 
The  Conservation  of  True  Poesy — 
Could  I  but  penetrate  the  deep  design ! 
Elaphion,  more  Peiraios-known  as  "  Phaps," 
Tripped  at  the  head  of  the  whole  banquet-band 
Who  came  in  front  now,  as  the  first  fell  back ; 
And  foremost — the  authoritative  voice. 
The  revels-leader,  he  who  gained  the  prize, 
And  got  the  glory  of  the  Archon's  feast — 


28  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

There  stood  in  person  Aristophanes. 

And  no  ignoble  presence  !    On  the  bulge 

Of  the  clear  baldness, — all  his  head  one  brow, — 

True,  the  veins  swelled,  blue  network,  and  there  surged 

A  red  from  cheek  to  temple, — then  retired 

As  if  the  dark-leaved  chaplet  damped  a  flame, — 

Was  never  nursed  by  temperance  or  health. 

But  huge  the  eyeballs  rolled  back  native  fire, 

Imperiously  triumphant :  nostrils  wide 

Waited  their  incense ;  while  the  pursed  mouth's  pout 

Aggressive,  while  the  beak  supreme  above, 

While  the  head,  face,  nay,  pillared  throat  thrown  back, 

Beard  whitening  under  like  a  vinous  foam, 

These  made  a  glory,  of  such  insolence — 

I  thought, — such  domineering  deity 

Hephaistos  might  have  carved  to  cut  the  brine 

For  his  gay  brother's  prow,  imbrue  that  path 

Which,  purpling,  recognized  the  conqueror. 

Impudent  and  majestic :  drunk,  perhaps. 

But  that 's  religion ;  sense  too  plainly  snuffed : 

Still,  sensuality  was  grown  a  rite. 

What  I  had  disbelieved  most  proved  most  true. 
There  was  a  mind  here,  mind  a-wantoning 
At  ease  of  undisputed  mastery 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  99 

Over  the  body's  brood,  those  appetites. 

Oh  but  he  grasped  them  grandly,  as  the  god 

His  either  struggling  handful, — hurdess  snakes 

Held  deep  down,  strained  hard  off  from  side  and  side ! 

Mastery  his,  theirs  simply  servitude, 

So  well  could  firm  fist  help  intrepid  eye. 

Fawning  and  fiilsome,  had  they  licked  and  hissed  ? 

At  mandate  of  one  musde,  order  reigned. 

They  had  been  wreathing  much  ^miliar  now 

About  him  oa  his  entry ;  but  a  squeeze 

Choked  down  the  pests  to  place :  their  lord  stood  fiee. 

Forward  he  stepped  :  I  rose  and  fronted  him. 

^  HaD,  house,  the  firiendly  to  Euripides ! " 

(So  he  b^^)  ^  Hail,  each  inhabitant ! 

You,  lady  ?    ^Vhat,  the  Rhodian  ?     Form  and  fao^ 

Victory's  self  upsoaring  to  receive 

The  poet  ?    Right  they  named  you  .  .  some  rich  name. 

Vowel-buds  thomed  about  with  consonants. 

Fragrant,  felicitous,  rose-glow  emiched 

By  the  Isle's  unguent :  some  diminished  end 

In  wfij  Kallistion  ?  delicater  still, 

Kubelion  or  Melittion,— or,  suppose 

(Less  vulgar  love  than  bee  or  violet) 

Hiibalion,  for  the  mouth  split  red-fig-wisie, 


30  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

Korakimdion  for  the  coal-black  hair, 

Nettarion,  Phabion  for  the  darlingness  ? 

But  no,  it  was  some  fruit-flower,  Rhoidion  ...  ha, 

We  near  the  balsam-bloom — Balaustion !    Thanks, 

Rhodes !    Folk  have  called  me  Rhodian,  do  you  know  ? 

Not  fools  so  far  1    Because,  if  Helios  wived, 

As  Pindaros  sings  somewhere  prettily. 

Here  blooms  his  offspring,  earth-flesh  with  sun-fire, 

Rhodes'  blood  and  Helios'  gold.     My  phorminx,  boy ! 

Why  does  the  boy  hang  back  and  baulk  an  ode 

Tiptoe  at  spread  of  wing  ?    But  like  enough, 

Sunshine  frays  torchlight.     Witness  whom  you  scare, 

Superb  Balaustion !    Look  outside  the  house ! 

Pho^  you  have  quenched  my  Komos  by  first  frown 

Struck  dead  all  joyance :  not  a  flutkig  puffs 

From  idle  cheekband  1    Ah,  my  Chores  too  ? 

You  Ve  eaten  cuckoo-apple  ?    Dumb,  you  dogs  ? 

So  much  good  Thasian  wasted  on  your  throats 

And  out  of  them  not  one  Threttanelo  ? 

Neblaretai  1    Because  this  earth-and-sun 

Product  looks  wormwood  and  all  bitter  herbs  ? 

Well,  do  I  blench,  though  me  she  hates  the  most 

Of  mortals  ?    By  the  cabbage,  off"  they  slink ! 

You,  too,  my  Chrusomelolonthion-Phaps, 

Girl-goldling-beetle-beauty  ?    You,  abashed, 

Who  late,  supremely  unabashable, 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  31 

Propped  up  my  play  at  that  important  point 

When  Artamouxia  tricks  the  Toxotes  ? 

Ha,  ha, — thank  Hermes  for  the  lucky  throw, — 

We  came  last  comedy  of  the  whole  seven, 

So  went  all  fresh  to  judgment  well-disposed 

For  who  should  fatly  feast  them,  eye  and  ear, 

We  two  between  us !     What,  you  fail  your  friend  ? 

Away  then,  free  me  of  your  cowardice ! 

Go,  get  you  the  goat's  breakfast !    Fare  afield, 

Ye  circumcised  of  Egypt,  pigs  to  sow. 

Back  to  the  Priest's  or  forward  to  the  crows, 

So  you  but  rid  me  of  such  company  ! 

Once  left  alone,  I  can  protect  myself 

From  statuesque  Balaustion  pedestalled 

On  much  disapprobation  and  mistake ! 

She  dares  not  beat  the  sacred  brow,  beside ! 

Bacchos'  equipment,  ivy  safeguards  well 

As  Phoibos'  bay. 

"They  take  me  at  my  word ! 
One  comfort  is,  I  shall  not  want  them  long. 
The  Archon's  cry  creaks,  creaks,  *  Curtail  expense ! ' 
The  war  wants  money,  year  the  twenty-sixth ! 
Cut  down  our  Choros  number,  clip  costume, 
Save  birds'  wings,  beetles'  armour,  spend  the  cash 
In  three-crest  skull-caps,  three  days'  salt-fish-slice. 


32  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Three-banked-ships  for  these  sham-ambassadors, 
And  what  not :  any  cost  but  Comedy's  ! 

*  No  Choros ' — soon  will  follow ;  what  care  I  ? 
Archinos  and  Agurrhios,  scrape  your  flint, 
Flay  your  dead  dog,  and  curry  favour  so ! 
Choros  in  rags,  with  loss  of  leather  next, 

We  lose  the  boys'  vote,  lose  the  song  and  dance, 
Lose  my  Elaphion  !     Still,  the  actor  stays. 
Save  but  my  acting,  and  the  baldhead  bard 
Kudathenaian  and  Pandionid, 
Son  of  Philippos,  Aristophanes 
Surmounts  his  rivals  now  as  heretofore, 
Though  stinted  to  mere  sober  prosy  verse — 

*  Manners  and  men,'  so  squeamish  gets  the  world ! 
No  more  '  Step  forward,  strip  for  anapaests  !  * 

No  calling  naughty  people  by  their  names. 

No  tickling  audience  into  gratitude 

With  chickpease,  barleygroats  and  nuts  and  plums, 

No  setting  Salabaccho  ..." 

As  I  turned — 

"  True,  lady,  T  am  tolerably  drunk : 

The  proper  inspiration !     Otherwise, — 

Phrunichos,  Choirilos  ! — had  Aischulos 

So  foiled  you  at  the  goat-song?    Drink 's  a  god. 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  33 

How  else  did  that  old  doating  driveller 
Kratinos  foil  me,  match  my  masterpiece 
The  '  Clouds  7    I  swallowed  cloud-distilment— dew 
Undimmed  by  any  grape-blush,  knit  my  brow 
And  gnawed  my  style  and  laughed  my  learnedest ; 
While  he  worked  at  his  *  Willow- wicker-flask,' 
Swigging  at  that  same  flask  by  which  he  swore, 
Till,  sing  and  empty,  sing  and  fill  again, 
Somehow  result  was — what  it  should  not  be 
Next  time,  I  promised  him  and  kept  my  word  ! 
Hence,  brimful  now  of  Thasian  ...  I  '11  be  bound, 
Mendesian,  merely :  triumph-night,  you  know, 
The  High  Priest  entertains  the  conqueror. 
And,  since  war  worsens  all  things,  stingily 
The  rascal  starves  whom  he  is  bound  to  stufl", 
Choros  and  actors  and  their  lord  and  king 
The  poet ;  supper,  still  he  needs  must  spread — 
And  this  time  all  was  conscientious  fare : 
He  knew  his  man,  his  match,  his  master — made 
Amends,  spared  neither  fish,  flesh,  fowl  nor  wine : 
So  merriment  increased,  I  promise  you, 
Till — something  happened." 

Here  he  strangely  paused. 

"After  that, — well,  it  either  was  the  cup 

XIII.  D 


34  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

To  the  Good  Genius,  our  concluding  pledge, 
That  wrought  me  mischief,  decently  unmixed, — 
Or,  what  if,  when  that  happened,  need  arose 
Of  new  libation?     Did  you  only  know 
What  happened !     Little  wonder  I  am  drunk." 

Euthukles,  o'er  the  boat-side,  quick,  what  change, 

Watch,  in  the  water !    But  a  second  since. 

It  laughed  a  ripply  spread  of  sun  and  sea, 

Ray  fused  with  wave,  to  never  disunite. 

Now,  sudden  all  the  surface,  hard  and  black. 

Lies  a  quenched  light,  dead  motion :  what  the  cause? 

Look  up  and  lo,  the  menace  of  a  cloud 

Has  solemnized  the  sparkling,  spoiled  the  sport  I 

Just  so,  some  overshadow,  some  new  care 

Stopped  all  the  mirth  and  mocking  on  his  face 

And  left  there  only  such  a  dark  surmise 

— No  wonder  if  the  revel  disappeared. 

So  did  his  face  shed  silence  every  side ! 

I  recognized  a  new  man  fronting  me. 

"  So  ! "  he  smiled,  piercing  to  my  thought  at  once, 

"  You  see  myself?     Balaustion's  fixed  regard 

Can  strip  the  proper  Aristophanes 

Of  what  our  sophists,  in  their  jargon,  style 

His  accidents?     My  soul  sped  forth  but  now 


ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY  35 

To  meet  your  hostile  survey,— soul  unseen, 

Yet  veritably  cinct  for  soul-defence 

With  satyr  sportive  quips,  cranks,  boss  and  spike, 

Just  as  my  visible  body  paced  the  street, 

Environed  by  a  boon  companionship 

Your  apparition  also  puts  to  flight. 

Well,  what  care  I  if,  unaccoutred  twice, 

I  front  my  foe — no  comicality 

Round  soul,  and  body-guard  in  banishment? 

Thank  your  eyes'  searching,  undisguised  I  stand : 

The  merest  female  child  may  question  me. 

Spare  not,  speak  bold,  Balaustion ! " 

I  did  speak : 

"  Bold  speech  be — welcome  to  this  honoured  hearth. 

Good  Genius !    Glory  of  the  poet,  glow 

O'  the  humourist  who  castigates  his  kind. 

Suave  summer-lightning  lambency  which  plays 

On  stag-horned  tree,  misshapen  crag  askew. 

Then  vanishes  with  unvindictive  smile 

After  a  moment's  laying  black  earth  bare. 

Splendour  of  wit  that  springs  a  thunderball — 

Satire — to  burn  and  purify  the  world, 

True  aim,  fair  purpose :  just  wit  justly  strikes 

Injustice, — right,  as  rightly  quells  the  wrong, 

D2 


36  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Finds  out  in  knaves',  fools',  cowards'  armoury 
The  tricky  tinselled  place  fire  flashes  through, 
No  damage  else,  sagacious  of  true  ore ; 
Wit,  learned  in  the  laurel,  leaves  each  wreath 
O'er  lyric  shell  or  tragic  barbiton, — 
Though  alien  gauds  be  singed, — undesecrate. 
The  genuine  solace  of  the  sacred  brow. 
Ay,  and  how  pulses  flame  a  patriot-star 
Steadfast  athwart  our  country's  night  of  things. 
To  beacon,  would  she  trust  no  meteor-blaze, 
Athenai  from  the  rock  she  steers  for  straight ! 
O  light,  light,  light,  I  hail  light  everywhere, 
No  matter  for  the  murk  that  was, — perchance, 
That  will  be, — certes,  never  should  have  been 
Such  orb's  associate ! 

"Aristophanes ! 
*  The  merest  female  child  may  question  you  ? ' 
Once,  in  my  Rhodes,  a  portent  of  the  wave 
Appalled  our  coast :  for  many  a  darkened  day. 
Intolerable  mystery  and  fear. 

Who  snatched  a  furtive  glance  through  crannied  peak. 
Could  but  report  of  snake-scale,  lizard-limb, — 
So  swam  what,  making  whirlpools  as  it  went, 
Madded  the  brine  with  wrath  or  monstrous  sport. 
*T  is  Tuphon,  loose,  unmanacled  from  mount,' 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  37 

Declared  the  priests,  *  no  way  appeasable 

Unless  perchance  by  virgin-sacrifice ! ' 

Thus  grew  the  terror  and  o'erhung  the  doom — 

Until  one  eve  a  certain  female-child 

Strayed  in  safe  ignorance  to  seacoast  edge, 

And  there  sat  down  and  sang  to  please  herself. 

When  all  at  once,  large-looming  from  his  wave. 

Out  leaned,  chin  hand-propped,  pensive  on  the  ledge^ 

A  sea-worn  face,  sad  as  mortality. 

Divine  with  yearning  after  fellowship. 

He  rose  but  breast-high.     So  much  god  she  saw ; 

So  much  she  sees  now,  and  does  reverence ! " 

Ah,  but  there  followed  tail-splash,  frisk  of  fin ! 
Let  cloud  pass,  the  sea's  ready  laugh  outbreaks. 
No  very  godlike  trace  retained  the  mouth 
Which  mocked  with — 

"  So,  He  taught  you  tragedy ! 
I  always  asked  *  Why  may  not  women  act  ? ' 
Nay,  wear  the  comic  visor  just  as  well ; 
Or,  better,  quite  cast  off  the  face-disguise 
And  voice-distortion,  simply  look  and  speak. 
Real  women  playing  women  as  men — men ! 
I  shall  not  wonder  if  things  come  to  that. 
Some  day  when  I  am  distant  far  enough. 


1 


38  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Do  you  conceive  the  quite  new  Comedy 
When  laws  allow?  laws  only  let  girls  dance. 
Pipe,  posture, — above  all,  Elaphionize, 
Provided  they  keep  decent— that  is,  dumb. 
Ay,  and,  conceiving,  I  would  execute, 
Had  I  but  two  lives :  one  were  overworked ! 
How  penetrate  encrusted  prejudice, 
Pierce  ignorance  three  generations  thick 
Since  first  Sousarion  crossed  our  boundary  ? 
He  battered  with  a  big  Megaric  stone ; 
Chionides  felled  oak  and  rough-hewed  thence 
This  club  I  wield  now,  having  spent  my  life 
In  planing  knobs  and  sticking  studs  to  shine ; 
Somebody  else  must  try  mere  polished  steel ! " 

Emboldened  by  the  sober  mood^s  return, 

"  Meanwhile,"  said  I,  "  since  planed  and  studded  club 

Once  more  has  pashed  competitors  to  dust. 

And  poet  proves  triumphant  with  that  play 

Euthukles  found  last  year  unfortunate, — 

Does  triumph  spring  from  smoothness  still  more  smoothed. 

Fresh  studs  sown  thick  and  threefold?    In  plain  words. 

Have  you  exchanged  brute-blows, — ^which  teach  the  brute 

Man  may  surpass  him  in  brutality, — 

For  human  fighting,  or  true  god-like  force 

Which  breathes  persuasion  nor  needs  fight  at  all  ? 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  39 

Have  you  essayed  attacking  ignorance, 

Convicting  folly,  by  their  opposites, 

Knowledge  and  wisdom  ?  not  by  yours  for  ours, 

Fresh  ignorance  and  folly,  new  for  old, 

Greater  for  less,  your  crime  for  our  mistake  ! 

If  so  success  at  last  have  crowned  desert. 

Bringing  surprise  (dashed  haply  by  concern 

At  your  discovery  such  wild  waste  of  strength 

—And  what  strength ! — went  so  long  to  keep  in  vogue 

Such  warfare — and  what  warfare ! — shamed  so  fast, 

So  soon  made  obsolete,  as  fell  their  foe 

By  the  first  arrow  native  to  the  orb. 

First  onslaught  worthy  Aristophanes) — 

Was  this  conviction's  entry  that  same  strange 

*  Something  that  happened '  to  confound  your  feast  ?  " 

"  Ah,  did  he  witness  then  my  play  that  failed. 
First  *  Thesmophoriazousai '  ?    Well  and  good  ! 
But  did  he  also  see, — your  Euthukles, — 
My  '  Grasshoppers '  which  followed  and  failed  too, 
Three  months  since,  at  the  *  Little-in-the-Fields '  ?  " 

"  To  say  that  he  did  see  that  First — should  say 
He  never  cared  to  see  its  following." 

"  There  happens  to  be  reason  why  I  wrote 


40  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

First  play  and  second  also.     Ask  the  cause ! 

I  warrant  you  receive  ere  talk  be  done, 

Fit  answer,  authorizing  either  act. 

But  here 's  the  point :  as  Euthukles  made  vow 

Never  again  to  taste  my  quality, 

So  I  was  minded  next  experiment 

Should  tickle  palate — yea,  of  Euthukles ! 

Not  by  such  utter  change,  such  absolute 

A  topsyturvy  of  stage-habitude 

As  you  and  he  want, — Comedy  built  fresh. 

By  novel  brick  and  mortar,  base  to  roof, — 

No,  for  I  stand  too  near  and  look  too  close  ! 

Pleasure  and  pastime  yours,  spectators  brave, 

Should  I  turn  art's  fixed  fabric  upside  down ! 

Little  you  guess  how  such  tough  work  tasks  soul ! 

Not  overtasks,  though :  give  fit  strength  fair  play. 

And  strength  's  a  demiourgos  !    Art  renewed  ? 

Ay,  in  some  closet  where  strength  shuts  out — first 

The  friendly  faces,  sympathetic  cheer : 

*  More  of  the  old  provision  none  supplies 

So  bounteously  as  thou, — our  love,  our  pride. 

Our  author  of  the  many  a  perfect  piece ! 

Stick  to  that  standard,  change  were  decadence  ! ' 

Next,  the  unfriendly :  *  This  time,  strain  will  tire, 

He 's  fresh,  Ameipsias  thy  antagonist ! ' 

— Or  better,  in  some  Salaminian  cave 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  4X 

Where  sky  and  sea  and  solitude  make  earth 
And  man  and  noise  one  insignificance, 
Let  strength  propose  itself, — behind  the  world, — 
Sole  prize  worth  winning,  work  that  satisfies 
Strength  it  has  dared  and  done  strength's  uttermost ! 
After  which, — clap-to  closet  and  quit  cave, — 
Strength  may  conclude  in  Archelaos'  court, 
And  yet  esteem  the  silken  company 
So  much  sky-scud,  sea-froth,  earth-thistledown, 
For  aught  their  praise  or  blame  should  joy  or  grieve. 
Strength  amid  crowds  as  late  in  solitude 
May  lead  the  still  life,  ply  the  wordless  task : 
Then  only,  when  seems  need  to  move  or  speak. 
Moving — for  due  respect,  when  statesmen  pass, 
(Strength,  in  the  closet,  watched  how  spiders  spin) 
Speaking — when  fashion  shows  intelligence, 
(Strength,  in  the  cave,  oft  whistled  to  the  gulls) 
In  short,  has  learnt  first,  practised  afterwards  1 
Despise  the  world  and  reverence  yourself, — 
Why,  you  may  unmake  things  and  remake  things, 
And  throw  behind  you,  unconcerned  enough. 
What's  made  or  marred:   *you  teach  men,  are  not 

taught ! ' 
So  marches  off  the  stage  Euripides ! 

"  No  such  thin  fare  feeds  flesh  and  blood  like  mine 


4i  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

No  such  faint  fume  of  fancy  sates  my  soul, 

No  such  seclusion,  closet,  cave  or  court, 

Suits  either :  give  me  lostephanos 

Worth  making  happy  what  coarse  way  she  will— 

O  happy-maker,  when  her  cries  increase 

About  the  favourite  !  *  Aristophanes  ! 

More  grist  to  mill,  here 's  Kleophon  to  grind  ! 

He 's  for  refusing  peace,  though  Sparta  cede 

Even  Dekeleia  !     Here 's  Kleonumos 

Declaring — though  he  threw  away  his  shield, 

He  '11  thrash  you  till  you  lay  your  lyre  aside ! 

Orestes  bids  mind  where  you  walk  of  nights — 

He  wants  your  cloak  as  you  his  cudgelling : 

Here 's,  finally,  Melanthios  fat  with  fish, 

The  gormandizer-spendthrift-dramatist ! 

So,  bustle  !     Pounce  on  opportunity  ! 

Let  fun  a-screaming  in  Parabasis, 

Find  food  for  folk  agape  at  either  end, 

Mad  for  amusement !    Times  grow  better  too, 

And  should  they  worsen,  why,  who  laughs,  forgets. 

In  no  case,  venture  boy-experiments  ! 

Old  wine 's  the  wine :  new  poetry  drinks  raw : 

Two  plays  a  season  is  your  pledge,  beside ; 

So,  give  us  *  Wasps '  again,  grown  hornets  now ! ' " 

Then  he  changed. 


ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY  43 

"  Do  you  so  detect  in  me — 
Brow-bald,  chin-bearded,  me,  curved  cheek,  carved  lip, 
Or  where  soul  sits  and  reigns  in  either  eye — 
What  suits  the— stigma,  I  say, — style  say  you. 
Of  *  Wine-lees-poet '?    Bravest  of  buffoons, 
Less  blunt  than  Telekleides,  less  obscene 
Than  Muitilos,  Hermippos :  quite  a  match 
In  elegance  for  Eupolis  himself. 
Yet  pungent  as  Kratinos  at  his  best  ? 
Graced  with  traditional  immunity 
Ever  since,  much  about  my  grandsire^s  time, 
Some  funny  village-man  in  Megara, 
Lout-lord  and  clown-king,  used  a  privilege. 
As  due  religious  drinking-bouts  came  round. 
To  daub  his  phyz, — no,  that  was  afterward, — 
He  merely  mounted  cart  with  mates  of  choice 
And  traversed  country,  taking  house  by  house, 
At  night, — because  of  danger  in  the  freak, — 
Then  hollaed  *  Skin-flint  starves  his  labourers ! 
Clench-fist  stows  figs  away,  cheats  government ! 
Such  an  one  likes  to  kiss  his  neighbour's  wife. 
And  beat  his  own  ;  while  such  another  .  .  .  Boh  1 ' 
Soon  came  the  broad  day,  circumstantial  tale. 
Dancing  and  verse,  and  there 's  our  Comedy, 
There 's  Mullos,  there 's  Euetes,  there 's  the  stock 
I  shall  be  proud  to  graft  my  powers  upon ! 


44  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Protected?    Punished  quite  as  certainly 

Wlien  Archons  pleased  to  lay  down  each  his  law,— 

Your  Morucheides-Surakosios  sort, — 

Each  season,  *  No  more  naming  citizens, 

Only  abuse  the  vice,  the  vicious  spare ! 

Observe,  henceforth  no  Areopagite 

Demean  his  rank  by  writing  Comedy  1 ' 

(They  one  and  all  could  write  the  *  Clouds '  of  course.) 

*  Needs  must  we  nick  expenditure,  allow 

Comedy  half  a  choros,  supper — none, 

Times  being  hard,  while  applicants  increase 

For,  what  costs  cash,  the  Tragic  Trilogy/ 

Lofty  Tragedians !     How  they  lounge  aloof 

Each  with  his  Triad,  three  plays  to  my  one. 

Not  counting  the  contemptuous  fourth,  the  frank 

Concession  to  mere  mortal  levity, 

Satyric  pittance  tossed  our  beggar-world ! 

Your  proud  Euripides  from  first  to  last 

Doled  out  some  five  such,  never  deigned  us  more ! 

And  these — what  curds  and  whey  for  marrowy  wine  1 

That  same  Alkestis  you  so  rave  about 

Passed  muster  with  him  for  a  Satyr-play, 

The  prig ! — why  trifle  time  with  toys  and  skits 

When  he  could  stuff  four  ragbags  sausage-wise 

With  sophistry,  with  bookish  odds  and  ends, 

Sokrates,  meteors,  moonshine,  *  Life 's  not  Life,' 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  45 

*  The  tongue  swore,  but  unsworn  the  mind  remains/ 

And  fifty  such  concoctions,  crab-tree-fruit 

Digested  while,  head  low  and  heels  in  heaven, 

He  lay,  let  Comics  laugh— for  privilege  ! 

Looked  puzzled  on,  or  pityingly  off, 

But  never  dreamed  of  paying  gibe  by  jeer, 

Buffet  by  blow :  plenty  of  proverb-pokes 

At  vice  and  folly,  wicked  kings,  mad  mobs ! 

No  sign  of  wincing  at  my  Comic  lash, 

No  protest  against  infamous  abuse, 

Malignant  censure, — ^nought  to  prove  I  scourged 

With  tougher  thong  than  leek-and-onion-plait ! 

If  ever  he  glanced  gloom,  aggrieved  at  all, 

The  aggriever  must  be — ^Aischulos  perhaps  : 

Or  Sophokles  he  'd  take  exception  to. 

— Do  you  detect  in  me — in  me,  I  ask. 

The  man  like  to  accept  this  measurement 

Of  faculty,  contentedly  sit  classed 

Mere  Comic  Poet — since  I  wrote  *  The  Birds '  ?  " 

I  thought  there  might  lurk  truth  in  jest's  disguise. 

"  Thanks! "  he  resumed,  so  quick  to  construe  smile  I 
"  I  answered — in  my  mind — these  gapers  thus : 
Since  old  wine 's  ripe  and  new  verse  raw,  you  judge — 
What  if  I  vary  vintage-mode  and  mix 


46  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Blossom  with  must,  give  nosegay  to  the  brew. 

Fining,  refining,  gently,  surely,  till 

The  educated  taste  turns  unawares 

From  customary  dregs  to  draught  divine  ? 

Then  answered — with  my  lips :  More  *  Wasps '  you  want  ? 

Come  next  year  and  I  give  you  *  Grasshoppers '! 

And  *  Grasshoppers '  I  gave  them, — last  month's  playo 

They  formed  the  Choros.    Alkibiades, 

No  longer  Triphales  but  Trilophos, 

(Whom  I  called  Darling-of-the-Summertime, 

Born  to  be  nothing  else  but  beautiful 

And  brave,  to  eat,  drink,  love  his  life  away) 

Persuades  the  Tettix  (our  Autochthon-brood, 

That  sip  the  dew  and  sing  on  olive-branch 

Above  the  ant-and-emmet  populace) 

To  summon  all  who  meadow,  hill  and  dale 

Inhabit — bee,  wasp,  woodlouse,  dragonfly— 

To  band  themselves  against  red  nipper-nose 

Stagbeetle,  huge  Taiigetan  (you  guess — 

Sparte)  Athenai  needs  must  battle  with, 

Because  her  sons  are  grown  effeminate 

To  that  degree — so  morbifies  their  flesh 

The  poison  drama  of  Euripides, 

Morals  and  music — there 's  no  antidote 

Occurs  save  warfare  which  inspirits  blood, 

And  brings  us  back  perchance  the  blessed  time 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  47 

When  (Chores  takes  up  tale)  our  commonalty 

Firm  in  primaeval  virtue,  antique  faith, 

Ere  earwig-sophist  plagued  or  pismire-sage. 

Cockered  no  noddle  up  with  A,  b,  g, 

Book-learning,  logic-chopping,  and  the  moon, 

But  just  employed  their  brains  on  *  Ruppapai^ 

Row,  boys,  munch  barley-bread,  and  take  your  ease-— 

Mindful,  however,  of  the  tier  beneath ! ' 

Ah,  golden  epoch  !  while  the  nobler  sort 

(Such  needs  must  study,  no  contesting  that !) 

Wore  no  long  curls  but  used  to  crop  their  hair, 

Gathered  the  tunic  well  about  the  ham, 

Remembering  't  was  soft  sand  they  used  for  seat 

At  school-time,  while — ^mark  this — the  lesson  long, 

No  learner  ever  dared  to  cross  his  legs  ! 

Then,  if  you  bade  him  take  the  myrtle-bough 

And  sing  for  supper — 't  was  some  grave  romaunt 

How  man  of  Mituknt^  wondrous  wise^ 

Jumped  into  hedge,  by  mortals  quickset  called. 

And  there,  anticipating  Oidipous, 

Scratched  out  his  eyes  and  scratched  them  in  again. 

None  of  your  Phaidras,  Aug^s,  Kanakas, 

To  mincing  music,  turn,  trill,  tweedle  trash. 

Whence  comes  that  Marathon  is  obsolete ! 

Next,  my  Antistroph^  was — praise  of  Peace : 

Ah,  could  our  people  know  what  Peace  implies ! 


48  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Home  to  the  farm  and  furrow  !    Grub  one's  vine, 

Romp  with  one's  Thratta,  pretty  serving-girl, 

When  wifie  's  busy  bathing  !     Eat  and  drink, 

And  drink  and  eat,  what  else  is  good  in  life  ? 

Slice  hare,  toss  pancake,  gaily  gurgle  down 

The  Thasian  grape  in  celebration  due 

Of  Bacchos !    Welcome,  dear  domestic  rite, 

When  wife  and  sons  and  daughters,  Thratta  too, 

Pour  peasoup  as  we  chant  delectably 

In  Bacchos  reels^  his  ttmic  at  his  heels/ 

Enough,  you  comprehend, — I  do  at  least ! 

Then, — be  but  patient, — the  Parabasis  ! 

Pray !    For  in  that  I  also  pushed  reform. 

None  of  the  self-laudation,  vulgar  brag. 

Vainglorious  rivals  cultivate  so  much ! 

No !    If  some  merest  word  in  Art's  defence 

Justice  demanded  of  me, — never  fear ! 

Claim  was  preferred,  but  dignifiedly. 

A  cricket  asked  a  locust  (winged,  you  know) 

What  he  had  seen  most  rare  in  foreign  parts  ? 

*  I  have  flown  far,'  chirped  he,  *  North,  East,  South. 

West, 
And  nowhere  heard  of  poet  worth  a  fig 
If  matched  with  Bald-head  here,  Aigina's  boast. 
Who  in  this  play  bids  rivalry  despair 
Past,  present,  and  to  come,  so  marvellous 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  49 

His  Tragic,  Comic,  Lyric  excellence ! 

Whereof  the  fit  reward  were  (not  to  speak 

Of  dinner  every  day  at  public  cost 

I'  the  Prutaneion)  supper  with  yourselves, 

My  Public,  best  dish  offered  bravest  bard !  * 

No  more !  no  sort  of  sin  against  good  taste  I 

Then,  satire, — Oh,  a  plain  necessity ! 

But  I  won't  tell  you :  for— could  I  dispense 

With  one  more  gird  at  old  Ariphrades? 

How  scorpion-like  he  feeds  on  human  flesh — 

Ever  finds  out  some  novel  infamy 

Unutterable,  inconceivable. 

Which  all  the  greater  need  was  to  describe 

Minutely,  each  tail-twist  at  ink-shed  time  .  .  . 

Now,  what 's  your  gesture  caused  by  ?    What  you  loathe, 

Don't  I  loathe  doubly,  else  why  take  such  pains 

To  tell  it  you  ?    But  keep  your  prejudice ! 

My  audience  justified  you !     Housebreakers  1 

This  pattern-purity  was  played  and  failed 

Last  Rural  Dionusia — failed !  for  why? 

Ameipsias  followed  with  the  genuine  stuff. 

He  had  been  mindful  to  engage  the  Four — 

Karkinos  and  his  dwarf-crab-family — 

Father  and  sons,  they  whirled  like  spinning-tops, 

Choros  gigantically  poked  his  fun, 

The  boys'  frank  laugh  relaxed  the  seniors'  brow, 

XIII.  £ 


so  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

The  skies  re-echoed  victory's  acclaim, 

Ameipsias  gained  his  due,  I  got  my  dose 

Of  wisdom  for  the  future.     Purity? 

No  more  of  that  next  month,  Athenai  mine ! 

Contrive  new  cut  of  robe  who  will, — I  patch 

The  old  exomis,  add  no  purple  sleeve ! 

The  Thesmophoriazousai,  smartened  up 

With  certain  plaits,  shall  please,  I  promise  you  I 

"  Yes,  I  took  up  the  play  that  failed  last  year, 
And  re-arranged  things ;  threw  adroitly  in, — 
No  Parachoregema, — ^men  to  match 
My  women  there  already ;  and  when  these 
(I  had  a  hit  at  AristuUos  here, 
His  plan  how  womankind  should  rule  the  roast) 
Drove  men  to  plough — *  A-field,  ye  cribbed  of  cape ! ' 
Men  showed  themselves  exempt  from  service  straight 
Stupendously,  till  all  the  boys  cried  *  Brave  1' 
Then  for  the  elders,  I  bethought  me  too, 
Improved  upon  Mnesilochos'  release 
From  the  old  bowman,  board  and  binding-strap : 
I  made  his  son-in-law  Euripides 
Engage  to  put  both  shrewish  wives  away — 

*  Gravity '  one,  the  other  *  Sophist-lore  * — 

And  mate  with  the  Bald  Bard's  hetairai  twain — 

*  Goodhumour '  and  *  Indulgence ' :  on  they  tripped. 


ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY  51 

Murrhin^,  Akalanthis, — *  beautiful 

Their  whole  belongings ' — crowd  joined  choros  there ! 

And  while  the  Toxotes  wound  up  his  part 

By  shower  of  nuts  and  sweetmeats  on  the  mob, 

The  woman-choros  celebrated  New 

Kalligeneia,  the  frank  last-day  rite. 

Brie^  I  was  chaired  and  caressed  and  crowned 

And  the  whole  theatre  broke  out  a-roar, 

Echoed  my  admonition — choros-cap — 

Rivals  of  miney  your  hands  to  your  faces/ 

Summon  no  more  the  MuseSy  the  Graces, 

Since  here  by  my  side  they  have  chosen  their  places/ 

And  so  we  all  flocked  merrily  to  feast, 

I,  my  choragos,  choros,  actors,  mutes 

And  flutes  aforesaid,  friends  in  crowd,  no  fear, 

At  the  Priest's  supper ;  and  hilarity 

Grew  none  the  less  that,  early  in  the  piece, 

Ran  a  report,  from  row  to  row  close -packed. 

Of  messenger's  arrival  at  the  Port 

With  weighty  tidings,  *  Of  Lusandros'  flight,' 

Opined  one;  'That  Euboia  penitent 

Sends  the  Confederation  fifty  ships,* 

Preferred  another ;  while  *  The  Great  King's  Eye 

Has  brought  a  present  for  Elaphion  here, 

That  rarest  peacock  Kompolakuthes ! ' 

Such  was  the  supposition  of  a  third. 

E2 


13  ARISTOPHANES-  APOLOGY 

'  No  matter  what  the  news,'  ftiend  Strattis  laughed, 
'  It  won't  be  worse  for  waiting :  while  each  click 
Of  the  klepsudra  sets  a  shaking  grave 
Resentment  in  our  shark's-head,  boiled  and  spoiled 
By  this  time :  dished  in  Sphettian  vinegar, 
Silphion  and  honey,  served  with  cocks'- brain-sauce ! 
So,  swift  to  supper,  Poet  I     No  mistake, 
This  play;  nor,  like  the  unflavoured  "Grasshoppers," 
Salt  without  thyme !      Right  merrily  we  supped, 
Till— something  happened. 

"  Out  it  shall,  at  last ! 

"  Mirth  drew  to  ending,  for  the  cup  was  crowned 
To  the  Triumphant !     '  Kleonclapper  erst, 

Now,  Plier  of  a  scourge  Euripides 

Fairly  turns  tail  from,  flying  Attike 

For  Makedonia's  rocks  and  frosts  and  bears. 

Where,  funy  grown,  he  growls  to  match  the  squeak 

Of  girl-voiced,  crocus-vested  Agathon! 

Ha  ha,  he  he ! '     When  suddenly  a  knock — 

Sharp,  solitary,  cold,  authoritative. 

'  Babaiax!    Sokrates  a-passing  by, 
i-peering  in  for  Aristullos'  sake, 
'o  put  a  question  touching  Comic  Law?' 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  53 

**  No !    Enters  an  old  pale-swathed  majesty, 
Makes  slow  mute  passage  through  two  ranks  as  mute, 
(Strattis  stood  up  with  all  the  rest,  the  sneak !) 
Grey  brow  still  bent  on  ground,  upraised  at  length 
When,  our  Priest  reached,  full-front  the  vision  paused. 

"  *  Priest !' — the  deep  tone  succeeded  the  fixed  gaze— 
Thou  carest  that  thy  god  have  spectacle 
Decent  and  seemly ,  wherefore  I  announce 
That,  since  Euripides  is  dead  to-day. 
My  Choros,  at  the  Greater  Feast,  next  month, 
Shall,  clothed  in  black,  appear  ungarlanded !' 

**  Then  the  grey  brow  sank  low,  and  Sophokles 
Re-swathed  him,  sweeping  doorward :  mutely  passed 
Twixt  rows  as  mute,  to  mingle  possibly 
With  certain  gods  who  convoy  age  to  port ; 
And  night  resumed  him. 

"  When  our  stupor  broke, 
Chirpings  took  courage,  and  grew  audible. 

*  Dead — so  one  speaks  now  of  Euripides ! 
Ungarlanded  dance  Choros,  did  he  say? 
I  guess  the  reason :  in  extreme  old  age 
No  doubt  such  have  the  gods  for  visitants. 
Why  did  he  dedicate  to  Herakles 


54  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

An  altar  else,  but  that  the  god,  turned  Judge, 
Told  him  in  dream  who  took  the  crown  of  gold? 
He  who  restored  Akropolis  the  theft. 
Himself  may  feel  perhaps  a  timely  twinge 
At  thought  of  certain  other  crowns  he  filched 
From — who  now  visits  Herakles  the  Judge. 
Instance  "  Medeia  "  1  that  play  yielded  palm 
To  Sophokles;  and  he  again — to  whom? 
Euphorion  I    Why  ?    Ask  Herakles  the  Judge  1 ' 

*  Ungarlanded,  just  means — economy ! 

Suppress  robes,  chaplets,  everything  suppress 

Except  the  poet's  present !    An  old  tale 

Put  capitally  by  Trugaios — eh? 

— News  from  the  world  of  transformation  strange  I 

How  Sophokles  is  grown  Simonides, 

And, — aged,  rotten, — all  the  same,  for  greed 

Would  venture  on  a  hurdle  out  to  sea ! — 

So  jokes  Philonides.     Kallistratos 

Retorts — Mistake !     Instead  of  stinginess. 

The  fact  is,  in  extreme  decrepitude, 

He  has  discarded  poet  and  turned  priest, 

Priest  of  Half-Hero  Alkon :  visited 

In  his  own  house  too  by  Asklepios'  self. 

So  he  avers.     Meanwhile,  his  own  estate 

Lies  fallow ;  lophon  's  the  manager, — 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  55 

Nay,  touches  up  a  play,  brings  out  the  same, 
Asserts  true  sonship.    See  to  what  you  sink 
After  your  dozen-dozen  prodigies ! 
Looking  so  old — Euripides  seems  young, 
Bom  ten  years  later.' 

*  Just  his  tricky  style  ! 
Since,  stealing  first  away,  he  wins  first  word 
Out  of  good-natured  rival  Sophokles, 
Procures  himself  no  bad  panegyric. 
Had  fate  willed  otherwise,  himself  were  taxed 
To  pay  survivor's-tribute, — harder  squeezed 
From  anybody  beaten  first  to  last, 
Than  one  who,  steadily  a  conqueror. 
Finds  that  his  magnanimity  is  tasked 
To  merely  make  pretence  and — beat  itself ! ' 

'*  So  chirped  the  feasters  though  suppressedly. 

"  But  I — what  else  do  you  suppose? — had  pierced 
Quite  through  friends'  outside-straining,  foes'  mock 

praise, 
And  reached  conviction  hearted  under  all. 
Death's  rapid  line  had  closed  a  life's  account, 
And  cut  off,  left  unalterably  clear 
The  summed-up  value  of  Euripides. 


56  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Well,  it  might  be  the  Thasian  !     Certainly 

There  sang  suggestive  music  in  my  ears ; 

And,  through — what  sophists  style — the  wall  of  sense 

My  eyes  pierced:  death  seemed  life  and  life  seemed 

death, 
Envisaged  that  way,  now,  which  I,  before, 
Conceived  was  just  a  moonstruck  mood.     Quite  plain 
There  re-insisted, — ay,  each  prim  stiff  phrase 
Of  each  old  play,  my  still-new  laughing-stock, 
Had  meaning,  well  worth  poet's  pains  to  state. 
Should  life  prove  half  true  life's  term, — death,  the  rest 
As  for  the  other  question,  late  so  large 
Now  all  at  once  so  little, — he  or  I, 
Which  better  comprehended  playwright  craft, — 
There,  too,  old  admonition  took  fresh  point. 
As  clear  recurred  our  last  word-interchange 
Two  years  since,  when  I  tried  with  'Ploutos.'     *  Vain  ! 
Saluted  me  the  cold  grave-bearded  bard — 
*  Vain,  this  late  trial,  Aristophanes  ! 
None  baulks  the  genius  with  impunity ! 
You  know  what  kind 's  the  nobler,  what  makes  grave 
Or  what  makes  grin ;  there 's  yet  a  nobler  still. 
Possibly, — what  makes  wise,  not  grave,— and  glad, 
Not  grinning :  whereby  laughter  joins  with  tears, 
Tragic  and  Comic  Poet  prove  one  power, 
And  Aristophanes  becomes  our  Fourth — 


ARISTOPHANES'   APOLOGY  S7 

Nay,  greatest !     Never  needs  the  Art  stand  still, 

But  those  Art  leans  on  lag,  and  none  like  you, 

Her  strongest  of  supports,  whose  step  aside 

Undoes  the  march :  defection  checks  advance 

Too  late  adventured !    See  the  "  Ploutos  "  here ! 

This  step  decides  your  foot  from  old  to  new — 

Proves  you  relinquish  song  and  dance  and  jest, 

Discard  the  beast,  and,  rising  from  all-fours. 

Fain  would  paint,  manlike,  actual  human  life. 

Make  veritable  men  think,  say  and  do. 

Here 's  the  conception :  which  to  execute. 

Where 's  force?    Spent !    Ere  the  race  began,  was  breath 

O'  the  runner  squandered  on  each  friendly  fool — 

Wit-fireworks  fizzed  off  while  day  craved  no  flame  ; 

How  should  the  night  receive  her  due  of  fire 

Flared  out  in  Wasps  and  Horses,  Clouds  and  Birds, 

Prodigiously  a-crackle?    Rest  content ! 

The  new  adventure  for  the  novel  man 

Bom  to  that  next  success  myself  foresee 

In  right  of  where  I  reach  before  I  rest. 

At  end  of  a  long  course,  straight  all  the  way, 

Well  may  there  tremble  somewhat  into  ken 

The  untrod  path,  clouds  veiled  from  earlier  gaze  1 

None  may  live  two  lives :  I  have  lived  mine  through, 

Die  where  I  first  stand  still.    You  retrograde. 

I  leave  my  life's  work,    /compete  with  you, 


58  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

My  last  with  your  last,  my  Antiope — 

Phoinissai— with  this.Ploutos?  •  j!«Io,  I  think! 

Ever  shall  great  and  awful  Victory 

Accompany  my  life — in  Maketis 

If  not  Athenai.     Take  my  farewell,  friend ! 

Friend, — for  from  no  consummate  excellence 

Like  yours,  whatever  fault  may  countervail, 

Do  I  profess  estrangement :  murk  the  marsh, 

Yet  where  a  solitary  marble  block 

Blanches  the  gloom,  there  let  the  eagle  perch ! 

You  show — what  splinters  of  Pentelikos, 

Islanded  by  what  ordure !    Eagles  fly. 

Rest  on  the  right  place,  thence  depart  as  free; 

But  'ware  man's  footstep,  would  it  traverse  mire 

Untainted !    Mire  is  safe  for  worms  that  crawl.' 

"  Balaustion  !     Here  are  very  many  words, 
All  to  portray  one  moment's  rush  of  thought,— 
And  much  they  do  it !    Still,  you  understand. 
The  Archon,  the  Feast-master,  read  their  sum 
And  substance,  judged  the  banquet-glow  extinct, 
So  rose,  discreetly  if  abruptly,  crowned 
The  parting  cup, — *To  the  Good  Genius,  then !  * 

"  Up  starts  young  Strattis  for  a  final  flash : 
*  Ay  the  Good  Genius !    To  the  Comic  Muse, 


ARISTOHiANES'  APOLOGY  59 

She  who  evolves  superiority, 

Triumph  and  joy  from  sorrow,  unsuccess 

And  all  that 's  incomplete  in  human  life ; 

Who  proves  such  actual  failure  transient  wrong, 

Since  out  of  body  uncouth,  halt  and  maimed — 

Since  out  of  soul  grotesque,  corrupt  or  blank — 

Fancy,  uplifted  by  the  Muse,  can  flit 

To  soul  and  body,  re-instate  them  Man : 

Beside  which  perfect  man,  how  clear  we.  see 

Divergency  from  type  was  earth's  effect ! 

Escaping  whence  by  laughter, — Fancy's  feat, — 

We  right  man's  wrong,  establish  true  for  false, — 

Above  misshapen  body,  uncouth  soul. 

Reach  the  fine  form,  the  clear  intelligence — 

Above  unseemliness,  reach  decent  law, — ■ 

By  laughter :  attestation  of  the  Muse 

That  low-and-ugsome  is  not  signed  and  sealed 

Incontrovertibly  man's  portion  here. 

Or,  if  here, — why,  still  high-and-fair  exists 

'In  that  ethereal  realm  where  laughs  our  soul 

Lift  by  the  Muse.     Hail  thou  her  ministrant ! 

Hail  who  accepted  no  deformity 

In  man  as  normal  and  remediless. 

But  rather  pushed  it  to  such  gross  extreme 

That,  outraged,  we  protest  by  eye's  recoil 

The  opposite  proves  somewhere  rule  and  law ! 


6o  ARISTOPHANES    APOLOGY 

Hail  who  implied,  by  limning  Lamachos, 
Plenty  and  pastime  wait  on  peace,  not  war  I 
Philokleon — better  bear  a  wrong  than  plead, 
Play  the  litigious  fool  to  stuff  the  mouth 
Of  dikast  with  the  due  three-obol  fee ! 
The  Paphlagonian — stick  to  the  old  sway 
Of  few  and  wise,  not  rabble-government ! 
Trugaios,  Pisthetairos,  Strepsiades, — 
Why  multiply  examples?     Hail,  in  fine, 
The  hero  of  each  painted  monster — so 
Suggesting  the  unpictured  perfect  shape ! 
Pour  out !    A  laugh  to  Aristophanes ! ' 

"  Stay,  my  fine  Strattis  " — and  I  stopped  applause — 
*  To  the  Good  Genius — but  the  Tragic  Muse  ! 
She  who  instructs  her  poet,  bids  man's  soul 
Play  man's  part  merely  nor  attempt  the  gods' 
Ill-guessed  of !     Task  humanity  to  height. 
Put  passion  to  prime  use,  urge  will,  unshamed 
When  will's  last  effort  breaks  in  impotence ! 
No  power  forego,  elude :  no  weakness, — plied 
Fairly  by  power  and  will, — renounce,  deny ! 
Acknowledge,  in  such  miscalled  weakness  strength 
Latent :  and  substitute  thus  things  for  words  ! 
Make  man  run  life's  race  fairly, — legs  and  feet, 
Craving  no  false  wings  to  o'erfiy  its  length ! 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  6i 

Trust  on,  trust  ever,  trust  to  end— in  truth ! 

By  truth  of  extreme  passion,  utmost  will, 

Shame  back  all  false  display  of  either  force — 

Barrier  about  such  strenuous  heat  and  glow. 

That  cowardice  shall  shirk  contending, — cant, 

Pretension,  shrivel  at  truth's  first  approach ! 

Pour  to  the  Tragic  Muse's  ministrant 

Who,  as  he  pictured  pure  Hippolutos, 

Abolished  our  earth's  blot  Ariphrades ; 

Who,  as  he  drew  Bellerophon  the  bold. 

Proclaimed  Kleonumos  incredible ; 

Who,  as  his  Theseus  towered  up  man  once  more, 

Made  Alkibiades  shrink  boy  again ! 

A  tear — no  woman's  tribute,  weak  exchange 

For  action,  water  spent  and  heart's-blood  saved — 

No  man's  regret  for  greatness  gone,  ungraced 

Perchance  by  even  that  poor  meed,  man's  praise — 

But  some  god's  superabundance  of  desire. 

Yearning  of  will  to  'scape  necessity, — 

Love's  overbrimming  for  self-sacrifice, 

Whence  good  might  be,  which  never  else  may  be. 

By  power  displayed,  forbidden  this  strait  sphere, — 

Effort  expressible  one  only  way — 

Such  tear  fi-om  me  fall  to  Euripides ! " 

The  Thasian !— All,  the  Thasian,  I  account/ 


1 


62  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Whereupon  outburst  the  whole  company 

Into  applause  and — laughter,  would  you  think? 

"  The  unrivalled  one !     How,  never  at  a  loss, 

He  turns  the  Tragic  on  its  Comic  side 

Else  imperceptible !    Here 's  death  itself — 

Death  of  a  rival,  of  an  enemy, — 

Scarce  seen  as  Comic  till  the  master-touch 

Made  it  acknowledge  Aristophanes ! 

Lo,  that  Euripidean  laurel-tree 

Struck  to  the  heart  by  lightning !     Sokrates 

Would  question  us,  with  buzz  of  how  and  why. 

Wherefore  the  berry's  virtue,  the  bloom's  vice, 

Till  we  all  wished  him  quiet  with  his  friend; 

Agathon  would  compose  an  elegy. 

Lyric  bewailment  fit  to  move  a  stone. 

And,  stones  responsive,  we  might  wince,  't  is  like : 

Nay,  with  most  cause  of  all  to  weep  the  least, 

Sophokles  ordains  mourning  for  his  sake 

While  we  confess  to  a  remorseful  twinge : — 

Suddenly,  who  but  Aristophanes, 

Prompt  to  the  rescue,  puts  forth  solemn  hand. 

Singles  us  out  the  tragic  tree's  best  branch. 

Persuades  it  groundward  and,  at  tip,  appends, 

For  votive-visor.  Faun's  goat-grinning  face ! 

Back  it  flies,  evermore  with  jest  a-top. 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  63 

And  we  recover  the  true  mood,  and  laugh ! " 

"  I  felt  as  when  some  Nikias, — ninny-like 
Troubled  by  sunspot-portent,  moon-eclipse, — 
At  fault  a  little,  sees  no  choice  but  sound 
Retreat  from  foeman ;  and  his  troops  mistake 
The  signal,  and  hail  onset  in  the  blast, 
And  at  their  joyous  answer,  alaliy 
Back  the  old  courage  brings  the  scattered  wits  : 
He  wonders  what  his  doubt  meant,  quick  confirms 
The  happy  error,  blows  the  charge  amain. 
So  I  repaired  things. 

"  Both  be  praised  "  thanked  I. 
'*  You  who  have  laughed  with  Aristophanes, 
You  who  wept  rather  with  the  Lord  of  Teai?.  ■ 
Priest,  do  thou,  president  alike  o'er  each. 
Tragic  and  Comic  function  of  the  god, 
Help  with  libation  to  the  blended  twain ! 
Either  of  which  who  serving,  only  serves — 
Proclaims  himself  disqualified  to  pour 
To  that  Good  Genius — complex  Poetry, 
Uniting  each  god-grace,  including  both : 
Which,  operant  for  body  as  for  soul. 
Masters  alike  the  laughter  and  the  tears, 
Supreme  in  lowliest  earth,  sublimest  sky. 


64  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Who  dares  disjoin  these, — whether  he  ignores 
Body  or  soul,  whichever  half  destroys, — 
.  Maims  the  else  perfect  manhood,  perpetrates 
Again  the  inexpiable  crime  we  curse — 
Hacks  at  the  Hermai,  halves  each  guardian  shape 
Combining,  nowise  vainly,  prominence 
Of  august  head  and  enthroned  intellect, 
With  homelier  symbol  of  asserted  sense, — 
Nature's  prime  impulse,  earthly  appetite. 
For,  when  our  folly  ventures  on  the  freak, 
Would  fain  abolish  joy  and  fruitfulness, 
Mutilate  nature — what  avails  the  Head 
Left  solitarily  predominant, — 
Unbodied  soul, — not  Hermes,  both  in  one  ? 
I,  no  more  than  our  City,  acquiesce 
In  such  a  desecration,  but  defend 
Man's  double  nature — ^ay,  wert  thou  its  foe !  • 
Could  I  once  more,  thou  cold  Euripides, 
Encounter  thee,  in  nought  would  I  abate 
My  warfare,  nor  subdue  my  worst  attack 
On  thee  whose  life-work  preached  *  Raise  soul,  sink 

sense ! 
Evirate  Hermes  ! ' — ^would  avenge  the  god, 
And  justify  myself     Once  face  to  face. 
Thou,  the  argute  and  tricksy,  shouldst  not  wrap, 
As  thine  old  fashion  was,  in  silent  scorn 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  65 

The  breast  that  quickened  at  the  sting  of  truth, 
Nor  turn  from  me,  as,  if  the  tale  be  true, 
From  Lais  when  she  met  thee  in  thy  walks, 
And  questioned  why  she  had  no  rights  as  thou : 
Not  so  shouldst  thou  betake  thee,  be  assured, 
To  book  and  pencil,  deign  me  no  reply  I 
I  would  extract  an  answer  from  those  lips 
So  closed  and  cold,  were  mine  the  garden-chance ! 
Gone  from  the  world  I     Does  none  remain  to  take 
Thy  part  and  ply  me  with  thy  sophist-skill  ? 
No  sun  makes  proof  of  his  whole  potency 
For  gold  and  purple  in.  that  orb  we  view : 
The  apparent  orb  does  little  but  leave  blind 
The  audacious,  and  confused  the  worshipping ; 
But,  close  on  orb's  departure,  must  succeed 
The  serviceable  cloud, — must  intervene. 
Induce  expenditure  of  rose  and  blue, 
Reveal  what  lay  in  him  was  lost  to  us. 
So,  friends,  what  hinders,  as  we  homeward  go, 
If,  privileged  by  triumph  gained  to-day, 
We  clasp  that  cloud  our  sun  left  saturate, 
The  Rhodian  rosy  with  Euripides? 
Not  of  my  audience  on  my  triumph-day, 
She  nor  her  husband  I     After  the  night's  news 
Neither  will  sleep  but  watch ;  I  know  the  mood- 
Accompany  1  my  crown  declares  my  right ! 

XIII.  F 


66  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

And  here  you  stand  with  those  warm  golden  eyes ! 

"  In  honest  language,  I  am  scarce  too  sure 
Whether  I  really  felt,  indeed  expressed 
Then,  in  that  presence,  things  I  now  repeat : 
Nor  half,  nor  any  one  word, — will  that  do? 
May  be,  such  eyes  must  strike  conviction,  turn 
One's  nature  bottom  upwards,  show  the  base — 
The  live  rock  latent  under  wave  and  foam : 
Superimposure  these !    Yet  solid  stuff 
Will  ever  and  anon,  obeying  star, 
(And  what  star  reaches  rock-nerve  like  an  eye  ?) 
Swim  up  to  surface,  spout  or  mud  or  flame, 
And  find  no  more  to  do  than  sink  as  fast. 

"  Anyhow,  I  have  followed  happily 

The  impulse,  pledged  my  Genius  with  effect, 

Since,  come  to  see  you,  I  am  shown — ^myself  I " 

I  answered: 

"  Otte  of  us  declared  for  both 
*  Welcome  the  glory  of  Aristophanes.' 
The  other  adds :  and,— if  that  glory  last. 
Nor  marsh-bom  vapour  creep  to  veil  the  same, — 
Once  entered,  sJaare  in  our  solemnity  I 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  67 

Commemorate,  as  we,  Euripides ! " 

*  What?"  he  looked  round,  "  I  darken  the  bright  house? 

Profane  the  temple  of  your  deity  ? 

That 's  true !    Else  wherefore  does  he  stand  portrayed  ? 

What  Rhodian  paint  and  pencil  saved  so  much, 

Beard,  freckled  face,  brow — all  but  breath,  I  hope ! 

Come,  that 's  unfair :  myself  am  somebody. 

Yet  my  pictorial  fame 's  just  potter's-work, — • 

I  merely  figure  on  men's  drinking-mugs ! 

I  and  the  Flat-nose,  Sophroniskos'  son. 

Oft  make  a  pair.     But  what 's  this  lies  below  ? 

His  table-book  and  graver,  playwright's  tool ! 

And  lo,  the  sweet  psalterion,  strung  and  screwed, 

Whereon  he  tried  those  le-k-k-k-ts 

And  ke-t-'e-k'ts  and  turns  and  trills. 

Lovely  lark's  tirra-lirra,  lad's  delight ! 

Aischulos'  bronze-throat  eagle-bark  at  blood 

Has  somehow  spoiled  my  taste  for  twitterings  ! 

With  .  .  .  what,  and  did  he  leave  you  *  Herakles '  ? 

The  *  Frenzied  Hero,'  one  unfractured  sheet. 

No  pine-wood  tablets  smeared  with  treacherous  wax — 

Papuros  perfect  as  e'er  tempted  pen ! 

This  sacred  twist  of  bay-leaves  dead  and  sere 

Must  be  that  crown  the  fine  work  failed  to  catch, — 

No  wonder  1    This  might  crown  *  Antiope.' 

F2 


68  •  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

*  Herakles '  triumph  ?    In  your  heart  perhaps ! 
But  elsewhere  ?    Come  now,  1 11  explain  the  case, 
Show  you  the  main  mistake.     Give  me  the  sheet ! " 

I  interrupted  • 

"  Aristophanes ! 
The  stranger- woman  sues  in  her  abode — 

*  Be  honoured  as  our  guest ! '    But,  call  it — shrine, 
Then  *  No  dishonour  to  the  Daimon  ! '  bids 

The  priestess  *  or  expect  dishonour's  due ! ' 
You  enter  fresh  from  your  worst  infamy. 
Last  instance  of  long  outrage ;  yet  I  pause. 
Withhold  the  word  a-tremble  on  my  lip. 
Incline  me,  rather,  yearn  to  reverence, — 
So  you  but  suffer  that  I  see  the  blaze 
And  not  the  bolt, — the  splendid  fancy-fling, 
Not  the  cold  iron  malice,  the  launched  lie 
Whence  heavenly  fire  has  withered ;  impotent. 
Yet  execrable,  leave  it  'neath  the  look 
Of  yon  impassive  presence !    What  he  scorned. 
His  life  long,  need  I  touch,  offend  my  foot. 
To  prove  that  malice  missed  its  mark,  that  lie 
Cumbers  the  ground,  returns  to  whence  it  came  ? 
I  marvel,  I  deplore, — the  rest  be  mute  I 
But,  throw  off  hate's  celestiab'ty, — ■ 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  69 

Show  me,  apart  from  song-flash  and  wit-flame, 
A  mere  man's  hand  ignobly  clenched  against 
Yon  supreme  calmness, — and  I  interpose, 
Such  as  you  see  me  !     Silk  breaks  lightning's  blow ! " 

He  seemed  to  scarce  so  much  as  notice  me, 
Aught  had  I  spoken,  save  the  final  phrase : 
Arrested  there. 

"  Euripides  grown  calm ! 
Calmness  supreme  means  dead  and  therefore  safe," 
He  muttered ;  then  more  audibly  began — 

"  Dead !  Such  must  die !  Could  people  comprehend  1 

There 's  the  unfairness  of  it !    So  obtuse 

Are  all :  from  Solon  downward  with  his  saw 

*  Let  none  revile  the  dead, — no,  though  the  son. 

Nay,  far  descendant,  should  revile  thyself ! ' — 

To  him  who  made  Elektra,  in  the  act 

Of  wreaking  vengeance  on  her  worst  of  foes. 

Scruple  to  blame,  since  speech  that  blames  insults 

Too  much  the  very  villain  life-released. 

Now,  /say,  only  after  death,  begins 

That  formidable  claim, — immunity 

Of  faultiness  from  fault's  due  punishment ! 

The  living,  who  defame  me, — ^why,  they  live : 


TO  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Fools, — I  best  prove  them  foolish  by  their  life, 

Will  they  but  work  on,  lay  their  work  by  mine, 

And  wait  a  little,  one  Olympiad,  say ! 

Then — ^where  's  the  vital  force,  mine  froze  beside  ? 

The  sturdy  fibre,  shamed  my  brittle  stuff? 

The  school-correctness,  sure  of  wise  award 

When  my  vagaries  cease  to  tickle  taste  ? 

Where 's  censure  that  must  sink  me,  judgment  big 

Awaiting  just  the  word  posterity 

Pants  to  pronounce  ?  Time's  wave  breaks,  buries — whom^ 

Fools,  when  myself  confronts  you  four  years  hence  ? 

But  die,  ere  next  Lenaia, — safely  so 

You  'scape  me,  slink  with  all  your  ignorance. 

Stupidity  and  malice,  to  that  hole 

O'er  which  survivors  croak  *  Respect  the  dead ! ' 

Ay,  for  I  needs  must !     But  allow  me  clutch 

Only  a  carrion-handful,  lend  it  sense, 

(Mine,  not  its  own,  or  could  it  answer  me  ?) 

And  question  *  You,  I  pluck  from  hiding-place, 

Whose  cant  was,  certain  years  ago,  my  '  Clouds ' 

Might  last  until  the  swallows  came  with  Spring — 

Whose  chatter,  *  Birds '  are  unintelligible, 

Mere  psychologic  puzzling :  poetry  ? 

List,  the  true  lay  to  rock  a  cradle  with  I 

O  man  of  Mitulenk^  wondrous  wiseP 

— ^Would  not  I  rub  each  face  in  its  own  filth 


AI^rSTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  71 

To  tune  of  *  Now  that  years  have  come  and  gone, 
How  does  the  fact  stand  ?    What 's  demonstrable 
By  time,  that  tries  things  ? — your  own  test,  not  mine 
Who  think  men  are,  were,  ever  will  be  fools. 
Though  somehow  fools  confute  fools, — as  these,  you ! 
Don't  mumble  to  the  sheepish  twos  and  threes 
You  cornered  and  called  *  audience '  1    Face  this  me 
Who  know,  and  can,  and — helped  by  fifty  years — 
Do  pulverize  you  pygmies,  then  as  now ! ' 

"Ay,  now  as  then,  I  pulverize  the  brood, 

Balaustion  1     Mindful,  from  the  first,  where  foe 

Would  hide  head  safe  when  hand  had  flung  its  stone, 

I  did  not  turn  cheek  and  take  pleasantry. 

But  flogged  while  skin  could  purple  and  flesh  start, 

To  teach  fools  whom  they  tried  conclusions  with. 

First  face  a-splutter  at  me  got  such  splotch 

Of  prompt  slab  mud  as,  filling  mouth  to  maw, 

Made  its  concern  thenceforward  not  so  much 

To  criticize  me  as  go  cleanse  itself. 

The  only  drawback  to  which  huge  delight, — 

(He  saw  it,  how  he  saw  it,  that  calm  cold 

Sagacity  you  call  Euripides  !) 

— ^Why,  't  is  that,  make  a  muckheap  of  a  man, 

There,  pillared  by  your  prowess,  he  remains. 

Immortally  immerded.     Not  so  he  ! 


L._ 


72  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Men  pelted  him  but  got  no  pellet  back.    • 

He  reasoned,  I  'H  engage, — *  Acquaint  the  world 

Certain  minuteness  butted  at  my  knee? 

Dogface  Eruxis,  the  small  satirist, — 

What  better  would  the  manikin  desire 

Than  to  strut  forth  on  tiptoe,  notable 

As  who,  so  far  up,  fouled  me  in  the  flank  ? ' 

So  dealt  he  With  the  dwarfs :  we  giants,  too, 

Why  must  we  emulate  their  pin-point  play  ? 

Render  imperishable — impotence, 

For  mud  throw  mountains?  Zeus,  by  mud  unreached, 

Well,  't  was  no  dwarf  he  heaved  Olumpos  at ! " 

My  heart  burned  up  within  me  to  my  tongue. 

"  And  why  must  men  remember,  ages  hence, 
Who  it  was  rolled  down  rocks,  but  refuse  too — 
Strattis  might  steal  from  !  mixture-monument, 
Recording  what  ?     *  I,  Aristophanes, 
Who  boast  me  much  inventive  in  my  art, 
Against  Euripides  thus  volleyed  muck 
Because,  in  art,  he  too  extended  bounds. 
I — patriot,  loving  peace  and  hating  war, — 
Choosing  the  rule  of  few,  but  wise  and  good. 
Rather  than  mob-dictature,  fools  and  knaves 
However  multiplied  their  mastery, — 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  73 

Despising  most  of  all  the  demagogue, 

(Noisome  air- bubble,  buoyed  up,  bome  along 

By  kindred  breath  of  knave  and  fool  below, 

Whose  hearts  swell  proudly  as  each  puffing  face 

Grows  big,  reflected  in  that  glassy  ball. 

Vacuity,  just  bellied  out  to  break 

And  righteously  bespatter  friends  the  first) — 

I  loathing, — beyond  less  puissant  speech 

Than  my  own  god-grand  language  to  declare, — 

The  fawning,  cozenage  and  calumny 

Wherewith  such  favourite  feeds  the  populace 

That  fan  and  set  him  flying  for  reward  : — 

I  who,  detecting  what  vice  underlies 

Thought's  superstructure, — fancy's  sludge  and  slime 

Twixt  fact's  sound  floor  and  thought's  mere  surface-growth 

Of  hopes  and  fears  which  root  no  deeplier  down 

Than  where  all  such  mere  fungi  breed  and  bloat — 

Namely,  man's  misconception  of  the  God : — 

I,  loving,  hating,  wishful  from  my  soul 

That  truth  should  triumph,  falsehood  have  defeat, 

— Why,  all  my  soul's  supremacy  of  power 

Did  I  pour  out  in  volley  just  on  him 

Who,  his  whole  life  long,  championed  every  cause 

I  called  my  heart's  cause,  loving  as  I  loved, 

Hating  my  hates,  spumed  falsehood,  championed  truth, — 

Championed  truth  not  by  flagellating  foe 


74  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

With  simple  rose  and  lily,  gibe  and  jeer, 

Sly  wink  of  boon-companion  o'er  his  bowze 

Who,  while  he  blames  the  liquor,  smacks  the  lip, 

Blames,  doubtless,  but  leers  condonation  too, — 

No,  the  balled  fist  broke  brow  like  thunderbolt, 

Battered  till  brain  flew !     Seeing  which  descent, 

None  questioned  that  was  first  acquaintanceship, 

The  avenger's  with  the  vice  he  crashed  through  bone. 

Still,  he  displeased  me ;  and  I  turned  from  foe 

To  fellow-fighter,  flung  much  stone,  more  mud, — 

But  missed  him,  since  he  lives  aloof,  I  see.' 

Pah !  stop  more  shame,  deep-cutting  glory  through. 

Nor  add,  this  poet,  learned, — found  no  taunt 

Tell  like  *  That  other  poet  studies  books ! ' 

Wise, — cried  '  At  each  attempt  to  move  our  hearts, 

He  uses  the  mere  phrase  of  daily  life  1 ' 

Witty, — *  His  mother  was  a  herb- woman  I ' 

Veracious,  honest,  loyal,  fair  and  good, — 

*  It  was  Kephisophon  who  helped  him  write ! ' 

"  Whence, — O  the  tragic  end  of  comedy ! — ' 

Balaustion  pities  Aristophanes. 

For,  who  believed  him?    Those  who  laughed  so  loud? 

They  heard  him  call  the  sun  Sicilian  cheese ! 

Had  he  called  true  cheese — curd,  would  muscle  move  ? 

What  made  them  laugh  but  the  enormous  lie  ? 


ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY  75 

*  Kephisophon  wrote  Herakles?  ha,  ha, 

What  can  have  stirred  the  wine-dregs,  soured  the  soul 

And  set  a-lying  Aristophanes  ? 

Some  accident  at  which  he  took  offence ! 

The  Tragic  Master  in  a  moody  muse 

Passed  him  unhailing,  and  it  hurts — it  hurts ! 

Beside,  there 's  licence  for  the  Wine-lees-song  1 ' " 

Blood  burnt  the  cheek-bone,  each  black  eye  flashed  fierce. 


"  But  this  exceeds  our  licence  I    Stay  awhil 
That 's  the  solution  !  both  are  foreigners. 
The  fresh-come  Rhodian  lady  and  her  spouse 
The  man  of  Phokis :  newly  resident, 
Nowise  instructed — that  explains  it  all  1 
No  bom  and  bred  Athenian  but  would  smile, 
Unless  frown  seemed  more  fit  for  ignorance. 
These  strangers  have  a  privilege ! 

"  You  blame  " 
(Presently  he  resumed  with  milder  mien) 
"  Both  theory  and  practice — Comedy : 
Blame  her  from  altitudes  the  Tragic  friend 
Rose  to,  and  upraised  friends  along  with  him, 
No  matter  how.     Once  there,  all 's  cold  and  fine, 
Passionless,  rational ;  our  world  beneath 


76  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Shows  (should  you  condescend  to  grace  so  much 

As  glance  at  poor  Athenai)  grimly  gross — 

A  population  which,  mere  flesh  and  blood, 

Eats,  drinks  and  kisses,  falls  to  fisticuffs, 

Then  hugs  as  hugely :  speaks  too  as  it  acts, 

Prodigiously  talks  nonsense, — townsmen  needs 

Must  parley  in  their  town's  vernacular. 

Such  world  has,  of  two  courses,  one  to  choose : 

Unworld  itself, — or  else  go  blackening  off 

To  its  crow-kindred,  leave  philosophy 

Her  heights  serene,  fit  perch  for  owls  like  you. 

Now,  since  the  world  demurs  to  either  course. 

Permit  me, — in  default  of  boy  or  girl, 

So  they  be  reared  Athenian,  good  and  true, — 

To  praise  what  you  most  blame !    Hear  Art's  defence ! 

I  '11  prove  our  institution.  Comedy, 

Coeval  with  the  birth  of  freedom,  matched 

So  nice  with  our  Republic,  that  its  growth 

Measures  each  greatness,  just  as  its  decline 

Would  signalize  the  downfall  of  the  pair. 

Our  Art  began  when  Bacchos  .  .  .  never  mind ! 

You  and  your  master  don't  acknowledge  gods : 

*  They  are  not,  no,  they  are  not ! '  well, — began 

When  the  rude  instinct  of  our  race  outspoke. 

Found, — on  recurrence  of  festivity 

Occasioned  by  black  mother-earth's  good  will 


I 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  77 

To  children,  as  they  took  her  vintage-gifts, — 

Found — not  the  least  of  many  benefits — 

That  wine  unlocked  the  stiffest  lip,  and  loosed 

The  tongue  late  dry  and  reticent  of  joke, 

Through  custom's  gripe  which  gladness  thrusts  aside. 

So,  emulating  liberalities, 

Heaven  joined  with  earth  for  that  god's  day  at  least. 

Renewed  man's  privilege,  grown  obsolete, 

Of  telling  truth  nor  dreading  punishment. 

Whereon  the  joyous  band  disguised  their  forms 

With  skins,  beast-fashion,  daubed  each  phyz  with  dregs. 

Then  hollaed  *  Neighbour,  you  are  fool,  you — knave. 

You — hard  to  serve,  you — stingy  to  reward  ! ' 

The  guiltless  crowed,  the  guilty  sunk  their  crest, 

And  good  folk  gained  thereby,  't  was  evident. 

Whence,  by  degrees,  a  birth  of  happier  thought, 

The  notion  came — not  simply  thia  to  say. 

But  this  to  do— prove,  put  in  evidence. 

And  act  the  fool,  the  knave,  the  harsh,  the  hunks, 

Who  did  prate,  cheat,  shake  fist,  draw  pursestring  tight, 

As  crowd  might  see,  which  only  heard  before. 

"  So  played  the  Poet,  with  his  man  of  parts  ;- 
And  all  the  others,  found  unqualified 
To  mount  cart  and  be  persons,  made  the  mob, 
Joined  choros,  fortified  their  fellows'  fun, 


78  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Anticipated  the  community, 
Gave  judgment  which  the  public  ratified. 
Suiting  rough  weapon  doubtless  to  plain  truth, 
They  flung,  for  word-artillery,  why — filth ; 
Still,  folk  who  wiped  the  unsavoury  salute 
From  visage,  would  prefer  the  mess  to  wit — 
Steel,  poked  through  midriff  with  a  civil  speech, 
As  now  the  way  is :  then,  the  kindlier  mode 
Was — drub  not  stab,  ribroast  not  scarify ! 
So  did  Sousarion  introduce,  and  so 
Did  I,  acceding,  find  the  Comic  Art : 
Club, — if  I  call  it, — notice  what 's  implied ! 
An  engine  proper  for  rough  chastisement, 
No  downright  slaying :  with  impunity — 
Provided  crabtree,  steeped  in  oily  joke. 
Deal  only  such  a  bruise  as  laughter  cures. 
I  kept  the  gained  advantage :  stickled  still 
For  club-law — stout  fun  and  allowanced  thumps : 
Knocked  in  each  knob  a  crevice  to  hold  joke 
As  fig-leaf  holds  the  fat-fry. 

"  Next,  whom  thrash  ? 
Only  the  coarse  fool  and  the  clownish  knave  ? 
Higher,  more  artificial,  composite 
Offence  should  prove  my  prowess,  eye  and  arm  1 
Not  who  robs  henroost,  tells  of  untaxed  figs, 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  79 

Spends  all  his  substance  on  stewed  ellops-fish. 

Or  gives  a  pheasant  to  his  neighbour's  wife : 

No !  strike  malpractice  that  aifects  the  State, 

The  common  weal — intriguer  or  poltroon, 

Venality,  corruption,  what  care  I 

If  shrewd  or  witless  merely  ?— so  the  thing 

Lay  sap  to  aught  that  made  Athenai  bright 

And  happy,  change  her  customs,  lead  astray 

Youth  or  age,  play  the  demagogue  at  Pnux, 

The  sophist  in  Palaistra,  or — what 's  worst, 

As  widest  mischief, — from  the  Theatre 

Preach  innovation,  bring  contempt  on  oaths, 

Adorn  licentiousness,  despise  the  Cult. 

Are  such  to  be  my  game  ?    Why,  then  there  wants 

Quite  other  cunning  than  a  cudgel-sweep  ! 

Grasp  the  old  stout  stock,  but  new  tip  with  steel 

Each  boss,  if  I  would  bray — no  callous  hide 

Simply,  but  Lamachos  in  coat  of  proof, 

Or  Kleon  cased  about  with  impudence ! 

Shaft  pushed  no  worse  while  point  pierced  sparkling  so 

That  none  smiled  *  Sportive,  what  seems  savagest, 

— Innocuous  anger,  spiteless  rustic  mirth ! ' 

Yet  spiteless  in  a  sort,  considered  well, 

§ince  I  pursued  my  warfare  till  each  wound 

Went  through  the  mere  man,  reached  the  principle 

Worth  purging  from  Athenai,     Lamachos  ? 


8o  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

No,  I  attacked  war's  representative ; 
Kleon  ?    No,  flattery  of  the  populace ; 
Sokrates  ?    No,  but  that  pernicious  seed 
Of  sophists  whereby  hopeful  youth  is  taught 
To  jabber  argument,  chop  logic,  pore 
On  sun  and  moon,  and  worship  Whirligig. 

0  your  tragedian,  with  the  lofty  grace, 
Aims  at  no  other  and  effects  as  much  ? 
Candidly  :  what 's  a  polished  period  worth, 
Filed  curt  sententiousness  of  loaded  line, 
When  he  who  deals  out  doctrine,  primly  steps 
From  just  that  selfsame  moon  he  maunders  of, 
And,  blood-thinned  by  his  pallid  nutriment, 
Proposes  to  rich  earth-blood — purity  ? 

In  me,  't  was  equal-balanced  flesh  rebuked 
Excess  alike  in  stuff-guts  Glauketes 
Or  starveling  Chairephon ;  I  challenged  both, — 
Strong  undefstander  of  our  common  life, 

1  urged  sustainment  of  humanity. 

Whereas  when  your  tragedian  cries  up  Peace — 
He 's  silent  as  to  cheesecakes  Peace  may  chew ; 
Seeing  through  rabble-rule,  he  shuts  his  eye 
To  what  were  better  done  than  crowding  Pnux — 
That 's — dance  *  ThrettanelOy  the  Kuklops  drunk ! 

"  My  power  has  hardly  need  to  vaunt  itself  1 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  8i 

Opposers  peep  and  mutter,  or  speak  plain : 

*  No  naming  names  in  Comedy ! '  votes  one, 

*  Nor  vilifying  live  folk ! '  legislates 
Another,  *  urge  amendment  on  the  dead ! ' 

*  Don't  throw  away  hard  cash,*  supplies  a  third, 

*  But  crib  from  actor's  dresses,  choros-treats  ! ' 
Then  Kleon  did  his  best  to  bully  me : 

Called  me  before  the  Law  Court :  *  Such  a  play 

Satirized  citizens  with  strangers  there, 

Such  other,' — why,  its  fault  was  in  myself ! 

I  was,  this  time,  the  stranger,  privileged 

To  act  no  play  at  all, — Egyptian,  I — 

Rhodian  or  Kameirensian,  Aiginete, 

Lindian,  or  any  foreigner  he  liked — 

Because  I  can't  write  Attic,  probably ! 

Go  ask  my  rivals, — how  they  roughed  my  fleece, 

And  how,  shorn  pink  themselves,  the  huddled  sheep 

Shiver  at  distance  from  the  snapping  shears ! 

Why  must  they  needs  provoke  me  ? 

"  All  the  same, 
No  matter  for  my  triumph,  1  foretell 
Subsidence  of  the  day-star :  quench  his  beams 
No  Aias  e'er  was  equal  to  the  feat 
By  throw  of  shield,  tough-hided  seven  times  seven, 
'Twixt  sky  and  earth !  't  is  dullards  soft  and  sure 

XIII.  G 


82  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Who  breathe  against  his  brightest,  here  a  sigh 

« 

And  there  a  *  So  let  be,  we  pardon  you ! ' 
Till  the  minute  mist  hangs  a  block,  has  tamed 
Noonblaze  to  *  twilight  mild  and  equable,' 
Vote  the  old  women  spinning  out  of  doors. 
Give  me  the  earth-spasm,  when  the  lion  ramped 
And  the  bull  gendered  in  the  brave  gold  flare  1 
O  you  shall  have  amusement, — better  still, 
Instruction  !  no  more  horse-play,  naming  names. 
Taxing  the  fancy  when  plain  sense  will  serye  ! 
Thearion,  now,  my  friend  who  bakes  you  bread, 
AVhat  's  worthier  limning  than  his  household  life  ? 
His  whims  and  ways,  his  quarrels  with  the  spouse, 
And  how  the  son,  instead  of  learning  knead 
Kilikian  loaves,  brings  heart-break  on  his  sire 
By  buying  horseflesh  branded  San^  each  flank, 
From  shrewd  Menippos  who  imports  the  ware : 
While  pretty  daughter  Kepphe  too  much  haunts 
The  shop  of  Sporgilos  the  barber  !  brave  1 
Out  with  Thearion's  meal-tub  politics 
In  lieu  of  Pisthetairos,  Strepsiades ! 
That 's  your  exchange  ?     O  Muse  of  Megara  ! 
Advise  the  fools  *  Feed  babe  on  weasel-lap 
For  wild-boar's  marrow^  CheirotCs  hero-pap^ 
And  rear^  for  man — Aripkrades,  mayhap/^ 
Yes,  my  Balaustion,  yes,  my  Euthukles, 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  83 

That 's  your  exchange, — who,  foreigners  in  fact 
And  fancy,  would  impose  your  squeamishness 
On  sturdy  health,  and  substitute  such  brat 
For  the  right  offspring  of  us  Rocky  Ones, 
Because  babe  kicks  the  cradle, — crows,  not  mewls ! 

"  Which  brings  me  to  the  prime  fault,  poison-speck 

Whence  all  the  plague  springs — that  first  feud  of  all 

Twixt  me  and  you  and  your  Euripides. 

*  Unworld  the  world '  frowns  he,  my  opposite. 

I  cry,  *  Life ! '    *  Death,'  he  groans,  *  our  better  Life  1 ' 

Despise  what  is — the  good  and  graspable, 

Prefer  the  out  of  sight  and  in  at  mind, 

To  village-joy,  the  well-side  violet-patch, 

The  jolly  club-feast  when  our  field 's  in  soak, 

Roast  thrushes,  hare-soup,  pea-soup,  deep  washed  down 

With  Peparethian ;  the.  prompt  paying  off 

That  black-eyed  brown-skinned  country-flavoured  wench 

We  caught  among  our  brushwood  foraging : 

On  these  look  fig-juice,  curdle  up  life's  cream, 

And  fell  to  magnifying  misery ! 

Or,  if  you  condescend  to  happiness. 

Why,  talk,  talk,  talk  about  the  empty  name 

While  thing's  self  lies  neglected  'neath  your  nose ! 

/  need  particular  discourtesy 

And  private  insult  from  Euripides 

G2 


84  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

To  render  contest  with  him  credible  ? 

Say,  all  of  me  is  outraged  !  one  stretched  sense, 

I  represent  the  whole  Republic, — gods, 

Heroes,  priests,  legislators,  poets, — prone. 

And  pummelled  into  insignificance, 

If  will  in  him  were  matched  with  power  of  stroke. 

For  see  what  he  has  changed  or  hoped  to  change  ! 

How  few  years  since,  when  he  began  the  fight, 

Did  there  beat  life  indeed  Athenai  through  ! 

Plenty  and  peace,  then !    Hellas  thundersmote 

The  Persian.     He  himself  had  birth,  you  say, 

That  morn  salvation  broke  at  Salamis, 

And  heroes  still  walked  earth.    Themistokles — 

Surely  his  mere  back-stretch  of  hand  could  still 

Find,  not  so  lost  in  dark,  Odusseus  ? — he 

Holding  as  surely  on  to  Herakles, — 

Who  touched  Zeus,  link  by  link,  the  unruptured  chain ! 

Were  poets  absent?    Aischulos  might  hail — 

With  Pindaros,  Theognis, — whom  for  sire  ? 

Homeros*  self,  departed  yesterday ! 

While  Hellas,  saved  and  sung  to,  then  and  thus, — 

Ah,  people, — ah,  lost  antique  liberty ! 

We  lived,  ourselves,  undoubted  lords  of  earth : 

Wherever  olives  flourish,  corn  yields  crop 

To  constitute  our  title — ours  such  land ! 

Outside  of  oil  and  breadstuff, — barbarism ! 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  85 

What  need  of  conquest  ?     Let  barbarians  starve  ! 

Devote  our  whole  strength  to  our  sole  defence, 

Content  with  peerless  native  products,  home, 

Beauty  profuse  in  earth's  mere  sights  and  sounds, 

Such  men,  such  women,  and  such  gods  their  guard  \ 

The  gods  ?  he  worshipped  best  who  feared  them  most. 

And  left  their  nature  uninquired  into, 

— Nature  ?  their  very  names  !  pay  reverence, 

Do  sacrifice  for  our  part,  theirs  would  be 

To  prove  benignantest  of  playfellows. 

With  kindly  humanism  they  countenanced 

Our  emulation  of  divine  escapes 

Through  sense  and  soul:  soul,  sense  are  made  to 

use; 
Use  each,  acknowledging  its  god  the  while ! 
Crush  grape,  dance,  drink,  indulge,  for  Bacchos*  sake ! 
T  is  Aphrodite's  feast-day — frisk  and  fling. 
Provided  we  observe  our  oaths,  and  house 
Duly  the  stranger :  Zeus  takes  umbrage  else ! 
Ah,  the  great  time — had  I  been  there  to  taste ! 
Perikles,  right  Olumpian, — occupied 
As  yet  with  getting  an  Olumpos  reared 
Marble  and  gold  above  Akropolis, — 
Wisely  so  spends  what  thrifty  fools  amassed 
For  cut-throat  projects.    AVho  carves  Promachos  ? 
Who  writes  the  Oresteia  ? 


6  ASISTOPHANES'   APOLOGY 

"  Ah,  the  time ! 
For,  all  at  once,  a  cloud  has  blanched  the  blue, 
A  cold  wind  creeps  through  the  close  vineyard-rank, 
The  olive-leaves  curl,  violets  crisp  and  close 
Like  a  nymph's  wrinkling  at  the  bath's  first  splash 
On  breast.    (Your  pardon !)    There 's  a  restless  change, 
Deterioration.     Larks  and  nightingales 
Are  silenced,  here  and  there  a  gor-crow  grim 
Flaps  past,  as  scenting  opportunity. 
Where  Kimon  passaged  to  the  Boul6  once, 
A  starveling  crew,  unkempt,  unshorn,  unwashed, 
Occupy  altar-base  and  temple-step. 
Are  minded  to  indoctrinate  our  youth  ! 
How  call  these  carrion  kill-joys  that  intrude? 
'  Wise  men,'  their  nomenclature  !     Prodikos — 
Who  scarce  could,  unassisted,  pick  his  steps 
From  way  Theseia  to  the  Tripods'  way, — 
This  empty  noddle  comprehends  the  sun, — 
How  he 's  Aigina's  bigness,  wheels  no  whit 
His  way  from  east  to  west,  nor  wants  a  steed ! 
'  id  here 's  Protagoras  sets  wrongheads  right, 
(plains  what  virtue,  vice,  truth,  falsehood  mean, 
akes  all  we  seemed  to  know  prove  ignorance 
;t  knowledge  also,  since,  on  either  side 
"  any  question,  something  is  to  say, 
jthing  to  'stablish,  all  things  to  disturb  1 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  87 

And  shall  youth  go  and  play  at  kottabos, 
Leaving  unsettled  whether  itobn-spots  breed  ? 
Or  dare  keep  Choes  ere  the  problem 's  solved — 
Why  should  I  like  my  wife  who  dislikes  me  ? 

*  But  sure  the  gods  permit  this,  censure  that  ? ' 
So  tell  them  I  straight  the  answer 's  in  your  teeth : 

*  You  relegate  these  points,  then,  to  the  gods  ? 
What  and  where  are  they? '    What  my  sire  supposed, 
And  where  yon  cloud  conceals  them !    *  Till  they  'scape 
And  scramble  down  to  Leda,  as  a  swan, 

Europa,  as  a  bull !  why  not  as — ass 

To  somebody?    Your  sire  was  Zeus  perhaps \ 

Either — away  with  such  ineptitude  I 

Or,  wantmg  energy  to  break  your  bonds, 

Stick  to  the  good  old  stories,  think  the  rain 

Is — Zeus  distilling  pickle  through  a  sieve ! 

Think  thunder 's  thrown  to  break  Theoros'  head 

For  breaking  oaths  first  I     Meanwhile  let  ourselves 

Instruct  your  progeny  you  prate  like  fools 

Of  father  Zeus,  who  's  but  the  atmosphere. 

Brother  Poseidon,  otherwise  called — sea. 

And  son  Hephaistos — fire  and  nothing  else ! 

Over  which  nothings  there  'sa  something  still, 

"  Necessity,"  that  rules  the  universe 

And  cares  as  much  about  your  Choes-feast 

Performed  or  intermitted,  as  you  care 


tit.- 


88  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Whether  gnats  sound  their  trump  from  head  or  tail !  * 

When,  stupefied  at  such  philosophy, 

We  cry — Arrest  the  madmen,  governor ! 

Pound  hemlock  and  pour  bulFs-blood,  Perikles ! — 

Would  you  believe  ?    The  Olumpian  bends  his  brow, 

Scarce  pauses  from  his  building !     '  Say  they  thus  ? 

Then,  they  say  wisely.     Anaxagoras, 

I  had  not  known  how  simple  proves  eclipse 

But  for  thy  teaching !    Go,  fools,  learn  like  me  I  * 

"  Well,  Zeus  nods :  man  must  reconcile  himself, 

So,  let  the  Charon's-company  harangue. 

And  Anaxagoras  be — as  we  wish  I 

A  comfort  is  in  nature :  while  grass  grows 

And  water  runs,  and  sesame  pricks  tongue, 

And  honey  from  Brilesian  hollow  melts 

On  mouth,  and  Bacchis'  flavorous  lip  beats  both, 

You  will  not  be  untaught  life's  use,  young  man? 

Pho!    My  young  man  just  proves  that  panniered  ass 

Said  to  have  borne  Youth  strapped  on  his  stout  back, 

With  whom  a  serpent  bargained,  bade  him  swap 

The  priceless  boon  for — water  to  quench  thirst ! 

What 's  youth  to  my  young  man  ?    In  love  with  age. 

He  Spartanizes,  argues,  fasts  and  frowns. 

Denies  the  plainest  rules  of  life,  long  since 

Proved  sound ;  sets  all  authority  aside, 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  .89 

Must  simply  recommence  things,  learn  ere  act, 
And  think  out  thoroughly  how  youth  should  pass — 
Just  as  if  youth  stops  passing,  all  the  same ! 

"  One  last  resource  is  left  us — poetry  ! 

Vindicate  nature,  prove  Plataian  help, 

Turn  out,  a  thousand  strong,  all  right  and  tight, 

To  save  Sense,  poet !    Bang  the  sophist-brood 

Would  cheat  man  out  of  wholesome  sustenance 

By  swearing  wine  is  water,  honey — gall, 

Saperdion — the  Empousa !     Panic-smit, 

Our  juveniles  abstain  from  Sense  and  starve  : 

Be  yours  to  disenchant  them  1    Change  things  back ! 

Or  better,  strain  a  point  the  other  way 

And  handsomely  exaggerate  wronged  truth ! 

Lend  wine  a  glory  never  gained  from  grape, 

Help  honey  with  a  snatch  of  him  we  style 

The  Muses'  Bee,  bay-bloom-fed  Sophokles, 

And  give  Saperdion  a  Kimberic  robe ! 

"  *  I,  his  successor,'  gruff  the  answer  grunts, 

•  Incline  to  poetize  philosophy. 

Extend  it  rather  than  restrain ;  as  thus — 

Are  heroes  men  ?    No  more,  and  scarce  as  much, 

Shall  mine  be  represented.    Are  men  poor  ? 

Behold  them  ragged,  sick,  lame,  halt  and  blind  1 


90  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Do  they  use  speech  ?    Ay,  street-terms,  market-phrase  I 

Having  thus  drawn  sky  earthwards,  what  comes  next 

But  dare  the  opposite,  Hft  earth  to  sky  ? 

Mere  puppets  once,  I  now  make  womankind, 

For  thinking,  saying,  doing,  match  the  male. 

Lift  earth  ?    I  drop  to,  dally  with,  earth's  dung ! 

— Recognize  in  the  very  slave — man's  mate. 

Declare  him  brave  and  honest,  kind  and  true, 

And  reasonable  as  his  lord,  in  brief. 

I  paint  men  as  they  are — so  runs  my  boast — 

Not  as  they  should  be :  paint — ^what  's  part  of  man 

— Women  and  slaves — not  as,  to  please  your  pride, 

They  should  be,  but  your  equals,  as  they  are. 

O  and  the  Gods !     Instead  of  abject  mien. 

Submissive  whisper,  while  my  Choros  cants 

*  Zeusi, — with  thy  cubit's  length  of  attributes, — 

May  I,  the  ephemeral,  ne'er  scrutinize 

Who  made  the  heaven  and  earth  and  all  things  there ! ' 

Myself  shall  say '  .  .  .  Ay,  Herakles  may  help ! 

Give  me, — I  want  the  very  words,— attend ! " 

He  read.    Then  "  Murder 's  out, — *  There  are  no  Gods,' 
Man  has  no  master,  owns,  by  consequence. 
No  right,  no  wrong,  except  to  please  or  plague 
His  nature :  what  man  likes  be  man's  sole  law  I 
Still,  since  he  likes  Saperdion,  honey,  figs, 


ARISTOPHANES'   APOLOGY  91 

Man  may  reach  freedom  by  your  roundabout. 
*  Never  believe  yourselves  the  freer  thence ! 
There  are  no  gods,  but  there 's  "  Necessity," — 
Duty  enjoined  you,  fact  in  figment's  place, 
Throned  on  no  mountain,  native  to  the  mind ! 
Therefore  deny  yourselves  Saperdion,  figs 
And  honey,  for  the  sake  of — ^what  I  dream, 
A-sitting  with  my  legs  up ! ' 

"  Infamy ! 
The  poet  casts  in  calm  his  lot  with  these 
Assailants  of  ApoUon !     Sworn  to  serve 
Each  Grace,  the  Furies  call  him  minister — 
He,  who  was  born  for  just  that  roseate  world 
Renounced  so  madly,  where  what 's  false  is  fact, 
"Wbere  he  makes  beauty  out  of  ugliness, 
Where  he  lives,  life  itself  disguised  for  him 
As  immortality — so  works  the  spell, 
The  enthusiastic  mood  which  marks  a  man 
Muse-mad,  dream-drunken,  wrapt  around  by  versCj 
Encircled  with  poetic  atmosphere, 
As  lark  emballed  by  its  own  crystal  song. 
Or  rose  enmisted  by  that  scent  it  makes  I 
No,  this  were  unreality  !  the  real 
He  wants,  not  falsehood, — truth  alone  he  seeks, 
Truth,  for  all  beauty !    Beauty,  in  all  truth — 


92  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

That 's  certain  somehow  !     Must  the  eagle  lilt 
Lark-like,  needs  fir-tree  blossom  rose-like?     No ! 
Strength  and  utility  charm  more  than  grace, 
And  what 's  most  ugly  proves  most  beautiful. 
So  much  assistance  from  Euripides ! 

"  Whereupon  I  betake  me,  since  needs  must, 
To  a  concluding — *  Go  and  feed  the  crows ! 
Do  1     Spoil  your  art  as  you  renounce  your  life, 
Poetize  your  so  precious  system,  do. 
Degrade  the  hero,  nullify  the  god, 
Exhibit  women,  slaves  and  men  as  peers, — 
Your  castigation  follows  prompt  enough  ! 
When  all 's  concocted  upstairs,  heels  o'er  head, 
Down  must  submissive  drop  the  masterpiece 
For  public  praise  or  blame  :  so,  praise  away, 
Friend  Socrates,  wife's-friend  Kephisophon  ! 
Boast  innovations,  cramp  phrase,  uncouth  song, 
Hard  matter  and  harsh  manner,  gods,  men,  slaves 
And  women  jumbled  to  a  laughing-stock 
Which  Hellas  shall  hold  sides  at  lest  she  split ! 
Hellas,  on  these,  shall  have  her  word  to  say ! 

"  She  has  it  and  she  says  it— there 's  the  curse  !— 
She  finds  he  makes  the  shag-rag  hero-race. 
The  noble  slaves,  wise  women,  move  as  much 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  93 

Pity  and  terror  as  true  tragic  types : 

Applauds  inventiveness — the  plot  so  new, 

The  turn  and  trick  subsidiary  so  strange  ! 

She  relishes  that  homely  phrase  of  life, 

That  common  town-talk,  more  than  trumpet-blasts  : 

Accords  him  right  to  chop  and  change  a  myth : 

What  better  right  had  he,  who  told  the  tale 

In  the  first  instance,  to  embellish  fact? 

This  last  may  disembellish  yet  improve  ! 

Both  find  a  block :  this  man  carves  back  to  bull 

What  first  his  predecessor  cut  to  sphynx : 

Such  genuine  actual  roarer,  nature's  brute. 

Intelligible  to  our  time,  was  sure 

The  old-world  artist's  purpose,  had  he  worked 

To  mind ;  this  both  means  and  makes  the  thing ! 

If,  past  dispute,  the  verse  slips  oily-bathed 

In  unctuous  music— say,  effeminate — 

We  also  say,  like  Kuthereia's  self, 

A  lulling  effluence  which  enswathes  some  isle 

Where  hides  a  nymph,  not  seen  but  felt  the  more. 

That 's  Hellas*  verdict  1 

"  Does  Euripides 
Even  so  far  absolved,  remain  content? 
Nowise !     His  task  is  to  refine,  refine, 
Divide,  distinguish,  subtilize  away 


94  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Whatever  seemed  a  solid  planting-place 

For  foot-fall, — not  in  that  phantasmal  sphere 

Proper  to  poet,  but  on  vulgar  earth 

Where  people  used  to  tread  with  confidence. 

There 's  left  no  longer  one  plain  positive 

Enunciation  incontestable 

Of  what  is  good,  right,  decent  here  on  earth. 

Nobody  now  can  say  *  this  plot  is  mine, 

Though   but   a  plethron  square, — my  duty!' — 

*  Yours  ? 
Mine,  or  at  least  not  yours,'  snaps  somebody ! 
And,  whether  the  dispute  be  parent -right 
Or  children's  service,  husband's  privilege 
Or  wife's  submission,  there 's  a  snarling  straight, 
Smart  passage  of  opposing  *  yea '  and  *  nay,' 
*  Should,'  '  should  not,'  till,  howe'er  the  contest  end, 
Spectators  go  off  sighing — Clever  thrust ! 
Why  was  I  so  much  hurried  to  pay  debt, 
Attend  my  mother,  sacrifice  an  ox, 
And  set  my  name  down  'for  a  trireme,  good'? 
Something  I  might  have  urged  on  t'  other  side ! 
No  doubt,  Chresphontes  or  Bellerophon 
We  don't  meet  every  day ;  but  Stab-and-stitch 
The  tailor — ere  I  turn  the  drachmas  o'er 
I  owe  him  for  a  chiton,  as  he  thinks, 
I  '11  pose  the  blockhead  with  an  argument ! 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  95 

"  So  has  he  triumphed,  your  Euripides  ! 

Oh,  I  concede,  he  rarely  gained  a  prize : 

That 's  quite  another  matter !  cause  for  that  1 

Still,  when 't  was  got  by  Ions,  lophons, 

OfT  he  would  pace  confoundedly  superb. 

Supreme,  no  smile  at  movement  on  his  mouth 

Till  Sokrates  winked,  whispered :  out  it  broke ! 

And  Aristullos  jotted  down  the  jest. 

While  lophons  or  Ions,  bay  on  brow, 

Looked  queerly,  and  the  foreigners — like  you — 

Asked  o'er  the  border  with  a  puzzled  smile 

— *And  so,  you  value  Ions,  lophons, 

Euphorions !     How  about  Euripides  ? ' 

(Eh,  brave  bard's-champion?    Does  the  anger  boil? 

Keep  within  bounds  a  moment, — eye  and  lip 

Shall  loose  their  doom  on  me,  their  fiery  worst  1) 

What  strangers?    Archelaos  heads  the  file! 

He  S)mipathizes,  he  concerns  himself, 

He  pens  epistle,  each  successless  play : 

* Athenai  sinks  effete;  there 's  younger  blood 

In  Makedonia.     Visit  where  I  rule ! 

Do  honour  to  me  and  take  gratitude ! 

Live  the  guest's  life,  or  work  the  poet's  way, 

Which  also  means  the  statesman's :  he  who  wrote 

Erechtheus  may  seem  rawly  politic 

At  home  where  Kleophon  is  ripe;  but  here 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

My  council-board  permits  him  choice  of  seats/ 

"  Now  this  was  operating, — what  should  prove 

A  poison-tree,  had  flowered  far  on  to  fruit 

For  many  a  year, — when  I  was  moved,  first  man, 

To  dare  the  adventure,  down  with  root  and  branch. 

So,  from  its  sheath  I  drew  my  Comic  steel, 

And  dared  what  I  am  now  to  justify. 

A  serious  question  first,  though ! 

"  Once  again ! 
Do  you  believe,  when  I  aspired  in  youth, 
I  made  no  estimate  of  power  at  all. 
Nor  paused  long,  nor  considered  much,  what  class 
Of  fighters  I  might  claim  to  join,  beside 
That  class  wherewith  I  cast  in  company? 
Say,  you — profuse  of  praise  no  less  than  blame — 
Could  not  I  have  competed — franker  phrase 
Might  trulier  correspond  to  meaning— still. 
Competed  with  your  Tragic  paragon  ? 
Suppose  me  minded  simply  to  make  verse, 
To  fabricate,  parade  resplendent  arms, 
Flourish  and  sparkle  out  a  Trilogy, — 
Where  was  the  hindrance?    But  my  soul  bade  *  Fight ! 
Leave  flourishing  for  mock-foe,  pleasure-time ; 
Prove  arms  efficient  on  real  heads  and  hearts !  * 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  97 

How?    With  degeneracy  sapping  fast 

The  Marathonian  muscle,  nerved  of  old 

To  maul  the  Mede,  now  strung  at  best  to  help 

— How  did  I  fable  ? — War  and  Hubbub  mash 

To  mincemeat  Fatherland  and  Brotherhood, 

Pound  in  their  mortar  Hellas,  State  by  State, 

That  greed  might  gorge,  the  while  frivolity 

Rubbed  hands  and  smacked  lips  o'er  the  dainty  dish ! 

Authority,  experience — pushed  aside 

By  apy  upstart  who  pleads  throng  and  press 

O'  the  people !  *  Think,  say,  do  thus ! '  Wherefore,  pray  ? 

*  We  are  the  people :  who  impugns  our  right 

Of  choosing  Kleon  that  tans  hide  so  well, 

Huperbolos  that  turns  out  lamps  so  trim, 

Hemp-seller  Eukrates  or  Lusikles 

Sheep-dealer,  Kephalos  the  potter's  son, 

Diitriphes  who  weaves  the  willow-work 

To  go  round  bottles,  and  Nausikudes 

The  meal-man  ?  Such  we  choose  and  more,  their  mates. 

To  think-  and  say  and  do  in  our  behalf ! ' 

While  sophistry  wagged  tongue,  emboldened  still, 

Found  matter  to  propose,  contest,  defend, 

'Stablish,  turn  topsyturv}',— all  the  same. 

No  matter  what,  provided  the  result 

Were  something  new  in  place  of  something  old, — 

Set  wagging  by  pure  insolence  of  soul 

XIIL  H 


98  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Which  needs  must  pry  into,  have  warrant  for 
Each  right,  each  privilege  good  policy 
Protects  from  curious  eye  and  prating  mouth  I 
Everywhere  lust  to  shape  the  world  anew, 
Spurn  this  Athenai  as  we  find  her,  build 
A  new  impossible  Cloudcuckooburg 
For  feather-headed  birds,  once  solid  men, 
Where  rules,  discarding  jolly  habitude, 
Nourished  on  myrtle-berries  and  stray  ants, 
King  Tereus  who,  turned  Hoopoe  Triple-Crest, 
Shall  terrify  and  bring  the  gods  to  terms  ! 

"  Where  was  I  ?    Oh !     Things  ailing  thus — I  ask, 

What  cure  ?    Cut,  thrust,  hack,  hew  at  heap-on-heaped 

Abomination  with  the  exquisite 

Palaistra-tool  of  polished  Tragedy  ? 

Erechtheus  shall  harangue  Amphiktuon, 

And  incidentally  drop  word  of  weight 

On  justice,  righteousness,  so  turn  aside 

The  audience  from  attacking  Sicily  ! — 

The  more  that  Choros,  after  he  recounts 

How  Phrixos  rode  the  ram,  the  far-famed  Fleece, 

Shall  add — at  last  fall  of  grave  dancing-foot — 

*  Aggression  never  yet  was  helped  by  Zeus  ! ' 

That  helps  or  hinders  Alkibiades  ? 

As  well  expect,  should  Pheidias  carve  Zeus'  self 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  99 

And  set  him  up,  some  half  a  mile  away, 

His  frown  would  frighten  sparrows  from  your  field  1 

Eagles  may  recognize  their  lord,  belike, 

But  as  for  vulgar  sparrows, — change  the  god, 

And  plant  some  big  Priapos  with  a  pole  ! 

I  wield  the  Comic  weapon  rather — hate ! 

Hate !  honest,  earnest  and  directest  hate — 

Warfare  wherein  I  close  with  enemy, 

Call  him  one  name  and  fifty  epithets. 

Remind  you  his  great-grandfather  sold  bran. 

Describe  the  new  exomion,  sleeveless  coat 

He  knocked  me  down  last  night  and  robbed  me  of, 

Protest  he  voted  for  a  tax  on  air ! 

And  all  this  hate — if  I  write  Comedy — 

Finds  tolerance,  most  like — ^applause,  perhaps 

True  veneration ;  for  I  praise  the  god 

Present  in  person  of  his  minister. 

And  pay — the  wilder  my  extravagance — 

The  more  appropriate  worship  to  the  Power 

Adulterous,  night-roaming,  and  the  rest  : 

Otherwise, — that  originative  force 

Of  nature,  impulse  stirring  death  to  life. 

Which,  underlying  law,  seems  lawlessness, 

Yet  is  the  outbreak  which,  ere  order  be, 

Must  thrill  creation  through,  warm  stocks  and  stones, 

Phal^§  lacchos. 

H  2 


lixs  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

"  Comedy  for  me !' 
Why  not  for  you,  my  Tragic  masters  ?    Sneaks 
Whose  art  is  mere  desertion  of  a  trust ! 
Such  weapons  lay  to  hand,  the  ready  club, 
The  clay-ball,  on  the  ground  a  stone  to  snatch, — 
Arms  lit  to  bruise  the  boar's  neck,  break  the  chine 
O'  the  wolf, — and  you  must  impiously— despise? 
No,  I  '11  say,  furtively  let  fall  that  trust 
Consigned  you  !    T  was  not  *  take  or  leave  alone,' 
But  *  take  andi  wielding,  recognize  your  god 
In  his  prime  attributes  ! '    And  though  full  soon 
You  sneaked,  subsided  into  poetry. 
Nor  met  your  due  reward,  still, — heroize 
And  speechify  and  sing-song  and  forego 
Far  as  you  may  your  function,— still  its  pact 
Endures,  one  piece  of  early  homage  still 
Exacted  of  you ;  after  your  three  bouts 
At  hoitytoity,  great  men  with  long  words, 
And  so  forth, — at  the  end,  must  tack  itself 
The  genuine  sample,  the  Satyric  Play, 
Concession,  with  its  wood-boys'  fun  and  freak. 
To  the  true  taste  of  the  mere  multitude. 
Yet,  there  again  !     What  does  your  Still-at-itch, 
Always-the-innovator  ?     Shrugs  and  shirks  1 
Out  of  his  fifty  Trilogies,  some  five 
Are  somehow  suited :  Satyrs  dance  and  sing, 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  lor 

Try  merriment,  a  grimly  prank  or  two, 

Sour  joke  squeezed  through  pursed  lips  and  teeth  on  edge, 

Then  quick  on  top  of  toe  to  pastoral  sport. 

Goat-tending  and  sheep-herding,  cheese  and  cream, 

Soft  grass  and  silver  rillets,  country-fare — 

When  throats  were  promised  Thasian !   Five  such  feats, — 

Then  frankly  off  he  threw  the  yoke :  next  Droll, 

Next  festive  drama,  covenanted  fun, 

Decent  reversion  to  indecency, 

Proved— your  *  Alkestis ' !    There 's  quite  fun  enough, 

Herakles  drunk  1    From  out  fate's  blackening  wave 

Calamitous,  just  zigzags  some  shot  star. 

Poor  promise  of  faint  joy,  and  turns  the  laugh 

On  dupes  whose  fears  and  tears  were  all  in  waste  I 

"  For  which  sufficient  reasons,  in  truth's  name, 
I  closed  with  whom  you  count  the  Meaner  Muse, 
Classed  me  with  Comic  Poets  who  should  weld 
Dark  with  bright  metal,  show  their  blade  may  keep 
Its  adamantine  birthright  though  a-blaze 
With  poetry,  the  gold,  and  wit,  the  gem. 
And  strike  mere  gold,  unstiffened  out  by  steel, 
Or  gem,  no  iron  joints  its  strength  around. 
From  hand  of— posturer,  not  combatant ! 

"  Such  was  my  purpose :  it  succeeds,  I  say  1 


J02  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Have  not  we  beaten  Kallikratidas, . 
Not  humbled  Sparte  ?     Peace  awstitsour  word, 
Spite  of  Theramenes,  and  fools  his  like. 
Since  my  previsions, — warranted  too  well 
By  the  long  war  now  waged  and  worn  to  end- 
Had  spared  such  heritage  of  misery, 
My  after-counsels  scarce  n,eed  fear  repulse. 
Athenai,  taught  prosperity  has  wings, 
Cages  the  glad  recapture.     Demos,  see, 
From  folly's  premature  decrepitude 
Boiled  young  again,  emerges  from  the  stew 
Of  twenty-five  years'  trouble,  sits  and  sway^ 
One  brilliance  and  one  balsam, — sways  and  sits 
Monarch  of  Hellas !  ay  and,  sage  again, 
No  longer  jeopardizes  chieftainship, 
No  longer  loves  the  brutish  demagogue 
Appointed  by  a  bestial  multitude 
But  seeks  out  sound  advisers.    Who  are  they  ? 
Ourselves,  of  parentage  proved  wise  and  good  I 
To  such  may  hap  strains  thwarting  quality, 
(As  where  shall  want  its  flaw  mere  human  stuff?) 
Still,  the  right  grain  is  proper  to  right  race ; 
What 's  contrary,  call  curious  accident ! 
Hold  by  the  usual !    Orchard-grafted  tree. 
Not  wilding,  race-horse-sired,  not  rouncey-bom* 
Aristocrat,  no  sausage-selling  snob  1 


ARISTOPHANES    APOLOGY  103 

Nay,  why  not  Alkibiades,  come  back 

Filled  by  the  Genius,  freed  of  petulance. 

Frailty, — mere  youthfulness  that 's  all  at  fault,— 

Advanced  to  Perikles  and  something  more  ? 

— Being  at  least  our  duly  born  and  bred, — 

Curse  on  what  chaunoprockt  first  gained  his  ear 

And  got  his  .  .  .  well,  once  true  man  in  right  place, 

Our  commonalty  soon  content  themselves 

With  doing  just  what  they  are  born  to  do. 

Eat,  drink,  make  merry,  mind  their  own  affairs 

And  leave  state-business  to  the  larger  brain. 

I  do  not  stickle  for  their  punishment ; 

But  certain  culprits  have  a  cloak  to  twitch, 

A  purse  to  pay  the  piper :  flog,  say  I, 

Your  fine  fantastics,  paragons  of  parts. 

Who  choose  to  play  the  important !     Far  from  side 

With  us,  their  natural  supports,  allies, — 

And,  best  by  brain,  help  who  are  best  by  birth 

To  fortify  each  weak  point  in  the  wall 

Built  broad  and  wide  and  deep  for  permanence 

Between  what 's  high  and  low,  what 's  rare  and  vile,— 

They  cast  their  lot  perversely  in  with  low 

And  vile,  lay  flat  the  barrier,  lift  the  mob 

To  dizzy  heights  where  Privilege  stood  firm. 

And  then,  simplicity  become  conceit, — 

Woman,  slave,  common  soldier,  artisan. 


104  AKISTOPHAiXES    APOLOGY 

Crazy  with  new-found  worth,  new-fangled  claims, — 

These  must  be  taught  next  how  to  use  their  heads 

And  hands  in  driving  man's  right  to  mob's  rule ! 

What  fellows  thus  inflame  the  multitude? 

Your  Sokrates,  still  crying  *  Understand ! ' 

Your  AristuUos, — *  Argue  ! '  Last  and  worst, 

Should,  by  good  fortune,  mob  still  hesitate, 

Remember  there 's  degree  in  heaven  and  earth, 

Cry  *  Aischulos  enjoined  us  fear  the  gods, 

And  Sophokles  advised  respect  the  kings ! ' 

Why,  your  Euripides  informs  them — *  Gods  ? 

They  are  not !     Kings  ?    They  are,  but  ...  do  not  I, 

In  Suppliants,  make  my  Theseus, — yours,  no  more, — 

Fire  up  at  insult  of  who  styles  him  King  ? 

Play  off  that  Herald,  I  despise  the  most, 

As  patronizing  kings'  prerogative 

Against  a  Theseus  proud  to  dare  no  step 

Till  he  consult  the  people  ? ' 

"  Such  as  these — 
Ah,  you  expect  I  am  for  strangling  straight? 
Nowise,  Balaustion  !     All  my  roundabout 
Ends  at  beginning,  with  my  own  defence. 
I  dose  each  culprit  just  with — Comedy. 
Let  each  be  doctored  in  exact  the  mode 
Himself  prescribes  :  by  words,  the  word-monger— 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  105 

My  words  to  his  words, — my  lies,  if  you  like, 
To  his  lies.     Sokrates  I  nickname  thief. 
Quack,  necromancer;  Aristullos,— say, 
Male  Kirke  who  bewitches  and  bewrays 

* 

And  changes  folk  to  swine ;  Euripides, — 

Well,  I  acknowledge  !     Every  word  is  false, 

Looked  close  at ;  but  stand  distant  and  stare  through. 

All 's  absolute  indubitable  truth 

Behind  Hes,  truth  which  only  lies  declare  I 

For  come,  concede  me  truth 's  in  thing  not  word, 

Meaning  not  manner  I  Love  smiles  '  rogue '  and  *  wretch ' 

When  *  sweet '  and  *  dear '  seem  vapid :  Hate  adopts 

Love's  *  sweet '  and  *  dear '  when  *  rogue '  and  *  wTetch 

fall  flat : 
Love,  Hate — are  truths,  then,  each,  in  sense  not  sound. 
Further :  ii  Love,  remaining  Love,  fell  back 
On  *  sweet '  and  *  dear,' — if  Hate,  though  Hate  the  same. 
Dropped  down  to  'rogue'  and  *  wretch,'— each  phrase 

were  false. 
Good  !  and  now  grant  I  hate  no  matter  whom    * 
With  reason :  I  must  therefore  fight  my  foe. 
Finish  the  mischief  which  made  enmity. 
How  ?    By  employing  means  to  most  hurt  him 
Who  much  harmed  me.     What  way  did  he  do  harm  ? 
Through  word  or  deed?    Through  word?  with  word, 

wage  war! 


io6  ARISTOPHANES    APOLOGY 

Word  with  myself  directly  ?    As  direct 
Reply  shall  follow :  word  to  you,  the  wise, 
Whence  indirectly  came  the  harm  to  me  ? 
What  wisdom  I  can  muster  waits  on  such. 
Word  to  the  populace  which,  misconceived 
By  ignorance  and  incapacity, 
Ends  in  no  such  effect  as  follows  cause 
Wh6n  I,  or  you  the  wise,  are  reasoned  with, 
So  damages  what  I  and  you  hold  dear  ? 
In  that  event,  I  ply  the  populace 
With  just  such  word  as  leavens  their  whole  lump 
To  the  right  ferment  for  my  purpose.     They 
Arbitrate  properly  between  us  both  ? 
They  weigh  my  answer  with  his  argument, 
.    Match  quip  with  quibble,  wit  with  eloquence  ? 
All  they  attain  to  understand  is — blank  ! 
Two  adversaries  differ :  which  is  right 
And  which  is  wrong,  none  takes  on  him  to  say. 
Since  both  are  unintelligible.     Pooh  ! 
Swear  my  foe's  mother  vended  herbs  she  stole. 
They  fall  a-laughing !    Add, — his  household  drudge 
Of  all- work  justifies  that  office  well. 
Kisses  the  wife,  composing  him  the  play, — 
They  grin  at  whom  they  gaped  in  wonderment, 
And  go  off — *  Was  he  such  a  sorry  scrub  ? 
This  other  seems  to  know !  we  praised  too  fast ! ' 


ARISTOPHANES    APOLOGY  107 

Why  then,  my  lies  have  done  the  work  of  truth, 

Since  *  scrub,'  improper  designation,  means 

Exactly  what  the  proper  argument 

— Had  such  been  comprehensible — proposed 

To  proper  audience — ^were  I  graced  with  such — 

Would  properly  result  in  j  so  your  friend 

Gets  an  impartial  verdict  on  his  verse 

*  The  tongue  swears,  but  the  soul  remains  unsworn ! 

"  There,  my  Balaustion !    All  is  summed  and  said. 

No  other  cause  of  quarrel  with  yourself ! 

Euripides  and  Aristophanes 

Differ :  he  needs  must  round  our  difference 

Into  the  mob's  ear ;  with  the  mob  I  plead. 

You  angrily  start  forward  *  This  to  me  ? ' 

No  speck  of  this  on  you  the  thrice  refined ! 

Could  parley  be  restricted  to  us  two, 

My  first  of  duties  were  to  clear  up  doubt 

As  to  our  true  divergence  each  from  each. 

Does  ray  opinion  so  diverge  from  yours  ? 

Probably  less  than  little — not  at  all ! 

To  know  a  matter,  for  my  very  self 

And  intimates— that 's  one  thing;  to  imply 

By  'knowledge* — loosing  whatsoe'er  I  know 

Among  the  vulgar  who,  by  mere  mistake. 

May  brain  themselves  and  me  in  consequence, — 


xo8  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

That 's  quite  another.     *  O  the  daring  flight  1 
This  only  bard  maintains  the  exalted  brow, 
Nor  grovels  in  the  slime  nor  fears  the  gods ! ' 
Did  /fear — /play  superstitious  fool, 
Who,  with  the  due  proviso,  introduced, 
Active  and  passive,  their  whole  company 
As  creatures  too  absurd  for  scorn  itself? 
Zeus?    I  have  styled  him — *  slave,  mere  thrashing- 
block  ! ' 
I  '11  tell  you :  in  my  very  next  of  plays, 
At  Bacchos'  feast,  in  Bacchos'  honour,  full 
In  front  of  Bacchos'  representative, 
I  mean  to  make  main-actor — Bacchos'  self! 
Forth  shall  he  strut,  apparent,  first  to  last, 
A  blockkead,  coward,  braggart,  liar,  thief, 
Demonstrated  all  these  by  his  own  mere 
Xanthias  the  man-slave :  such  man  shows  such  god 
Shamed  to  brute-beastship  by  comparison ! 
And  when  ears  have  their  fill  of  his  abuse, 
And  eyes  are  sated  with  his  pummelling, — 
My  Choros  taking  care,  by,  all  the  while, 
Singing  his  glory,  that  men  recognize 
A  god  in  the  abused  and  pummelled  beast, — 
Then,  should  one  ear  be  stopped  of  auditor, 
Should  one  spectator  shut  revolted  eye, — 
Why,  the  Priest's  self  will  first  raise  outraged  voice 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  109^ 

•  Back,  thou  barbarian,  thou  ineptitude  \ 
Does  not  most  license  hallow  best  our  day, 
And  least  decorum  prove  its  strictest  rite? 
Since  Bacchos  bids  his  followers  play  the  fool, 
And  there 's  no  fooling  like  a  majesty 
Mocked  at, — who  mocks  the  god,  obeys  the  law- 
Law  which,  impute  but  indiscretion  to. 
And  .  .  .  why,  the  spirit  of  Euripides 
Is  evidently  active  in  the  world !' 
Do  I  stop  here?    No !  feat  of  flightier  force ! 
See  Hermes !  what  commotion  raged, — reflect  !^ 
WTien  imaged  god  alone  got  injury 
By  drunkards'  frolic !     How  Athenai  stared 
Aghast,  then  fell  to  frenzy,  fit  on  fit, — 
Ever  the  last  the  longest !    At  this  hour, 
The  craze  abates  a  little ;  so,  my  Play 
Shall  have  up  Hermes :  and  a  Klarion,  slave, 
(Since  there 's  no  getting  lower)  calls  our  friend 
The  profitable  god,  we  honour  so. 
Whatever  contumely  fouls  the  mouth — 
Bids  him  go  earn  more  honest  livelihood 
By  washing  tripe  in  well-trough — wash  he  does. 
Duly  obedient !     Have  I  dared  my  best  ? 
Asklepios,  answer !— deity  in  vogue, 
Who  visits  Sophokles  familiarly, 
If  you  believe  the  old  man,—  at  his  age, 


X.XO  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY. 

Living  is  dreaming,  and  strange  guests  haunt  door 
Of  house,  belike,  peep  through  and  tap  at  times 
When  a  friend  yawns  there,  waiting  to  be  fetched,— 
At  any  rate,  to  memorize  the  fact. 
He  has  spent  money,  set  an  altar  up 
In  the  god's  temple,  now  in  much  repute. 
.That  temple-service  trust  me  to  describe— 
Cheaters  and  choused,  the  god,  his  brace  of  girl^ 
Their  snake,  and  how  they  manage  to  snap  gifts 
*  And  consecrate  the  same  into  a  bag,' 
For  whimsies  done  away  with  in  the  dark  ! 
As  if,  a  stone's  throw  from  that  theatre 
Whereon  I  thus  unmask  their  dupery. 
The  thing  were  not  religious  and  august ! 

"  Of  Sophokles  himself— nor  word  nor  sign 
Beyond  a  harmless  parody  or  so  ! 
He  founds  no  anti-school,  upsets  no  faith, 
But,  living,  lets  live,  the  good  easy  soul 
Who, — if  he  saves  his  cash,  unpoetlike. 
Loves  wine  and — never  mind  what  other  sport, 
Boasts  for  his  father  just  a  sword-blade-smith. 
Proves  but  queer  captain  when  the  people  claim, 
For  one  who  conquered  with  *  Antigone,' 
The  right  to  undertake  a  squadron's  charge, — 
And  needs  the  son's  help  now  to  finish  plays. 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  xix 

Seeing  his  dotage  calls  for  governance 
And  lophon  to  share  his  property, — 
Why,  of  all  this,  reported  true,  I  breathe 
Not  one  word — true  or  false,  I  like  the  man. 
Sophokles  lives  and  lets  live :  long  live  he ! 
Otherwise, — sharp  the  scourge  and  hard  the  blow ! 

"  And  what 's  my  teaching  but — accept  the  old. 
Contest  the  strange  !  acknowledge  work  that 's  done, 
Misdoubt  men  who  have  still  their  work  to  do ! 
Religions,  laws  and  customs,  poetries. 
Are  old  ?    So  much  achieved  victorious  truth  ! 
Each  work  was  product  of  a  life-time,  wrung 
From  each  man  by  an  adverse  world  :  for  why? 
He  worked,  destroying  other  older  work 
Which  the  world  loved  and  so  was  loth  to  lose. 
Whom  the  world  beat  in  battle — dust  and  ash ! 
Who  beat  the  world,  left  work  in  evidence. 
And  wears  its  crown  till  new  men  live  new  lives, 
And  fight  new  fights,  and  triumph  in  their  turn. 
I  mean  to  show  you  on  the  stage :  you  11  see 
My  Just  Judge  only  venture  to  decide 
Between  two  suitors,  which  is  god,  which  man. 
By  thrashing  both  of  them  as  flesh  can  bear. 
You  shall  agree, — whichever  bellows  first, 
He 's. human;  who  holds  longest  out,  divine: 


113  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

That  is  the  only  equitable  test 
Cruelty?    Pray,  who  pricked  them  on  to  court 
My  thong's  award  ?    Must  they  needs  dominate  ? 
Then  I — rebel.     Their  instinct  grasps  the  new  ? 
Mine  bids  retain  the  old  :  a  fight  must  be, 
And  which  is  stronger  the  event  will  show. 

0  but  the  pain  !    Your  proved  divinity 

Still  smarts  all  reddened  ?    And  the  rightlier  served  ! 
Was  not  some  man's-flesh  in  him,  after  all  ? 
Do  let  us  lack  no  frank  acknowledgment 
There 's  nature  common  to  both  gods  and  men ! 
All  of  them — spirit  ?    What  so  winced  was  clay. 
Away  pretence  to  some  exclusive  sphere 
Cloud-nourishing  a  sole  selected  few 
Fume-fed  with  self-superiority ! 

1  stand  up  for  the  common  coarse-as-clay 
Existence,— stamp  and  ramp  with  heel  and  hoof 
On  solid  vulgar  life,  you  fools  disown. 

Make  haste  from  your  unreal  eminence, 

And  measure  lengths  with  me  upon  that  ground 

Whence  this  mud-pellet  sings  and  summons  you  ! 

I  know  the  soul,  too,  how  the  spark  ascends 

And  how  it  drops  apace  and  dies  away. 

I  am  your  poet-peer,  man  thrice  your  match. 

I  too  can  lead  an  airy  life  when  dead, 

Fly  like  Kinesias  when  I  'm  cloudward  bound  ; 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  113 

But  here,  no  death  shall  mix  with  life  it  mars. 

"So,  my  old  enemy  who  caused  the  fight, 
Own  I  have  beaten  you,  Euripides  ! 
Or, — if  your  advocate  would  contravene, — 
Help  him,  Balaustion !     Use  the  rosy  strength ! 
I  have  not  done  my  utmost, — ^treated  you 
As  I  might  Aristullos,  mint-perfumed, — 
Still,  let  the  whole  rage  burst  in  brave  attack  I 
Don't  pay  the  poor  ambiguous  compliment 
Of  fearing  any  pearl-white  knuckled  fist 
Will  damage  this  broad  buttress  of  a  brow  I 
Fancy  yourself  my  Aristonumos, 
Ameipsias  or  Sannurion  :  punch  and  pound ! 
Three  cuckoos  who  cry  '  cuckoo  * !  much  I  care ! 
They  boil  a  stone !     Neblaretail  Ratteil  '* 


Cannot  your  task  have  end  here,  Euthukles  ? 
Day  by  day  glides  our  galley  on  its  path : 
Still  sunrise  and  still  sunset,  Rhodes  half-reached. 
And  still,  my  patient  scribe  I  no  sunset's  peace 
Descends  more  punctual  than  that  brow's  incline 
O'er  tablets  which  your  serviceable  hand 
Prepares  to  trace.    Why  treasure  up,  forsooth, 
These  relics  of  a  night  that  make  me  rich, 

XIII.  I 


114  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

But,  half-remembered  merely,  leave  so  poor 

Each  stranger  to  Athenai  and  her  past  ? 

For — how  remembered !    As  some  greedy  hind 

Persuades  a  honeycomb,  beyond  the  due, 

To  yield  its  hoarding, — heedless  what  alloy   ' 

Of  the  poor  bee's  own  substance  taints  the  gold 

Which,  unforced,  yields  few  drops,  but  purity, — 

So  would  you  fain  relieve  of  load  this  brain. 

Though  the  hived  thoughts  must  bring  away,  with  strength, 

What  words  and  weakness,  strength's  receptacle — 

Wax  from  the  store !    Yet, — aching  soothed  away, — 

Accept  the  compound  !     No  suspected  scent 

But  proves  some  rose  was  rifled,  though  its  ghost 

Scarce  lingers  with  what  promised  musk  and  myrrh. 

No  need  of  farther  squeezing.     What  remains 

Can  only  be  Balaustion,  just  her  speech. 

Ah,  but — because  speech  serves  a  purpose  still ! — 


He  ended  with  that  flourish.    I  replied, 

Fancy  myself  your  Aristonumos  ? 
Advise  me,  rather,  to  remain  myself, 
Balaustion, — mindful  what  mere  mouse  confronts 
The  forest-monarch  Aristophanes ! 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  115 

I  who,  a  woman,  claim  no  quality 
Beside  the  love  of  all  things  loveable 
Created  by  a  power  pre-eminent 
In  knowledge,  as  in  love  I  stand  perchance, 
— ^You,  the  consummately-creative !     How 
Should  I,  then,  dare  deny  submissive  trust 
To  any  process  aiming  at  result  . 
Such  as  you  say  your  songs  are  pregnant  with? 
Result,  all  judge :  means,  let  none  scrutinize 
Save  those  aware  how  glory  best  is  gained 
By  daring  means  to  end,  ashamed  of  shame, 
Constant  in  faith  that  only  good  works  good, 
While  evil  yields  no  fruit  but  impotence ! 
Graced  with  such  plain  good,  I  accept  the  means. 
Nay,  if  result  itself  in  turn  become 
Means, — ^who  shall  say  ? — to  ends  still  loftier  yet, — 
Though  still  the  good  prove  hard  to  understand, 
The  bad  still  seemingly  predominate, — 
Never  may  I  forget  which  order  bears 
The  burden,  toils  to  win  the  great  reward. 
And  finds,  in  failure,  the  grave  punishment. 
So,  meantime,  claims  of  me  a  faith  I  yield ! 
Moreover,  a  mere  woman,  I  recoil 
From  what  may  prove  man's-work  permissible;. 
Imperative.    Rough  strokes  surprise:  whatltherr?  * 
Some  lusty  armsweep  needs  must  cause  the  crsos& 

12 


ii6  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Of  thorn  and  bramble,  ere  those  shrubs,  those  flowers, 

We  fain  would  have  earth  yield  exclusively, 

Are  sown,  matured  and  garlanded  for  boys 

And  girls,  who  know  not  how  the  growth  was  gained 

Finally,  am  I  not  a  foreigner  ? 

No  born  and  bred  Athenian, — isled  about, 

I  scarce  can  drink,  like  you,  at  every  breath, 

Just  some  particular  doctrine  which  may  best 

Explain  the  strange  thing  I  revolt  against — 

How— by  involvement,  who  may  extricate?— 

Religion  perks  up  through  impiety. 

Law  leers  with  licence,  folly  wise-like  frowns, 

The  seemly  lurks  inside  the  abominable. 

But  opposites, — each  neutralizes  each 

Haply  by  mixture :  what  should  promise  death, 

May  haply  give  the  good  ingredient  force, 

Disperse  in  fume  the  antagonistic  ill. 

This  institution,  therefore, — Comedy,— 

By  origin,  a  rite,— by  exercise. 

Proved  an  achievement  tasking  poet's  power 

To  utmost,  eking  legislation  out 

Beyond  the  legislator's  faculty, 

Playing  the  censor  where  the  moralist 

Declines  his  function,  far  too  dignified 

For  dealing  with  minute  absurdities : 

By  efficacy,— virtue's  guard,  the  scourge 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  117. 

Of  vice,  each  folly's  fly-flap,  arm  in  aid 

Of  all  that 's  righteous,  customary,  sound 

And  wholesome ;  sanctioned  therefore, — better  say, 

Prescribed  for  fit  acceptance  of  this  age 

By,  not  alone  the  long  recorded  roll 

Of  earher  triumphs  but,  success  to-day — 

(The  multitude  as  prompt  recipient  still 

Of  good  gay  teaching  from  that  monitor 

They  crowned  this  morning — Aristophanes — 

As  when  Sousarion's  car  first  traversed  street)- 

This  product  of  Athenai — /  dispute. 

Impugn  ?    There 's  just  one  only  circumstance 

Explains  that !    I,  poor  critic,  see,  hear,  feel ; 

But  eyes,  ears,  senses  prove  me — foreigner ! 

Who  shall  gainsay  that  the  raw  new-come  guest 

Blames  oft,  too  sensitive  ?    On  every  side 

Of— larger  than  your  stage — life's  spectacle. 

Convention  here  permits  and  there  forbids 

Impulse  and  action,  nor  alleges  more 

Than  some  mysterious  "  So  do  all,  and  so 

Does  no  one : "  which  the  hasty  stranger  blames 

Because,  who  bends  the  head  unquestioning, 

Transgresses,  turns  to  wrong  what  else  were  right, 

By  failure  of  a  reference  to  law 

Beyond  convention ;  blames  unjustly,  too — 

As  if,  through  that  defect,  all  gained  were  lost 


ii8  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

And  slave-brand  set  on  brow  indelibly ; — 

Blames  unobservant  or  experienceless 

That  men,  like  trees,  if  stout  and  sound  and  sane, 

Show  stem  no  more  affected  at  the  root 

By  bough's  exceptional  submissive  dip 

Of  leaf  and  bell,  light  danced  at  end  of  spray 

To  windy  fitfulness  in  wajrward  sport — 

No  more  lie  prostrate — than  low  files  of  flower 

Which,  when  the  blast  goes  by,  unruffled  raise 

Each  head  again  o'er  ruder  meadow-wreck 

Of  thorn  and  thistle  that  refractory 

Demurred  to  cower  at  passing  wind's  caprice. 

Why  shall  not  guest  extend  like  charity, 

Conceive  how, — even  when  astounded  most 

That  natives  seem  to  acquiesce  in  ihuck 

Changed  by  prescription,  they  affirm,  to  gold, — 

Such  may  still  bring  to  test,  still  bear  away 

Safely  and  surely  much  of  good  and  true 

Though  latent  ore,  themselves  unspecked,  unspoiled? 

Fresh  bathed  i'  the  icebrook,  any  hand  may  pass 

A  placid  moment  through  the  lamp's  fierce  flame  : 

And  who  has  read  your  Lemnians  seen  The  Hours, 

Heard  Female-PIayhouse-seat-Preoccupants, 

May  feel  no  worse  effect  than,  once  a  year. 

Those  who  leave  decent  vesture,  dress  in  rags 

And  play  the  mendicant,  conform  thereby 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  119 

To  country's  rite,  and  then,  no  beggar-taint 
Retained,  don  vesture  due  next  morrow-day. 
What  if  I  share  the  stranger's  weakness  then  ? 
Well,  could  I  also  show  his  strength,  his  sense 
Untutored,  ay  l-^but  then  untampered  with ! 

I  fancy,  though  the  world  seems  old  enough. 

Though  Hellas  be  the  sole  unbarbarous  land, 

Years  may  conduct  to  such  extreme  of  age. 

And  outside  Hellas  so  isles  new  may  lurk. 

That  haply, — when  and  where  remain  a  dream ! — 

In  fresh  days  when  no  Hellas  fills  the  world. 

In  novel  lands  as  strange  where,  all  the  same, 

Their  men  and  women  yet  behold,  as  we. 

Blue  heaven,  black  earth,  and  love,  hate,  hope  and  fear, 

Over  again,  unhelped  by  Attik^ — 

Haply  some  philanthropic  god  steers  bark. 

Gift-laden,  to  the  lonely  ignorance 

Islanded,  say,  where  mist  and  snow  mass  hard 

To  metal— ay,  those  Kassiterides ! 

Then  asks :  "Ye  apprehend  the  human  form. 

What  of  this  statue,  made  to  Pheidias'  mind, 

This  picture,  as  it  pleased  our  Zeuxis  paint  ? 

Ye  too  feel  truth,  love  beauty :  judge  of  these ! " 

Such  strangers  may  judge  feebly,  stranger-like : 

"  Each  hair  too  indistinct— for,  see  our  own  ! 


120  ARISTOPHANES    APOLOGY 

Hands,  not  skin-coloured  as  these  hands  we  have, 
And  lo,  the  want  of  due  decorum  here ! 
A  citizen,  arrayed  in  civic  garb, 
Just  as  he  walked  your  streets  apparently, 
Yet  wears  no  sword  by  side,  adventures  thus, 
In  thronged  Athenai !  foolish  painter's-freak ! 
While  here 's  his  brother-sculptor  found  at  fault 
Still  more  egregiously,  who  shames  the  .world. 
Shows  wrestler,  wrestling  at  the  public  games, 
Atrociously  exposed  from  head  to  foot ! " 
Sure,  the  Immortal  would  impart  at  once 
Our  slow-stored  knowledge,  how  small  truths  suppressed 
Conduce  to  the  far  greater  truth's  display, — 
Would  replace  simple  by  instructed  sense. 
And  teach  them  how  Athenai  first  so  tamed 
The  natural  fierceness  that  her  progeny 
Discarded  arms  nor  feared  the  beast  in  man : 
Wherefore  at  games,  where  earth's  wise  gratitude. 
Proved  by  responsive  culture,  claimed  the  prize 
-For  man's  mind,  body,  each  in  excellence, — 
When  mind  had  bared  itself,  came  body's  turn, 
And  only  irreligion  grudged  the  gods 
One  naked  glory  of  their  master- work 
Where  all  is  glorious  rightly  understood, — 
The  human  frame ;  enough  that  man  mistakes : 
Let  him  not  think  the  gods  mistaken  too  1 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  X2t 

But,  peradventure,  if  the  stranger's  eye 
Detected  .  .  •  Ah,  too  high  my  fancy-flight ! 
Pheidias,  forgive,  and  Zeuxis  bear  with  me— 
How  on  your  faultless  should  I  fasten  fault 
Of  my  own  framing,  even  ?    Only  say, — 
Suppose  the  impossible  were  realized. 
And  some  as  patent  incongruity, 
Unseemliness, — of  no  more  warrant,  there 
And  then,  than  now  and  here,  whatever  the  time 
And  place, — I  say,  the  Immortal — who  can  doubt  ? — 
Would  never  shrink,  but  own  "  The  blot  escaped 
Our  artist :  thus  he  shows  humanity." 

May  stranger  tax  one  peccant  part  in  thee, 
Poet,  three-parts  divine?    May  I  proceed? 

"Comedy  is  prescription  and  a  rite." 

Since  when  ?    No  growth  of  the  blind  antique  time, 

"  It  rose  in  Attike  with  liberty ; 

When  freedom  falls,  it  too  will  fall."    Scarce  so ! 

Your  games, — the  Olympian,  Zeus  gave  birth  to  these ; 

Your  Pythian, — these  were  Phoibos'  institute. 

Isthmian,  Nemeian,— Theseus,  Herakles 

Appointed  each,  .the  boys  and  barbers  say ! 

Earth's  day  is  growing  late :  where 's  Comedy 

"  Oh,  that  commenced  an  age  since, — two,  belike, — 


122  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

In  Megara,  whence  here  they  brought  the  thing ! 
Or  I  misunderstand,  or  here 's  the  fact—  - 
Your  grandsire  could  recall  that  rustic  song, 
How  suchanone  was  thief,  and  miser  such 
And  how, — immunity  from  chastisement 
Once  promised  to  bold  singers  of  the  same 
By  daylight  on  the  drunkard's  holiday,—  • 
The  clever  fellow  of  the  joyous  troop 
Tried  acting  what  before  he  sang  about, 
-  Acted  and  stole,  or  hoarded,  acting  too : 
While  his  companions  ranged  a-row,  closed  up 
For  Choros, — bade  the  general  rabblement 
Sit,  see,  hear,  laugh, — not  join  the  dance  themselves. 
Soon,  the  same  clever  fellow  found  a  mate, 
And  these  two  did  the  whole  stage-mimicking, 
Still  closer  in  approach  to  Tragedy, — 
So  led  the  way  to  Aristophanes, 
Whose  grandsire  saw  Sousarion,  and  whose  sire — 
Chionides ;  yourself  wrote  "  Banqueters  " 
When  Aischulos  had  made  "  Prometheus,"  nay, 
All  of  the  marvels ;  Sophokles, — I  '11  cite, 
"  Oidipous  " — and  Euripides — I  bend 
The  head — "  Medeia  "  henceforth  awed  the  world ! 
"  Banqueters,"  "  Babylonians  " — next  come  you ! 
Surely  the  great  days  that  left  Hellas  free 
Happened  before  such  advent  of  huge  help, 


ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY  123 

Eighty-years-late  assistance  ?     Marathon, 

Plataia,  Salamis  were  fought,  I  think, 

Before  new  educators  stood  reproved, 

Or  foreign  legates  blushed,  excepted  to ! 

Where  did  the  helpful  rite  pretend  its  rise? 

Did  it  break  forth,  as  gifts  divine  are  wont, 

Plainly  authentic,  incontestably 

Adequate  to  the  helpful  ordinance  ? 

Founts,  dowered  with  virtue,  pulse  out.  pure  from  source ; 

T  is  there  we  taste  the  god's  benign  intent : 

Not  when, — fatigued  away  by  journey,  foul 

With  brutish  trampling, — crystal  sinks  to  slime. 

And  lymph  forgets  the  first  salubriousness. 

Sprang  Comedy  to  light  thus  crystal-pure  ? 

"  Nowise ! "  yourself  protest  with  vehemence ; 

"  Gross,  bestial,  did  the  clowns'  diversion  break ; 

Every  successor  paddled  in  the  slush  -, 

Nay,  my  contemporaries  one  arid  all 

Gay  played  the  mudlark  till  I  joined  their  game ; 

Then  was  I  first  to  change  buffoonery 

For  wit,  and  stupid  filth  for  cleanly  sense, 

Transforming  pointless  joke  to  purpose  fine, 

Transfusing  rude  enforcement  of  home-law^ — 

'Drop    knave's-tricks,    deal    more   neighbour-like,    ye 

boors!' — 
With  such  new  glory  of  poetic  breath 


124  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

As,  lifting  application  far  past  use 

O'  the  present,  launched  it  o'er  men's  lowly  heads 

To  future  time,  when  high  and  low  alike 

Are  dead  and  done  with,  while  my  airy  power 

Flies  disengaged,  as  vapour  from  what  stuff 

It — say  not,  dwelt  in— fitlier,  dallied  with 

To  forward  work,  which  done, — deliverance  brave, — 

It  soars  away,  and  mud  subsides  to  dust 

Say  then,  myself  invented  Comedy ! " 

So  mouths  full  many  a  famed  Parabasis ! 

Agreed  !    No  more,  then,  of  prescriptive  use, 

Authorization  by  antiquity, 

For  what  offends  our  judgment !    T  is  your  work, 

Performed  your  way :  not  work  delivered  you 

Intact,  intact  producible  in  turn. 

Everywhere  have  you  altered  old  to  new — 

Your  will,  your  warrant :  therefore,  work  must  stand 

Or  stumble  by  intrinsic  worth.     What  worth  ? 

Its  aim  and  object !     Peace  you  advocate. 

And  war  would  fain  abolish  from  the  land : 

Support  religion,  lash  irreverence, 

Yet  laughingly  administer  rebuke 

To  superstitious  folly, — equal  fault ! 

While  innovating  rashness,  lust  of  change, 

New  laws,  new  habits,  manners,  men  and  thmgs. 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  125 

Make  your  main  quarry, — "oldest"  meaning  "best." 

You  check  the  fretful  litigation-itch, 

Withstand  mob-rule,  expose  mob-flattery, 

Punish  mob-favourites ;  most  of  all  press  hard 

On  sophists  who  assist  the  demagogue, 

And  poets  their  accomplices  in  crime. 

Such  your  main  quarry :  by  the  way,  you  strike 

Ignobler  game,  mere  miscreants,  snob  or  scamp. 

Cowardly,  gluttonous,  effeminate : 

Still  with  a  bolt  to  spare  when  dramatist 

Proves  haply  unproficient  in  his  art. 

Such  aims — alone,  no  matter  for  the  means — 

Declare  the  unexampled  excellence 

Of  their  first  author — Aristophanes ! 

Whereat — Euripides,  oh,  not  thyself— 

Augustlier  than  the  need  1— thy  century 

Of  subjects  dreamed  and  dared  and  done,  before 

"  Banqueters  "  gave  dark  earth  enlightenment, 

Or  "  Babylonians  "  played  Prometheus  here, — 

These  let  me  summon  to  defend  thy  cause ! 

Lo,  as  indignantly  took  life  and  shape 

Labour  by  labour,  all  of  Herakles, — 

Palpably  fronting  some  overbold  pretence 

"  Eurustheus  slew  the  monsters,  purged  the  world ! " 

So  shall  each  poem  pass  you  and  imprint 


ia5  ARISTOPHANES-    APOLOGY 

Shame  on  the  strange  assurance.     You  praised  Peace? 
Sing  him  fuU-iace,  Kresphontes!     "Peace"  the  theme? 
"  Peace,  in  whom  depths  of  wealth  lie, — of  the  blest 
Immortals  beauteousest, — 
Come !  for  the  heart  within  me  dies  away, 
So  long  dost  thou  delay  ! 
O  I  have  feared  lest  old  age^  much  annoy, 
Conquer  me,  quite  outstrip  the  tardy  joy, 
Thy  gracious  triumph- season  I  would  see, 
The  song,  the  dance,  the  sport,  profuse  of  crowns  to  be 
But  come !  for  my  sate,  goddess  great  and  dear. 
Come  to  the  city  here ! 
Hateful  Sedition  drive  thou  from  out  homes. 
With  Her  who  madly  roams 
Rejoicing  in  the  steel  against  the  life 
at 's  whetted — banish  Strife !" 

ill  I  proceed  ?    No  need  of  next  and  next  I 
at  were  too  easy,  play  so  presses  play, 
xiping  tumultuous,  each  with  instance  apt, 
ch  eager  to  confute  the  idle  boast, 
lat  virtue  but  stands  forth  panegyrized, 
lat  vice,  unburned  by  stigma,  in  the  books 
lich  bettered  Hellas, — beyond  graven  gold 
gem-indenture,  sung  by  Phoibos'  self 
id  saved  in  Kunthia's  mountain  treasure-house— 


ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY  X9j 

Ere  you,  man,  moralist,  were  youth  or  boy  ? 

— Not  praise  which,  in  the  proflfer,  mocks  the  praised 

By  sly  admixture  of  the  blameworthy 

And  enforced  coupling  of  base  fellowship, — 

Not  blame  which  gloats  the  while  it  frowning  laughs, 

**  Allow  one  glance  on  horrors — laughable !  " — 

This  man's  entire  of  heart  and  soul,  discharged 

Its  love  or  hate,  each  unalloyed  by  each, 

On  objects  worthy  either ;  earnestness, 

Attribute  him,  and  power !  but  novelty? 

Nor  his  nor  yours  a  doctrine— all  the  world's  I 

What  man  of  full-grown  sense  and  sanity 

Holds  other  than  the  truth, — wide  Hellas  through,— 

Though  truth,  he  act3,  discredit  truth  he  holds  ? 

What  imbecile  has  dared  to  formulate 

"  Love  war,  hate  peace,  become  a  litigant ! " — ■ 

And  so  preach  on,  reverse  each  rule  of  right 

Because  he  quarrels,  combats,  goes  to  law? 

No,  for  his  comment  runs,  with  smile  or  sigh 

According  to  heart's  temper,  "  Peace  were  best. 

Except  occasions  when  we  put  aside 

Peace,  and  bid  all  the  blessings  in  her  gift 

Quick  join  the  crows,  for  sake  of  Marathon ! " 

"  Nay,"  you  reply ;  for  one,  whose  mind  withstands 
His  heart,  and^  loving  peace,  for  conscience '  sake 


X2B  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Wants  war, — you  find  a  crowd  of  hypocrites 

Whose  conscience  means  ambition,  grudge  and  greed. 

On  such,  reproof,  sonorous  doctrine,  melts 

Distilled  like  universal  but  thin  dew 

Which  all  too  sparsely  covers  country :  dear, 

No  doubt,  to  universal  crop  and  clown. 

Still,  each  bedewed  keeps  his  own  head-gear  dry 

With  upthrust  skiadeion^  shakes  adroit 

The  droppings  to  his  neighbour.     No  !  collect 

All  of  the  moisture,  leave  unhurt  the  heads 

Which  nowise  need  a  washing,  save  and  store 

And  dash  the  whole  condensed  to  one  fierce  spout 

On  some  one  evildoer,  sheltered  close, — 

The  fool  supposed, — till  you  beat  guard  away, 

And  showed  your  audience,  not  that  war  was  wrong, 

But  Lamachos  absurd, — case,  crests  and  all, — 

Not  that  democracy  was  blind  of  choice, 

But  Kleon  and  Huperbolos  were  shams : 

Not  superstition  vile,  but  Nikias  crazed, — 

The  concrete  for  the  abstract  \  that 's  the  way ! 

What  matters  Choros  crying  "  Hence,  impure !  " 

You  cried  "  Ariphrades  does  thus  and  thus ! " 

Now,  earnestness  seems  never  earnest  more 

Than  when  it  dons  for  garb — indifference ; 

So  there 's  much  laughing :  but,  compensative, 

When  frowning  follows  laughter,  then  indeed 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGV  ^29 

Scout  innuendo,  sarcasm,  irony ! — 

Wit's  polished  warfare  glancing  at  first  graze 

From  off  hard  headpiece,  coarsely-coated  brain 

O'  the  commonalty — whom,  unless  you  prick 

To  purpose,  what  avails  that  finer  pates 

Succumb  to  simple  scratching?    Those — not  these — 

T  is  Multitude,  which,  moved,  fines  Lamachos, 

Banishes  Kleon  and  burns  Sokrates, 

House  over  head,  or,  better,  poisons  him. 

Therefore  in  dealing  with  King  Multitude, « 

Club-drub  the  Callous  numskulls!     Ih  and  in  *  ' 

Beat  this  essential  consequential  fact 

That  here  they  have  a  hater  of  the  three. 

Who  hates  in  word,  phrase,  nickname,  epithet 

And  illustration,  beyond  doiibt  at  all ! 

And  similarly,  would  you  win  assent 

To — Peace,  suppose?    You  tickle  the  tough  hide  - 

With  good  plain  pleasure  her  concomitant—* 

And,  past  mistake  again,  exhibit  Peace — 

Peace,  vintager  and  festive,  cheesecake-time,    * 

Hare-slice-and-peasoup-season,  household  joy: 

Theoria's  beaiitiftil  T>el6ngings  match 

Opora's  lavish  condescendings :  brief, 

Sinde  here  the  people  are  to  judge,  you  press 

Such  argupient  as  people  understand : 

If  with  exaggeration-^what  care  you? 

XIII.  K 


X30  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Have  I  misunderstood  you  in  the  main  ? 

No !  then  must  answer  be,  such  argument, 

Such  policy,  no  matter  what  good  love 

Or  hate  it  help,  in  practice  proves  absurd, 

Useless  and  null :  henceforward  intercepts 

Sober  effective  blow  at  what  you  blame, 

And  renders  nugatory  rightful  praise 

Of  thing  or  person.    The  coarse  brush  has  daubed — 

What  room  for  the  fine  limner's  pencil-mark? 

Blame?  You  curse,  rather,  till  who  blames  must  blush — 

Lean  to  apology  or  praise,  more  like ! 

Does  garment,  simpered  o'er  as  white,  prove  grey? 

"  Black,  blacker  than  Acharnian  charcoal,  black 

Beyond  Kimmerian,  Stugian  blackness  black," 

You  bawl,  till  men  sigh  "  nearer  snowiness ! " 

What  follows?    What  one  faint-rewarding  fall 

Of  foe  belaboured  ne'er  so  lustily? 

Laugh  Lamachos  from  out  the  people's  heart? 

He  died,  commanding,  "hero,"  say  yourself! 

Gibe  Nikias  into  privacy? — nay,  shake 

Kleon  a  little  from  his  arrogance 

By  cutting  him  to  shoe-sole-shreds?    I  think. 

He  ruled  his  life  long  and,  when  time  was  ripe, 

Died  fighting  for  amusement, — good  tough  hide ! 

Sokrates  still  goes  up  and  down  the  streets, 

And  Aristullos  puts  his  speech  in  book, 


ARISTOPHANES'   APOLOGY  131 

When  both  should  be  abolished  long  ago. 

Nay,  wretchedest  of  rags,  Ariphntdes — 

You  have  been  fouling  that  redoubtable 

Harp-player,  twenty  years,  with  what  effect? 

Still  he  strums  on,  strums  ever  cheerily, 

And  earns  his  wage, — "Who  minds  a  joke?"  men  say. 

No,  friend !    The  statues  stand — mudstained  at  most — 

Titan  or  pygmy :  what  achieves  their  fall 

Will  be,  long  after  mud  is  flung  and  spent, 

Some  clear  thin  spirit-thrust  of  lightning — truth  I 

Your  praise,  then — honey-smearing  helps  your  friend, 
More  than  blame's  ordure-smirch  hurts  foe,  perhaps? 
Peace,  now,  misunderstood,  ne'er  prized  enough, 
You  have  interpreted  to  ignorance 
Till  ignorance  opes  eye,  bat-blind  before. 
And  for  the  first  time  knows  Peace  means  the  power 
On  maw  of  pan-cake,  cheese-cake,  barley-cake, 
No  stop  nor  stint  to  stuffing.     While,  in  camp, 
Who  fights  chews  rancid  tunny,  onions  raw, 
Peace  sits  at  cosy  feast  with  lamp  and  fire. 
Complaisant  smooth-sleeked  flute-girls  giggling  gay. 
How  thick  and  fast  the  snow  falls,  freezing  War 
Who  shrugs,  campaigns  it,  and  may  break  a  shin 
Or  twist  an  ankle !  come,  who  hesitates 
To  give  Peace,  over  War,  the  preference? 

£2 


I3i  AI?/ST0PI/AN£3'  APOLOGY 

Ah,  friend-^had  this  indubitable  fact 

Haply  occurred  to  poor  Leonidas, 

How  had  he  turned  tail  on  Thermopulai ! 

It  cannot  be  that  even  his  few  wits 

Were  addled  to  the  point  that,  so  advised, 

Preposterous  he  had  answered — "  Cakes  are  prime, 

Hearth-sides   are  snug,   isleek  dancing-girls  have 

worth, 
And  yet-^for  country's  sake,  to  save  our  gods 
Their  temples,  save  our  ancestors  their  tombs. 
Save  wife  and  child  and  home  and  liberty, — 
I  would  chew  sliced-salt-fish,  bear  snow — nay,  starve, 
If  need  were, — and  by  much  prefer  the  choice  ! " 
Why,  friend,  your  genuine  hero,  all  the  while, 
Has  been — who  served  precisely  for  your  butt — 
Kleonumos  that,  wise,  cast  shield  away 
On  battle-ground ;  cried  "  Cake  my  buckler  be, 
Embossed  with  cream-clot !  peace,  not  war,  I  choose. 
Holding  with  Dikaiopolis ! "    Comedy 
Shall  triumph,  Dikaiopolis  win  assent. 
When  Miltiades  shall  next  shirk  Marathon, 
Themistokles  swap  Salamis  for — cake, 
And  Kimon  grunt  "  Peace,  grant  me  dancing-girls ! " 
But  sooner,  hardly !  twenty-five  years  since, 
The  war  began, — such  pleas  for  Peace  have  reached 
A  reasonable  age.    The  end  shows  all. 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  133 

And  so  with  all  the  rest  you  advocate ! 
"  Wise  folk  leave  litigation !  'ware  the  wasps ! 
Whoso  loves  law  and  lawyers,  heliast-like, 
Wants  hemlock ! "    None  shows  that  so  funnily. 
But,  once  cure  madness,  how  comports  himself 
Your  sane  exemplar,  what 's  our  gain  thereby? 
Philokleon  turns. Bdelukleon !  just  this  change, —   . 
New  sanity  gets  straightway  drunk  as  sow, 
Cheats  baker- wives,  brawls,  kicks,  cuffs,  curses  folk,- 
Parades  a  shameless  flute-girl,  bandies  filth 
With  his  own  son  who  cured  his  father's  cold 
By  making  him  catch  fever — funnily ! 
But  as  for  curing  love  of  lawsuits — faugh  I 

And  how  does  new  improve  upon  the  old 
— ^Your  boast — in  even  abusing?    Rough,  may  be- 
Still,  honest  was  the  old  mode.     "  Call  thief— thief  I " 
But  never  call  thief  even— murderer ! 
Much  less  call  fop  and  fribble,  worse  one  whit 
Than  fribble  and  fop  !    Spare  neither !  beat  your  brains 
For  adequate  invective, — cut  the  life 
Clean  out  each  quality, — but  load  your  lash 
With  no  least  lie,  or  we  pluck  scourge  from  hand ! 
Does  poet  want  a  whipping,  write  bad  verse, 
Inculcate  foul  deeds?    There 's  the  fault  to  flog  I 
You  vow  "The  rascal  cannot  read  nor  write, 


134  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Spends  more  in  buying  fish  than  Morsimos, 

Somebody  helps  his  Muse  and  courts  his  wife. 

His  uncle  deals  in  crockery,  and  last, — 

Himself 's  a  stranger ! "    That 's  the  cap  and  crown 

Of  stinging-nettle,  that 's  the  master-stroke ! 

What  poet-rival, — after  "  housebreaker," 

"  Fish-gorging,"  "  midnight  footpad  "  and  so  forth, — 

Proves  not,  beside,  "a  stranger"?  Chased  from  charge 

To  charge,  and,  lie  by  lie,  laughed  out  of  court, — 

Lo,  wit's  sure  refuge,  satire's  grand  resource — 

All,  from  Kratinos  downward — "  strangers  "  they ! 

Pity  the  trick 's  too  facile !    None  so  raw 

Among  your  playmates  but  have  caught  the  ball 

And  sent  it  back  as  briskly  to — yourself! 

You  too,  my  Attic,  are  styled  "  stranger  " — Rhodes, 

Aigina,  Lindos  or  Kameiros, — nay, 

T  was  Egypt  reared,  if  Eupolis  be  right. 

Who  wrote  the  comedy  (Kratinos  vows) 

Kratinos  helped  a  little !    Kleon's  self 

Was  nigh  promoted  Comic,  when  he  haled 

My  poet  into  court,  and  o'er  the  coals 

Hauled  and  re-hauled  "  the  stranger, — insolent, 

Who  brought  out  plays,  usurped  our  privilege ! " 

Why  must  you  Comics  one  and  all  take  stand 

On  lower  ground  than  truth  from  first  to  last? 

Why  all  agree  to  let  folk  disbelieve, 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  135 

So  laughter  but  reward  a  funny  lie? 

Repel  such  onslaughts — ^answer,  sad  and  grave, 

Your  fancy-fleerings — who  would  stoop  so  low? 

Your  own  adherents  whisper, — ^when  disgust 

Too  menacingly  thrills  Logeion  through 

At — Perikles  invents  this  present  war 

Because  men  robbed  his  mistress  of  three  maids — 

Or — Sokrates  wants  burning,  house  o'er  head, — 

"What,  so  obtuse,  not  read  between  the  lines? 

Our  poet  means  no  mischief!    All  should  know —    • 

Ribaldry  here  implies  a  compliment ! 

He  deals  with  things,  not  men, — his  men  are  things — 

Each  represents  a  class,  plays  figure-head 

And  names  the  ship :  no  meaner  than  the  first 

Would  serve ;  he  styles  a  trireme  '  Sokrates ' — 

Fears  *  Sokrates '  may  prove  unseaworthy 

(That 's  merely—'  Sophists  are  the  bane  of  boys ') 

Rat-riddled  ('they  are  capable  of  theft'). 

Rotten  or  whatsoe'er  shows  ship-disease, 

('They  war  with  gods  and  worship  whirligig'). 

You  never  took  the  joke  for  earnest  ?  scarce 

Supposed  mere  figure-head  meant  entire  ship, 

And  Sokrates— the  whole  fraternity  ?  " 

This  then  is  Comedy,  our  sacred  song, 
Censor  of  vice,  and  virtue's  guard  as  sure : 


136.  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY. 

Manners-instructing^  morals'  stop-estray, 
Whichi  born  a  twin  with  public  liberty, 
Thrives  with  its  welfare,  dwindles,  with  its  wane  I 
Liberty  ? .  what  so  exquisitely  framed 
And  fitted  to  suck  dry  its  life  of  life 
To  last  faint  fibre  ? — since  that  life  is  truth. 
You  who  profess  your  indignation  swells 
At  sophistry^  when  specious  words  confuse 
Deeds  right  and  wrong,  distinct  before,  you  say — 
(Though  all  that 's  done  is — dare  veracity. 
Show  that  the  true  conception  of  each  deed 
.  Affirmed,  in  vulgar  parlance,  "wrong"  or  " right," 
Proves  to  be  neither,  as  the  hasty  hold, 
But,  change  your  side,  shoots  light,  where  dark  alone 
Was  apprehended  by  the  vulgar  sense) 
You  who  put  sophistry  to  shame,  and  shout 
"  There 's  but  a  single  side  to  man  and  thing ; 
A  side  so  much  more  big  than  thing  or  man 
Possibly  can  be,  that — ^believe  't  is  true  ? 
Such  were  too  marvellous  simplicity ! " — 
Confess,  those  sophists  whom  yourself  depict, 
( — Abide  by  your  own  painting !)  what  they  teach, 
They  wish  at  least  their  pupil  to  believe. 
And,  what  believe,  to  practise  !     Did  you  wish 
Hellas  should  haste,  as  taught,  with  torch  in  hand, 
And  fire  the  horrid  Speculation-shop  ? 


ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY  137 

Straight  the  shop's  master  rose  and  showed  the  mob 
What  man  was  your  so  monstrous  Sokrates ; 
Himself  received  amusement,  why  not  they  ? 
Just  as  did  Kleon  first  play  magistrate 
And  bid  you  put  your  birth  in  evidence — 
Since  no  unbadged  buffoon  is  licensed  here 
To  shame  us  all  when  foreign  guests  may  mock — 
Then, — birth  established,  fooling  hcensed  you,  ^ 
He,  duty  done,  resumed  mere  auditor. 
Laughed  with  the  loudest  at  his  Lamia-shape, 
Kukloboros-roaring,  and  the  camel-rest. 
Nay,  Aristullos, — once  your  volley  spent 
On  the  male-Kirke  and  her  swinish  crew, — 
Platon, — so  others  call  the  youth  we  love, — 
Sends  your  performance  to  the  curious  king — 
"  Do  you  desire  to  know  Athenai's  knack 
At  turning  seriousness  to  pleasantry  ? 
Read  this  I    One  Aristullos  means  myself. 
The  author  is  indeed  a  merry  grig ! " 
Nay,  it  would  seem  as  if  yourself  were  bent 
On  laying  down  the  law  "  Tell  lies  I  must — 
Aforethought  and  of  purpose,  no  mistake  ! " 
When  forth  yourself  step,  tell  us  from  the  stage 
**  Here  you  behold  the  King  of  Comedy — 
Me,  who,  the  first,  have  purged  my  every  piece 
From  each  and  all  my  predecessors'  filth, 


138  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

Abjured  those  satyr-adjuncts  sewn  to  bid 

The  boys  laugh,  satyr-jokes  whereof  not  one 

Least  sample  but  would  make  my  hair  turn  grey 

Beyond  a  twelvemonth's  ravage  I     I  renounce 

Mountebank-claptrap,  such  as  firework-fizz 

And  torchflare,  or  else  nuts  and  barleycorns 

Scattered  among  the  crowd,  to  scramble  for 

And  stop  their  mouths  with ;  no  such  stuff  shames  me  ! 

Who, — what 's  more  serious, — know  both  when  to  strike 

And  when  to  stay  my  hand :  once  dead,  my  foe, 

Why,  done,  my  fighting !    /attack  a  corpse? 

I  spare  the  corpse-like  even  !  punish  age  ? 

I  pity  from  my  soul  that  sad  effete 

Toothless  old  mumbler  called  Kratinos  1  once 

My  rival, — now,  alack,  the  dotard  slinks 

Ragged  and  hungry  to  what  hole 's  his  home ; 

Ay,  slinks  thro'  byways  where  no  passenger 

Flings  him  a  bone  to  pick.     You  formerly 

Adored  the  Muses'  darling :  dotard  now, 

Why,  he  may  starve  !     O  mob  most  mutable  ! " 

So  you  harangued  in  person ;  while, — to  point 

Precisely  out,  these  were  but  lies  you  launched, — 

Prompt,  a  play  followed  primed  with  satyr-frisks. 

No  spice  spared  of  the  stomach -turning  stew, 

Full-fraught  with  torch-display,  and  barley-throw, 

And  Kleon,  dead  enough,  bedaubed  afresh ; 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  X39 

While  daft  Kratinos — home  to  hole  trudged  he, 
Wrung  dry  his  wit  to  the  last  vinous  dregs, 
Decanted  them  to  "  Bottle," — beat,  next  year, — 
"  Bottle  "  and  dregs — your  best  of  "  Clouds  "  and  dew  J 
Where,  Comic  King,  may  keenest  eye  detect 
Improvement  on  your  predecessors'  work 
Except  in  lying  more  audaciously  ? 

Why — genius  !    That 's  the  grandeur,  that 's  the  gold-- 

That 's  you — superlatively  true  to  touch — 

Gold,  leaf  or  lump— gold,  anyhow  the  mass 

Takes  manufacture  and  proves  Pallas'  casque 

Or,  at  your  choice,  simply  a  cask  to  keep 

Corruption  from  decay.     Your  rivals'  hoard 

May  ooze  forth,  lacking  such  preservative : 

Yours  cannot — gold  plays  guardian  far  too  well ! 

Genius,  I  call  you :  dross,  your  rivals  share ; 

Ay,  share  and  share  alike,  too !  says  the  world. 

However  you  pretend  supremacy 

In  aught  beside  that  gold,  your  very  own. 

Satire  ?     "  Kratinos  for  our  satirist ! " 

The  world  cries.     Elegance  ?     "  Who  elegant 

As  Eupolis  ?  "  resounds  as  noisily. 

Artistic  fancy  ?    Choros-creatures  quaint  ? 

Magnes  invented  "  Birds  "  and  "  Frogs  "  enough, 

Archippos  punned,  Hegemon  parodied. 


140.  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

To  heart's  content,  before  you  stepped  on  stage. 

Moral  invective  ?    Eupolis  exposed 

"  That  prating  beggar,  he  who  stole  the  cup," 

Before  your  "  Clouds  "  rained  grime  on  Sokrates ; 

Nay,  what  beat  "  Clouds  "  but  "  Konnos,"  muck  for  mud  ? 

Courage  ?    How  long  before,  well-masked,  you  poured 

Abuse  on  Eukrates  and  Lusikles, 

Did  Telekleides  and  Hermippos  pelt 

Their  Perikles  and  Kumon  ?  standing  forth, 

Bareheaded,  not  safe  crouched  behind  a  name,— 

Philonides  or  else  Kallistratos, 

Put  forth,  when  danger  threatened, — mask  for  face, 

To  bear  the  brunt, — if  blame  fell,  take  the  blame, — 

If  praise  .  »  .  why,  frank  latighed  Aristophanes 

"  They  write  such  rare  stuff?    No,  I  promise  you  I  " 

Rather,  I  see  all  true  improvements,  made 

Or  making,  go  against  you- — tooth  and  nail 

Contended  with;  't  is  still  Moruchides, 

'T  is  Euthumenes,  Surakosios,  nay, 

Argurrhios  and  Kinesias, — common  sense 

And  public  shame,  these  only  cleanse  your  stye  1 

Coerced,  prohibited, — you  grin  and  bear, 

And,  soon  as  may  be,  hug  to  heart  again 

The  banished  nastiness  too  dear  to  drop ! 

Krates  could  teach  and  practise  festive  song 

Yet  scorn  scurrility ;  as  gay  and  good, 


Phetekrates  could  follow.     W^  loosed  hold,  > 

Must  let  fall  rose- wreath,  stoop  to  muck  once  more  ? 

Did  your  particular  self  advance  in  aught. 

Task  the  sad  genius— steady  slave  the  while — 

To  further — say,  the  patriotic  aim  ? 

No,  there 's  deterioration  manifest 

Year  by  year,  play  by  play !  survey  them  all, 

From  that  boy's-triumph  when  "  Acharnes  "  dawned, 

To  "  Thesmophoriazousai," — this  man's-shame ! 

There,  truly,  patriot  zeal  so  prominent 

Allowed  friends'  plea  perhaps :  the  baser  stuff 

Was  but  the  nobler  spirit's  vehicle. 

Who  would  imprison,  unvolatilize 

A  violet's  perfume,  blends  with  fatty  oils 

Essence  too  fugitive  in  flower  alone ; 

So,  calling  unguent — violet,  call  the  play — 

Obscenity  impregnated  with  "  Peace  " ! 

But  here 's  the  boy  grown  bald,  and  here 's  the  play 

With  twenty  years'  experience :  where 's  one  spice 

Of  odour  in  the  hog's-lard  ?  what  pretends 

To  aught  except  a  grease-pot's  quality  ? 

Friend,  sophist-hating  I  know, — ^worst  sophistry 

Is  when  man's  own  soul  plays  its  own  self  false, 

Reasons  a  vice  into  a  virtue,  pleads 

**  I  detail  sin  to  shame  its  author  " — not 

"  I  shame  Ariphrades  for  sin's  display  "  1 


142  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

"  I  show  Opora  to  commend  Sweet  Home  "— 
Not  "  I  show  Bacchis  for  the  striplings'  sake ! " 

Yet  all  the  same — O  genius  and  O  gold — 
Had  genius  ne'er  diverted  gold  from  use 
Worthy  the  temple,  to  do  copper's  work 
And  coat  a  swine's  trough — which  abundantly 
Might  furnish  Phoibos'  tripod,  Pallas'  throne  I 
Had  you,  I  dream,  discarding  all  the  base, 
The  brutish,  spumed  alone  convention's  watch 
And  ward  against  invading  decency 
Disguised  as  license,  law  in  lawlessness, 
And  so,  re-ordinating  outworn  rule. 
Made  Comedy  and  Tragedy  combine, 
Prove  some  new  Both-yet-tieither,  all  one  bard, 
Euripides  with  Aristophanes 
Cooperant !  this,  reproducing  Now 
As  that  gave  Then  existence :  Life  to-day, 
This,  as  that  other — Life  dead  long  ago ! 
The  mob  decrees  such  feat  no  crown,  perchance, 
But — why  call  crowning  the  reward  of  quest  ? 
Tell  him,  my  other  poet, — where  thou  walk'st 
Some  rarer  world  than  e'er  Ilissos  washed ! 

But  dream  goes  idly  in  the  air.     To  earth ! 
Earth's  question  just  amounts  to— which  succeedf^, 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  143 

Which  fails  of  two  life-long  antagonists  ? 
Suppose  my  charges  all  mistake  I  assume 
Your  end,  despite  ambiguous  means,  the  best^ 
The  only  !  you  and  he,  a  patriot-pair, 
Have  striven  alike  for  one  result — say.  Peace ! 
You  spoke  your  best  straight  to  the  arbiters — 
Our  people:    have  you  made  them  end  this 

war 
By  dint  of  laughter  and  abuse  and  lies 
And  postures  of  Opora  ?    Sadly — No ! 
This  war,  despite  your  twenty-five  years'  work, 
May  yet  endure  until  Athenai  falls. 
And  freedom  falls  with  her.     So  much  for  you ! 
Now,  the  antagonist  Euripides — 
Has  he  succeeded  better  ?    Who  shall  say  ? 
He  spoke  quite  o'er  the  heads  of  Kleon's  crowd 
To  a  dim  future,  and  if  there  he  fail. 
Why,  you  are  fellows  in  adversity. 
But  that 's  unlike  the  fate  of  wise  words  launched 
By  music  on  their  voyage.     Hail,  Depart, 
Arrive,  Glad  Welcome !     Not  my  single  wish — 
Yours  also  wafts  the  white  sail  on  its  way, 
Your  nature  too  is  kingly.     All  beside 
I  call  pretension — no  true  potentate, 
Whatever  intermediary  be  crowned, 
Zeus  or  Poseidon,  where  the  vulgar  sky 


144  ARtSTOPHANES'  APOLOCV 

Lacks  not  Triballos  to  complete  the  group. 
I  recognize, — behind  such  phantom-crew> — 
Necessity,  Creation,  Poet's  Power, 
Else  never  had  I  dared  approach,  appeal 
To  poetry,  power,  Aristophanes  ! 
But  I  trust  truth's  inherent  kingliness, 
Trust  who,  by  reason  of  much  truth,  shall  reign 
More  or  less  royally— may  prayer  but  push 
His  sway  past  limit,  purge  the  false  from  true  1 
Nor,  even  so,  had  boldness  nerved  my  tongue 
But  that  the  other  king  stands  suddenly. 
In  all  the  grand  investiture  of  death. 
Bowing  your  knee  beside  my  lowly  head — 
Equals  one  moment ! 

Now,  arise  and  go ! 
Both  have  done  homage  to  Euripides  1 

Silence  pursued  the  words :  till  he  broke  out— 

"Scarce  so !    This  constitutes,  1  may  believe, 
Sufficient  homage  done  by  who  defames 
Your  poet^s  foe,  since  you  account  me  such ; 
Br.t  homage-proper, — pay  it  by  defence 
Of  him,  direct  defence  and  not  oblique. 
Not  by  mere  mild  admonishment  of  me !  ' 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  145 

Defence  ?    The  best,  the  only !  I  replied 

A  story  goes — ^When  Sophokles,  last  year, 

Cited  before  tribunal  by  his  son 

(A  poet-^to  complete  the  parallel) 

Was  certified  unsound  of  intellect, 

And  claimed  as  only  fit  for  tutelage. 

Since  old  and  doating  and  incompetent 

To  carry  on  this  world's  work, — ^the  defence 

Consisted  just  in  his  reciting  (calm 

As  the  verse  bore,  which  sets  our  heart  a-swell 

And  voice  a-heaving  too  tempestuously) 

That  choros-chant  "  The  station  of  the  steed, 

Stranger !  thou  comest  to, — Kolonos  white ! " 

Then  he  looked  round  and  all  revolt  was  dead. 

You  know  the  one  adventure  of  my  life — 

What  made  Euripides  Balaustion's  friend. 

When  I  last  saw  him,  as  he  bade  farewell, 

"  I  sang  another  *  Herakles,' "  smiled  he ; 

"  It  gained  no  prize :  your  love  be  prize  I  gain ! 

Take  it — the  tablets  also  where  I  traced 

The  story  first  with  stulos  pendent  still — 

Nay,  the  psalterion  may  complete  the  gift, 

So,  should  you  croon  the  ode  bewailing  Age, 

Yourself  shall  modulate — same  notes,  same  strings — 

With  the  old  friend  who  loved  Balaustion  once." 

There  they  lie !    When  you  broke  our  solitude, 

XIII.  L 


X46  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

We  were  about  to  honour  him  once  more 

By  reading  the  consummate  Tragedy. 

Night  is  advanced ;  I  have  small  mind  to  sleep ; 

May  I  go  on,  and  read, — so  make  defence, 

So  test  true  godship  ?    You  affirm,  not  I, 

^—Beating  the  god,  affords  such  test :  /  hold 

That  when  rash  hands  but  touch  divinity. 

The  chains  drop  off,  the  prison-walls  dispart, 

And — fire — he  fronts  mad  Pentheus  1    Dare  we  try  ? 

Accordingly  I  read  the  perfect  piece. 


HERAKLES. 


AMPHITRUON. 

Zeus'  Couchmate, — who  of  mortals  knows  not  me, 

Argive  Amphitruon  whom  Alkaios  sired 

Of  old,  as  Perseus  him,  I — Herakles  ? 

My  home,  this  Thebai  where  the  earth-bom  spike 

Of  Sown-ones  burgeoned :  Ares  saved  from  these 

A  handful  of  their  seed  that  stocks  to-day 

With  children's  children  Thebai,  Kadmos  built. 

Of  these  had  Kreon  birth,  Menoikeus'  child, 

King  of  the  country, — Kreon  that  became 

The  father  of  this  woman,  Megara, 

Whom,  when  time  was,  Kadmeians  one  and  all 

Pealed  praise  to,  marriage-songs  with  fluted  help, 

While  to  my  dwelling  that  grand  Herakles 

Bore  her,  his  bride.     But,  leaving  Thebes — where  I 

Abode  perforce — this  Megara  and  those 

L2 


148  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Her  kinsmen,  the  desire  possessed  my  son 
Rather  to  dwell  in  Argos,  that  walled  work, 
Kuklopian  city,  which  I  fly,  myself, 
Because  I  slew  Elektruon.     Seeking  so 
To  ease  away  my  hardships  and  once  more 
Inhabit  his  own  land,  for  my  return 
Heavy  the  price  he  pays  Eurustheus  there — 
The  letting  in  of  light  on  this  choked  world ! 
Either  he  promised,  vanquished  by  the  goad 
Of  Here,  or  because  fate  willed  it  thus. 
The  other  labours — why,  he  toiled  them  through  •, 
But  for  this  last  one — down  by  Tainaros, 
Its  mouth,  to  Haides'  realm  descended  he 
To  drag  into  the  light  the  three-shaped  hound 
Of  Hell :  whence  Herakles  returns  no  more. 
Now,  there 's  an  old-world  tale,  Kadmeians  have. 
How  Dirk^'s  husband  was  a  Lukos  once. 
Holding  the  seven-towered  city  here  in  sway 
Before  they  ruled  the  land,  white-steeded  pair, 
The  twins  Amphion,  Zethos,  born  to  Zeus. 
This  Lukos'  son, — named  like  his  father  too, 
No  born  Kadmeian  but  Euboia's  gift, — 
Comes  and  kills  Kreon,  lords  it  o'er  the  land. 
Falling  upon  our  town  sedition-sick. 
To  us,  akin  to  Kreon,  just  that  bond 
Becomes  the  worst  of  evils,  seemingly ; 


HERAKLES  149 

For,  since  my  son  is  in  the  earth's  abysms, 

This  man  of  valour,  Lukos,  lord  and  king, 

Seeks  now  to  slay  these  sons  of  Herakles, 

And  slay  his  wife  as  well, — by  murder  thus 

Thinking  to  stamp  out  murder,— slay  too  me, 

(If  me  \  is  fit  you  count  among  men  still, — 

Useless  old  age)  and  all  for  fear  lest  these, 

Grown  men  one  day,  exact  due  punishment 

Of  bloodshed  and  their  mother's  father's  fate. 

I  therefore,  since  he  leaves  me  in  these  domes. 

The  children's  household  guardian, — left,  when  earth's 

Dark  dread  he  underwent,  that  son  of  mine, — 

I,  with  their  mother,  lest  his  boys  should  die, 

Sit  at  this  altar  of  the  saviour  Zeus 

Which,  glory  of  triumphant  spear,  he  raised 

Conquering — my  nobly-born ! — the  Minuai. 

Here  do  we  guard  our  station,  destitute 

Of  all  things,  drink,  food,  raiment,  on  bare  ground 

Couched  side  by  side ;  sealed  out  of  house  and  home 

Sit  we  in  a  resourcelessness  of  help. 

Our  friends — why,  some  are  no  true  friends,  I  see ! 

The  rest,  that  are  true,  want  the  means  to  aid. 

So  operates  in  man  adversity : 

Whereof  may  never  anybody — no, 

Though  half  of  him  should  really  wish  me  well,— 

Happen  to  taste !  a  friend-test  faultless,  that ! 


ISO  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

MEGARA 

Old  man,  who  erst  didst  raze  the  Taphian  town, 

Illustriously,  the  army-leader,  thou, 

Of  speared  KaSmeians — how  gods  play  men  false ! 

I,  now,  missed  nowise  fortune  in  my  sire, 

Who,  for  his  wealth,  was  boasted  mighty  once, 

Having  supreme  rule, — for  the  love  of  which 

Leap  the  long  lances  forth  at  favoured  breasts,-r 

And  having  children  too :  and  me  he  gave 

Thy  son,  his  house  with  that  of  Herakles 

Uniting  by  the  far-famed  marriage-bed. 

And  now  these  things  are  dead  and  flown  away, 

While  thou  and  I  await  our  death,  old  m?n. 

These  Herakleian  boys  too,  whom — my  chicks — 

I  save  beneath  my  wings  like  brooding  bird. 

But  one  or  other  falls  to  questioning 

"O  mother,"  cries  he,  "where  in  all  the  world 

Is  father  gone  to  ?     What 's  he  doing  ?  when 

Will  he  come  back  ?  "     At  fault  through  tender  years. 

They  seek  their  sire.     For  me,  I  put  them  off, 

Telling  them  stories ;  at  each  creak  of  doors. 

All  wonder  *•'  Does  he  come  ?  " — and  all  a-foot 

Make  for  the  fall  before  the  parent  knee. 

Now  then,  what  hope,  what  method  of  escape 

Facilitatest  thou  ? — for,  thee,  old  man, 


HERAKLES  151 

I  look  to, — since  we  may  not  leave  by  stealth 
The  limits  of  the  land,  and  guards,  more  strong 
Than  we,  are  at  the  outlets :  nor  in  friends 
Remain  to  us  the  hopes  of  safety  more.  ^ 

Therefore,  whatever  thy  decision  be, 
Impart  it  for  the  common  good  of  all ! 
Lest  now  should  prove  the  proper  time  to  die, 
Though,  being  weak,  we  spin  it  out  and  live. 

AMPHITRUON. 

Daughter,  it  scarce  is  easy,  do  one's  best, 
To  blurt  out  counsel,  things  at  such  a  pass. 

MEGARA. 

You  want  some  sorrow  more,  or  so  love  life  ? 

AMPHITRUON. 

I  both  enjoy  life,  and  love  hopes  beside. 

MEGARA. 

And  I ;  but  hope  against  hope— no,  old  man ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

In  these  dela3angs  of  an  ill  lurks  cure. 


iSi  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 


MEGARA. 

But  bitter  is  the  meantime^  and  it  bites. 

AMPHITRUON. 

O  there  may  be  a  run  before  the  wind 
From  out  these  present  ills,  for  me  and  thee, 
Daughter,  and  yet  may  come  my  son,  thy  spouse  1 
But  hush !  and  from  the  children  take  away 
Their  founts  a-flow  with  tears,  and  talk  them  calm 
Steal  them  by  stories— sad  theft,  all  the  same! 
For,  human  troubles — they  grow  weary  too ; 
Neither  the  wind-blasts  always  have  their  strength 
Nor  happy  men  keep  happy  to  the  end : 
Since  all  things  change — their  natures  part  in  twain ; 
And  that  man 's  bravest,  therefore,  who  hopes  on, 
Hopes  ever :  to  despair  is  coward-like. 

CHOROS. 

These  domes  that  overroof. 
This  long-used  couch,  I  come  to,  having  made 
A  staff  my  prop,  that  song  may  put  to  proof 
The  swan-like  power,  age-whitened, — poet's  aid 
Of  sobbed-forth  dirges — words  that  stand  aloof 
From  action  now :  such  am  I — ^just  a  shade 


HERAKLES  153 

With  night  for  all  its  face,  a  mere  night-dream — 
And  -words  that  tremble  too :  howe'er  they  seem. 
Devoted  words,  I  deem. 

• 
O,  of  a  father  ye  unfathered  ones, 
O  thou  old  man,  and  thou  whose  groaning  stuns — 
Unhappy  mother — only  us  above, 
Nor  reaches  him  below  in  Haides'  realm,  thy  love ! 
— (Faint  not  too  soon,  urge  forward  foot  and  limb 
Way- weary,  nor  lose  courage— as  some  horse 
Yoked  to  the  car  whose  weight  recoils  on  him 
Just  at  the  rock-ridge  that  concludes  his  course ! 
Take  by  the  hand,  the  peplos,  anyone 
Whose  foothold  fails  him,  printless  and  fordone ! 
Aged,  assist  along  me  aged  too, 
WhOj — mate  with  thee  in  toils  when  life  was  new, 
And  shields  and  spears  first  made  acquaintanceship, — 
Stood  by  thyself  and  proved  no  bastard-slip 
Of  fatherland  when  loftiest  glory  grew.) — 
See  now,  how  like  the  sirens 
Each  eyeball  fiercely  fires! 
What  though  ill-fortune  have  not  left  his  race? 
Neither  is  gone  the  grand  paternal  grace ! 
Hellas  1    O  what — what  combatants,  destroyed 
In  thesei  wilt  thou  one  day  seek — seek,  and  find  all 
void  1 


154  ARISTOPHANES'   APOLOGY 

Pause  !  for  I  see  the  ruler  of  this  land, 
Lukos,  now  passing  through  the  palace-gate. 


LUKOS. 

The  Herakleian  couple — father,  wife — 

If  needs  I  must,  I  question :  "  must "  forsooth? 

Being  your  master — all  I  please,  I  ask. 

To  what  time  do  you  seek  to  spin  out  life? 

What  hope,  what  help  see,  so  as  not  to  die? 

Is  it  you  trust  the  sire  of  these,  that 's  sunk 

In  Haides,  will  return?    How  past  the  pitch. 

Suppose  you  have  to  die,  you  pile  the  woe — 

Thou,  casting,  Hellas  through,  thy  empty  vaunts 

As  though  Zeus  helped  thee  to  a  god  for  son ; 

And  thou,  that  thou  wast  styled  our  best  man's  wife ! 

Where  was  the  awful  in  his  work  wound  up. 

If  he  did  quell  and  quench  the  marshy  snake 

Or  the  Nemeian  monster  whom  he  snared 

And — says,  by  throttlings  of  his  arm,  he  slew? 

With  these  do  you  outwrestle  me?    Such  feats 

Shall  save  from  death  the  sons  of  Herakles 

Who  got  praise,  being  nought,  for  bravery 

In  wild-beast-battle,  otherwise  a  blank? 

No  man  to  throw  on  left  arm  buckler's  weight, 

Not  he,  nor  get  in  spear's  reach !  bow  he  bore — 


HERAKLES  155 

True  coward's-weapon :  shoot  first  and  then  fly ! 
No  bow-and-arrow  proves  a  man  is  brave, 
But  who  keeps  rank, — stands,  one  unwinking  stare 
As,  ploughing  up,  the  darts  come, — brave  is  he. 
My  action  has  no  impudence,  pld  man  ! 
Providence,  rather :  for  I  own  I  slew 
Kreon,  this  woman's  sire,  and  have  his  seat. 
Nowise  I  wish,  then,  to  leave,  these  grown  up, 
Avengers  on  me,  payment  for  my  deeds. 


AMPHITRUON. 

As  to  the  part  of  Zeus  in  his  own  child, 

Let  Zeus  defend  that  I    As  to  mine,  't  is  me 

The  care  concerns  to  show  by  argument 

The  folly  of  this  fellow, — Herakles, 

.Whom  I  stand  up  for !  since  to  hear  thee  styled — 

Cowardly — that  is  unendurable. 

First  then,  the  infamous  (for  I  account 

Amongst  the  words  denied  to  human  speech. 

Timidity  ascribed  thee,  Herakles  !) 

This  I  must  put  from  thee,  with  gods  in  proof. 

Zeus'  thunder  I  appeal  to,  those  four  steeds 

Whereof  he  also  was  the  charioteer 

When,  having  shot  down  the  earth's  Giant-growth- 

(Never  shaft  flew  but  found  and  fitted  flank) 


156  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Triumph  he  sang  in  common  with  the  gods. 

The  Kentaur-race,  four  footed  insolence — 

Go  ask  at  Pholo^,  vilest  thou  of  kings, 

Whom  they  would  pick  out  and  pronounce  best  man, 

If  not  my  son,  "  the  seeming-brave,"  say'st  thou  ! 

But  Dirphus,  thy  Abantid  mother-town, 

Question  her,  and  she  would  not  praise,  I  think  ! 

For  there  's  no  spot,  where  having  done  some  good, 

Thy  country  thou  mightst  call  to  witness  worth. 

Now,  that  all-wise  invention,  archer's-gear. 

Thou  blamest :  hear  my  teaching  and  grow  sage  I 

A  man  in  armour  is  his  armour's  slave. 

And,  mixed  with  rank  and  file  that  want  to  run. 

He  dies  because  his  neighbours  have  lost  heart. 

Then,  should  he  break  his  spear,  no  way  remains 

Of  warding  death  off, — gone  that  body-guard, 

His  one  and  only ;  while,  whatever  folk 

Have  the  true  bow-hand, — here's  the  one  main  good, — 

Though  he  have  sent  ten  thousand  shafts  abroad. 

Others  remain  wherewith  the  archer  saves 

His  limbs  and  life,  too, — stands  afar  and  wards 

Away  from  flesh  the  foe  that  vainly  stares 

Hurt  by  the  viewless  arrow,  while  himself 

Offers  no  full  front  to  those  opposite. 

But  keeps  in  thorough  cover :  there 's  the  point 

That 's  capital  in  combat^  damage  foe, 


HERAKLES  157 

Yet  keep  a  safe  skin— foe  not  out  of  reach 

As  you  are  I    Thus  my  words  contrast  with  thine, 

And  such,  in  judging  facts,  our  difference. 

These  children,  now,  why  dost  thou  seek  to  slay? 

What  have  they  done  thee?    In  a  single  point 

I  count  thee  wise — if,  being  base  thyself, 

Thou  dread'st  the  progeny  of  nobleness. 

Yet  this  bears  hard  upon  us,  all  the  same. 

If  we  must  die — because  of  fear  in  thee — 

A  death 't  were  fit  thou  suffer  at  our  hands, 

Thy  betters,  did  Zeus  rightly  judge  us  all. 

If  therefore  thou  art  bent  on  sceptre-sway, 

Thyself,  here — suffer  us  to  leave  the  land, 

Fugitives !  nothing  do  by  violence. 

Or  violence  thyself  shalt  undergo 

When  the  gods'  gale  may  chance  to  change  for  thee  \ 

Alas,  O  land  of  Kadmos, — for  't  is  thee 

I  mean  to  close  with,  dealing  out  the  due 

Revilement, — in  such  sort  dost  thou  defend 

Herakles  and  his  children?     Herakles 

Who,  coming,  one  to  all  the  world,  against 

The  Minuai,  fought  them  and  left  Thebes  an  eye 

Unblinded  henceforth  to  front  freedom  with  1 

Neither  do  I  praise  Hellas,  nor  shall  brook 

Ever  to  keep  in  silence  that  I  count 

Towards  my  son,  craven  of  cravens — her 


IS8  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Whom  it  behoved  go  bring  the  young  ones  here 

Fire,  spears,  arms — in  exchange  for  seas  made  safe, 

And  cleansings  of  the  land — his  labour's  price. 

But  fire,  speafS,  arms, — O  children,  neither  Thebes 

Nor  Hellas  has  them  for  you !     'T  is  myself, 

A  feeble  friend,  ye  look  to :  nothing  now 

But  a  tongue's  murmur,  for  the  strength  is  gone 

We  had  once,  and  with  age  are  limbs  a-shake 

And  force  a-flicker !     Were  I  only  young. 

Still  with  the  mastery  o'er  bone  and  thew. 

Grasping  first  spear  that  came,  the  yellow  locks 

Of  this  insulter  would  I  bloody  so — 

Should  send  him  skipping  o'er  the  Atlantic  bounds 

Out  of  my  arm's  reach  through  poltroonery ! 

CHORDS. 

Have  not  the  really  good  folk  starting-points 
For  speech  to  purpose, — though  rare  talkers  they  ? 

LUKOS. 

Say  thou  against  us  words  thou  towerest  with ! 
I,  for  thy  words,  will  deal  thee  blows,  their  due. 
Go,  some  to  Helikon,  to  Parnasos 
Some,  and  the  clefts  there !    Bid  the  woodmen  fell 


HERAKLES  159 

Oak-trunks,  and,  when  the  same  are  brought  inside 

The  city,  pile  the  altar  round  with  logs. 

Then  fire  it,  bum  the  bodies  of  them  all, 

That  they  may  leam  thereby,  no  dead  man  rules 

The  land  here,  but 't  is  I,  by  acts  like  these ! 

As  for  you,  old  sirs,  who  are  set  against 

My  judgments,  you  shall  groan  for— not  alone 

The  Herakleian  children,  but  the  fate 

Of  your  own  house  beside,  when  faring  ill 

By  any  chance :  and  you  shall  recollect 

Slaves  are  you  of  a  tyranny  that 's  mine ! 

CHORDS. 

O  progeny  of  earth, — whom  Ares  sowed 
When  he  laid  waste  the  dragon's  greedy  jaw — 


Will  ye  not  lift  the  staves,  right-hand  supports, 

And  bloody  this  man's  irreligious  head  ? 

Who,  being  no  Kadmeian,  rules, — the  wretch, — 

Our  easy  youth :  an  interloper  too ! 

But  not  of  me,  at  least,  shalt  thou  enjoy 

Thy  lordship  ever ;  nor  my  labour's  fruit, — 

Hand  worked  so  hard  for, — have !    A  curse  with  thee, 

Whence  thou  didst  come,  there  go  and  tyrannize ! 

For  never  while  I  live  shalt  thou  destroy 

The  Herakleian  children :  not  so  deep 


i6o  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

Hides  he  below  ground,  leaving  thee  their  lord ! 

But  we  bear  both  of  you  in  mind, — that  thou, 

The  land's  destroyer,  dost  possess  the  land, 

While  he  who  saved  it,  loses  every  right 

/play  the  busybody— for  I  serve 

My  dead  friends  when  they  need  friends'  service  most? 

O  right-hand,  how  thou  yearnest  to  snatch  spear 

And  serve  indeed !  in  weakness  dies  the  wish. 

Or  I  had  stayed  thee  calling  me  a  slave, 

And  nobly  drawn  my  breath  at  home  in  Thebes 

Where  thou  exultest ! — city  that 's  insane, 

Sick  through  sedition  and  bad  government, 

Else  never  had  she  gained  for  master — thee  I 


MEGARA. 

Old  friends,  I  praise  you :  since  a  righteous  wrath 
For  friend's  sake  well  becomes  a  friend     But  no  I 
On  our  account  in  anger  with  your  lord, 
Suffer  no  injury !     Hear  my  advice, 
Amphitruon,  if  I  seem  to  speak  aright. 
O  yes,  I  love  my  children !  how  not  love 
What  I  brought  forth,  what  toiled  for  ?  and  to  die- 
Sad  I  esteem  too ;  still,  the  fated  way 
Who  stiffens  him  against,  that  man  I  count 
Poor  creature;  us,  who  are  of  other  mood, 


BERAKLES  lOi 

Since  we  must  die,  behoves  us  meet  our  death 

Not  burnt  to  cinders,  giving  foes  the  laugh — 

To  me,  worse  ill  than  dying,  that !    We  owe 

Our  houses  many  a  brave  deed,  now  to  pay. 

Thee,  indeed,  gloriously  men  estimate 

For  spear- work,  so  that  unendurable 

Were  it  that  thou  shouldst  die  a  death  of  shame. 

And  for  my  glorious  husband,  where  wants  he 

A  witness  that  he  would  not  save  his  boys 

If  touched  in  their  good  fame  thereby  ?    Since  birth 

Bears  ill  with  baseness  done  for  children's  sake, 

My  husband  needs  must  be  my  pattern  here. 

See  now  thy  hope — how  much  I  count  thereon  ! 

Thou  thinkest  that  thy  son  will  come  to  light : 

And,  of  the  dead,  who  came  from  Haides  back  ? 

But  we  with  talk  this  man  might  mollify : 

Never !    Of  all  foes,  fly  the  foolish  one  I 

Wise,  well-bred  people,  make  concession  to  1 

Sooner  you  meet  respect  by  speaking  soft. 

Already  it  was  in  my  mind — perchance 

We  might  beg  off  these  children's  banishment ; 

But  even  that  is  sad,  involving  them 

In  safety,  ay — and  piteous  poverty ! 

Since  the  host's  visage  for  the  flying  friend 

Has,  only  one  day,  the  sweet  look,  't  is  said. 

Dare  with  us  death,  which  waits  thee,  dared  or  no ! 

5cm.  M 


i62  ARISTOPHANES'   APOLOGY 

We  call  on  thine  ancestral  worth,  old  man  ! 

For  who  outlabours  what  the  gods  appoint 

Shows  energ)^,  but  energy  gone  mad. 

Since  what  must— none  e'er  makes  what  must  not  be. 

CHOROS. 

Had  anyone,  while  yet  my  arms  were  strong, 
Been  scorning  thee,  he  easily  had  ceased. 
But  we  are  nought,  now ;  thine  henceforth  to  see— 
Amphitruon,  how  to  push  aside  these  fates ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

Nor  cowardice  nor  a  desire  of  life 

Stops  me  from  dying :  but  I  seek  to  save 

My  son  his  children.     Vain  !  I  set  my  heart, 

It  seems,  upon  impossibility. 

See,  it  is  ready  for  the  sword,  this  throat 

To  pierce,  divide,  dash  down  from  precipice  ! 

But  one  grace  grant  us,  king,  we  supplicate ! 

Slay  me  and  this  unhappy  one  before 

The  children,  lest  we  see  them — impious  sight  !— 

Gasping  the  soul  forth,  calling  all  the  while 

On  mother  and  on  father's  father !     Else, 

Do  as  thy  heart  inclines  thee !     No  resource 

Have  we  from  death,  and  we  resign  ourselves. 


HERAKLES  163 


MEGARA. 


And  I  too  supplicate :  add  grace  to  grace, 

And,  though  but  one  man,  doubly  serve  us  both ! 

Let  me  bestow  adornment  of  the  dead 

Upon  these  children !    Throw  the  palace  wide  ! 

For  now  we  are  shut  out.    Thence  these  shall  share 

At  least  so  much  of  wealth  was  once  their  sire's ! 

LUKOS. 

These  things  shall  be.     Withdraw  the  bolts,  I  bid 
My  servants !     Enter  and  adorn  yourselves ! 
I  grudge  no  peploi ;  but  when  these  ye  wind 
About  your  bodies, — that  adornment  done, — 
Then  I  shall  come  and  give  you  to  the  grave. 

MEGARA. 

O  children,  follow  this  unhappy  foot. 
Your  mother's,  into  your  ancestral  home, 
Where  others  have  the  power,  are  lords  in  truth, 
Although  the  empty  name  is  left  us  yet ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

O  Zeus,  in  vain  I  had  thee  marriage-mate, 
In  vain  I  called  thee  father  of  my  child ! 

M  2 


S64  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Thou  wast  less  friendly  far  than  thou  didst  seem. 
I,  the  mere  man,  overmatch  in  virtue  thee 
The  mighty  god :  for  I  have  not  betrayed 
The  Herakleian  children, — whereas  thou 
Hadst  wit  enough  to  come  clandestinely 
Into  the  chamber,  take  what  no  man  gave, 
Another^s  place ;  and  when  it  comes  to  help 
Thy  loved  ones,  there  thou  lackest  wit  indeed  I 
Thou  art  some  stupid  god  or  bom  unjust 


CHOROS. 

Even  a  dirge,  can  Phoibos  suit 

In  song  to  music  jubilant 

For  all  its  sorrow :  making  shoot 

His  golden  plectron  o'er  the  lute, 

Melodious  ministrant. 

And  I,  too,  am  of  mind  to  raise, 

Despite  the  imminence  of  doom, 

A  song  of  joy,  outpour  my  praise 

To  him — what  is  it  rumour  says  ? — 

Whether — now  buried  in  the  ghostly  gloom 

Below  ground,— he  was  child  of  Zeus  indeed, 

Or  mere  Amphitruon's  mortal  seed — 

To  him  I  weave  the  wreath  of  song,  his  labour's  meed. 

For,  is  my  hero  perished  in  the  feat? 


HERAKLES  165 

The  virtues  of  brave  toils,  in  death  complete, 

These  save  the  dead  in  song,— their  glory-garland  meet ! 

First,  then,  he  made  the  wood 

Of  Zeus  a  solitude, 

Slaying  its  lion-tenant ;  and  he  spread 

The  tawniness  behind — his  yellow  head 

Enmuffled  by  the  brute's,  backed  by  that  grin  of  dread. 

The  mountain-roving  savage  Kentaur-race 

He  strewed  with  deadly  boW  about  their  place. 

Slaying  with  winged  shafts :  Peneios  knew, 

Beauteously-eddying,  and  the  long  tracts  too 

Of  pasture  trampled  fruitless,  and  as  well 

Those  desolated  haunts  Mount  Pelion  under, 

And,  grassy  up  to  Homole,  each  dell 

Whence,  having  filled  their  hands  with  pine-tree  plunder. 

Horse-like  was  wont  to  prance  from,  and  subdue 

The  land  of  Thessaly,  that  bestial  crew. 

The  golden-headed  spot-back'd  stag  he  slew. 

That  robber  of  the  rustics :  glorified 

Therewith  the  goddess  who  in  hunter's  pride 

Slaughters  the  game  along  Oino6's  side. 

And,  yoked  abreast,  he  brought  the  chariot-breed 

To  pace  submissive  to  the  bit,  each  steed 

That  in  the  bloody  cribs  of  Diomede 

Champed  and,  unbridled,  hurried  down  that  gore 


i66  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

For  grain,  exultant  the  dread  feast  before — 

Of  man's  flesh :  hideous  feeders  they  of  yore ! 

All  as  he  crossed  the  Hebros'  silver-flow 

Accomplished  he  such  labour,  toiling  so 

For  Mukenaian  tyrant ;  ay,  and  more — 

He  crossed  the  Melian  shore 

And,  by  the  sources  of  Amauros,  shot 

To  death  that  strangers'-pest 

Kuknos,  who  dwelt  in  Amphanaia :  not 

Of  fame  for  good  to  guest ! 

« 

And  next,  to  the  melodious  maids  he  came, 
Inside  the  Hesperian  court-yard :  hand  must  aim 
At  plucking  gold  fruit  from  the  appled  leaves. 
Now  he  had  killed  the  dragon,  backed  like  flame, 
Who  guards  the  unapproachable  he  weaves 
Himself  all  round,  one  spire  about  the  same. 
And  into  those  sea-troughs  of  ocean  dived 
The  hero,  and  for  mortals  calm  contrived. 
Whatever  oars  should  follow  in  his  wake. 
And  under  heaven's  mid-seat  his  hands  thrust  he, 
At  home  with  Atlas :  and,  for  valour's  sake. 
Held  the  gods  up  their  star-faced  mansionry. 
Also,  the  rider-host  of  Amazons 
About  Maiotis  many-streamed,  he  went 
To  cbnquer  through  the  billowy  Euxin  once, 


HERAKLES  \(fj 

Having  collected  what  an  armament 

Of  friends  from  Hellas,  all  on  conquest  bent 

Of  that  gold-garnished  cloak,  dread  girdle-chase  I 

So  Hellas  gained  the  girFs  barbarian  grace 

And  at  Mukenai  saves  the  trophy  still — 

Go  wonder  there,  who  will ! 

And  the  ten  thousand-headed  hound 

Of  many  a  murder,  the  Lernaian  snake 

He  burned  out,  head  by  head,  and  cast  around 

His  darts  a  poison  thence, — darts  soon  to  slake 

Their  rage  in  that  three-bodied  herdsman's  gore 

Of  Erutheia.     Many  a  running  more 

He  made  for  triumph  and  felicity. 

And,  last  of  toils,  to  Haides,  never  dry 

Of  tears,  he  sailed ;  and  there  he,  luckless,  ends 

His  life  completely,  nor  returns  again. 

The  house  and  home  are  desolate  of  friends. 

And  where  the  children's  life-path  leads  them,  plain 

I  see, — no  step  retraceable,  no  god 

Availing,  and  no  law  to  help  the  lost  I 

The  oar  of  Charon  marks  their  period, 

Waits  to  end  all.     Thy  hands,  these  roofs  accost ! — 

To  thee,  though  absent,  look  their  uttermost ! 

But  if  in  youth  and  strength  I  flourished  still, 


i68  ARISTOPHANES    APOLOGY 

Slill  shook  the  spear  in  fight,  did  power  match 

will 
In  these  Kadmeian  co-mates  of  my  age, 
They  would, — and  I, — when  warfare  was  to  wage, 
Stand  by  these  children ;  but  I  am  bereft 
Of  youth  now,  lone  of  that  good  genius  left ! 

But  hist,  desist!  for  here  come  these, — 
Draped  as  the  dead  go,  under  and  over,-^ 
Children  long  since, — now  hard  to  discover,— 
Of  the  once  so  potent  Herakles ! 
And  the  loved  wife  dragging,  in  one  tether 
About  her  feet,  the  boys  together ; 
And  the  hero's  aged  sire  comes  last ! 
Unhappy  that  I  am !    Of  tears  which  rise,— 
How  am  I  all  unable  to  hold  fast, 
Longer,  the  aged  fountains  of  these  eyes ! 

MEGARA. 

Be  it  so !    Who  is  priest,  who  butcher  here 

Of  these  ill-fated  ones,  or  stops  the  breath 

Of  me,  the  miserable?    Ready,  see, 

The  sacrifice — to  lead  where  Haides  lives ! 

O  children,  we  are  led — no  lovely  team  • 

Of  corpses—age,  youth,  motherhood,  all  mixed  ! 


HERAKLES  169 

0  sad  fate  of  myself  and  these  my  sons 
Whom  with  these  eyes  I  look  at,  this  last  time ! 
I,  indeed,  bore  you  :  but  for  enemies 

1  brought  you  up  to  be  a  laughing-stock. 
Matter  for  merriment,  destruction-stuff ! 
Woe 's  me  ! 

Strangely  indeed  my  hopes  have  struck  me  down 
From  what  I  used  to  hope  about  you  once — 
The  expectation  from  your  father's  talk ! 
For  thee,  now,  thy  dead  sire  dealt  Argos  to : 
Thou  wast  to  have  Eurustheus'  house  one  day, 
And  rule  Pelasgia  where  the  fine  fruits  grow ; 
And,  for  a  stole  of  state,  he  wrapped  about 
Thy  head  with  that  the  lion-monster  bore. 
That  which  himself  went  wearing  armour-wise. 
And  thou  wast  King  of  Thebes— such  chariots 

there ! 
Those  plains  I  had  for  portion — all  for  thee, 
As  thou  hadst  coaxed  them  out  of  who  gave  birth 
To  thee,  his  boy :  and  into  thy  right  hand 
He  thrust  the  guardian-club  of  Daidalos, — 
Poor  guardian  proves  the  gift  that  plays  thee  false ! 
And  upon  thee  he  promised  to  bestow 
Oichalia — what,  with  those  far-shooting  shafts, 
He  ravaged  once ;  and  so,  since  three  you  were. 
With  threefold  kingdoms  did  he  build  you  up 


I70  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

To  very  towers,  your  father, — proud  enough 
Prognosticating,  from  your  manhness 
In  boyhood,  what  the  manhood's  self  would  be. 
For  my  part,  I  was  picking  out  for  you 
Brides,  suiting  each  with  his  alliance — this 
From  Athens,  this  from  Sparte,  this  from  Thebes — 
Whence,  suited — as  stern-cables  steady  ship — 
You  might  have  hold  on  life  gods  bless.     All  gone ! 
Fortune  turns  round  and  gives  us — you,  the  Fates 
Instead  of  brides — me,  tears  for  nuptial  baths, 
Unhappy  in  my  hoping !    And  the  sire 
Of  your  sire — he  prepares  the  marriage-feast 
Befitting  Haides  who  plays  father  now — 
Bitter  relationship  !     Oh  me !  which  first — 
Which  last  of  you  shall  I  to  bosom  fold? 
To  whom  shall  I  fit  close,  his  mouth  to  mine? 
Of  whom  shall  I  lay  hold  and  ne'er  let  go? 
How  would  I  gather,  like  the  brown-winged  bee, 
The  groans  from  all,  and,  gathered  into  one, 
Give  them  you  back  again,  a  crowded  tear ! 
Dearest,  if  any  voice  be  heard  of  men 
Dungeoned  in  Haides,  thee — to  thee  I  speak ! 
Here  is  thy  father  dying,  and  thy  boys ! 
And  I  too  perish,  famed  as  fortunate 
By  mortals  once,   through  thee  I    Assist  them! 
Come! 


HERAKLES  171 

But  come !  though  just  a  shade,  appear  to  me ! 
For,  coming,  thy  ghost-grandeur  would  suffice, 
Such  cowards  are  they  in  thy  presence,  these 
Who  kill  thy  children  now  thy  back  is  turned ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

Ay,  daughter,  bid  the  powers  below  assist ! 

But  I  will  rather,  raising  hand  to  heaven. 

Call  thee  to  help,  O  Zeus,  if  thy  intent 

Be,  to  these  children,  helpful  anyway, 

Since  soon  thou  wilt  be  valueless  enough ! 

And  yet  thou  hast  been  called  and  called ;  in  vain 

I  labour :  for  we  needs  must  die,  it  seems. 

Well,  aged  brothers — life 's  a  little  thing ! 

Such  as  it  is,  then,  pass  life  pleasantly 

From  day  to  night,  nor  once  grieve  all  the  while ! 

Since  Time  concerns  him  not  about  our  hopes, — 

To  save  them, — but  his  own  work  done,  flies  off. 

Witness  myself,  looked  up  to  among  men. 

Doing  noteworthy  deeds :  when  here  comes  fate 

Lifts  me  away,  like  feather  skyward  borne. 

In  one  day !    Riches  then  and  glory, — whom 

These  are  found  constant  to,  I  know  not.     Friends. 

Farewell !  the  man  who  loved  you  all  so  much, 

Now,  this  last  time,  my  mates,  ye  look  upon ! 


172  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 


MEGARA. 

Ha! 

O  father,  do  I  see  my  dearest?    Speak  ? 


AMPHITRUON. 

No  more  than  thou  canst,  daughter — dumb  like  thee ! 

MEGARA. 

Is  this  he  whom  we  heard  was  under  ground? 

AMPHITRUON. 

Unless  at  least  some  dream  in  day  we  see  I 

MEGARA. 

What  do  I  say?  what  dreams  insanely  view? 

This  is  no  other  than  thy  son,  old  sire ! 

Here  children !  hang  to  these  paternal  robes, 

Quick,  haste,  hold  hard  on  him,  since  here 's  your  true 

Zeus  that  can  save — and  every  whit  as  well ! 

HERAKLES. 

O  hail,  my  palace,  my  hearth's  propula, — 
How  glad  I  see  thee  as  I  come  to  light  I 


HERAKLES  173 

Ha,  what  means  this?    My  children  I  behold 

Before  the  house  in  garments  of  the  grave, 

Chapleted,  and,  amid  a  crowd  of  men, 

My  very  wife — my  father  weeping  too, 

Whatever  the  misfortune !    Come,  best  take 

My  station  nearer  these  and  learn  it  all ! 

Wife,  what  new  sorrow  has  approached  our  home? 

MEGARA. 

O  dearest !  light  flashed  on  thy  father  now ! 

Art  thou  come  ?  art  thou  saved  and  dost  thou  fall 

On  friends  in  their  supreme  extremity? 

HERAKLES. 

How  say'st  thou?    Father !  what 's  the  trouble  here? 

MEGARA. 

Undone  are  we ! — but  thou,  old  man,  forgive 
If  first  I  snatch  what  thou  shouldst  say  to  him ! 
For  somehow  womanhood  wakes  pity  more. 
Here  are  my  children  killed  and  I  undone ! 

HERAKLES. 

ApoUon,  with  what  preludes  speech  begins  I 


174  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

MEGARA. 

Dead  are  my  brothers  and  old  father  too. 

HERAKLES. 

How  say'st  thou? — doing  what? — by  spear- stroke 
whence? 

MEGARA. 

Lukos  destroyed  them — the  land's  noble  kingt 

HERAKLES. 

Met  them  in  arms?  or  through  the  land's  disease? 

MEGARA. 

Sedition :  and  he  sways  seven-gated  Thebes. 

HERAKLES. 

Why  then  came  fear  on  the  old  man  and  thee? 

MEGARA. 

He  meant  to  kill  thy  father,  me,  our  boys. 

HERAKLES. 

How  say'st  thou  ?    Fearing  what  from  orphanage  ? 


HERAKLES  175 

MEGARA. 

Lest  they  should  some  day  pay  back  Kreon's  death 

HERAKLES. 

And  why  trick  out  the  boys  corpse-fashion  thus? 

MEGARA. 

These  wraps  of  death  we  have  already  donned. 

HERAKLES. 

And  you  had  died  through  violence  ?    Woe 's  me ! 

MEGARA. 

Left  bare  of  friends :  and  thou  wast  dead,  we  heard. 

HERAKLES. 

And  whence  came  on  you  this  faintheartedness  ? 

MEGARA. 

The  heralds  of  Eurustheus  brought  the  news. 

HERAKLES. 

And  why  was  it  you  left  my  house  and  hearth? 


176  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

MEGARA. 

Forced  thence ;  thy  father— from  his  very  couch  1 

HERAKLES. 

And  no  shame  at  insulting  the  old  man? 

MEGARA. 

Shame,  truly !  no  near  neighbours  he  and  Shame ! 

HERAKLES. 

And  so  much,  in  my  absence,  lacked  I  friends? 


MEGARA. 

! 

Friends, — are  there  any  to  a  luckless  man? 


HERAKLES. 

The  Minuai-war  I  waged, — they  spat  forth  these? 

MEGARA. 

Friendless, — again  I  tell  thee, — is  ill-luck. 

HERAKLES. 

Will  not  you  cast  these  hell-wraps  from  your  hair 


HERAKLES  I77 

And  look  on  light  again,  and  with  your  eyes 
Taste  the  sweet  change  from  nether  dark  to 

day? 
While  I — for  now  there  jieeds  my  handiwork — 
First  I  shall  go,  demolish  the  abodes 
Of  these  new  lordships  ;  next  hew  off  the  head 
Accurst  and  toss  it  for  the  dogs  to  trail. 
Then,  such  of  the  Kadmeians  as  I  find 
Were  craven  though  they  owed  me  gratitude, — 
Some  I  intend  to  handle  with  this  club 
Renowned  for  conquest ;  and  w^ith  winged  shafts 
Scatter  the  others,  fill  Ismenos  full 
With  bloody  corpses, — Dirke's  flow  so  white 
Shall  be  incarnadined.     For,  whom,  I  pray, 
Behoves  me  rather  help  than  wife  and  child 
And  aged  father  ?     Farewell,  "  Labours  "  mine  ! 
Vainly  I  wrought  them  :  my  true  work  lay  here  ! 
My  business  is  to  die  defending  these, — 
If  for  their  father's  sake  they  meant  to  die. 
Or  how  shall  we  call  brave  the  battling  it 
With  snake  and  lion,  as  Eurustheus  bade. 
If  yet  I  must  not  labour  death  away 
From  my  own  children  ?     "  Conquering  Herakles  " 
Folk  will  not  call  me  as  they  used,  I  think  1 
The  right  thing  is  for  parents  to  assist 
Children,  old  age,  the  partner  of  the  couch. 

XIII.  N 


178  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 


AMPHITRUON, 

True,  son !  thy  duty  is — ^be  friend  to  friends 
And  foe  to  foes :  yet — no  more  haste  than  needs ! 

HERAKLES. 

Why,  father,  what  is  over  hasty  here  ? 

AMPHITRUON. 

Many  a  pauper, — seeming  to  be  rich, 

As  the  word  goes, — the  king  calls  partisan. 

Such  made  a  riot,  ruined  Thebes  to  rob 

Their  neighbour :  for,  what  good  they  had  at  home 

Was  spent  and  gone— flew  off  through  idleness. 

You  came  to  trouble  Thebes,  they  saw :  since  seen, 

Beware  lest,  raising  foes,  a  multitude, 

You  stumble  where  you  apprehend  no  harm. 

HERAKLES. 

If  all  Thebes  saw  me,  not  a  whit  care  I. 
But  seeing  as  I  did  a  certain  bird 
Not  in  the  lucky  seats,  I  knew  some  woe 
Was  fallen  upon  the  house :  so,  purposely, 
By  stealth  I  made  my  way  into  the  land. 


HERAKLES  179 

AMPHITRUCN. 

And  now,  advancing,  hail  the  hearth  with  praise 
And  give  the  ancestral  home  thine  eye  to  see  1 
For  he  himself  will  come,  thy  wife  and  sons 
To  drag-forth — slaughter— slay  me  too, — this  king  ! 
Butj  here  remaining,  all  succeeds  with  thee — 
Gain  lost  by  no  false  step.    So,  this  thy  town 
Disturb  not,  son,  ere  thou  right  matters  here  ! 

HERAKLES. 

Thus  will  I  do,  for  thou  say^st  well ;  my  home 
Let  me  first  enter !    Since  at  the  due  time 
Returning  from  the  unsunned  depths  where  dwells 
Haides'  wife  Kore,  let  me  not  affront 
Those  gods  beneath  my  roof  I  first  should  hail  I 

AMPHITRUON. 

For  didst  thou  really  visit  Haides,  son  ? 

HERAKLES. 

Ay— dragged  to  light,  too,  his  three-headed  beast, 

AMPttlTRUON. 

By  fight  didst  conquer,  or  through  Kor^'s  gift  ? 


i8o  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 


HERAKLES. 

Fight :  well  for  me,  I  saw  the  Orgies  first ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

And  is  he  in  Eurustheus'  house,  the  brute  ? 

HERAKLES. 

Chthonia's  grove,  Hermion's  city,  hold  him  now, 

AMPHITRUON. 

Does  not  Eurustheus  know  thee  back  on  earth  ? 

HERAKLES. 

No :  I  would  come  first  and  see  matters  here. 

AMPHITRUON. 

But  how  wast  thou  below  ground  such  a  time? 

HERAKLES. 

I  Stopped,  from  Haides,  bringing  TheSeus  up. 

AMPHITRUON, 

And  Where  is  he? — bound  o*er  the  plaift  for  home? 


HERAKLES  x8j 


HERAKLES. 

Gone  glad  to  Athens — Haides'  fugitive  \ 
But,  up,  boys  !  follow  father  into  house  ! 
There  *s  a  far  better  going-in  for  you 
Truly,  than  going-out  was !    Nay,  take  heart, 
And  let  the  eyes  no  longer  run  and  run  1 
And  thou,  O  wife,  my  own,  collect  thy  soul 
•  Nor  tremble  now  1    Leave  grasping,  all  of  you, 
My  garments  !    I  'm  not  winged,  nor  fly  from  friends  ! 
Ah,— 

No  letting  go  for  these,  who  all  the  more 
Hang  to  my  garments !     Did  you  foot  indeed 
The  razor's  edge  ?    Why,  then  I  '11  carry  them— 
Take  with  my  hands  these  small  craft  up,  and  tow 
Just  as  a  ship  would.     There !  don't  fear  I  shirk 
My  children's  service !  this  way,  men  are  men. 
No  difference !  best  and  worst,  they  love  their  boys 
After  one  fashion :  wealth  they  differ  in — 
Some  have  it,  others  not ;  but  each  and  all 
Combine  to  form  the  children-loving  race. 


CHOROS. 


Youth  is  a  pleasant  burthen  to  me ; 
But  age  on  my  head,  more  heavily 


i83  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Than  the  crags  of  Aitna,  weighs  and  weighs, 

And  darkening  cloaks  the  lids  and  intercepts  the 

rays. 
Never  be  mine  the  preference 
Of  an  Asian  empire's  wealth,  nor  yet 
Of  a  house  all  gold,  to  youth,  to  youth 
That 's  beauty,  whatever  the  gods  dispense ! 
Whether  in  wealth  we  joy,  or  fret 
Paupers, — of  all  God's  gifts  most  beautiful,  in  truth ! 

But  miserable  murderous  age  I  hate  ! 
Let  it  go  to  wreck,  the  waves  adown. 
Nor  ever  by  rights  plague  tower  or  town 
Where  mortals  bide,  but  still  elate 
With  wings,  on  ether,  precipitate, 
Wander  them  round — nor  wait ! 

But  if  the  gods,  to  man's  degree. 

Had  wit  and  wisdom,  they  would  bring 

Mankind  a  twofold  youth,  to  be 

Their  virtue's  sign-mark,  all  should  see, 

In  those  with  whom  life's  winter  thus  grew  spring. 

For  when  they  died,  into  the  sun  once  more 

Would  they  have  traversed  twice  life's  racecourse 

o'er; 
While  ignobility  had  simply  run 


HERAKLES  183 

Existence  through,  nor  second  life  begun. 

And  so  might  we  discern  both  bad  and  good 

As  surely  as  the  starry  multitude 

Is  numbered  by  the  sailors,  one  and  one. 

But  now  the  gods  by  no  apparent  line 

Limit  the  worthy  and  the  base  define ; 

Only,  a  certain  period  rounds,  and  so 

Brings  man  more  wealth, — but  youthful  vigour,  no ! 

Well !  I  am  not  to  pause 

Mingling  together — wine  and  wine  in  cup — 

The  Graces  with  the  Muses  up — 

Most  dulcet  marriage  :  loosed  from  music's  laws, 

No  life  for  me  1 

But  where  the  wreaths  abound,  there  ever  may  I  be ! 

And  still,  an  aged  bard,  I  shout  Mnemosune — 

Still  chant  of  Herakles  the  triumph-chant. 

Companioned  by  the  seven-stringed  tortoise-shell 

And  Libuan  flute,  and  Bromios'  self  as  well, 

God  of  the  grape,  with  man  participant ! 

Not  yet  will  we  arrest  their  glad  advance — 

The  Muses  who  so  long  have  led  me  forth  to  dance ! 

A  paian — hymn  the  Delian  girls  indeed. 

Weaving  a  beauteous  measure  in  and  out 

His  temple-gates,  Latona's  goodly  seed ; 

And  paians — I  too,  these  thy  domes  about, 


I8^  ARISTOPHANES^  APOLOGY 

From  these  grey  cheeks,  my  king,  will  swan-like  shout- 
Old  songster !     Ay,  in  song  it  starts  off  brave — 
"  Zeus'  son  is  he !  "  and  yet,  such  grace  of  birth 
Surpassing  far,  to  man  his  labours  gave 
Existence,  one  calm  flow  without  a  wave, 
Having  destroyed  the  beasts,  the  terrors  of  the  earth, 

LUKOS. 

From  out  the  house  Amphitruon  comes — in  time ! 
For  't  is  a  long  while  now  since  ye  bedecked 
Your  bodies  with  the  dead-folk's  finery. 
But  quick !  the  boys  and  wife  of  Herakles — 
Bid  them  appear  outside  this  house,  keep  pact 
To  die,  and  need  no  bidding  but  your  own ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

King !  you  press  hard  on  me  sore-pressed  enough, 
And  give  me  scorn — beside  my  dead  ones  here. 
Meet  in  such  matters  were  it,  though  you  reign, 
To  temper  zeal  with  moderation.     Since 
You  do  impose  on  us  the  need  to  die — 
Needs  must  we  love  our  lot,  obey  your  will. 

LUKOS. 

Where 's  Megara,  then?   Alkmene's grandsons,  where? 


HERAKLES  185 

AMPHITRUON. 

She,  I  think, — as  one  figures  from  outside,— 

LUKOS. 

Well,  this  same  thinking, — what  affords  its  ground  ? 

AMPHITRUON. 

— Sits  suppliant  on  the  holy  altar-steps, — 

LUKOS. 

Idly  indeed  a  suppliant  to  save  life ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

— And  calls  on  her  dead  husband,  vainly  too ! 

LUKOS. 

For  he 's  Hot  come,  nor  ever  will  arrive. 

AMPHITRUON. 

Never— at  least,  if  no  god  raise  him  up. 

LUKOS. 

Go  to  her,  and  conduct  her  from  the  house ! 


i86  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 


AMPHITRUON. 

I  should  partake  the  murder,  doing  that 


LUKOS. 


We, — since  thou  hast  a  scruple  in  the  case, — 
Outside  of  fears,  we  shall  march  forth  these  lads 
Mother  and  all.     Here,  follow  me,  my  folk — 
And  gladly  so  remove  what  stops  our  toils ! 


AMPHITRUON. 

Thou — ^go  then !  March  where  needs  must !  What 

remains — 
Perhaps  concerns  another.     Doing  ill. 
Expect  some  ill  be  done  thee ! 

Ha,  old  friends ! 
On  he  strides  beautifully !  in  the  toils 
0'  the  net,  where  swords  spring  forth,  will  he  be 

fast — 
Minded  to  kill  his  neighbours — the  arch-knave ! 
I  go,  too — I  must  see  the  falling  corpse ! 
For  he  has  sweets  to  give — a  dying  man, 
Your  foe,  that  pays  the  price  of  deeds  he  did. 


HERAKLES  xBj 


CHORDS. 


Troubles  are  over !    He  the  great  king  once 
Turns  the  point,  tends  for  Haides,  goal  of  life ! 
O  justice,  and  the  gods'  back-flowing  fate ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

Thou  art  come,  late  indeed,  where  death  pays 

crime — 
These  insults  heaped  on  better  than  thyself ! 

CHOROS. 

Joy  gives  this  outburst  to  my  tears !    Again 
Come  round  those  deeds,  his  doing,  which  of  old 
He  never  dreamed  himself  was  to  endure — 
King  of  the  country  !     But  enough,  old  man  ! 
Indoors,  now,  let  us  see  how  matters  stand — 
If  somebody  be  faring  as  I  wish ! 

LUKOS. 

Ah  me — me ! 

CHOROS. 

This  strikes  the  keynote — music  to  my  mind. 
Merry  i'  the  household  !    Death  takes  up  the  tune ! 
The  king  gives  voice,  groans  murder's  prelude  well ! 


.188  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

LUKOS. 

0,  all  the  land  of  Kadmos !  slain  by  guile  I 

CHORDS. 

Ay,  for  who  slew  first?    Paying  back  thy  due, 
Resign  thee !  make,  for  deeds  done,  mere  amends ! 
Who  was  it  grazed  the  gods  through  lawlessness — 
Mortal  himself,  threw  up  his  foors-conceit 
Against  the  blessed  heavenly  ones — as  though 
Gods  had  no  power?    Old  friends,  the  impious  man 
Exists  not  any  more !    The  house  is  mute. 
Turn  we  to  song  and  dance  !    For,  those  I  love, 
Those  I  wish  well  to,  well  fare  they,  to  wish  1 

Dances,  dances  and  banqueting 

To  Thebes,  the  sacred  city  through, 

Are  a  care !  for,  change  and  change 

Of  tears  to  laughter,  old  to  new, 

Our  lays,  glad  birth,  they  bring,  they  bring ! 

He  is  gone  and  past,  the  mighty  king ! 

And  the  old  one  reigns,  returned — O  strange ! 

From  the  Acherontian  harbour  too ! 

Advent  of  hope,  beyond  thought's  widest  range ! 

To  the  gods,  the  gods,  are  crimes  a  care, 

And  they  watch  our  virtue,  well  aware 


HERAKLES  189 

That  gold  and  that  prosperity  drive  man 

Out  of  his  mind— those  charioteers  who  hale 

Might-without-right  behind  them :  face  who  can 

Fortune^s  reverse  which  time  prepares,  nor  quail? 

— He  who  evades  law  and  in  lawlessness 

Delights  him, — he  has  broken  down  his  trust — 

The  chariot,  riches  haled— now  blackening  in  the  dust ! 

Ismenos,  go  thou  garlanded ! 

Break  into  dance,  ye  ways,  the  polished  bed 

O*  the  seven-gated  city !     Dirke,  thou 

Fair-flowing,  with  the  Asopiad  sisters  all, 

Leave  your  sire's  stream,  attend  the  festival 

Of  Herakles,  one  choir  of  nymphs,  sing  triumph  now  ! 

O  woody  rock  of  Puthios  and  each  home 

O'  the  Helikonian  Muses,  ye  shall  come 

With  joyous  shouting  to  my  walls,  my  town 

Where  saw  the  light  that  Spartan  race,  those  "  Sown," 

Brazen-shield-bearing  chiefs,  whereof  the  band 

With  children's  children  renovates  our  land. 

To  Thebes  a  sacred  light  I 

O  combination  of  the  marriage  rite — 

Bed  of  the  mortal-born  and  Zeus,  who  couched 

Bqside  the  nymph  of  Perseus'  progeny ! 

For  credible,  past  hope,  becomes  to  me 

That  nuptial  story  long  ago  avouched, 


190  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

O  Zeus !  and  time  has  turned  the  dark  to  bright, 
And  made  one  blaze  of  truth  the  Herakleidan  might- 
His,  who  emerged  from  earth's  pavilion,  left 
Plouton's  abode,  the  nether  palace-cleft. 
Thou  wast  the  lord  that  nature  gave  me — not 
That  baseness  born  and  bred— my  king,  by  lot ! 
— Baseness  made  plain  to  all,  who  now  regard 
The  match  of  sword  with  sword  in  fight, — 
If  to  the  gods  the  Just  and  Right 
Still  pleasing  be,  still  claim  the  palm's  award. 

Horror  \ 

Are  we  come  to  the  self-same  passion  of  fear. 

Old  friends?— such  a  phantasm  fronts  me  here 

Visible  over  the  palace-roof! 

In  flight,  in  flight,  the  laggard  limb 

Bestir !  and  haste  aloof 

From  that  on  the  roof  there — grand  and  grim ! 

O  Paian,  king ! 

Be  thou  my  safeguard  from  the  woeful  thing  1 


IRIS. 


Courage,  old  men !  beholding  here — Night's  birth- 
Madness,  and  me  the  handmaid  of  the  gods. 
Iris :  since  to  your  town  we  come,  no  plague-?- 


HERAKLES  191 

Wage  war  against  the  house  of  but  one  man 
From  Zeus  and  from  Alkmen^  sprung,  they  say. 
Now,  till  he  made  an  end  of  bitter  toils, 
Fate  kept  him  safe,  nor  did  his  father  Zeus 
Let  us  once  hurt  him.  Here  nor  myself. 
But,  since  he  has  toiled  through  Eurustheus'  task, 
Her^  desires  to  fix  fresh  blood  on  him — 
Slaying  his  children :  I  desire  it  too. 

Up  then,  collecting  the  unsoftened  heart, 
Unwedded  virgin  of  black  Night !    Drive,  drag 
Frenzy  upon  the  man  here — whirls  of  brain 
Big  with  child-murder,  while  his  feet  leap  gay ! 
Let  go  the  bloody  cable  its  whole  length ! 
So  that, — when  o'er  the  Acherousian  ford 
He  has  sent  floating,  by  self-homicide. 
His  beautiful  boy-garland,— he  may  know 
First,  Here's  anger,  what  it  is  to  him, 
And  then  learn  mine.    The  gods  are  vile  indeed 
And  mortal  matters  vast,  if  he  'scape  free ! 


MADNESS. 


Certes,  from  well-born  sire  and  mother  too 

Had  I  my  birth,  whose  blood  is  Night's  and  Heaven's ; 

But  here 's  my  glory, — not  to  grudge  the  good ! 


192  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Nor  love  I  raids  against  the  friends  of  man. 
I  wish,  then,  to  persuade, — before  I  see 
You  stumbling,  you  and  Here !  trust  my  words ! 
This  man,  the  house  of  whom  ye  hound  me  to, 
Is  not  unfamed  on  earth  nor  gods  among  ; 
Since,  having  quelled  waste  land  and  savage  sea, 
He  alone  raised  again  the  falling  rights 
Of  gods — gone  ruinous  through  impious  men. 
Desire  no  mighty  mischief,  I  advise ! 

IRIS. 

Give  thou  no  thought  to  Here's  faulty  schemes ! 

MADNESS. 

Changing  her  step  from  faulty  to  fault-free ! 

IRIS. 

Not  to  be  wise,  did  Zeus'  wife  send  thee  here. 

MADNESS. 

Sun,  thee  I  cite  to  witness— doing  what  I  loathe  to 

do! 
But  since  indeed  to  Her6  and  thyself  I  must  subserve. 
And  follow  you  quick,   with  a  whizz,  as  the  hounds 

a-hunt  with  the  huntsman, 


HERAKLES  193 

— Go  I  will !  and  neither  the  sea,  as  it  groans  with  its 

waves  so  furiously, 
Nor  earthquake,  no,  nor  the  bolt  of  thunder  gasping  out 

heaven's  labour- throe, 
Shall  cover  the  ground  as  I,  at  a  bound,  rush  into  the 

bosom  of  Herakles ! 
And  home  I  scatter,  and  house  I  batter. 
Having  first  of  all  made  the  children  fall, — 
And  he  who  felled  them  is  never  to  know 
He  gave  birth  to  each  child  that  received  the  blow. 
Till  the  Madness,  I  am,  have  let  him  go ! 

Ha,  behold  I  already  he  rocks  his  head — he  is  off  from 

the  starting-place ! 
Not  a  word,  as  he  rolls  his  frightful  orbs,  from  their 

sockets  wrenched  in  the  ghastly  race ! 
And  the  breathings  of  him  he  tempers  and  times  no 

more  than  a  bull  in  act  to  toss, 
And  hideously  he  bellows  invoking  the  Keres,  daughters 

of  Tartaros. 
Ay,  and  I  soon  will  dance  thee  madder,  and  pipe  thee 

quite  out  of  thy  mind  with  fear ! 
So,  up  with  the  famous  foot,  thou  Iris,  march  to  Olumpos, 

leave  me  here ! 
Me  and  mine,  who  now  combine,  in  the  dreadful  shape 

no  mortal  sees, 
xin.  o 


X94  ARISTOPHANES'   APOLOGY 

And  now  are  about  to  pass,  from  without,  inside  of  the 
home  of  Herakles ! 

CHORDS. 

Otototo!, — groan ! 
Away  is  mown 

Thy  flower,  Zeus*  offspring,  City ! 
Unhappy  Hellas,  who  dost  cast  (the  pity !) 
Who  worked  thee  all  the  good, 
Away  from  thee, — destroyest  in  a  mood 
Of  madness  him,  to  death  whom  pipings  dance ! 
There  goes  she,  in  her  chariot, — groans,  her  brood, — 
And  gives  her  team  the  goad,  as  though  adrift 
For  doom,  Night's  Gorgon,  Madness,  she  whose  glance 
Turns  man  to  marble !  with  what  hissings  lift 
Their  hundred  heads  the  snakes,  her  head's  inheritance^ 
Quick  has  the  god  changed  fortune :  through  their  sire 
Quick  will  the  children,  that  he  saved,  expire  I 
O  miserable  me !    O  Zeus  !£thy  child — 
Childless  himself— soon  vengeance,  hunger-wild, 
Craving  for  punishment,  will  lay  how  low- 
Loaded  with  many  a  woe  I 

O  palace-roofs !  your  courts  abotffy 
A  measure  begins  all  unrejoiced 
By  the  tympanies  and  the  thyrsos  h^st 
Of  the  Bromian  revel-rout ! 


HERAKLES  195 

O  ye  domes !  and  the  measure  proceeds 
For  blood,  not  such  as  the  cluster  bleeds 
Of  the  Dionusian  pouring-out ! 

Break  forth,  fly,  children !  fatal  this — 

Fatal  the  lay  that  is  piped,  I  wis  ! 

Ay,  for  he  hunts  a  children-chase — 

Never  shall  Madness  lead  her  revel 

And  leave  no  trace  in  the  dwelling-place ! 

Ai  ai,  because  of  the  evil ! 

Ai  ai,  the  old  man — how  I  groan 

For  the  father,  and  not  the  father  alone ! 

She  who  was  nurse  of  his  children, — small 

Her  gain  that  they  ever  were  born  at  all ! 

See !    See ! 

A  whirlwind  shakes  hither  and  thither 
The  house — the  roof  falls  in  together ! 
Ha,  ha,  what  dost  thou,  son  of  Zeus  ? 
A  trouble  of  Tartaros  broke  loose, 
Such  as  once  Pallas  on  the  Titan  thundered, 
Thou  sendest  on  thy  domes,  roof-shattered 
and  wall-sundered ! 

MESSENGER. 

O  bodies  white  with  age ! — 

02 


196  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

CHORDS. 

What  cry,  to  me— 
What^  dost  thou  call  with? 

MESSENGER. 

There 's  a  curse  indoors. 

.      CHOROS. 

I  shall  not  bring  a  prophet :  you  suffice. 

MESSENGER. 

Dead  are  the  children. 

CHORDS. 

Ai  ai! 

MESSENGER. 

Groan !  for,  groans 
Suit  well  the  subject.    Dire  the  children's  death. 
Dire  too  the  parent's  hands  that  dealt  the  fate. 
No  one  could  tell  worse  woe  than  we  have  borne. 

CHORDS. 

How  dost  thou  that  same  curse— curse,  cause  for  groan — 


HERAKLES  197 

The  father's  on  the  children,  make  appear? 
Tell  in  what  matter  they  were  hurled  from  heaven 
Against  the  house — these  evils ;  and  recount 
The  children's  hapless  fate,  O  Messenger ! 


MESSENGER. 

The  victims  were  before  the  hearth  of  Zeus, 
A  household-expiation :  since  the  king 
O'  the  country,  Herakles  had  killed  and  cast 
From  out  the  dwelling ;  and  a  beauteous  choir 
Of  boys  stood  by  his  sire,  too,  and  his  wife. 
And  now  the  basket  had  been  carried  round 
The  altar  in  a  circle,  and  we  used 
The  consecrated  speech.     Alkmen^'s  son, — 
Just  as  he  was  about,  in  his  right  hand, 
To  bear  the  torch,  that  he  might  dip  into 
The  cleansing-water, — came  to  a  stand-still ; 
And,  as  their  father  yet  delayed,  his  boys 
Had  their  eyes  on  him.     But  he  was  himself 
No  longer :  lost  in  rollings  of  the  eyes ; 
Outthrusting  eyes — their  very  roots— like  blood  I 
Froth  he  dropped  down  his  bushy-bearded  cheek. 
And  said — together  with  a  madman's  laugh — 
"  Father !  why  sacrifice,  before  I  slay 
Eurustheus?  why  have  twice  the  lustral  fire, 


198  AKISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

And  double  pains,  when  't  is  permitted  me 

To  end,  with  one  good  hand-sweep,  matters  here? 

Then, — ^when  I  hither  bring  Eurtistheus'  head, — 

Then  for  these  just  slain,  wash  hands  once  for  all ! 

Now, — cast  drink-offerings  forth,  throw  baskets  down  t 

Who  gives  me  bow  and  arrows,  who  my  club? 

I  go  to  that  Mukenai.     One  must  match 

Crowbars  and  mattocks,  so  that — those  sunk  stones 

The  Kuklops  squared  with  picks  and  plumb-line  red— 

I,  with  my  bent  steel,  may  o'ertumble  town." 

Which  said,  he  goes  and — with  no  car  to  have— 

Affirms  he  has  one  !  mounts  the  chariot-board. 

And  strikes,  as  having  really  goad  in  hand ! 

And  two  ways  laughed  the  servants — laugh  with  awe;  * 

And  one  said,  as  each  met  the  other's  stare, 

"  Playing  us  boys'  tricks  ?  or  is  master  mad  ?  " 

But  up  he  climbs,  and  down  along  the  roof, 

And,  dropping  into  the  men's  place,  maintains 

He 's  come  to  Nisos  city,  when  he 's  come 

Only  inside  his  own  house  !  then  reclines 

On  floor,  for  couch,  and,  as  arrived  indeed, 

Makes  himself  supper ;  goes  through  some  brief  stay 

Then  says  he  's  traversing  the  forest-flats 

Of  Isthmos ;  thereupon  lays  body  bare 

Of  bucklings,  and  begins  a  contest  with 

— No  one !  and  is  proclaimed  the  conqueror — 


HERAKLES  199 

He  by  himself— having  called  out  to  hear 
— Nobody !    Then,  if  you  will  take  his  word, 
Blaring  against  Eurustheus  horribly, 
He 's  at  Mukenai.     But  his  father  laid 
Hold  of  the  strong  hand  and  addressed  him  thus : 
"  O  son,  what  ails  thee  ?    Of  what  sort  is  this 
Extravagance  ?    Has  not  some  murder-craze, 
Bred  of  those  corpses  thou  didst  just  despatch, 
Danced  thee  drunk?"      But  he, — taking  him  to 

crouch, 
Eurustheus'  sire,  that  apprehensive  touched 
His  hand,  a  suppliant, — pushes  him  aside, 
Gets  ready  quiver,  and  bends  bow  against 
His  children — thinking  them  Eurustheus'  boys 
He  means  to  slay.     They,  horrified  with  fear. 
Rushed  here  and  there, — this  child,  into  the  robes 
O'  the  wretched  mother — this,  beneath  the  shade 
O'  the  column, — and  this  other,  like  a  bird, 
Cowered  at  the  altar- foot.     The  mother  shrieks 
"  Parent— what  dost  thou  ?— kill  thy  children  ?  "    So 
Shriek  the  old  sire  and  crowd  of  servitors. 
But  he,  outwinding  him,  as  round  about 
The  column  ran  the  boy, — a  horrid  whirl 
O'  the  lathe  his  foot  described ! — stands  opposite, 
Strikes  through  the  liver ;  and  supine  the  boy 
Bedews  the  stone  shafts,  breathing  out  his  hfe. 


20O  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

r 

But  "  Victory  !  "  he  shouted — boasted  thus : 
"  Well,  this  one  nestling  of  Eurustheus— dead — 
Falls  by  me,  pays  back  the  paternal  hate ! " 
Then  bends  bow  on  another  who  was  crouched 
At  base  of  altar — overlooked,  he  thought — 
And  now  prevents  him,  falls  at  father's  knee, 
Throwing  up  hand  to  beard  and  cheek  above. 
"  O  dearest ! "  cries  he ;  "  father,  kill  me  not ! 
Yours  I  am— your  boy :  not  Eurustheus'  boy 
You  kill  now ! "    But  he,  rolling  the  wild  eye 
Of  Gorgon, — as  the  boy  stood  all  too  close 
For  deadly  bowshot, — mimicry  of  smith 
Who  batters  red-hot  iron, — hand  o'er  head 
Heaving  his  club,  on  the  boy's  yellow  hair 
Hurls  it  and  breaks  the  bone.     This  second  caught,- 
He  goes,  would  slay  the  third,  one  sacrifice 
He  and  the  couple ;  but,  beforehand  here. 
The  miserable  mother  catches  up, 
Carries  him  inside  house  and  bars  the  gate. 
Then  he,  as  he  were  at  those  Kuklops'  work. 
Digs  at,  heaves  doors  up,  wrenches  doorposts  out, 
Lays  wife  and  child  low  with  the  selfsame  shaft. 
And  this  done,  at  the  old  man's  death  he  drives  \ 
But  there  came,  as  it  seemed  to  us  who  saw, 
A  statue — Pallas  with  the  crested  head. 
Swinging  her  spear— and  threw  a  stone  which  smote 


HERAKLES  aoz 

Herakles*  breast  and  stayed  his  slaughter-rage, 
And  sent  him  safe  to  sleep.     He  falls  to  ground — 
Striking  against  the  column  with  his  back — 
Column  which,  with  the  falling  of  the  roof, 
Broken  in  two,  lay  by  the  altar-base. 
And  we,  foot-free  now  from  our  several  flights, 
Along  with  the  old  man,  we  fastened  bonds 
Of  rope-noose  to  the  column,  so  that  he, 
Ceasing  from  sleep,  might  not  go  adding  deeds 
To  deeds  done.    And  he  sleeps  a  sleep,  poor 

wretch, 
No  gift  of  any  god !  since  he  has  slain 
Children  and  wife.    For  me,  I  do  not  know 
What  mortal  has  more  misery  to  bear. 


CHORDS. 

A  murder  there  was  which  Argolis 
Holds  in  remembrance,  Hellas  through, 
As,  at  that  time,  best  and  famousest : 
Of  those,  the  daughters  of  Danaos  slew. 
A  murder  indeed  was  that !  but  this 
Outstrips  it,  straight  to  the  goal  has  pressed. 
I  am  able  to  speak  of  a  murder  done 
To  the  hapless  Zeus-born  offspring,  too — 
Prokne's  son,  who  had  but  one— 


202  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Or  a  sacrifice  to  the  Muses,  say 

Rather,  who  Itus  sing  alway, 

Her  single  child.     But  thou,  the  sire 

Of  children  three — O  thou  consuming  fire ! — 

In  one  outrageous  fate  hast  made  them  all  expire. 

And  this  outrageous  fate — 

What  groan,  or  wail,  or  deadmen's  dirge, 

Or  choric  dance  of  Haides  shall  I  urge 

The  Muse  to  celebrate  ? 

Woe  !  woe  !  behold  ! 

The  portalled  palace  lies  unrolled. 

This  way  and  that  way,  each  prodigious  fold ! 

Alas  for  me !  these  children,  see. 

Stretched,  hapless  group,  before  their  father — he 

The  all-unhappy,  who  lies  sleeping  out 

The  murder  of  his  sons,  a  dreadful  sleep ! 

And  bonds,  see,  all  about, — 

Rope-tangle,  ties  and  tether, — these 

Tightenings  around  the  body  of  Herakles 

To  the  stone  columns  of  the  house  made  fast ! 

But — like  a  bird  that  grieves 

For  callow  nestlings  some  rude  hand  bereaves — 

See,  here,  a  bitter  journey  overpast. 

The  old  man — all  too  late — is  here  at  last ! 


HERAKLES  ao3 

AMPHITRUON. 

Silently,  silently,  aged  Kadmeians ! 
Will  ye  not  suffer  my  son,  diffused 
Yonder,  to  slide  from  his  sorrows  in  sleep? 

CHOROS. 

And  thee,  old  man,  do  I,  groaning,  weep, 

And  the  children  too,  and  the  head  there— used 

Of  old  to  the  wreaths  and  paians ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

Farther  away !    Nor  beat  the  breast, 
Nor  wail  aloud,  nor  rouse  from  rest 
The  slumberer — asleep,  so  best ! 

CHORDS. 

Ah  me — ^what  a  slaughter ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

Refrain— refrain  1 
Ye  will  prove  my  perdition. 

CHOROS. 

Unlike  water, 
Bloodshed  rises  from  earth  again. 


304  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 


AMPHITRUON. 

Do  I  bid  you  bate  your  breath,  in  vain — 
Ye  elders  ?    Lament  in  a  softer  strain  ! 
Lest  he  rouse  himself,  burst  every  chain, 
And  bury  the  city  in  ravage — bray 
Father  and  house  to  dust  away ! 

CHOROS. 

I  cannot  forbear — I  cannot  forbear ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

Hush  !  I  will  learn  his  breathings :  there ! 
I  will  lay  my  ears  close. 

CHOROS. 

"What,  he  sleeps  ? 

AMPHITRUON. 

Ay,— sleeps !    A  horror  of  slumber  keeps 

The  man  who  has  piled 

On  wife  and  child 

Death  and  death,  as  he  shot  them  down 

With  clang  o'  the  bow. 


HERAKLES  aos 

CH0R03. 

Wail— 

AMPHITRUON. 

Even  so ! 

CHOROS. 

^-The  fate  of  the  children — 

AMPHITRUON. 

Triple  woe 

CHOROS. 

— Old  man,  the  fate  of  thy  son ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

Hush,  hush !    Have  done ! 

He  is  turning  about ! 

He  is  breaking  out ! 

Away !  I  steal 

And  my  body  conceal, 

Before  he  arouse, 

In  the  depths  of  the  house. 

CHOROS. 

Courage !    The  Night 


1 


ao6  ARISTOPHANES  APOLOGY 

Maintains  her  right 

On  the  lids  of  thy  son  there,  sealed  from  sight ! 


AMPHITRUON. 

See,  see  !    To  leave  the  light 

And,  wretch  that  I  am,  bear  one  last  ill, 

I  do  not  avoid ;  but  if  he  kill 

Me  his  own  father,  and  devise 

Beyond  the  present  miseries 

A  misery  more  ghastly  still — 

And  to  haunt  him,  over  and  above 

Those  here  who,  as  they  used  to  love. 

Now  hate  him,  what  if  he  have  with  these 

My  murder,  the  worst  of  Erinues  ? 


CHOROS. 

Then  was  the  time  to  die,  for  thee, 

When  ready  to  wreak  in  the  full  degree 

Vengeance  on  those 

Thy  consort's  foes 

Who  murdered  her  brothers !  glad,  life's  closer 

With  the  Taphioi  down. 

And  sacked  their  town 

Clustered  about  with  a  wash  of  sea ! 


HERAKLES  20% 


AMPHITRUON. 


To  flight— to  flight ! 

Away  from  the  house,  troop  off,  old  men  ! 

Save  yourselves  out  of  the  maniac's  sight ! 

He  is  rousing  himself  right  up  :  and  then, 

Murder  on  murder  heaping  anew, 

He  will  revel  in  blood  your  city  through ! 

CHORDS. 

0  Zeus,  why  hast,  with  such  unmeasured  hate,  1 
Hated  thy  son,  whelmed  in  this  sea  of  woes? 

HERAKLES. 

Ha,— 

In  breath  indeed  I  am — see  things  I  ought — 
iEther,  and  earth,  and  these  the  sunbeam-shafts ! 
But  then — some  billow  and  strange  whirl  of  sense 

1  have  fallen  into  !  and  breathings  hot  I  breathe — 
Smoked  upwards,  not  the  steady  work  from  lungs. 
See  now  !    Why  bound, — at  moorings  like  a  ship,— 
About  my  young  breast  and  young  arm,  to  this 
Stone  piece  of  carved  work  broke  in  half,  do  I 

Sit,  have  my  rest  in  corpses'  neighbourhood  ? 
Strewn  on  the  ground  are  winged  darts,  and  bow 
Which  played  my  brother-shieldman,  held  in  hand. 


2o8-  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

Guarded  my  side,  and  got  my  guardianship  ! 
I  cannot  have  gone  back  to  Haides — twice 
Begun  Eunistheus'  race  I  ended  thence  ? 
But  I  nor  see  the  Sisupheian  stone, 
Nor  Plouton,  nor  Demeter's  sceptred  maid ! 
I  am  struck  witless  sure  1    Where  can  I  be  ? 
Ho  there  I  what  friend  of  mine  is  near  or  far — 
Some  one  to  cure  me  of  bewilderment  ? 
For  nought  familiar  do  I  recognize. 

AMPHITRUON. 

Old  friends,  shall  I  go  close  to  these  my  woes? 

CHOROS. 

Ay,  and  let  me  too,— nor  desert  your  ills  ! 

HERAKLES. 

Father,  why  weepest  thou,  and  buriest  up 
Thine  eyes,  aloof  so  from  thy  much-loved  son  ? 

AMPHITRUON. 

O  child  ! — for,  faring  badly,  mine  thou  art  I 

HERAKLES. 

Do  I  fare  somehow  ill,  that  tears  should  flow  ? 


HERAKLES  209 

AMPHITRUON. 

Ill, — would  cause  any  god  who  bore,  to  groan  t 

HERAKLES. 

That 's  boasting,  truly  !  still,  you  state  no  hap. 

AMPHITRUON. 

For,  thyself  seest — if  in  thy  wits  again. 

HERAKLES. 

Heyday !    How  riddlingly  that  hint  returns ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

Well,  I  am  trying — art  thou  sane  and  sound ! 

HERAKLES. 

Say  if  thou  lay'st  aught  strange  to  my  life's  charge  1 

AMPHITRUON. 

If  thou  no  more  art  Haides-drunk, — I  tell ! 

HERAKLES. 

I  bring  to  mind  no  drunkenness  of  soul. 

XIIL  p 


210  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 


AMPHITRUON. 

Shall  I  unbind  my  son,  old  men,  or  what  ? 

HERAKLES. 

And  who  was  binder,  tell ! — not  that^  my  deed ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

Mind  that  much  of  misfortune — pass  the  rest  I 

HERAKLES. 

Enough !  from  silence,  I  nor  learn  nor  wish. 

■ 

AMPHITRUON. 

O  Zeus,  dost  witness  here  throned  Here's  work? 

HERAKLES. 

But  have  I  had  to  bear  aught  hostile  thence  ? 

AMPHITRUON. 

Let  be  the  goddess — bury  thine  own  guilt ! 

HERAKLES. 

Undone !    What  is  the  sorrow  thou  wilt  say  ? 


HERAKLES  axz 

AMPHITRUON. 

Look !    See  the  ruins  of  thy  children  here  ! 

HERAKLES. 

Ah  me!    What  sight  do  wretched  I  behold? 

AMPHITRUON. 

Unfair  fight,  son,  this  fight  thou  fastenedst 
On  thine  own  children  ! 

HERAKLES. 

What  fight  ?    Who  slew  these  ? 

AMPHITRUON, 

Thou  and  thy  bow,  and  who  of  gods  was  cause. 

HERAKLES. 

How  say'st  ?    What  did  I  ?    Ill-announcing  sire  1 

AMPHITRUON. 

— Go  mad !    Thou  askest  a  sad  clearing  up. 

HERAKLES. 

And  am  I  also  murderer  of  my  wife  ? 

P2 


^12  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

AMPHITRUON. 

All  the  work  here  was  just  one  hand's  work— thine ! 

HERAKLES. 

Ai  ai — for  groans  encompass  me — a  cloud ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

For  these  deeds*  sake  do  I  begroan  thy.  fate. 

HERAKLES. 

Did  I  break  up  my  house  or  dance  it  down  ? 

AMPHITRUON. 

I  know  just  one  thing — all 's  a  woe  with  thee. 

HERAKLES. 

But  where  did  the  craze  catch  me  ?  where  destroy? 

AMPHITRUON. 

When  thou  didst  cleanse  hands  at  the  altar-flame. 

HERAKLES. 

Ah  me !  why  is  it  then  I  save  my  life — 
Proved  murderer  of  my  dearest  ones,  my  boys  ? 


HERAKLES  2x3 

Shall  not  I  rush  to  the  rock-levers  leap, 

Or,  darting  sword  through  breast  and  all,  become 

My  children's  blood-avenger  ?  or,  this  flesh 

Burning  away  with  fire,  so  thrust  away 

The  infemy,  which  waits  me  there,  from  life  ? 

Ah  but, — a  hindrance  to  my  purposed  death, 
Theseus  arrives,  my  friend  and  kinsman,  here  1 
Eyes  will  be  on  me !  my  child-murder-plague 
In  evidence  before  friends  loved  so  much ! 

0  me,  what  shall  I  do  ?    Where,  taking  wing 
Or  gliding  underground,  shall  I  seek  out 

A  solitariness  from  misery  ? 

1  will  pull  night  upon  my  muffled  head  ! 

Let  this  wretch  here  content  him  with  his  curse 
Of  blood :  I  would  pollute  no  innocents. 


THESEUS. 

I  come, — with  others  who  await  beside 
Asopos'  stream,  the  armed  Athenian  youth, — 
Bring  thy  son,  old  man,  spear's  fight-fellowship  I 
For  a  bruit  reached  the  Erechtheidai's  town 
That,  having  seized  the  sceptre  of  this  realm, 
Lukos  prepares  you  battle-violence. 
So,  paying  good  back, — Herakles  began, 


214  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Saving  me  down  there, — I  have  come,  old  man, 

If  aught,  of  my  hand  or  my  friends',  you  want. 

What 's  here  ?    Why  all  these  corpses  on  the  ground  ? 

Am  I  perhaps  behindhand — come  too  late 

For  newer  ill  ?    Who  killed  these  children  now  ? 

Whose  wife  was  she,  this  woman  I  behold  ? 

Boys,  at  least,  take  no  stand  in  reach  of  spear ! 

Some  other  woe  than  war,  I  chance  upon. 

AMPHITRUON. 

O  thou,  who  sway'st  the  olive-bearing  height ! — 

THESEUS. 

Why  hail'st  thou  me  with  woeful  prelude  thus  ? 

AMPHITRUON. 

Dire  sufferings  have  we  suffered  from  the  gods. 

HESEUS. 

These  boys, — who  are  they  thou  art  weeping  o'er  ? 

AMPHITRUON. 

He  gave  them  birth,  indeed,  my  hapless  son ! 
Begot,  but  killed  them — dared  their  bloody  death. 


HERAKLES  ais 


THESEUS. 

Speak  no  such  horror ! 


AMPHITRUON. 

Would  I  might  obey ! 


THESEUS. 

O  teller  of  dread  tidings  1 

AMPHITRUON. 

Lost  are  we — 
Lost — flown  away  from  life ! 

THESEUS. 

What  sayest  thou  ? 
What  did  he  ? 

AMPHITRUON. 

Erring  through  a  frenzy-fit, 
He  did  all,  with  the  arrows  dipt  in  dye 
Of  hundred-headed  Hudra. 


THESEUS. 

Herd's  strife ! 
But  who  is  this  among  the  dead,  old  man  ? 


3i6  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

AMPHITRUON. 

Mine,  mine,  this  progeny — the  labour-plagued. 
Who  went  with  gods  once  to  Phlegruia's  plain, 
And  in  the  giant-slaying  war  bore  shield. 

THESEUS. 

Woe — woe !    What  man  was  born  mischanceful  thus ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

Thou  couldst  not  know  another  mortal  man 
Toil-weary,  more  outworn  by  wanderings. 

THESEUS. 

And  why  i'  the  peploi  hides  he  his  sad  head? 

AMPHITRUON. 

Not  daring  meet  thine  eye,  thy  friendliness 
And  kinship, — nor  that  children's-blood  about. 

THESEUS. 

But  /  come  to  who  shared  my  woe  with  me ! 
Uncover  him ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

O  child,  put  from  thine  eyes 


HERAKLRS  217 

The  peplos,  throw  it  off,  show  face  to  sun ! 

Woe's  weight  well  matched  contends  with  tears  in  thee. 

I  supplicate  thee,  falling  at  thy  cheek 

And  knee  and  hand,  and  shedding  this  old  tear ! 

O  son,  remit  the  savage  lion's  mood, 

Since  to  a  bloody,  an  unholy  race 

Art  thou  led  forth,  if  thou  be  resolute 

To  go  on  adding  ill  to  ill,  my  child  I 


THESEUS. 

Let  me  speak !    Thee,  who  sittest — seated  woe — 
I  call  upon  to  show  thy  friends  thine  eye ! 
For  there 's  no  darkness  has  a  cloud  so  black 
May  hide  thy  misery  thus  absolute. 
Why,  waving  hand,  dost  sign  me — murder 's  done  ? 
Lest  a  pollution  strike  me,  from  thy  speech  ? 
Nought  care  1  to — with  thee,  at  least — fare  ill : 
For  I  had  joy  once !     Thetiy — soul  rises  to, — 
When  thou  didst  save  me  from  the  dead  to  light  I 
Friends'  gratitude  that  tastes  old  age,  I  loathe, 
And  him  who  likes  to  share  when  things  look  fine, 
But,  sail  along  with  friends  in  trouble— no ! 
Arise,  uncover  thine  unhappy  head  I 
Look  on  us  I    Every  man  of  the  right  race 
Bears  what,  at  least,  the  gods  inflict,  nor  shrinks. 


2i8  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 


HERAKLES. 

Theseus,  hast  seen  this  match — my  boys  with  me  ? 

THESEUS. 

I  heard  of,  now  I  see  the  ills  thou  sign'st. 

HERAKLES. 

Why  then  hast  thou  displayed  my  head  to  sun? 

THESEUS. 

Why  ?  mortals  bring  no  plague  on  aught  divine. 

HERAKLES. 

Fly,  O  unhappy,  this  my  impious  plague ! 

THESEUS. 

No  plague  of  vengeance  flits  to  friends  from  friends. 

HERAKLES. 

I  praise  thee.     But  I  helped  thee, — that  is  truth. 

THESEUS. 

And  I,  advantaged  then,  now  pity  thee. 


HERAKLES  3x9 

HERAKLES. 

— ^The  pitiable, — my  children's  murderer ! 

THESEUS. 

I  moum  for  thy  sake,  in  this  altered  lot. 

HERAKLES. 

Hast  thou  found  others  in  still  greater  woe  ? 

THESEUS. 

Thou,  from  earth,  touchest  heaven,  one  huge  distress  ! 

HERAKLES. 

Accordingly,  I  am  prepared  to  die. 

THESEUS. 

Think'st  thou  thy  threats  at  all  import  the  gods  ? 

HERAKLES. 

Gods  please  themselves :  to  gods  I  give  their  like. 

THESEUS. 

Shut  thy  mouth,  lest  big  words  bring  bigger  woe  1 


-20  ARISTOPHANES'   APOLOGY 

HERAKLES. 

I  am  full  fraught  with  ills — no  stowing  more ! 

THESEUS. 

Thou  wilt  do— what,  then  ?    Whither  moody  borne  ? 

HERAKLES. 

Dying,  I  go  below  earth  whence  I  came. 

THESEUS. 

Thou  hast  used  words  of —what  man  turns  up  first ! 

HERAKLES. 

While  thou,  being  outside  sorrow,  schoolest  me. 

THESEUS. 

The  much-enduring  Herakles  talks  thus  ?— 

HERAKLES. 

Not  the  so  much-enduring :  measure 's  past. 

THESEUS. 

—  Mainstay  to  mortals,  and  their  mighty  friend? 


HERAKLES  sai 

HERAKLES. 

They  nowise  profit  me :  but  Here  rules. 

THESEUS. 

Hellas  forbids  thou  shouldst  ineptly  die. 

HERAKLES. 

But  hear,  then,  how  I  strive  by  arguments 
Against  thy  teachings !     I  will  ope  thee  out 
My  life — past,  present — as  unliveable. 
First,  I  was  born  of  this  man,  who  had  slain 
His  mother's  aged  sire,  and,  sullied  so, 
Married  Alkmene,  she  who  gave  me  birth. 
Now,  when  the  basis  of  a  family 
Is  not  laid  right,  what  follows  needs  must  fall ; 
And  Zeus,  whoever  Zeus  is,  formed  me  foe 
To  Her^  (take  not  thou  offence,  old  man ! 
Since  father,  in  Zeus'  stead,  account  I  thee). 
And,  while  I  was  at  suck  yet,  frightful  snakes 
She  introduced  among  my  swaddling-clothes, — 
That  bedfellow  of  Zeus ! — to  end  me  so. 
But  when  I  gained  the  youthful  garb  of  flesh. 
The  labours  I  endured — what  need  to  tell  ? 
What  lions  ever,  or  three-bodied  brutes, 
Tuphons  or  giants,  or  the  four-legg'd  swarms 


222  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Of  Kentaur-battle,  did  not  I  end  out? 

And  that  hound,  headed  all  about  with  heads 

Which  cropped  up  twice,  the  Hudra,  having  slain — 

I  both  went  through  a  myriad  other  toils 

In  full  drove,  and  arrived  among  the  dead 

To  convoy,  as  Eurustheus  bade,  to  light 

Haides*  three-headed  dog  and  doorkeeper. 

But  then  I, — wretch, — dared  this  last  labour — see ! 

Slew  my  sons,  keystone-coped  my  house  with  ills. 

To  such  a  strait  I  come  !  nor  my  dear  Thebes 

Dare  I  inhabit :  and,  suppose  I  stay  ? 

Into  what  fane  or  festival  of  friends 

Am  I  to  go  ?     My  curse  scarce  courts  accost ! 

Shall  I  seek  Argos  ?     How,  if  fled  from  home  ? 

But  say — I  hurry  to  some  other  tovsTi ! 

And  there  they  eye  me,  as  notorious  now, — 

Kept  by  sharp  tongue- taunts  under  lock  and  key — 

"  Is  not  this  he,  Zeus*  son,  who  murdered  once 

Children  and  wife  ?     Let  him  go  rot  elsewhere ! " 

To  any  man  renowned  as  happy  once. 

Reverses  are  a  grave  thing ;  but  to  whom 

Evil  is  old  acquaintance  there  's  no  hurt 

To  speak  of,  he  and  misery  are  twins. 

To  this  degree  of  woe  I  think  to  come : 

For  earth  will  utter  voice  forbidding  me 

To  touch  the  ground,  and  sea — to  pierce  the  wave, 


HERAKLES  223 

The  river-springs— -to  drink,  and  I  shall  play 

Ixion's  part  quite  out,  the  chained  and  wheeled ! 

And  best  of  all  will  be,  if  so  I  'scape 

Sight  from  one  man  of  those  Hellenes, — once 

I  lived  among,  felicitous  and  rich  ! 

Why  ought  I  then  to  live  ?    What  gain  accrues 

From  good-for-nothing,  wicked  life  I  lead  ? 

In  fine,  let  Zeus'  brave  consort  dance  and  sing, 

Stamp  foot,  the  Olumpian  Zeus'  own  sandal-trick ! 

What  she  has  willed,  that  "brings  her  will  to  pass — 

The  foremost  man  of  Hellas  pedestalled, 

Up,  over,  and  down  whirling !     Who  would  pray 

To  such  a  goddess  ? — that,  begrudging  Zeus 

Because  he  loved  a  woman,  ruins  me — 

Lover  of  Hellas,  faultless  of  the  wrong ! 

THESEUS. 

This  strife  is  from  no  other  of  the  gods 
Than  Zeus'  wife ;  rightly  apprehend,  as  well, 
Why,  to  no  death — thou  meditatest  now — 
I  would  persuade  thee,  but  to  bear  thy  woes  1 
None,  none  of  mortals  boasts  a  fate  unmixed, 
Nor  gods — if  poets'  teaching  be  not  false. 
Have  not  they  joined  in  wedlock  against  law  ^ 
With  one  another  ?  not,  for  sake  of  rule, 
Branded  their  sires  in  bondage  ?    Yet  they  house, 


224  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

All  the  same,  in  Olumpos,  carry  heads 

High  there,  notorious  sinners  though  they  be ! 

What  wilt  thou  say,  then,  if  thou,  mortal-born, 

Bearest  outrageously  fate  gods  endure  ? 

Leave  Thebes,  now,  pay  obedience  to  the  law 

And  follow  me  to  Pallas'  citadel  1 

There,  when  thy  hands  are  purified  from  stain. 

House  will  I  give  thee,  and  goods  shared  alike. 

What  gifts  I  hold  too  from  the  citizens 

For  saving  twice  seven  children,  when  I  slew 

The  Knosian  bull,  these  also  give  I  thee. 

And  everywhere  about  the  land  are  plots 

Apportioned  me :  these,  named  by  thine  own  name, 

Shall  be  henceforward  styled  by  all  men — thine, 

Thy  life  long ;  but  at  death,  when  Haides-bound, 

All  Athens  shall  uphold  the  honoured  one 

With  sacrifices,  and  huge  marble  heaps : 

For  that 's  a  fair  crown  our  Hellenes  grant 

Their  people — glory,  should  they  help  the  brave ! 

And  I  repay  thee  back  this  grace  for  thine 

That  saved  me,  now  that  thou  art  lorn  of  friends- 

Since,  when  the  gods  give  honour,  friends  may  flit : 

For,  a  god's  help  suffices,  if  he  please. 

HERAKLES 

Ah  me,  these  words  are  foreign  to  my  woes  I 


HERAKLES  225 

I  neither  fancy  gods  love  lawless  beds, 
Nor,  that  with  chains  they  bind  each  other's  hands, 
Have  I  judged  worthy  faith,  at  any  time ; 
Nor  shall  I  be  persuaded — one  is  born 
His  fellows'  master !  since  God  stands  in  need — 
If  he  is  really  God — of  nought  at  all. 
These  are  the  poets'  pitiful  conceits ! 
But  this  it  was  I  pondered,  though  woe-whelmed — 
**Take  heed  lest  thou  be  taxed  with  cowardice 
Somehow  in  leaving  thus  the  light  of  day  ! " 
For  whoso  cannot  make  a  stand  against 
These  same  misfortunes,  neither  could  withstand 
A  mere  man's  dart,  oppose  death,  strength  to  strength. 
Therefore  unto  thy  city  I  will  go 
And  have  the  grace  of  thy  ten  thousand  gifts. 
There  1    I  have  tasted  of  ten  thousand  toils 
As  truly — never  waived  a  single  one. 
Nor  let  these  runnings  drop  from  out  my  eyes  : 
N.or  ever  thought  it  would  have  come  to  this — 
That  I  from  out  my  eyes  do  drop  tears.     Well  1 
At  present,  as  it  seems,  one  bows  to  fate. 
So  be  it !    Old  man,  thou  seest  my  exile — 
Seest,  too,  me—my  children's  murderer ! 
These  give  thou  to  the  tomb,  and  deck  the  dead, 
Doing  them  honour  with  thy  tears — since  me 
Law  does  not  sanction-     Propping  on  her  breast, 
XIII.  Q 


226  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

And  giving  them  into  their  mother's  arms, 

— Re-institute  the  sad  community 

Which  I,  unhappy,  brought  to  nothingness — 

Not  by  my  will !    And,  when  earth  hides  the  dead, 

Live  in  this  city ! — sad,  but,  all  the  same. 

Force  thy  soul  to  bear  woe  along  with  me  ! 

O  children,  who  begat  and  gave  you  birth — 

Your  father — has  destroyed  you  !  nought  you  gain 

By  those  fair  deeds  of  mine  I  laid  you  up, 

As  by  main-force  I  laboured  glory  out 

To  give  you, — that  fine  gift  of  fatherhood ! 

And  thee,  too,  O  my  poor  one,  I  destroyed, 

Not  rendering  like  for  like,  as  when  thou  kept'st 

My  marriage-bed  inviolate, — those  long 

Household-seclusions  draining  to  the  dregs 

Inside  my  house !    O  me,  my  wife,  my  boys — 

And — O  myself,  how,  miserably  moved. 

Am  I  disyoked  now  from  both  boys  and  wife  1 

O  bitter  those  delights  of  kisses  now — 

And  bitter  these  my  weapons'  fellowship ! 

For  I  am  doubtful  whether  shall  I  keep 

Or  cast  away  these  arrows  which  will  clang 

Ever  such  words  out,  as  they  knock  my  side — 

"  Us — thou  didst  murder  wife  and  children  with  ! 

Us— -child-destroyers — still  thou  keepest  thine  ! " 

Ha,  shall  I  bear  them  in  my  arms,  then?    What 


HERAKLES  227 

Say  for  excuse  ?    Yet,  naked  of  my  darts 
Wherewith  I  did  my  bravest,  Hellas  through. 
Throwing  myself  beneath  foot  to  my  foes, 
Shall  I  die  basely  ?    No !  relinquishment 
Of  these  must  never  be, — companions  once. 
We  sorrowfully  must  observe  the  pact. 
In  just  one  thing,  co-operate  with  me 
Thy  sad  friend,  Theseus !     Go  along  with  him 
To  Argos,  and  in  concert  get  arranged 
The  price  my  due  for  bringing  there  the  Hound ! 
O  land  of  Kadmos,  Theban  people  all. 
Shear  off  your  locks,  lament  one  wide  lament. 
Go  to  my  children's  grave  and,  in  one  strain, 
Lament  the  whole  of  us — my  dead  and  me — 
Since  all  together  are  fordone  and  lost, 
Smitten  by  Herd's  single  stroke  of  fate ! 

THESEUS. 

Rise  up  now  from  thy  dead  ones !    Tears  enough, 

Poor  friend ! 

\ 

HERAKLES. 

I  cannot :  for  my  limbs  are  fixed. 

THESEUS. 

Ay :  even  these  strong  men  fate  overthrows. 

Q2 


228  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 


HERAKLES. 

Woe! 

Here  might  I  grow  a  stone,  nor  mind  woes  more ! 


THESEUS. 

Cease !    Give  thy  hand  to  friendly  helpmate  now  I 

HERAKLES. 

Nay,  but  I  wipe  off  blood  upon  thy  robes. 

THESEUS. 

Squeeze  out  and  spare  no  drop !    I  take  it  all ! 

HERAKLES. 

Of  sons  bereaved,  I  have  thee  like  my  son. 

THESEUS. 

Give  to  my  neck  thy  hand !  't  is  I  will  lead. 

HERAKLES. 

Yoke- fellows  friendly — one  heart-broken,  though  * 
O  father,  such  a  man  we  need  for  friend ! 

AMPHITRUON. 

Certes  the  land  that  bred  him  boasts  good  sons. 


HERAKLES  229 

HERAKLES. 

Turn  me  round,  Theseus— to  behold  my  boys ! 

THESEUS. 

What  ?  will  the  having  such  a  love-charm  soothe  ? 

HERAKLES. 

I  want  it ;  and  to  press  my  father's  breast. 

AMPHITRUON. 

See  here,  O  son !  for,  what  I  love  thou  seek'st. 

THESEUS. 

Strange !    Of  thy  labours  no  more  memory  ? 

HERAKLES. 

All  those  wTre  less  than  these,  those  ills  I  bore. 


i  THESEUS. 

i 

Who  sees  thee  grow  a  woman, — will  not  praise. 


HERAKLES. 

I  live  low  to  thee  ?    Not  so  once,  I  think. 


230  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

THESEUS. 

Too  low  by  far !    "  Famed  Herakles  " — where 's  he  ? 

HERAKLES. 

Down  amid  evils,  of  what  kind  wast  thou  ? 

THESEUS. 

As  far  as  courage — least  of  all  mankind ! 

HERAKLES. 

How  say'st,  then,  /in  evils  shrink  to  nought? 

THESEUS. 

Forward ! 

HERAKLES. 

Farewell,  old  father  I 

AMPHITRUON. 

Thou  too,  son! 

HERAKLES. 

Bury  the  boys  as  I  enjoined  I 

AMPHITRUON. 

And  me — 
Who  will  be  found  to  bury  now,  my  child? 


HERAKLES  231 

HERAKLES. 

Myself. 

AMPHITRUON. 

When,  coming? 

HERAKLES. 

When  thy  task  is  done. 

AMPHITRUON. 

How? 

HERAKLES. 

I  will  have  thee  carried  forth  from  Thebes 
To  Athens.     But  bear  in  the  children,  earth 
Is  burthened  by !    Myself, — who  with  these  shames 
Have  cast  away  my  house, — a  ruined  hulk, 
I  follow — trailed  by  Theseus — on  my  way ; 
And  whoso  rather  would  have  wealth  and  strength 
Than  good  friends,  reasons  foolishly  therein. 

CHOROS. 

And  we  depart,  with  sorrow  at  heart, 
Sobs  that  increase  with  tears  that  start ; 
The  greatest  of  all  our  friends  of  yore 
We  have  lost  for  evermore ! 


233  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

When  the  long  silence  ended,—"  Our  best  friend — 

Lost,  our  best  friend  ! "  he  muttered  musingly. 

Then,  "  Lachares  the  sculptor  "  (half  aloud) 

"  Sinned  he  or  sinned  he  not  ?    *  Outrageous  sin !' 

Shuddered  our  elders,  *  Pallas  should  be  clothed : 

He  carved  her  naked.'    *  But  more  beautiful ! ' 

Answers  this  generation  :  *  Wisdom  formed 

For  love  not  fear ! '    And  there  the  statue  stands, 

Entraps  the  eye  severer  art  repels. 

Moreover,  Pallas  wields  the  thunderbolt 

Yet  has  not  struck  the  artist  all  this  while. 

Pheidias  and  Aischulos  ?    Euripides 

And  Lachares  ?    But  youth  will  have  its  way, 

The  ripe  man  ought  to  be  as  old  as  young — 

As  young  as  old.     I  too  have  youth  at  need. 

Much  may  be  said  for  stripping  wisdom  bare. 

"  And  who 's  *  our  best  friend  *  ?    You  play  kottabos ; 

Here 's  the  last  mode  of  playing.    Take  a  sphere 

With  orifices  at  due  interval, 

Through  topmost  one  of  which,  a  throw  adroit 

Sends  wine  from  cup,  clean  passage,  from  outside 

To  where,  in  hollow  midst,  a  manikin 

Suspended  ever  bobs  with  head  erect 

Right  underneath  whatever  hole 's  a-top 

When  you  set  orb  a-rolling :  plumb,  he  gets 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  233 

Ever  this  benediction  of  the  splash. 

An  other-fashioned  orb  presents  him  fixed ; 

Of  all  the  outlets,  he  fronts  only  one, 

And  only  when  that  one, — and  rare  the  chance, — 

Comes  uppermost,  does  he  turn  upward  too : 

He  can't  turn  all  sides  with  the  turning  orb. 

Inside  this  sphere  of  life,— all  objects,  sense 

And  soul  perceive, — Euripides  hangs  fixed, 

Gets  knowledge  through  the  single  aperture 

Of  High  and  Right :  with  visage  fronting  these 

He  waits  the  wine  thence  ere  he  operate. 

Work  in  the  world  and  write  a  tragedy. 

When  that  hole  happens  to  revolve  to  point. 

In  drops  the  knowledge,  waiting  meets  reward. 

But,  duly  in  rotation.  Low  and  Wrong — 

When  these  enjoy  the  moment's  altitude. 

His  heels  are  found  just  where  his  head  should  bo ! 

No  knowledge  that  way !    /  am  moveable, — 

To  slightest  shift  of  orb  make  prompt  response. 

Face  Low  and  Wrong  and  Weak  and  all  the  rest. 

And  still  drink  knowledge,  wine-drenched  every  turn, — 

Equally  favoured  by  their  opposites. 

Little  and  Bad  exist,  are  natural : 

Then  let  me  know  them,  and  be  twice  as  great 

As  be  who  only  knows  one  phase  of  life ! 

So  doubly  shall  I  prove  *  best  friend  of  man,' 


234  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

If  I  report  the  whole  truth — Vice,  perceived 

While  he  shut  eyes  to  all  but  Virtue  there. 

Man 's  made  of  both :  and  both  must  be  of  use 

To  somebody :  if  not  to  him,  to  me. 

While,  as  to  your  imaginary  Third 

Who,  stationed  (by  mechanics  past  my  guess) 

So  as  to  take  in  every  side  at  once, 

And  not  successively, — may  reconcile 

The  High  and  Low  in  tragi-comic  verse, — 

He  shall  be  hailed  superior  to  us  both 

When  born — in  the  Tin-islands !    Meantime,  here 

In  bright  Athenai,  I  contest  the  claim. 

Call  myself  lostephanos'  *  best  friend,' 

Who  took  my  own  course,  worked  as  I  descried 

Ordainment,  stuck  to  my  first  faculty. 

"  For  listen  !    There 's  no  failure  breaks  the  heart, 
Whatever  be  man's  endeavour  in  this  world, 
Like  the  rash  poet's  when  he — nowise  fails 
By  poetizing  badly, — Zeus  or  makes 
Or  mars  a  man,  so — at  it,  merrily  I 
But  when, — made  man, — much  like  myself, — equipt 
For  such  and  such  achievement, — rash  he  turns 
Out  of  the  straight  path,  bent  on  snatch  of  feat 
From — who 's  the  appointed  fellow  born  thereto, — 
Crows  take  him !— in  your  Kassiterides  ? 


ARISTOPHANES-  APOLOGY  235 

Half-doing  his  work,  leaving  mine  untouched, 
That  were  the  failure.    Here  I  stand,  heart-whole, 
No  Thamuris ! 

"  Well  thought  of,  Thamuris ! 
Has  zeal,  pray,  for  *  best  friend '  Euripides 
Allowed  you  to  observe  the  honour  done 
His  elder  rival,  in  our  Poikile  ? 
You  don't  know  ?    Once  and  only  once,  trod  stage. 
Sang  and  touched  lyre  in  person,  in  his  youth, 
Our  Sophokles, — youth,  beauty,  dedicate 
To  Thamuris  who  named  the  tragedy. 
The  voice  of  him  was  weak ;  face,  limbs  and  lyre. 
These  were  worth  saving :  Thamuris  stands  yet 
Perfect  as  painting  helps  in  such  a  case. 
At  least  you  know  the  story,  for  *  best  friend ' 
Enriched  his  *  Rhesos '  from  the  Blind  Bard's  store ; 
So  haste  and  see  the  work,  and  lay  to  heart 
What  it  was  struck  me  when  I  eyed  the  piece ! 
Here  stands  a  poet  punished  for  rash  strife 
With  Powers  above  his  power,  who  see  with  sight 
Beyond  his  vision,  sing  accordingly 
A  song,  which  he  must  needs  dare  emulate. 
Poet,  remain  the  man  nor  ape  the  Muse ! 

"  But— lend  me  the  psalterion !    Nay,  for  once — 


236  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

Once  let  my  hand  fall  where  the  other's  lay ! 

I  see  it,  just  as  I  were  Sophokles, 

That  sunrise  and  combustion  of  the  east ! " 

And  then  he  sang — are  these  unlike  the  words  ? 

Thamuris  marching,— lyre  and  song  of  Thrace— 
(Perpend  the  first,  the  worst  of  woes  that  were 
Allotted  lyre  and  song,  ye  poet-race !) 

Thamuris  from  Oichalia,  feasted  there 
By  kingly  Eurutos  of  late,  now  bound 
For  Dorion  at  the  uprise  broad  and  bare 

Of  Mount  Pangaios  (ore  with  earth  enwound 

Glittered  beneath  his  footstep) — marching  gay 

And  glad,  Thessalia  through,  came,  robed  and  crowned, 

From  triumph  on  to  triumph,  mid  a  ray 

Of  early  morn, — came,  saw  and  knew  the  spot 

Assigned  him  for  his  worst  of  woes,  that  day. 

Balura — happier  while  its  name  was  not — 
Met  him,  but  nowise  menaced ;  slipt  aside, 
Obsequious  river  to  pursue  its  lot 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  237 

Of  solacing  the  valley — say,  some  wide 
Thick  busy  human  cluster,  house  and  home, 
Embanked  for  peace,  or  thrift  that  thanks  the  tide. 

Thamuris,  marching,  laughed  "  Each  flake  of  foam  " 

(As  sparklingly  the  ripple  raced  him  by) 

"  Mocks  slower  clouds  adrift  in  the  blue  dome  !  " 

For  Autumn  was  the  season ;  red  the  sky 
Held  mom's  conclusive  signet  of  the  sun 
To  break  the  mists  up,  bid  them  blaze  and  die. 

Morn  had  the  mastery  as,  one  by  one 

All  pomps  produced  themselves  along  the  tract 

From  earth's  far  ending  to  near  heaven  begun. 

Was  there  a  ravaged  tree  ?  it  laughed  compact  . 
With  gold,  a  leaf-ball  crisp,  high-brandished  now. 
Tempting  to  onset  frost  which  late  attacked. 

Was  there  a  wizened  shrub,  a  starveling  bough, 

A  fleecy  thistle  filched  from  by  the  wind, 

A  weed,  Pan's  trampling  hoof  would  disallow  ? 

Each,  with  a  glory  and  a  rapture  twined 
About  it,  joined  the  rush  of  air  and  light 
And  force :  the  world  was  of  one  joyous  mind. 


236  ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

Say  not  the  birds  flew !  they  forebore  their  right — 

Swam,  revelling  onward  in  the  roll  of  things. 

Say  not  the  beasts'  mirth  bounded !  that  was  flight— 

How  could  the  creatures  leap,  no  lifl:  of  wings  ? 
Such  earth's  community  of  purpose,  such 
The  ease  of  earth's  fulfilled  imaginings, — 

So  did  the  near  and  far  appear  to  touch 

I'  the  moment's  transport, — that  an  interchange 

Of  function,  far  with  near,  seemed  scarce  too  much ; 

And  had  the  rooted  plant  aspired  to  range 
With  the  snake's  license,  while  the  insect  yearned 
To  glow  fixed  as  the  flower,  it  were  not  strange — 

No  more  than  if  the  fluttery  tree-top  turned 

To  actual  music,  sang  itself  aloft ; 

Or  if  the  wind,  impassioned  chantress,  earned 

The  right  to  soar  embodied  in  some  soft 
Fine  form  all  fit  for  cloud-companionship, 
And,  blissful,  once  touch  beauty  chased  so  oft. 

Thamuris,  marching,  let  no  fancy  slip 

Bom  of  the  fiery  transport ;  lyre  and  song 

Were  his,  to  smite  with  hand  and  launch  from  lip — 


_i 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  1^29 

Peerless  recorded,  since  the  list  grew  long 
Of  poets  (saith  Hoineros)  free  to  stand 
Pedestatled  mid  the  Muses'  temple-throng, 

A  statued  service,  laurelled,  lyre  in  hand, 
(Ay,  for  we  see  them) — Thamuris  of  Thrace 
Predominating  foremost  of  the  band. 

Therefore  the  morn-ray  that  enriched  his  face, 
If  it  gave  lambent  chill,  took  flame  again 
From  flush  of  pride ;  he  saw,  he  knew  the  place. 

What  wind  arrived  with  all  the  rhythms  from  plain. 
Hill,  dale,  and  that  rough  wildwood  interspersed  ? 
Compounding  these  to  one  consummate  strain, 

It  reached  him,  music ;  but  his  own  outburst 

Of  victory  concluded  the  account. 

And  that  grew  song  which  was  mere  music  erst. 

"  Be  my  Parnassos,  thou  Pangaian  mount ! 
And  turn  thee,  river,  nameless  hitherto  ! 
Famed  shalt  thou  vie  with  famed  Pieria's  fount  1 

"  Here  I  await  the  end  of  this  ado : 

Which  wins — Earth's  poet  or  the  Heavenly  Muse."  .  .  . 


240  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

But  song  broke  up  in  laughter.     "  Tell  the  rest 
Who  may !  /  have  not  spurned  the  common  life, 
Nor  vaunted  mine  a  lyre  to  match  the  Muse* 
Who  sings  for  gods,  not  men  !     Accordingly, 
I  shall  not  decorate  her  vestibule  — 
Mute  marble,  blind  the  eyes  and  quenched  the  brain, 
Loose  in  the  hand  a  bright,  a  broken  lyre ! 
— Not  Thamuris  but  Aristophanes  ! 

"  There  !     I  have  sung  content  back  to  myself. 

And  started  subject  for  a  play  beside. 

My  next  performance  shall  content  you  both. 

Did  *  Prelude-Battle '  maul  *  best  friend  '  too  much  ? 

Then  *  Main-Fight '  be  my  next  song,  fairness'  self ! 

Its  subject — Contest  for  the  Tragic  Crown. 

Ay,  you  shall  hear  none  else  but  Aischulos 

Lay  down  the  law  of  Tragedy,  and  prove 

*  Best  friend '  a  stray-away, — no  praise  denied 

His  manifold  deservings,  never  fear — 

Nor  word  more  of  the  old  fun  !     Death  defends. 

Sound  admonition  has  its  due  effect. 

Oh,  you  have  uttered  weighty  words,  believe ! 

Such  as  shall  bear  abundant  fruit,  next  year. 

In  judgment,  regular,  legitimate. 

Let  Bacchos'  self  preside  in  person  !    Ay — 

For  there  's  a  buzz  about  those  *  Bacchanals ' 


ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY  241 

Rumour  attributes  to  your  great  and  dead 

For  final  eflfort :  just  the  prodigy 

Great  dead  men  leave,  to  lay  survivors  low  1 

— ^Until  we  make  acquaintance  with  our  fate 

And  find,  fate's  worst  done,  we,  the  same,  survive 

Perchance  to  honour  more  the  patron-god, 

Fitlier  inaugurate  a  festal  year. 

Now  that  the  cloud  has  broken,  sky  laughs  blue, 

Earth  blossoms  youthfully.     Athenai  breathes. 

After  a  twenty-six  years'  wintry  blank 

Struck  from  her  life, — ^war-madness,  one  long  swoon. 

She  wakes  up :  Arginousai  bids  good  cheer. 

We  have  disposed  of  Kallikratidas ; 

Once  more  will  Spartd  sue  for  terms, — who  knows  ? 

Cede  Dekeleia,  as  the  rumour  runs : 

Terms  which  Athenai,  of  right  mind  again. 

Accepts — she  can  no  other.     Peace  declared. 

Have  my  long  labours  borne  their  fruit  or  no  ? 

Grinned  coarse  buflfoonery  so  oft  in  vain  ? 

Enough — it  simply  saved  you.     Saved  ones,  praise 

Theoria's  beauty  and  Opora's  breadth ! 

Nor,  when  Peace  realizes  promised  bliss, 

Forget  the  Bald  Bard,  Envy  I  but  go  burst 

As  the  cup  goes  round  and  the  cates  abound, 

Collops  of  hare  with  roast  spinks  rare! 

Confess  my  pipings,  dancings,  posings  served 

XIII.  R 


242  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

A  purpose :  guttlings,  guzzlings,  had  their  use ! 
Say  whether  light  Muse,  Rosy-finger-tips, 
Or  *  best  friend's '  heavy-hand,  Melpomen^, 
Touched  Ijn^e  to  purpose,  played  Amphion's  part, 
And  built  Athenai  to  the  skies  once  more ! 
Farewell,  brave  couple !    Next  year,  welcome  me ! " 


No  doubt,  in  what  he  said  that  night,  sincere ! 

One  story  he  referred  to,  false  or  fact, 

Was  not  without  adaptability. 

They  do  say — Lais  the  Corinthian  once 

Chancing  to  see  Euripides  (who  paced 

Composing  in  a  garden,  tablet-book 

In  left  hand,  with  appended  stulos  prompt) 

"  Answer  me,"  she  began,  "  O  Poet, — this ! 

What  didst  intend  by  writing  in  thy  play 

Go  hang^  thou  filthy  doer?  "    Struck  on  heap^ 

Euripides,  at  the  audacious  speech — 

"  Well  now,"  quoth  he,  "  thyself  art  just  the  one 

I  should  imagine  fit  for  deeds  of  filth ! " 

She  laughingly  retorted  his  own  line 

"  What 's  filth, — unless  who  does  it,  thinks  it  so  ?  " 

So  might  he  doubtless  think.     "Farewell,"  said  we. 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  243 

And  he  was  gone,  lost  in  the  moming-grey 

Rose-streaked  and  gold  to  eastward.     Did  we  dream  ? 

Could  the  poor  twelve-hours  hold  this  argument 

We  render  durable  from  fugitive, 

As  duly  at  each  sunset's  droop  of  sail, 

Delay  of  oar,  submission  to  sea-might, 

I  still  remember,  you  as  duly  dint 

Remembrance,  with  the  punctual  rapid  style, 

Into— what  calm  cold  page  ! 

Thus  soul  escapes ' 
From  eloquence  made  captive :  thus  mere  words 
— ^Ah,  would  the  lifeless  body  stay  I    But  no : 
Change  upon  change  till, — who  may  recognize 
What  did  soul  service,  in  the  dusty  heap  ? 
What  energy  of  Aristophanes 
Inflames  the  wreck  Balaustion  saves  to  show  ? 
Ashes  be  evidence  how  fire — with  smoke — 
All  night  went  lamping  on !    But  morn  must  rise. 
The  poet — I  shall  say — burned  up  and,  blank 
Smouldered  this  ash,  now  white  and  cold  enough. 

Nay,  Euthuklea  !  for  best,  though  mine  it  be, 
Comes  yet.    Write  on,  write  ever,  wrong  no  word ! 

Add,  first,-«-he  gone,  if  jollity  went  too, 

R2 


844  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Some  of  the  graver  mood,  which  mixed  and  marred, 

Departed  likewise.     Sight  of  narrow  scope 

Has  this  meek  consolation :  neither  ills 

We  dread,  nor  joys  we  dare  anticipate, 

Perform  to  promise.     Each  soul  sows  a  seed-  • 

Euripides  and  Aristophanes ; 

Seed  bears  crop,  scarce  within  our  little  lives ; 

But  germinates,— perhaps  enough  to  judge, — 

Next  year? 

Whereas,  next  year  brought  harvest  time ! 
For,  next  year  came,  and  went  not,  but  is  now. 
Still  now,  while  you  and  I  are  bound  for  Rhodes 
That 's  all  but  reached — and  harvest  has  it  brought, 
Dire  as  the  homicidal  dragon-crop. 
Sophokles  had  dismissal  ere  it  dawned, 
Happy  as  ever ;  though  men  mournfully 
Plausive, — when  only  soul  could  triumph  now, 
And  lophon  produced  his  father's  play, — 
Crowned  the  consummate  song  where  Oidipous 
Dared  the  descent  mid  earthquake-thundering, 
And  hardly  Theseus'  hands  availed  to  guard 
Eyes  from  the  horror,  as  their  grove  disgorged 
Its  dread  ones,  while  each  daughter  sank  to  ground. 

Then  Aristophanes,  on  heel  of  that, 


ARISTOPHANES  ^JAPOLOG  Y  345 

Triumphant  also,  followed  with  his  "  Frogs  : " 
Produced  at  next  Lenaia, — three  months  since, — 
The  promised  Main-Fight,  loyal,  license-free ! 
As  if  the  poet,  primed  with  Thasian  juice, 
(Himself  swore — wine  that  conquers  every  kind 
For  long  abiding  in  the  head)  could  fix 
Thenceforward  any  object  in  its  truth, 
Through  eyeballs  bathed  by  mere  Castalian  dew, 
Nor  miss  the  borrowed  medium, — vinous  drop 
That  colours  all  to  the  right  crimson  pitch 
When  mirth  grows  mockery,  censure  takes  the  tinge 
Of  malice ! 

All  was  Aristophanes  : 
There  blazed  the  glory,  there  shot  black  the  shame. 
Ay,  Bacchos  did  stand  forth,  the  Tragic  God 
In  person  !  and  when  duly  dragged  through  mire, — 
Having  lied,  filched,  played  fool,  proved  coward,  flung 
The  boys  their  dose  of  fit  indecency. 
And  finally  got  trounced  to  heart's  content, 
At  his  own  feast,  in  his  own  theatre 
( — Oh  never  fear !    T  was  consecrated  sport, 
Exact  tradition,  warranted  no  whit 
Offensive  to  instructed  taste, — indeed. 
Essential  to  Athenai's  liberty. 
Could  the  poor  stranger  understand !)  why,  then — 


246  A^ilSTOPHANES*  APOLOGY 

He  was  pronounced  the  rarely-qualified 

To  rate  the  work,  adjust  the  claims  to  worth, 

Of  Aischulos  (of  whom,  in  other  mood, 

This  same  appreciative  poet  pleased 

To  say  "  He 's  all  one  stiff  and  gluey  piece 

Of  back  of  swine's  neck  ! ") — and  of  Chatterbox 

Who,  "  twisting  words  like  wool,"  usurped  his  seat 

In  Plouton's  realm :  "  the  arch-rogue,  liar,  scamp 

That  lives  by  snatching-up  of  altar-orts," 

— ^Who  failed  to  recognize  Euripides  ? 

Then  came  a  contest  for  supremacy — 

Crammed  full  of  genius,  wit  and  fun  and  freak. 

No  spice  of  undue  spite  to  spoil  the  dish 

Of  all  sorts, — for  the  Mystics  matched  the  Frogs 

In  poetry,  no  Seiren  sang  so  sweet ! — 

Till,  pressed  into  the  service  (how  dispense 

With  Phaps-Elaphion  and  free  foot-display?) 

The  Muse  of  dead  Euripides  danced  frank, 

Rattled  her  bits  of  tile,  made  all  too  plain 

How  baby- work  like  "  Herakles  "  had  birth  • 

Last,  Bacchos, — candidly  disclaiming  brains 

Able  to  follow  finer  argument, — 

Confessed  himself  much  moved  by  three  main  facts : 

First, — if  you  stick  a  "  Lost  his  flask  of  oil " 

At  pause  of  period,  you  perplex  the  sense — 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  247 

Were  it  the  Elegy  for  Marathon ! 

Next,  if  you  weigh  two  verses,  "  car  " — the  word, 

Will  outweigh  "  club  " — the  word,  in  each  packed  line ! 

And — last,  worst  fact  of  all ! — in  rivalry 

The  younger  poet  dared  to  improvise 

Laudation  less  distinct  of — ^Triphales  ? 

(Nay,  that  served  when  ourself  abused  the  youth !) 

Pheidippides  ?  (nor  that 's  appropriate  now !) 

Then, — Alkibiades,  our  city's  hope. 

Since  times  change  and  we  Comics  should  change  too  ! 

These  three  main  facts,  well  weighed,  drew  judgment 

down. 
Conclusively  assigned  the  wretch  his  fate — 
"  Fate  due  "  admonished  the  sage  Mystic  choir, 
"  To  sitting,  prate-apace,  with  Sokrates, 
Neglecting  music  and  each  tragic  aid  ! " 
— All  wound-up  by  a  wish  "  We  soon  may  cease 
From  certain  griefs,  and  warfare,  worst  of  them  1 " 
— Since,  deaf  to  Comedy's  persistent  voice. 
War  still  raged,  still  was  like  to  rage.     In  vain 
Had  Spart6  cried  once  more  "  But  grant  us  Peace 
We  give  you  Dekeleia  back ! "    Too  shrewd 
Was  Kleophon  to  let  escape,  forsooth, 
The  enemy — at  final  gasp,  besides  I 

So,  Aristophanes  obtained  the  prize, 


348  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

And  so  Athenai  felt  she  had  a  friend 

Far  better  than  her  "  best  friend,"  lost  last  year ; 

And  so,  such  fame  had  "  Frogs  "  that,  when  came  round 

This  present  year,  those  Frogs  croaked  gay  again 

At  the  great  Feast,  Elaphebolion-month. 

Only — there  happened  Aigispotamoi ! 

And,  in  the  midst  of  the  frog-merriment, 

Plump  o'  the  sudden,  pounces  stern  King  Stork    . 

On  the  light-hearted  people  of  the  marsh  ! 

Spartan  Lusandros  swooped  precipitate. 

Ended  Athenai,  rowed  her  sacred  bay 

With  oars  which  brought  a  hundred  triremes  back 

Captive  I 

And  first  word  of  the  conqueroi- 
Was  "  Down  with  those  Long  Walls,  Peiraios'  pride ! 
Destroy,  yourselves,  your  bulwarks  !  Peace  needs  none  !" 
And  "  We  obey  "  they  shuddered  in  their  dream. 

But,  at  next  quick  imposure  of  decree — 
"  No  longer  democratic  government ! 
Henceforth  such  oligarchy  as  ourselves 
Please  to  appoint  you ! " — then  the  horror  stung 
Dreamers  awake ;  they  started  up  a-stare 
At  the  half-helot  captain  and  his  crew 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  249 

— Spartans,  "  men  used  to  let  their  hair  grow  long, 
To  fast,  be  dirty,  and  just — Socratize  " — 
Whose  word  was  "  Trample  on  Themistokles ! " 

So,  as  the  way  is  with  much  misery, 

The  heads  swam,  hands  refused  their  office,  hearts 

Sunk  as  they  stood  in  stupor.     "  Wreck  the  Walls  ? 

Ruin  Peiraios  ? — ^with  our  Pallas  armed 

For  interference  ? — Herakles  apprised. 

And  Theseus  hasting  ?    Lay  the  Long  Walls  low  ?  '* 

Three  days  they  stood,  stared, — stonier  than  their 
walls. 

Whereupon,  sleep  who  might,  Lusandros  woke : 

Saw  the  prostration  of  his  enemy. 

Utter  and  absolute  beyond  belief. 

Past  hope  of  hatred  even.     I  surmise 

He  also  probably  saw  fade  in  fume 

Certain  fears,  bred  of  Bakis-prophecy, 

Nor  apprehended  any  more  that  gods 

And  heroes, — fire,  must  glow  forth,  guard  the  ground 

Where  prone,  by  sober  day-dawn,  corpse-like  lay 

Powerless  Athenai,  late  predominant 

Lady  of  Hellas, — Sparte's  slave-prize  now ! 

Where  should  a  menace  lurk  in  those  slack  limbs  ? 


flSo  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

What  was  to  move  his  circumspection?    AVhy 
Demolish  just  Peiraios? 

"  Stay  ! "  bade  he : 
"  Already  promise-breakers?    True  to  type, 
Athenians !  past  and  present  and  to  come — 
The  fickle  and  the  false  !     No  stone  dislodged, 
No  implement  applied,  yet  three  days*  grace 
Expire !    Forbearance  is  no  longer-lived. 
By  breaking  promise,  terms  of  peace  you  break- 
Too  gently  framed  for  falsehood,  fickleness  ! 
All  must  be  reconsidered — yours  the  fault !" 

Wherewith,  he  called  a  council  of  allies. 
Pent-up  resentment  used  its  privilege, — 
Outburst  at  ending :  this  the  summed  result. 

"  Because  we  would  avenge  no  transient  wrong 
But  an  eternity  of  insolence, 
Aggression, — folly,  no  disasters  mend. 
Pride,  no  reverses  teach  humility, — 
Because  too  plainly  were  all  punishment. 
Such  as  comports  with  less  obdurate  crime, 
Evadable  by  falsehood,  fickleness — 
Experience  proves  the  true  Athenian  type,— 
Therefore,  't  is  need  we  dig  deep  down  into 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  251 

The  root  of  evil ;  lop  nor  bole  nor  branch. 
Look  up,  look  round  and  see,  on  every  side, 
What  nurtured  the  rank  tree  to  noisome  fruit  1 
We  who  live  hutted  (so  they  laugh)  not  housed, 
Build  barns  for  temples,  prize  mud-monuments, 
Nor  show  the  sneering  stranger  aught  but — men, — 
Spartans  take  insult  of  Athenians  just 
Because  they  boast  Akropolis  to  mount, 
And  Propulaia  to  make  entry  by. 
Through  a  mad  maze  of  marble  arrogance 
Such  as  you  see— such  as  let  none  see  more ! 
Abolish  the  detested  luxury ! 
Leave  not  one  stone  upon  another,  raze 
Athenai  to  the  rock !     Let  hill  and  plain 
Become  a  waste,  a  grassy  pasture-ground 
Where  sheep  may  wander,  grazing  goats  depend 
From  shapeless  crags  once  columns  !  so  at  last 
Shall  peace  inhabit  there,  and  peace  enough." 

Whereon,  a  shout  approved  "  Such  peace  bestow !  ^ 

Then  did  a  Man  of  Phokis  rise— O  heart ! 
Rise — when  no  bolt  of  Zeus  disparted  sky, 
No  omen- bird  from  Pallas  scared  the  crew. 
Rise — when  mere  human  argument  could  stem 
No  foam-fringe  of  the  passion  surging  fierce, 


253  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Baffle  no  wrath- wave  that  o'er  barrier  broke— 
Who  was  the  Man  of  Phokis  rose  and  flung 
A  flower  i'  the  way  of  that  fierce  foot's  advance, 
Which — stop  for? — nay,  had  stamped  down  sword's 

assault ! 
Could  it  be  He  stayed  Spartd  with  the  snatch 
"  Daughter  of  Agamemnon,  late  my  liege, 
Elektra,  palaced  once,  a  visitant 
To  thy  poor  rustic  dwelling,  now  I  come  ?  " 

Ay,  facing  fury  of  revenge,  and  lust 
Of  hate,  and  malice  moaning  to  appease 
Hunger  on  prey  presumptuous,  prostrate  now — 
Full  in  the  hideous  faces — last  resource, 
You  flung  that  choric  flower,  my  Euthukles ! 

And  see,  as  through  some  pinhole,  should  the  wind 
Wedgingly  pierce  but  once,  in  with  a  rush 
Hurries  the  whole  wild  weather,  rends  to  rags 
The  weak  sail  stretched  against  the  outside  storm — 
So  did  the  power  of  that  triumphant  play 
Pour  in,  and  oversweep  the  assembled  foe ! 
Triumphant  play,  wherein  our  poet  first 
Dared  bring  the  grandeur  of  the  Tragic  Two 
Down  to  the  level  of  our  common  life, 
Close  to  the  beating  of  our  common  heart. 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  253 

Elektra?    'T  was  Athenai,  Spart^^s  ice 

Thawed  to,  while  that  sad  portraiture  appealed — 

Agamemnonian  lady,  lost  by  fault 

Of  her  own  kindred,  cast  from  house  and  home, 

Despoiled  of  all  the  brave  inheritance, 

Dowered  humbly  as  befits  a  herdsman's  mate, 

Partaker  of  his  cottage,  clothed  in  rags, 

Patient  performer  of  the  poorest  chares. 

Yet  mindful,  all  the  while,  of  glory  past 

When  she  walked  darling  of  Mukenai,  dear 

Beyond  Orestes  to  the  King  of  Men ! 

So,  because  Greeks  are  Greeks,  though  Sparta's  brood. 
And  hearts  are  hearts,  though  in  Lusandros'  breast. 
And  poetry  is  power,  and  Euthukles 
Had  faith  therein  to,  full-face,  fling  the  same — 
Sudden,  the  ice-thaw !    The  assembled  foe, 
Heaving  and  swaying  with  strange  friendliness, 
Cried  "  Reverence  Elektra  1  "—cried  "  Abstain 
Like  that  chaste  Herdsman,  nor  dare  violate 
The  sanctity  of  such  reverse !    Let  stand 
Athenai ! " 

Mindful  of  that  stor/s  close. 
Perchance,  and  how,— when  he,  the  Herdsman  chaste. 
Needs  apprehend  no  break  of  tranquil  sleep, — 


254  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

All  in  due  time,  a  stranger,  dark,  disguised, 

Knocks  at  the  door :  with  searching  glance,  notes  keen, 

Knows  quick,  through  mean  attire  and  disrespect, 

The  ravaged  princess !     Ay,  right  on,  the  clutch 

Of  guiding  retribution  has  in  charge 

The  author  of  the  outrage  I    While  one  hand, 

Elektra's,  pulls  the  door  behind,  made  fast 

On  fate, — the  other  strains,  prepared  to  push 

The  victim-queen,  should  she  make  frightened  pause 

Before  that  serpentining  blood  which  steals 

Out  of  the  darkness  where,  a  pace  beyond. 

Above  the  slain  Aigisthos,  bides  his  blow 

Dreadful  Orestes ! 

Klutaimnestra,  wise 
This  time,  forbore ;  Elektra  held  her  own ; 
Saved  was  Athenai  through  Euripides, 
Through  Euthukles,  through — more  than  ever— me, 
Balaustion,  me,  who,  Wild-pomegranate-flower, 
Felt  my  fruit  triumph,  and  fade  proudly  so ! 

But  next  day,  as  ungracious  minds  are  wont, 

The  Spartan,  late  surprised  into  a  grace, 

Grew  sudden  sober  at  the  enormity. 

And  grudged,  by  daybreak,  midnight's  easy  giift  j 

Splenetically  must  repay  its  cost 

By  due  increase  of  rigour,  doglike  snatch 


ARISTOPHANES*  APOLOGY  255 

At  aught  Still  left  dog  to  concede  like  man. 
Rough  sea,  at  flow  of  tide,  may  lip,  perchance, 
Smoothly  the  land-line  reached  as  for  repose — 
Lie  indolent  in  all  unquestioned  sway ; 
But  ebbing,  when  needs  must,  all  thwart  and  loth, 
Sea  claws  at  sand  relinquished  strugglingly. 
So,  harsh  Lusandros — pinioned  to  inflict 
The  lesser  penalty  alone — spoke  harsh. 
As  minded  to  embitter  scathe  by  scorn. 

"  Athenai's  self  be  saved  then,  thank  the  Lyre ! 

If  Tragedy  withdraws  her  presence — quick. 

If  Comedy  replace  her, — what  more  just? 

Let  Comedy  do  service,  frisk  away. 

Dance  off"  stage  these  indomitable  stones, 

Ix)ng  Walls,  Peiraian  bulwarks !    Hew  and  heave, 

Pick  at,  pound  into  dust  each  dear  defence ! 

Not  to  the  Kommos — eleleleleu 

With  breast  bethumped,  as  Tragic  lyre  prefers, 

But  Comedy  shall  sound  the  flute,  and  crow 

At  kordax-end-— the  hearty  slapping- dance ! 

Collect  those  flute-girls — trash  who  flattered  ear 

With  whistlings  and  fed  eye  with  caper-cuts 

While  we  Lakonians  supped  black  broth  or  crunched 

Sea-urchin,  conchs  and  all,  unpricked— coarse  brutes ! 

Command  they  lead  off  step,  time  steady  stroke 


336  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

To  spade  and  pickaxe,  till  demolished  lie 
Athenai's  pride  in  powder ! " 

Done  that  day— 
That  sixteenth  famed  day  of  Munuchion-month ! 
The  day. when  Hellas  fought  at  Salamis, 
The  very  day  Euripides  was  born, 
Those  flute-giris — Phaps-Elaphion  at  their  head — 
Did  blow  their  best,  did  dance  their  worst,  the  while 
Sparte  pulled  down  the  walls,  wrecked  wide  the  works, 
Laid  low  each  merest  molehill  of  defence, 
And  so  the  Power,  Athenai,  passed  away ! 

We  would  not  see  its  passing.     Ere  I  knew 
The  issue  of  their  counsels, — crouching  low 
And  shrouded  by  my  peplos, — I  conceived, 
Despite  the  shut  eyes,  the  stopped  ears, — by  count 
Only  of  heart-beats,  telling  the  slow  time, — 
Athenai's  doom  was  signed  and  signified 
In  that  assembly, — ay,  but  knew  there  watched 
One  who  would  dare  and  do,  nor  bate  at  all 
The  stranger's  licensed  duty, — speak  the  word 
Allowed  the  Man  from  Phokis !     Nought  remained 
But  urge  departure,  flee  the  sights  and  sounds. 
Hideous  exultings,  wailings  worth  contempt, 
And  press  to  other  earth,  new  heaven,  by  sea 


ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY  257 

That  somehow  ever  prompts  to  'scape  despair. 

Help  rose  to  heart's  wish ;  at  the  harbour-side, 

The  old  grey  mariner  did  reverence 

To  who  had  saved  his  ship,  still  weather-tight 

As  when  with  prow  gay-garlanded  she  praised 

The  hospitable  port  and  pushed  to  sea. 

"  Convoy  Balaustion  back  to  Rhodes,  for  sake 

Of  her  and  her  Euripides  1 "  laughed  he. 

Rhodes, — shall  it  not  be  there,  my  Euthukles, 

Till  this  brief  trouble  of  a  life-time  end, 

That  solitude — two  make  so  populous  !^ 

For  food  finds  memories  of  the  past  suffice, 

May  be,  anticipations, — hope  so  swells, — 

Of  some  great  future  we,  familiar  once 

With  who  so  taught,  should  hail  and  entertain? 

He  lies  now  in  the  little  valley,  laughed 

And  moaned  about  by  those  mysterious  streams, 

Boiling  and  freezing,  like  the  love  and  hate 

Which  helped  or  harmed  him  through  his  earthly  course. 

They  mix  in  Arethousa  by  his  grave. 

The  warm  spring,  traveller,  dip  thine  arms  into, 

Brighten  thy  brow  with !    Life  detests  black  cold. 

I  sent  the  tablets,  the  psalterion,  so 

XTII.  S 


2s8  ARISTOPHANES'  APOLOGY 

Rewarded  Sicily ;  the  tyrant  there 
Bestowed  them  worthily  in  Phoibos'  shrine. 
A  gold-graved  writing  tells — "  I  also  loved 
The  poet,  Free  Athenai  cheaply  prized — 
King  Dionusios,— Archelaos-like ! " 

And  see  if  young  Philemon, — sure  one  day 

To  do  good  service  and  be  loved  himself, — 

If  he  too  have  not  made  a  votive  verse ! 

"  Grant,  in  good  sooth,  our  great  dead,  all  the  same, 

Retain  their  sense,  as  certain  wise  men  say, 

I  'd  hang  myself— to  see  Euripides ! " 

Hands  off,  Philemon !  nowise  hang  thyself. 

But  pen  the  prime  plays,  labour  the  right  life, 

And  die  at  good  old  age  as  grand  men  use, — 

Keeping  thee,  with  that  great  thought,  warm  the  while,— 

That  he  does  live,  Philemon !    Ay,  most  sure ! 

"  He  lives ! "  hark, — ^waves  say,  winds  sing  out  the  same, 

And  yonder  dares  the  citied  ridge  of  Rhodes 

Its  headlong  plunge  from  sky  to  sea,  disparts 

North  bay  from  south, — each  guarded  calm,  that  guest 

May  enter  gladly,  blow  what  wind  there  will, — 

Boiled  round  with  breakers,  to  no  other  cry ! 

All  in  one  choros, — what  the  master-word 

They  take  up? — hark !     "  There  are  no  gods,  no  gods  \ 

Glory  to  God— who  saves  Euripides ! " 


THE 


AGAMEMNON  OF  ^SCHYLUS. 


S  2 


^ 


May  I  be  permitted  to  chat  a  little,  by  way  of  recreation, 
at  the  end  of  a  somewhat  toilsome  and  perhaps  fruitless 
adventure  ? 

If,  because  of  the  immense  fame  of  the  following 
Tragedy,  I  wished  to  acquaint  myself  with  it,  and  could 
only  do  so  by  the  help  of  a  translator,  I  should  require 
him  to  be  literal  at  every  cost  save  that  of  absolute 
violence  to  our  language.  The  use  of  certain  allowable 
constructions  which,  happening  to  be  out  of  daily  favour, 
are  all  the  more  appropriate  to  archaic  workmanship,  is 
no  violence :  but  I  would  be  tolerant  for  once, — in  the 
case  of  so  immensely  famous  an  original, — of  even  a 
clumsy  attempt  to  furnish  me  with  the  very  turn  of  each 
phrase  in  as  Greek  a  fashion  as  English  will  bear :  while, 
with  respect  to  amplifications  and  embellishments, — any- 
thing rather  than,  with  the  good  farmer,  experience  that 
most  signal  of  mortifications,  "  to  gape  for  ^Eschylus  and 


263  AGAMEMNON 

get  Theognis."  I  should  especially  decline, — what  may 
appear  to  brighten  up  a  passage, — the  employment  of  a 
new  word  for  some  old  one — irovos,  or  /xeyas,  or  tcXosj 
with  its  congeners,  recurring  four  times  in  three  lines  : 
for  though  such  substitution  may  be  in  itself  perfectly 
justifiable,  yet  this  exercise  of  ingenuity  ought  to  be 
within  the  competence  of  the  unaided  English  reader 
if  he  likes  to  show  himself  ingenious.  Learning  Greek 
teaches  Greek,  and  nothing  else :  certainly  not  common 
sense,  if  that  have  failed  to  precede  the  teaching.  Fur- 
ther,— if  I  obtained  a  mere  strict  bald  version  of  thing 
by  thing,  or  at  least  word  pregnant  with  thing,  I  should 
hardly  look  for  an  impossible  transmission  of  the  reputed 
magniloquence  and  sonority  of  the  Greek ;  and  this  with 
the  less  regret,  inasmuch  as  there  is  abundant  musicality 
elsewhere,  but  nowhere  else  than  in  his  poem  the  ideas 
of  the  poet  And  lastly,  when  presented  with  these 
ideas,  I  should  expect  the  result  to  prove  very  hard 
reading  indeed  if  it  were  meant  to  resemble  ^Eschylus, 
$vfiPa\€Lv  ov  pciStos,  "not  easy  to  understand,"  in  the 
opinion  of  his  stoutest  advocate  among  the  ancients; 
whiles  I  suppose,  even  modern  scholarship  sympathizes 
with  that  early  declaration  of  the  redoubtable  Salmasius, 


AGAMEMNON  263 

when,  looking  about  for  an  example  of  the  truly  obscure 
for  the  benefit  of  those  who  found  obscurity  in  the  sacred 
books,  he  protested  that  this  particular  play  leaves  them 
all  behind  in  this  respect,  with  their  "Hebraisms,  Syriasms, 
Hellenisms,  and  the  whole  of  such  bag  and  baggage." } 
For,  over  and  above  the  purposed  ambiguity  of  the  Chorus, 
the  text  is  sadly  corrupt,  probably  interpolated,  and  cer- 
tainly mutilated;  and  no  unlearned  person  enjoys  the 
scholar's  privilege  of  trying  his  fancy  upon  each  obstacle 
whenever  he  comes  to  a  stoppage,  and  effectually  clear- 
ing the  way  by  suppressing  what  seems  to  lie  in  it. 

All  I  can  say  for  the  present  performance  is,  that  I 
have  done  as  I  would  be  done  by,  if  need  were.  Should 
anybody,  without  need,  honour  my  translation  by  a  com- 
parison  with  the  original,  I  beg  him  to  observe  that, 
following  no  editor  exclusively,  I  keep  to  the  earlier 
readings  so  long  as  sense  can  be  made  out  of  them,  but 
disregard,  I  hope,  little  of  importance  in  recent  criticism 


*  '*Quis  ^schylum  possit  affirmare  Graece  nunc  scienti  magis 
patere  explicabilem  quam  Evangelia  aut  Epistolas  Apostolicas? 
Unus  ejus  Agamemnon  obscuritate  superat  quantum  est  librorum 
sacrorum  cum  suis  Hebraismis  et  Syriasmis  et  tota  Hellenisticoe 
supellectili  vel  farragine." 

SALMASIU3  de  Helletiisticat  Epist.  Dedic. 


264  AGAMEMNON 

SO  far  as  I  have  fallen  in  with  it.  Fortunately,  the 
poorest  translation,  provided  only  it  be  faithful, — though 
it  reproduce  all  the  artistic  confusion  of  tenses,  moods, 
and  persons,  with  which  the  original  teems, — will  not 
only  suffice  to  display  what  an  eloquent  friend  maintains 
to  be  the  all-in-all  of  poetry — "  the  action  of  the  piece  " — 
but  may  help  to  illustrate  his  assurance  that  "  the  Greeks 
are  the  highest  models  of  expression,  the  unapproached 
masters  of  the  grand  style :  their  expression  is  so  excel- 
lent because  it  is  so  admirably  kept  in  its  right  degree 
of  prominence,  because  it  is  so  simple  and  so  well  sub- 
ordinated, because  it  draws  its  force  directly  from  the 
pregnancy  of  the  matter  which  it  conveys  .  .  .  not  a 
word  wasted,  not  a  sentiment  capriciously  thrown  in, 
stroke  on  stroke !  "  ^     So  may  all  happen ! 

Just  a  word  more  on  the  subject  of  my  spelling— in  a 
transcript  from  the  Greek  and  there  exclusively — Greek 
names  and  places  precisely  as  does  the  Greek  author.  I 
began  this  practice,  with  great  innocency  of  intention, 
some  six-and-thirty  years  ago.  Leigh  Hunt,  I  remember, 
was  accustomed  to  speak  of  his  gratitude,  when  ignorant 
of  Greek,  to  those  writers  (like  Goldsmith)  who  had 

'  Poemi  by  Matthew  Arnold,  Preface. 


AGAMEMNON  165 

obliged  him  by  using  English  characters,  so  that  he 
might  relish,  for  instance,  the  smooth  quality  of  such  a 
phrase  as  "  hapalunetai  galen^  ; "  he  said  also  that  Shelley 
was  indignant  at  "  Firenze  "  having  displaced  the  Dant- 
esque  "Fiorenza,"  and  would  contemptuously  English 
the  intruder  "  Firence."  I  supposed  I  was  doing  a  simple 
thing  enough :  but  there  has  been  till  lately  much  aston-. 
ishment  at  os  and  us,  at  and  <?/,  representing  the  same 
letters  in  Greek.  Of  a  sudden,  however,  whether  in 
translation  or  out  of  it,  everybody  seems  committing  the 
offence,  although  the  adoption  of  u  for  v  still  presents 
such  difficulty  that  it  is  a  wonder  how  we  have  hitherto 
escaped  "  Eyripides."  But  there  existed  a  sturdy  Briton 
who,  Ben  Jonson  informs  us,  wrote  "The  Life  of  the 
Emperor  Anthony  Pie  " — whom  we  now  acquiesce  in  as 
Antoninus  Pius:  for  "with  time  and  patience  the  mulberry 
leaf  becomes  satin."  Yet  there  is,  on  all  sides,  much 
profession  of  respect  for  what  Keats  called  "  vowelled 
Greek" — " consonanted,"  one  would  expect;  and,  in  a 
criticism  upon  a  late  admirable  translation  of  something 
of  my  own,  it  was  deplored  that,  in  a  certain  verse  cor- 
responding in  measure  to  the  fourteenth  of  the  sixth 
Pythian  Ode,  "  neither  Professor  Jebb  in  his  Greek,  nor 


266  AGAMEMNON 

Mr.  Browning  in  his  English,  could  emulate  that  match- 
lessly musical  yovov  iSwv  koAAxo-tov  dlvSpwv."  Now, 
undoubtedly,  "  Seeing  her  son  the  fairest  of  men  "  has 
more  sense  than  sound  to  boast  of:  but  then,  would  not 
an  Italian  roll  us  out  "  Rimirando  il  figliuolo  bellissimo 
degli  uomini ! "  whereat  Pindar,  no  less  than  Professor 
Jebb  and  Mr.  Browning,  Tpvajcrffpos  otx^rai  tu^wv. 

It  is  recorded  in  the  annals  of  Art  *  that  there  was 
once  upon  a  time,  practising  so  far  north  as  Stockholm,  a 
painter  and  picture-cleaner — sire  of  a  less  unhappy  son 
—Old  Muytens :  and  the  annalist,  Baron  de  Tesse,  has 
not  concealed  his  profound  dissatisfaction  at  Old  Muytens' 
conceit  "  to  have  himself  had  something  to  do  with  the 
work  of  whatever  master  of  eminence  might  pass  through 
his  hands."  Whence  it  was, — the  Baron  goes  on  to 
deplore, — ^that  much  detriment  was  done  to  that  excellent 
piece  "  The  Recognition  of  Achilles,"  by  Rubens,  through 
the  perversity  of  Old  Muytens,  "  who  must  needs  take  on 
him  to  beautify  every  nymph  of  the  twenty  by  the  be- 
stowment  of  a  widened  eye  and  an  enlarged  mouth."  I, 
at  least,  have  left  eyes  and  mouths  everywhere  as  I  found 
ihem,  and  this  conservatism  is  all  that  claims  praise  for — 

*  Lettrei  d  unjeune  Prince,  traduites  du  Su^dois. 


AGAMEMNON  2&/ 

what  IS,  after  all,  dKcXcvoros  afucrOos  doiZd,  No,  neither 
"  uncommanded  "  nor  "  unrewarded : "  since  it  was  com- 
manded of  me  by  my  venerated  friend  Thomas  Carlyle, 
and  rewarded  will  it  indeed  become  if  I  am  permitted  to 
dignify  it  by  the  prefatory  insertion  of  his  dear  and  noble 

name. 

R.  B. 

London  :  October  ut,  1877. 


PERSONS, 


o» 


Warder. 

Choros  of  Old  Men. 

Klutaimnestra. 

Talthubios,  Herald. 

Agamemnon. 

Kassandra. 

AlGISTIlOS- 


THE    AGAMEMNON    OF   iESCHYLUS. 

1877. 


WARDER. 


The  gods  I  ask  deliverance  from  these  labours, 

Watch  of  a  year's  length  whereby,  slumbering  through  it 

On  the  Atreidai's  roofs  on  elbow, — dog-like — 

I  know  of  nightly  star-groups  the  assemblage. 

And  those  that  bring  to  men  winter  and  summer 

Bright  dynasts,  as  they  pride  them  in  the  aether 

— Stars,  when  they  wither,  and  the  uprisings  of  them. 

And  now  on  ward  I  wait  the  torch's  token. 

The  glow  of  fire,  shall  bring  from  Troia  message 

And  word  of  capture :  so  prevails  audacious 

The  man's-way-planning  hoping  heart  of  woman. 

But  when  I,  driven  from  night-rest,  dew-drenched  hold  to 

This  couch  of  mine — not  looked  upon  by  visions. 

Since  fear  instead  of  sleep  still  stands  beside  me, 

So  as  that  fast  I  fix  in  sleep  no  eyelids — 

And  when  to  sing  or  chirp  a  tune  I  fancy, 


270  AGAMEMNON 

For  slumber  such  song-remedy  infusing, 

I  wail  then,  for  this  House's  fortune  groaning, 

Not,  as  of  old,  after  the  best  ways  governed. 

Now,  lucky  be  deliverance  from  these  labours, 

At  good  news — the  appearing  dusky  fire ! 

O  hail,  thou  lamp  of  night,  a  day-long  lightness 

Revealing,  and  of  dances  the  ordainment ! 

Halloo,  halloo ! 

To  Agamemnon's  wife  I  show,  by  shouting. 

That,  from  bed  starting  up  at  once,  i'  the  household 

Joyous  acclaim,  good-omened  to  this  torch-blaze. 

She  send  aloft,  if  haply  Ilion's  city 

Be  taken,  as  the  beacon  boasts  announcing. 

Ay,  and,  for  me,  myself  will  dance  a  prelude, 

For,  that  my  masters'  dice  drop  right,  1 11  reckon : 

Since  thrice-six  has  it  thrown  to  me,  this  signal. 

Well,  may  it  hap  that,  as  he  comes,  the  loved  hand 

O'  the  household's  lord  I  may  sustain  with  this  hand ! 

As  for  the  rest,  I  'm  mute :  on  tongue  a  big  ox 

Has  trodden.    Yet  this  House,  if  voice  it  take  should. 

Most  plain  would  speak.    So,  willing  I  myself  speak 

To  those  who  know :  to  who  know  not — I  'm  blankness. 

CHOROS. 

The  tenth  year  this,  since  Priamos'  great  match, 
King  Menelaos,  Agamemnon  King, 


AGAMEMNON  271 

— The  strenuous  yoke-pair  of  the  Atreidai^s  honour 

Two-throned,  two-sceptred,  whereof  Zeus  was  donor — 

Did  from  this  land  the  aid,  the  armament  despatch, 

The  thousand-sailored  force  of  Argives  clamouring 

"  Ares  "  from  out  the  indignant  breast,  as  fling 

Passion  forth  vultures  which,  because  of  grief 

Away, — as  are  their  young  ones, — with  the  thief, 

Lofty  above  their  brood-nests  wheel  in  ring. 

Row  round  and  round  with  oar  of  either  wing. 

Lament  the  bedded  chicks,  lost  labour  that  was  love  : 

Which  hearing,  one  above 

— ^Whether  Apollon,  Pan  or  Zeus — that  wail, 

Sharp-piercing  bird-shriek  of  the  guests  who  fare 

Housemates  with  gods  in  air — 

Suchanone  sends,  against  who  these  assail. 

What,  late-sent,  shall  not  fail 

Of  punishing — Erinus.     Here  as  there. 

The  Guardian  of  the  Guest,  Zeus,  the  excelling  one. 

Sends  against  Alexandros  either  son 

Of  Atreus :  for  that  wife,  the  many-husbanded. 

Appointing  many  a  tug  that  tries  the  limb, 

While  the  knee  plays  the  prop  in  dust,  while,  shred 

To  morsels,  lies  the  spear-shaft ;  in  those  grim 

Marriage-prolusions  when  their  Fury  wed 

Danaoi  and  Troes,  both  alike.     All 's  said : 

Things  are  where  things  are,  and,  as  fate  has  willed, 


272  AGAMEMNON 

So  shall  they  be  fulfilled. 

Not  gently-grieving,  not  just  doling  out 

The  drops  of  expiation — no,  nor  tears  distilled— 

Shall  he  we  know  of  bring  the  hard  about 

To  soft — that  intense  ire 

At  those  mock  rites  unsanctified  by  fire. 

But  we  pay  nought  here :  through  our  flesh,  age-weighed, 

Left  out  from  who  gave  aid 

In  that  day, — ^we  remain. 

Staying  on  staves  a  strength 

The  equal  of  a  child's  at  length. 

For  when  young  marrow  in  the  breast  doth  reign, 

That  s  the  old  man's  match, — Ares  out  of  place 

In  either :  but  in  oldest  age's  case. 

Foliage  a-fading,  why,  he  wends  his  way 

On  three  feet,  and,  no  stronger  than  a  child, 

Wanders  about  gone  wild, 

A  dream  in  day. 

But  thou,  Tundareus'  daughter,  Klutaimnestra  queen, 

What  need?    What  new  ?    What  having  heard  or  seen, 

By  what  announcement's  tidings,  everywhere 

Settest  thou,  round  about,  the  sacrifice  a-flare  ? 

For,  of  all  gods  the  city-swaying. 

Those  supernal,  those  infernal. 

Those  of  the  fields',  those  of  the  mart's  obeying,— 


AGAMEMNON  273 

The  altars  blaze  with  gifts ; 

And  here  and  there,  heaven-high  the  torch  uplifts 

Flame — medicated  with  persuasions  mild, 

With  foul  admixture  unbeguiled — 

Of  holy  unguent,  from  the  clotted  chrism 

Brought  from  the  palace,  safe  in  its  abysm. 

Of  these  things,  speaking  what  may  be  indeed 

Both  possible  and  lawful  to  concede, 

Healer  do  thou  become ! — of  this  solicitude 

Which,  now,  stands  plainly  forth  of  evil  mood. 

And,  then  .  •  .  but  from  oblations,  hope,  to-day 

Gracious  appearing,  wards  away 

From  soul  the  insatiate  care, 

The  sorrow  at  my  breast,  devouring  there ! 

Empowered  am  I  to  sing 

The  omens,  what  their  force  which,  journeying, 

Rejoiced  the  potentates : 

(For  still,  from  God,  inflates 

My  breast  song-suasion :  age, 

Bom  to  the  business,  still  such  war  can  wage) 

— How  the  fierce  bird  against  the  Teukris  land 

Despatched,  with  spear  and  executing  hand. 

The  Achaian's  two-throned  empery — o'er  Hellas'  youth 

Two  rulers  with  one  mind : 

The  birds'  king  to  these  kings  of  ships,  on  high, 

XIII.  T 


1 


274  AGAMEMNON 

— ^The  black  sort,  and  the  sort  that 's  white  behind, — 
Appearing  by  the  palace,  on  the  spear-throw  side, 
In  right  sky-regions,  visible  far  and  wide, — 
Devouring  a  hare-creature,  great  with  young, 
Baulked  of  more  racings  they,  as  she  from  whom  they 

sprung ! 
Ah,  Linos,  say — ah.  Linos,  song  of  wail ! 
But  may  the  good  prevail ! 

The  prudent  army-prophet  seeing  two 

The  Atreidai,two  their  tempers,  knew 

Those  feasting  on  the  hare 

The  armament-conductors  were ; 

And  thus  he  spoke,  explaining  signs  in  view. 

'•  In  time,  this  outset  takes  the  town  of  Priamos : 

But  all  before  its  towers, — the  people's  wealth  that  was. 

Of  flocks  and  herds, — as  sure,  shall  booty-sharing  thence 

Drain  to  the  dregs  away,  by  battle  violence. 

Only,  have  care  lest  grudge  of  any  god  disturb 

With  cloud  the  unsullied  shine  of  that  great  force,  the  curb 

Of  Troia,  struck  with  damp 

Beforehand  in  the  camp ! 

For  envyingly  is 

The  virgin  Artemis 

Toward — her  father's  flying  hounds — this  House — 

The  sacrificers  of  the  piteous 


AGAMEMNON  275 

And  cowering  beast, 

Brood  and  all,  ere  the  birth :  she  hates  the  eagles'  feast 

Ah,  Linos,  say— ah,  Linos,  song  of  wail ! 

But  may  the  good  prevail ! 

**  Thus  ready  is  the  beauteous  one  with  help 
To  those  small  dewdrop-things  fierce  lions  whelp, 
And  udder-loving  litter  of  each  brute 
That  roams  the  mead  \  and  therefore  makes  she  suit, 
The  fair  one,  for  fulfilment  to  the  end 
Of  things  these  signs  portend — 
AVhich  partly  smile,  indeed,  but  partly  scowl-— 
The  phantasms  of  the  fowl. 
I  call  leios  Paian  to  avert 
She  work  the  Danaoi  hurt 
By  any  thwarting  w^aftures,  long  and  fast 
Holdings  from  sail  of  ships : 
And  sacrifice,  another  than  the  last, 
She  for  herself  precipitate — 
Something  unlawful,  feast  for  no  man's  lips. 
Builder  of  quarrels,  with  the  House  cognate- 
Having  in  awe  no  husband :  for  remains 
A  frightful,  backward-darting  in  the  path, 
Wily  house-keeping  chronicler  of  wrath, 
That  has  to  punish  that  old  children's  fate  1 " 
Such  things  did  Kalchas, — with  abundant  gains 

T  2 


276  AGAMEMNON 

As  well, — vociferate, 

Predictions  from  the  birds,  in  journeying, 

Above  the  abode  of  either  king. 

With  these,  symphonious,  sing — 

Ah,  Linos,  say — ah,  Linos,  song  of  wail ! 

But  may  the  good  prevail ! 

Zeus,  whosoe'er  he  be, — if  that  express 

Aught  dear  to  him  on  whom  I  call — 

So  do  I  him  address. 

I  cannot  liken  out,  by  all 

Admeasurement  of  powers. 

Any  but  Zeus  for  refuge  at  such  hours. 

If  veritably  needs  I  must 

From  off  my  soul  its  vague  care-burthen  thrust. 

Not — ^whosoever  was  the  great  of  yore. 
Bursting  to  bloom  with  bravery  all  round — 
Is  in  our  mouths  :  he  was,  but  is  no  more. 
And  who  it  was  that  after  came  to  be, 
Met  the  thrice-throwing  wrestler, — he 
Is  also  gone  to  ground. 

But  "  Zeus"— if  any,  heart  and  soul,  that  name- 
Shouting  the  triumph-praise — ^proclaim, 
Complete  in  judgment  shall  that  man  be  found, 
Zeus,  who  leads  onward  mortals  to  be  wise. 


AGAMEMNON  .  277 

Appoints  that  suffering  masterfully  teach. 

In  sleep,  before  the  heart  of  each, 

A  woe-remembering  travail  sheds  in  dew 

Discretion, — ay,  and  melts  the  unwilling  too 

By  what,  perchance,  may  be  a  graciousness 

Of  gods,  enforced  no  less, — 

As  they,  commanders  of  the  crew, 

Assume  the  awful  seat. 

And  then  the  old  leader  of  the  Achaian  fleet, 

Disparaging  no  seer — 

With  bated  breath  to  suit  misfortune's  inrush  here 

— (What  time  it  laboured,  that  Achaian  host, 

By  stay  from  sailing, — every  pulse  at  length 

Emptied  of  vital  strength, — 

Hard  over  Kalchis  shore-bound,  current-crost 

In  Aulis  station, — while  the  winds  which  post 

From  Strumon,  ill-delayers,  famine-fraught, 

Tempters  of  man  to  sail  where  harbourage  is  naught, 

Spendthrifts  of  ships  and  cables,  turning  time 

To  twice  the  length, — these  carded,  by  delay, 

To  less  and  less  away 

The  Argeians'  flowery  prime : 

And  when  a  remedy  more  grave  and  grand 

Than  aught  before, — yea,  for  the  storm  and  dearth,— 

The  prophet  to  the  foremost  in  command 


278  AGAMEMNON 

Shrieked  forth,  as  cause  of  this 

Adducing  Artemis,  \ 

So  that  the  Atreidai  striking  staves  on  earth 

Could  not  withhold  the  tear) — 

Then  did  the  king,  the  elder,  speak  this  clear. 

*'  Heavy  the  fate,  indeed, — to  disobey ! 

Yet  heavy  if  my  child  I  slay, 

The  adornment  of  my  household :  with  the  tide 

Of  virgin-slaughter,  at  the  altar-side, 

A  father's  hands  defiling :  which  the  way 

Without  its  evils,  say? 

How  shall  I  turn  fleet-fugitive. 

Failing  of  duty  to  allies  ? 

Since  for  a  wind-abating  sacrifice 

And  virgin  blood, — 't  is  right  they  strive. 

Nay,  madden  with  desire. 

Well  may  it  work  them — this  that  they  require ! " 

But  when  he  underwent  necessity's 

Yoke-trace, — from  soul  blowing  unhallowed  change 

Unclean,  abominable, — thence — another  man — 

The  audacious  mind  of  him  began 

Its  wildest  range. 

For  this  it  is  gives  mortals  hardihood — 

Some  vice-devising  miserable  mood 


AGAMEMNON  279 

Of  madness,  and  first  woe  of  all  the  brood. 
The  sacrificer  of  his  daughter — strange !  — 
He  dared  become,  to  expedite 
Woman-avenging  warfare, — anchors  weighed 
With  such  prelusive  rite ! 

Prayings  and  callings  "  Father  " — naught  they  made 
Of  these,  and  of  the  virgin-age, — 
'Captains  heart-set  on  war  to  wage ! 
His  ministrants,  vows  done,  the  father  bade — 
Kid-like,  above  the  altar,  swathed  in  pall. 
Take  her — lift  high,  and  have  no  fear  at  all. 
Head-downward,  and  the  fair  mouth's  guard 
And  frontage  hold, — press  hard 
From  utterance  a  curse  against  the  House 
By  dint  of  bit — violence  bridling  speech. 
And  as  to  ground  her  saffron-vest  she  shed, 
She  smote  the  sacrificers  all  and  each 
With  arrow  sweet  and  piteous, 
From  the  eye  only  sped, — 
Significant  of  will  to  use  a  word, 
Just  as  in  pictures :  since,  full  many  a  time, 
In  her  sire's  guest-hall,  by  the  well-heaped  board 
Had  she  made  music, — lovingly  with  chime 
Of  her  chaste  voice,  that  unpolluted  thing, 
Honoured  the  third  libation, — paian  that  should  bring 


28o  AGAMEMNON 

Good  fortune  to  the  sire  she  loved  so  well. 

What  followed — those  things  I  nor  saw  nor  tell. 

But  Kalchas*  arts, — whate'er  they  indicate, — 

Miss  of  fulfilment  never :  it  is  fate. 

True,  justice  makes,  in  sufferers,  a  desire 

To  know  the  future  woe  preponderate. 

But — hear  before  is  need? 

To  that,  farewell  and  welcome !  't  is  the  same,  indeed, 

As  grief  beforehand :  clearly,  part  for  part, 

Conformably  to  Kalchas'  art, 

Shall  come  the  event. 

But  be  they  as  they  may,  things  subsequent, — 

What  is  to  do,  prosperity  betide 

E'en  as  we  wish  it ! — we,  the  next  allied, 

Sole  guarding  barrier  of  the  Apian  land.  . 

I  am  come,  reverencing  power  in  thee, 

0  Klutaimnestra !     For  *t  is  just  we  bow 

To  the  ruler's  wife, — the  male-seat  man-bereaved. 
But  if  thou,  having  heard  good  news, — or  none, — 
For  good  news'  hope  dost  sacrifice  thus  wide, 

1  would  hear  gladly :  art  thou  mute, — no  grudge ! 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Good-news-announcer,  may — ^as  is  the  by- word  - 


AGAMEMNON  281 

Mom  become,  truly, — news  from  Night  his  mother ! 
But  thou  shalt  learn  joy  past  all  hope  of  hearing. 
Priamos'  city  have  the  Argeioi  taken* 

CHOROS. 

How  sayest?    The  word,  from  want  of  faith,  escaped 
me. 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Troia  the  Achaioi  hold :  do  I  speak  plainly? 

CHOROS. 

Joy  overcreeps  me,  calling  forth  the  tear-drop. 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Right !  for,  that  glad  thou  art,  thine  eye  convicts  thee. 

CHOROS. 

For — ^what  to  thee,  of  all  this,  trusty  token? 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

What 's  here !  how  else?  unless  the  god  have  cheated. 

CHOROS. 

Haply  thou  flattering  shows  of  dreams  respectest? 


282  AGAMEMNON 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

No  fancy  would  I  take  of  soul  sleep-burthened. 

CHORDS. 

But  has  there  puffed  thee  up  some  unwinged  omen? 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

As  a  young  maid's  my  mind  thou  mockest  grossly. 

CHORDS. 

Well,  at  what  time  was— even  sacked,  the  city? 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Of  this  same  mother  Night — the  dawn,  I  tell  thee. 

CHORDS. 

And  who  of  messengers  could  reach  this  swiftness  ? 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Hephaistos — sending  a  bright  blaze  from  Ide. 
Beacon  did  beacon  send,  from  fire  the  poster, 
Hitherward :  Ide  to  the  rock  Hermaian 
Of  Lemnos :  and  a  third  great  torch  o'  the  island 


AGAMEMNON  283 

Zeus'  seat  received  in  turn,  the  Athoan  summit. 
And, — so  upsoaring  as  to  stride  sea  over, 
The  strong  lamp-voyager,  and  all  for  joyance— 
Did  the  gold-glorious  splendour,  any  siin  like, 
Pass  on — the  pine-tree — to  Makistos'  watch-place ; 
Who  did  not, — tardy, — caught,  no  wits  about  him, 
By  sleep, — decline  his  portion  of  the  missive. 
And  far  the  beacon's  light,  on  stream  Euripos 
Arriving,  made  aware  Messapios'  warders, 
And  up  they  lit  in  turn,  played  herald  onwards. 
Kindling  with  flame  a  heap  of  grey  old  heather. 
And,  strengthening  still,  the  lamp,  decaying  nowise, 
Springing  o'er  Plain  Asopos, — full-moon-fashion 
Effulgent, — toward  the  crag  of  Mount  Kithairon, 
Roused  a  new  rendering-up  of  fire  the  escort — 
And  light,  far  escort,  lacked  no  recognition 
O'  the  guard — as  burning  more  than  burnings  told  you 
And  over  Lake  Gorgopis  light  went  leaping. 
And,  at  Mount  Aigiplanktos  safe  arriving, 
Enforced  the  law — "  to  never  stint  the  fire-stuff." 
And  they  send,  lighting  up  with  ungrudged  vigour, 
Of  flame  a  huge  beard,  ay,  the  very  foreland 
So  as  to  strike  above,  in  burning  onward, 
The  look-out  which  commands  the  Strait  Saronic. 
Then  did  it  dart  until  it  reached  the  outpost 
Mount  Arachnaios  here,  the  city's  neighbour ; 


2S4  AGAMEMNON 

And  then  darts  to  this  roof  of  the  Atreidai 
This  hght  of  Ide's  fire  not  unforefathered ! 
Such  are  the  rules  prescribed  the  flambeau-bearers : 
He  beats  that 's  first  and  also  last  in  running. 
Such  is  the  proof  and  token  I  declare  thee, 
My  husband  having  sent  me  news  from  Troia. 

CHOROS. 

The  gods,  indeed,  anon  will  I  pray,  woman ! 

But  now,  these  words  to  hear,  and  sate  my  wonder 

Thoroughly,  I  am  fain—  if  twice  thou  tell  them. 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Troia  do  the  Achaioi  hold,  this  same  day. 

1  think  a  noise — no  mixture — reigns  i'  the  city. 

Sour  wine  and  unguent  pour  thou  in  one  vessel — 

Standers-apart,  not  lovers,  wouldst  thou  style  them : 

And  so,  of  captives  and  of  conquerors,  partwise 

The  voices  are  to  hear,  of  fortune  diverse. 

For  those,  indeed,  upon  the  bodies  prostrate 

Of  husbands,  brothers,  children  upon  parents 

— ^The  old  men,  from  a  throat  that 's  free  no  longer, 

Shriekingly  wail  the  death-doom  of  their  dearest : 

While  these — the  after-battle  hungry  labour, 

Which  prompts  night-faring,  marshals  them  to  breakfast 


AGAMEMNON  285 

On  the  town's  store,  according  to  no  billet 
Of  sharing,  but  as  each  drew  lot  of  fortune. 
In  the  spear-captured  Troic  habitations 
House  they  already :  from  the  frosts  upaethral 
And  dews  delivered,  will  they,  luckless  creatures. 
Without  a  watch  to  keep,  slumber  all  night  through. 
And  if  they  fear  the  gods,  the  city-guarders, 
And  the  gods'  structures  of  the  conquered  country. 
They  may  not — capturers— soon  in  turn  be  captive. 
But  see  no  prior  lust  befall  the  army 
To  sack  things  sacred — by  gain-cravings  vanquished  ! 
For  there  needs  homeward  the  return's  salvation, 
To  round  the  new  limb  back  o'  the  double  race-course. 
And  guilty  to  the  gods  if  came  the  army, 
Awakened  up  the  sorrow  of  those  slaughtered 
Might  be — should  no  outbursting  evils  happen. 
But  may  good  beat — no  turn  to  see  i'  the  balance ! 
For,  many  benefits  I  want  the  gain  of. 

'  CHORDS. 

Woman,  like  prudent  man  thou  kindly  speakest. 
And  I,  thus  having  heard  thy  trusty  tokens, 
The  gods  to  rightly  hail  forthwith  prepare  me ; 
For,  grace  that  must  be  paid  has  crowned  our  labours. 

O  Zeus  the  king,  and  friendly  Night 


286  AGAMEMA'Oy 

Of  these  brave  boons  bestower — 

Thou  who  didst  fling  on  Troia's  every  tower 

The  o'er-roofing  snare,  that  neither  great  thing  might, 

Nor  any  of  the  young  ones,  overpass 

Captivity's  great  sweep-net — one  and  all 

Of  Ate  held  in  thrall ! 

Ay,  Zeus  I  fear — the  guest's  friend  great — who  was 

The  doer  of  this,  and  long  since  bent 

The  bow  on  Alexandros  with  intent 

That  neither  wide  o'  the  white 

Nor  o'er  the  stars  the  foolish  dart  should  light. 

The  stroke  of  Zeus — they  have  it,  as  men  say ! 

This,  at  least,  from  the  source  track  forth  we  may ! 

As  he  ordained,  so  has  he  done. 

"  No  " — said  someone — 

"  The  gods  think  fit  to  care 

Nowise  for  mortals,  such 

As  those  by  whom  the  good  and  fair 

Of  things  denied  their  touch 

Is  trampled  !  "  but  he  was  profane. 

That  they  do  care,  has  been  made  plain 

To  offspring  of  the  over-bold, 

Outbreathing  "  Ares  "  greater  than  is  just — 

Houses  that  spill  v>  ith  more  than  they  can  hold. 

More  than  is  best  for  man.     Be  man's  what  must 

Keep  harm  off,  so  that  in  himself  he  find 


AGAMEMNON  287 

Sufficiency — the  well-endowed  of  mind  I 
For  there 's  no  bulwark  in  man's  wealth  to  him 
Who,  through  a  surfeit,  kicks — into  the  dim 
And  disappearing — Right's  great  altarj 

Yes- 
It  urges  him,  the  sad  persuasiveness, 
Ate's  insufferable  child  that  schemes 
Treason  beforehand :  and  all  cure  is  vain. 
It  is  not  hidden :  out  it  glares  again, 
A  light  dread-lamping-mischief,  just  as  gleams 
The  badness  of  the  bronze ; 
Through  rubbing,  puttings  to  the  touch. 
Black-clotted  is  he,  judged  at  once. 
He  seeks — the  boy — a  flying  bird  to  clutch, 
The  insufferable  brand 
Setting  upon  the  city  of  his  land 
Whereof  not  any  god  hears  prayer ; 
While  him  who  brought  about  such  evils  there, 
That  unjust  man,  the  god  in  grapple  throws. 
Such  an  one,  Paris  goes 
Within  the  Atreidai's  house — 
Shamed  the  guest's  board  by  robbery  of  the  spouse. 

And,  leaving  to  her  townsmen  throngs  a-spread 
With  shields,  and  spear-thrusts  of  sea-armament. 


388  AGAMEMNON 

And  bringing  Ilion,  in  a  dowry's  stead, 

Destruction — swiftly  through  the  gates  she  went, 

Daring  the  undareable.     But  many  a  groan  outbroke 

From  prophets  of  the  House  as  thus  they  spoke. 

"  Woe,  woe  the  House,  the  House  and  Rulers, — woe 

The  marriage-bed  and  dints 

A  husband's  love  imprints  ! 

There  she  stands  silent !  meets  no  honour — no 

Shame — sweetest  still  to  see  of  things  gone  long  ago  ! 

And,  through  desire  of  one  across  the  main, 

A  ghost  will  seem  within  the  house  to  reign  •. 

And  hateful  to  the  husband  is  the  grace 

Of  well-shaped  statues :  from — in  place  of  eyes 

Those  blanks — all  Aphrodite  dies. 

"  But  dream-appearing  mournful  fantasies — 
There  they  stand,  bringing  grace  that 's  vain. 
For  vain  \  is,  when  brave  things  one  seems  to  view ; 
The  fantasy  has  floated  off,  hands  through ; 
Gone,  that  appearance, — no»vise  left  to  creep, — 
On  wings,  the  servants  in  the  paths  of  sleep  ! " 
Woes,  then,  in  household  and  on  hearth,  are  such 
As  these — and  woes  surpassing  these  by  much. 
But  not  these  only :  everywhere — 
For  those  who  from  the  land 
Of  Hellas  issued  in  a  band. 


AGAMEMNON  aSp 

Sorrow,  the  heart  must  bear, 

Sits  in  the  home  of  each,  conspicuous  there. 

Many  a  circumstance,  at  least, 

Touches  the  very  breast. 

For  those 

Whom  any  sent  away, — he  knows : 

And  in  the  live  man's  stead, 

Armour  and  ashes  reach 

The  house  of  each. 

For  Ares,  gold-exchanger  for  the  dead. 

And  balance-holder  in  the  fight  o'  the  spear, 

Due-weight  from  Ilion  sends — 

What  moves  the  tear  on  tear — 

A  charred  scrap  to  the  friends : 

Filling  with  well-packed  ashes  every  urn, 

For  man — that  was — the  sole  return. 

And  they  groan — praising  much,  the  while. 

Now  this  man  as  experienced  in  the  strife, 

Now  that,  fallen  nobly  on  a  slaughtered  pile, 

Because  of^not  his  own — another's  wife. 

But  things  there  be,  one  barks. 

When  no  man  harks : 

A  surreptitious  grief  that 's  grudge 

Against  the  Atreidai  who  first  sought  the  judge. 

But  som^  there,  round  the  rampart,  have 

XIII.  u 


290  AGAMEMNON 

In  Ilian  earth,  each  one  his  grave : 
All  fair-formed  as  at  birth, 
It  hid  them — what  they  have  and  hold— the  hostile 
earth. 

And  big  with  anger  goes  the  city's  w^ord, 

And  pays  a  debt  by  public  curse  incurred. 

And  ever  with  me — as  about  to  hear 

A  something  night-involved — remains  my  fear : 

Since  of  the  many-slayers — not 

Unwatching  are  the  gods. 

The  black  Erinues,  at  due  periods — 

Whoever  gains  the  lot 

Of  fortune  with  no  right — 

Him,  by  life's  strain  and  stress 

Back-again-beaten  from  success, 

They  strike  blind  t  and  among  the  out-of-sight 

For  who  has  got  to  be,  avails  no  might. 

The  being  praised  outrageously 

Is  grave,  for  at  the  eyes  of  such  an  one 

Is  launched,  from  Zeus,  the  thunder-stone. 

Therefore  do  I  decide 

For  so  much  and  no  more  prosperity 

Than  of  his  envy  passes  unespied. 

Neither  a  city-sacker  would  I  be, 

Nor  life,  myself  by  others  captive,  see. 


1 


AGAMEMNON  291 

A  swift  report  has  gone  our  city  through, 

From  fire,  the  good-news  messenger  :  if  true, 

Who  knows  ?    Or  is  it  not  a  god-sent  lie  ? 

Who  is  so  childish  and  deprived  of  sense 

That,  having,  at  announcements  of  the  flame 

Thus  novel,  felt  his  own  heart  fired  thereby, 

He  then  shall  at  a  change  of  evidence, 

Be  worsted  just  the  same  ? 

It  is  conspicuous  in  a  woman's  nature, 

Before  its  view  to  take  a  grace  for  granted : 

Too  trustful, — on  her  boundary,  usurpature 

Is  swiftly  made ; 

But  swiftly,  too,  decayed. 

The  glory  perishes  by  woman  vaunted. 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Soon  shall  we  know — of  these  light-bearing  torches, 
And  beacons  and  exchanges,  fire  with  fire — 
If  they  are  true,  indeed,  or  if,  dream-fashion, 
This  gladsome  light  came  and  deceived  our  judg 

ment. 
Yon  herald  from  the  shore  I  see,  overshadowed 
With  boughs  of  olive  :  dust,  mud's  thirsty  brother, 
Close  neighbours  on  his  garb,  thus  testify  me 

That  neither  voiceless,  nor  yet  kindling  for  thee 

u  2 


292  AGAMEMNON 

Mountain-wood-flame,  shall  he  explain  by  fire-smoke : 
But  either  tell  out  more  the  joyance,  speaking.  .  .  . 
Word  contrary  to  which,  I  aught  but  love  it ! 
For  may  good  be — to  good  that 's  known — appendage  ! 

CHORDS. 

Whoever  prays  for  aught  else  to  this  city 

— May  he  himself  reap  fruit  of  his  mind's  error ! 

HERALD. 

Ha,  my  forefathers*  soil  of  earth  Argeian ! 
Thee,  in  this  year's  tenth  light,  am  I  returned  to— « 
Of  many  broken  hopes,  on  one  hope  chancing ; 
For  never  prayed  I,  in  this  earth  Argeian 
Dying,  to  share  my  part  in  tomb  the  dearest. 
Now,  hail  thou  earth,  and  hail  thou  also,  sunlight, 
And  Zeus,  the  country's  lord,  and  king  the  Puthian 
From  bow  no  longer  urging  at  us  arrows  ! 
Enough,  beside  Skamandros,  cam'st  thou  adverse : 
Now,  contrary,  be  saviour  thou  and  healer, 
O  king  ApoUon !    And  gods  conquest-granting, 
All — I  invoke  too,  and  my  tutelary 
Hermes,  dear  herald,  heralds'  veneration, — 
And  Heroes  our  forthsenders, — friendly,  once  more 
The  army  to  receive,  the  war-spear's  leavings ! 


AGAMEMNON  293 

Ha,  mansions  of  my  monarchs,  roofs  beloved, 
And  awful  seats,  and  deities  sun-fronting — 
Receive  with  pomp  your  monarch,  long  time  absent ! 
For  he  comes  bringing  light  in  night-time  to  you, 
In  common  with  all  these — king  Agamemnon. 
But  kindly  greet  him — for  clear  shows  your  duty — 
Who  has  dug  under  Troia  with  the  mattock 
Of  Zeus  the  Avenger,  whereby  plains  are  out-ploughed. 
Altars  unrecognizable,  and  gods*  shrines, 
And  the  whole  land^s  seed  thoroughly  has  perished. 
And  such  a  yoke-strap  having  cast  round  Troia, 
The  elder  king  Atreides,  happy  man — he 
Comes  to  be  honoured,  worthiest  of  what  mortals 
Now  are.     Nor  Paris  nor  the  accomplice-city 
Outvaunts  their  deed  as  more  than  they  are  done-by : 
For,  in  a  suit  for  rape  and  theft  found  guilty, 
He  missed  of  plunder  and,  in  one  destruction. 
Fatherland,  house  and  home  has  mowed  to  atoms : 
Debts  the  Priamidai  have  paid  twice  over. 

CHORDS. 

Hail,  herald  from  the  army  of  Achaians  I 

HERALD. 

I  hail :— to  die,  will  gainsay  gods  no  longer ! 


294  AGAMEMNON 

CHORDS. 

Love  of  this  fatherland  did  exercise  thee  ? 

HERALD. 

So  that  I  weep,  at  least,  with  joy,  my  eyes  full. 

CHORDS. 

What,  of  this  gracious  sickness  were  ye  gainers  ? 

HERALD. 

How  now?  instructed,  I  this  speech  shall  master. 

CHORDS. 

For  those  who  loved  you  back,  with  longing  stricken. 

HERALD. 

This  land  yearned  for  the  yearning  army,  sa/st  thou  ? 

CHORDS. 

So  as  to  set  me  oft,  from  dark  mind,  groaning. 

HERALD. 

Whence  came  this  ill  mind — hatred  to  the  army? 


AGAMEMNON  295 

CHOROS. 

Of  old,  I  use,  for  mischiefs  physic,  silence. 

HERALD. 

And  how,  the  chiefs  away,  did  you  fear  any  ? 

CHOROS. 

So  that  now, — late  thy  word, — much  joy  were — dying  ! 

HERALD. 

For  well  have  things  been  worked  out:  these,— in  much 

time. 
Some  of  them,  one  might  say,  had  luck  in  falling, 
While  some  were  faulty :  since  who,  gods  excepted. 
Goes,  through  the  whole  time  of  his  life,  ungrieving? 
For  labours  should  I  tell  of,  and  bad  lodgments. 
Narrow  deckways  ill-strewn,  too,— what  the  day's  woe 
We  did  not  groan  at  getting  for  our  portion  ? 
As  for  land-things,  again,  on  went  more  hatred ! 
Since  beds  were  ours  hard  by  the  foemen's  ramparts, 
And,  out  of  heaven  and  from  the  earth,  the  meadow 
Dews  kept  a-sprinkle,  an  abiding  damage 
Of  vestures,  making  hair  a  wild-beast  matting. 
Winter,  too,  if  one  told  of  it — bird-slaying — 


2g6  AGAMEMNON 

Such  as,  Unbearable,  Idaian  snow  brought — ■ 

Or  heat,  when  waveless,  on  its  noontide  couches 

Without  a  wind,  the  sea  would  slumber  falling 

— Why  must  one  mourn  these?  O'er  and  gone  is  labour: 

O'er  and  gone  is  it,  even  to  those  dead  ones, 

So  that  no  more  again  they  mind  uprising. 

Why  must  we  tell  in  numbers  those  deprived  ones, 

A.nd  the  live  man  be  vexed  with  fate's  fresh  outbreak? 

Rather,  I  bid  full  farewell  to  misfortunes ! 

For  us,  the  left  from  out  the  Argeian  army, 

The  gain  beats,  nor  does  sorrow  counterbalance. 

So  that 't  is  fitly  boasted  of,  this  sunlight. 

By  us,  o'er  sea  and  land  the  aery  flyers, 

"  Troia  at  last  taking,  the  band  of  Argives 

Hang  up  such  trophies  to  the  gods  of  Hellas 

Within  their  domes — new  glory  to  grow  ancient ! " 

Such  things  men  having  heard  must  praise  the  city 

And  army-leaders :  and  the  grace  which  wrought  them— 

Of  Zeus,  shall  honoured  be.    Thou  hast  my  whole  word. 


CHORDS. 


Overcome  by  words,  their  sense  I  do  not  gainsay. 
For,  aye  this  breeds  youth  in  the  old — "  to  learn  well." 
But  these  things  most  the  house  and  Klutaimnestra 
Concern,  *t  is  likely :  while  they  make  me  rich,  too. 


AGAMEMNON  297 


KLUTAIMNESTRA. 


I  shouted  long  ago,  indeed,  for  joyance, 

When  came  that  first  night-messenger  of  fire 

Proclaiming  Dion's  capture  and  dispersion. 

And  someone,  girding  me,  said,  "Through  fire-bearers 

Persuaded— Troia  to  be  sacked  now,  thinkest  ? 

Truly,  the  woman's  way, — high  to  lift  heart  up ! " 

By  such  words  I  was  made  seem  wit-bewildered : 

Yet  still  I  sacrificed ;  and, — female-song  with, — 

A  shout  one  man  and  other,  through  the  city. 

Set  up,  congratulating  in  the  gods'  seats. 

Soothing  the  incense-eating  flame  right  fragrant. 

And  now,  what 's  more,  indeed,  why  need'st  thou  tell  me? 

I  of  the  king  himself  shall  learn  the  whole  word : 

And, — 'as  may  best  be, — I  my  revered  husband 

Shall  hasten,  as  he  comes  back,  to  receive :  for — 

What 's  to  a  wife  sweeter  to  see  than  this  light 

(Her  husband,  by  the  god  saved,  back  from  warfare) 

So  as  to  open  gates?    This  tell  my  husband — 

To  come  at  soonest  to  his  loving  city. 

A  faithful  wife  at  home  may  he  find,  coming ! 

Such  an  one  as  he  left — the  dog  o'  the  household-^ 

Trusty  to  him,  adverse  to  the  ill-minded. 

And,  in  all  else,  the  same :  no  signet-impress 

Having  done  harm  to,  in  that  time's  duration. 


298  AGAMEMNON 

I  know  nor  pleasure,  nor  blameworthy  converse 
With  any  other  man  more  than — bronze-dippings ! 

HERALD. 

Such  boast  as  this — brimful  of  the  veracious— 
Is,  for  a  high-bom  dame,  not  ba'd  to  send  forth  1 

CHOROS. 

Ay,  she  spoke  thus  to  thee — that  hast  a  knowledge 
From  clear  interpreters — a  speech  most  seemly. 
But  speak  thou,  herald !    Meneleos  I  ask  of : 
If  he,  returning,  back  in  safety  also 
Will  come  with  you— this  land's  beloved  chieftain? 

HERALD. 

There 's  no  way  I  might  say  things  false  and  pleasant 
For  friends  to  reap  the  fruits  of  through  a  long  time. 

CHOROS. 

How  then  i£  speaking  good,  things  true  thou  chance  on? 

HERALD. 

For  not  well-hidden  things  become  they,  sundered. 
The  man  has  vanished  from  the  Achaic  army, 


AGAMEMNON  299 

He  and  his  ship  too.     I  announce  no  falsehood. 

CHORDS. 

Whether  forth-putting  openly  from  Ilion, 

Or  did  storm — wide  woe— snatch  him  from  the  army  ? 

HERALD. 

Like  topping  bowman,  thou  hast  touched  the  target, 
And  a  long  sorrow  hast  succinctly  spoken. 

CHORDS. 

Whether,  then,  of  him,  as  a  live  or  dead  man 
Was  the  report  by  other  sailors  bruited  ? 

HERALD. 

Nobody  knows  so  as  to  tell  out  clearly 
Excepting  Helios  who  sustains  earth's  nature. 

CHORDS. 

How  say'st  thou  then,  did  storm  the  naval  army 
Attack  and  end,  by  the  celestials'  anger  ? 

HERALD. 

It  suits  not  to  defile  a  day  auspicious 


30O  AGAMEMNON 

With  ill-announcing  speech :  distinct  each  god's  due : 

And  when  a  messenger  with  gloomy  visage 

To  a  city  bears  a  falFn  host's  woes — God  ward  off! — 

One  popular  wound  that  happens  to  the  city, 

And  many  sacrificed  from  many  households — 

Men,  scourged  by  that  two-thonged  whip  Ares  loves  so, 

Double  spear-headed  curse,  bloody  yoke-couplet, — 

Of  woes  like  these,  doubtless,  whoe'er  comes  weighted, 

Him  does  it  suit  to  sing  the  Erinues'  paian. 

But  who,  of  matters  saved  a  glad-news-bringer, 

Comes  to  a  city  in  good  estate  rejoicing.  .  .  . 

How  shall  I  mix  good  things  with  evil,  telling 

Of  storm  against  the  Achaioi,  urged  by  gods'  wrath  ? 

For  they  swore  league,  being  arch-foes  before  that, 

Fire  and  the  sea :  and  plighted  troth  approved  they. 

Destroying  the  unhappy  Argeian  army. 

At  night  began  the  bad-wave-outbreak  evils ; 

For,  ships  against  each  other  Threkian  breezes 

Shattered :  and  these,  butted  at  in  a  fury 

By  storm  and  typhoon,  with  surge  rain-resounding, — 

Off  they  went,  vanished,  thro'  a  bad  herd's  whirling. 

And,  when  returned  the  brilliant  light  of  Helios, 

We  view  the  Aigaian  sea  on  flower  with  corpses 

Of  men  Achaian  and  with  naval  ravage. 

But  us  indeed,  and  ship,  unhurt  i'  the  hull  too, 

Either  someone  outstole  us  or  outprayed  us — 


AGAMEMNON  301 

Some  god — no  man  it  was  the  tiller  touching. 

And  Fortune,  saviour,  willing  on  our  ship  sat. 

So  as  it  neither  had  in  harbour  wave-surge 

Nor  ran  aground  against  a  shore  all  rocky. 

And  then,  the  water-Haides  having  fled  from 

In  the  white  day,  not  trusting  to  our  fortune, 

We  chewed  the  cud  in  thoughts — this  novel  sorrow 

O'  the  army  labouring  and  badly  pounded. 

And  now — if  anyone  of  them  is  breathing — 

They  talk  of  us  as  having  perished :  why  not? 

And  we— -that  they  the  same  fate  have,  imagine. 

May  it  be  for  the  best !    Meneleos,  then, 

Foremost  and  specially  to  come,  expect  thou ! 

If  (that  is)  any  ray  o*  the  sun  reports  him 

Living  and  seeing  too — by  Zeus'  contrivings. 

Not  yet  disposed  to  quite  destroy  the  lineage — 

Some  hope  is  he  shall  come  again  to  household. 

Having  heard  such  things,  know,  thou  truth  art  hearing ! 


CHOROS. 

AVho  may  he  have  been  that  named  thus  wholly  with 

exactitude — 
(Was  he  someone  whom  we  see  not,  by  forecastings  of 

the  future 
Guiding  tongue  in  happy  mood  ?) 


302  AGAMEMNON 

—Her  with  battle  for  a  bridegroom,  on  all  sides  con- 
tention-wooed, 
Helena  ?    Since — mark  the  suture  ! — 
Ship's-Hell,  Man's-Hell,  City's-Hell, 
From  the  delicately-pompous  curtains  that  pavilion  well. 
Forth,  by  favour  of  the  gale 
Of  earth-born  Zephuros  did  she  sail. 
Many  shield-bearers,  leaders  of  the  pack, 
Sailed  too  upon  their  track. 
Theirs  who  had  directed  oar, 
Then  visible  no  more, 
To  Simois'  leaf-luxuriant  shore — 
For  sake  of  strife  all  gore ! 

To  Ilion  Wrath,  fulfilling  her  intent. 

This  marriage-care — the  rightly  named  so — sent : 

In  after-time,  for  the  tables'  abuse 

And  that  of  the  hearth-partaker  Zeus, 

Bringing  to  punishment 

Those  who  honoured  with  noisy  throat 

The  honour  of  the  bride,  the  hymenaeal  note 

Which  did  the  kinsfolk  then  to  singing  urge. 

But,  learning  a  new  hymn  for  that  which  was, 

The  ancient  city  of  Priamos 

Groans  probably  a  great  and  general  dirge, 

Denominating  Paris 


AGAMEMNON  303 

"  The  man  that  miserably  marries : " — 
She  who,  all  the  while  before, 
A  life,  that  was  a  general  dirge 
For  citizens*  unhappy  slaughter,  bore. 

And  thus  a  man,  by  no  milk's  help, 

Within  his  household  reared  a  lion's  whelp 

That  loved  the  teat 

In  life's  first  festal  stage : 

Gentle  as  yet, 

A  true  child-lover,  and,  to  men  of  age, 

A  thing  whereat  pride  warms ; 

And  oft  he  had  it  in  his  arms 

Like  any  new-born  babe,  bright-faced,  to  hand 

Wagging  its  tail,  at  belly's  strict  command. 

But  in  due  time  upgrown. 

The  custom  of  progenitors  was  shown  : 

For — ^thanks  for  sustenance  repaying 

With  ravage  of  sheep  slaughtered — 

It  made  unbidden  feast ; 

With  blood  the  house  was  watered. 

To  household  came  a  woe  there  was  no  staying : 

Great  mischief  many-slaying ! 

From  God  it  was — some  priest 

Of  At^,  in  the  house,  by  nurture  thus  increased. 


304  AGAMEMNON 

At  first,  then,  to  the  city  of  llion  went 
A  soul,  as  I  might  say,  of  windless  calm — 
Wealth's  quiet  ornament, 
An  eyes'-dart  bearing  balm, 
Love's  spirit-biting  flower. 
But — from  the  true  course  bending — 
She  brought  about,  of  marriage,  bitter  ending : 
Ill-resident,  ill-mate,  in  power 
Passing  to  the  Priamidai — by  sending 
Of  Hospitable  2^us — 

Erinus  for  a  bride, — to  make  brides  mourn,  her 
dower. 

Spoken  long  ago 

Was  the  ancient  saying 

Still  among  mortals  staying : 

"  Man's  great  prosperity  at  height  of  rise 

Engenders  offspring  nor  unchilded  dies ; 

And,  from  good  fortune,  to  such  families, 

Buds  forth  insatiate  woe." 

Whereas,  distinct  from  any. 

Of  my  own  mind  I  am  : 

For  't  is  the  unholy  deed  begets  the  many, 

Resembling  each  its  dam. 

Of  households  that  correctly  estimate. 

Ever  a  beauteous  child  is  born  of  Fate, 


AGAMEMNON  305 

But  ancient  Arrogance  delights  to  generate 

Arrogance,  young  and  strong  mid  mortals'  sorrow, 

Or  now,  or  then,  when  comes  the  appointed  morrow. 

And  she  bears  young  Satiety ; 

And,  fiend  with  whom  nor  fight  nor  war  can  be, 

Unholy  Daring — twin  black  Curses 

Within  the  household,  children  like  their  nurses. 

But  Justice  shines  in  smoke-grimed  habitations, 

And  honours  the  well-omened  life ; 

While, — gold-besprinkled  stations 

Where  the  hands*  filth  is  rife. 

With  backward-turning  eyes 

Leaving, — to  holy  seats  she  hies, 

Not  worshipping  the  power  of  wealth 

Stamped  with  applause  by  stealth : 

And  to  its  end  directs  each  thing  begun. 

Approach  then,  my  monarch,  of  Troia  the  sacker,  of 

Atreus  the  son ! 
How  ought  I  address  thee,  how  ought  I  revere  thee, — 

nor  yet  overhitting 
Nor  yet  underbending  the  grace  that  is  fitting  ? 
Many  of  mortals  hasten  to  honour  the  seeming-to-be — 
Passing  by  justice :  and,  with  the  ill-faring,  to  groan  as 

he  groans  all  are  free. 

XIII.  X 


3o6  AGAMEMNON 

But  no  bite  of  the  sorrow  their  liver  has  reached  to : 

They  say  with  the  joyful, — one  outside  on  each,  too, 

As  they  force  to  a  smile  smileless  faces. 

But  whoever  is  good  at  distinguishing  races 

In  sheep  of  his  flock — it  is  not  for  the  eyes 

Of  a  man  to  escape  such  a  shepherd's  surprise, 

As  they  seem,  from  a  well-wishing  mind, 

In  watery  friendship  to  fawn  and  be  kind. 

Thou  to  me,  then,  indeed,  sending  an  army  for  Helena's 

sake, 
(I  will  not  conceal  it)  wast — oh,   by  no  help  of  the 

Muses ! — depicted 
Not  well  of  thy  midriff  the  rudder  directing, — convicted 
Of  bringing  a  boldness  they  did  not  desire  to  the  men 

with  existence  at  stake. 
But  now — from  no  outside  of  mind,  nor  unlovingly — 

gracious  thou  art 
To  those  who  have  ended  the  labour,  fulfilling  their 

part; 
And  in  time  shalt  thou  know,  by  inquiry  instructed, 
Who  of  citizens  justly,  and  who  not  to  purpose,  the  city 

conducted. 

AGAMEMNON. 

First,  indeed,  Argos,  and  the  gods,  the  local, 

T  is  right  addressing — those  with  me  the  partners 


AGAMEMNON  3^7 

In  this  return  and  right  things  done  the  city 

Of  Priamos :  gods  who,  from  no  tongue  hearing 

The  rights  o'  the  cause,  for  IHon's  fate  man-slaught'rous 

Into  the  bloody  vase,  not  oscillating, 

Put  the  vote-pebbles,  while,  o'  the  rival  vessel, 

Hope  rose  up  to  the  lip-edge :  filled  it  was  not. 

By  smoke  the  captured  city  is  still  conspicuous : 

Ate's  burnt  offerings  live  :  and,  dying  with  them, 

The  ash  sends  forth  the  fulsome  blasts  of  riches. 

Of  these  things,  to  the  gods  grace  many-mindful 

'T  is  right  I  render,  since  both  nets  outrageous 

We  built  them  round  with,  and,  for  sake  of  woman, 

It  did  the  city  to  dust— the  Argeian  monster, 

The  horse's  nestling,  the  shield-bearing  people 

That  made  a  leap,  at  setting  of  the  Pleiads, 

And,  vaulting  o'er  the  tower,  the  raw-flesh-feeding 

Lion  licked  up  his  fill  of  blood  tyrannic. 

1  to  the  gods  indeed  prolonged  this  preface ; 

But — as  for  tAy  thought,  I  remember  hearing — 

1  say  the  same,  and  thou  co-pleader  hast  me. 

Since  few  of  men  this  faculty  is  born  with — 

To  honour,  without  grudge,  their  friend,  successful. 

For  moody,  on  the  heart,  a  poison  seated 

Its  burthen  doubles  to  who  gained  the  sickness : 

By  his  own  griefs  he  is  himself  made  heavy, 

And  out-of-door  prosperity  seeing  groans  at. 

X2 


3d3  AGAMEMNON 

Knowing,  I  'd  call  (for  well  have  I  experienced) 
"  Fellowship's  mirror,"  "  phantom  of  a  shadow," 
Those  seeming  to  be  mighty  gracious  to  me : 
While  just  Odusseus — he  who  sailed  not  willing — 
When  joined  on,  was  to  me  the  ready  trace-horse. 
This  of  him,  whether  dead  or  whether  living, 
I  say.     For  other  city-and-gods'  concernment — 
Appointing  common  courts,  in  full  assemblage 
We  will  consult.    And  as  for  what  holds  seemly — 
How  it  may  lasting  stay  well,  must  be  counselled : 
While  what  has  need  of  medicines  Paionian 
We,  either  burning  or  else  cutting  kindly. 
Will  make  endeavour  to  turn  pain  from  sickness. 
And  now  into  the  domes  and  homes  by  altar 
Going,  I  to  the  gods  first  raise  the  right-hand — 
They  who,  far  sending,  back  again  have  brought  me. 
And  Victory,  since  she  followed,  fixed  remain  she ' 


KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Men,  citizens,  Argeians  here,  my  worships  I 
I  shall  not  shame  me,  consort-loving  manners 
To  tell  before  you  :  for  in  time  there  dies  off 
The  diffidence  from  people.    Not  from  others 
Learning,  I  of  myself  will  tell  the  hard  life 
I  bore  so  long  as  this  man  was  neath  Ilion. 


AGAMEMNON  309 

First :  for  a  woman,  from  the  male  divided, 
To  sit  at  home  alone,  is  monstrous  evil — 
Hearing  the  many  rumours  back-revenging : 
And  for  now  This  to  come,  now  That  bring  after 
Woe,  and  still  worse  woe,  bawling  in  the  household ! 
And  truly,  if  so  many  wounds  had  chanced  on 
My  husband  here,  as  homeward  used  to  dribble 
Report,  he 's  pierced  more  than  a  net  to  speak  of ! 
While,  were  he  dying  (as  the  words  abounded) 
A  triple-bodied  Geruon  the  Second, 
Plenty  above — for  loads  below  I  count  not — 
Of  earth  a  three-share  cloak  he  'd  boast  of  taking, 
Once  only  dying  in  each  several  figure ! 
Because  of  suchlike  rumours  back-revenging, 
Many  the  halters  from  my  neck,  above  head, 
Others  than  /  loosed — loosed  from  neck  by  main 

force ! 
From  this  cause,  sure,  the  boy  stands  not  beside 

me — 
Possessor  of  our  troth-plights,  thine  and  mine  too — 
As  ought  Orestes  :  be  not  thou  astonished ! 
For,  him  brings  up  our  well-disposed  guest-captive 
Strophios  the  Phokian — ills  that  told  on  both  sides 
To  me  predicting — both  of  thee  'neath  Ilion 
The  danger,  and  if  anarchy's  mob-uproar 
Should  overthrow  thy  council ;  since  't  is  bom  with 


310  AGAMEMNON 

Mortals, — whoe'er  has  fallen,  the  more  to  kick  him. 
Such  an  excuse,  I  think,  no  cunning  carries  I 
As  for  myself — ^why,  of  my  wails  the  rushing 
Fountains  are  dried  up :  not  in  them  a  drop  more ! 
And  in  my  late-to-bed  eyes  I  have  damage, 
Bewailing  what  concerned  thee,  those  torch-holdings 
For  ever  unattended  to.     In  dreams — why, 
Beneath  the  light  wing-beats  o'  the  gnat,  I  woke  up 
As  he  went  buzzing — sorrows  that  concerned  thee 
Seeing,  that  filled  more  than  their  fellow-sleep-time. 
Now,  all  this  having  suffered,  from  soul  grief-free 
I  would  style  this  man  here  the  dog  o'  the  stables, 
The  saviour  forestay  of  the  ship,  the  high  roof's 
Ground-prop,  son  sole-begotten  to  his  father, 
— Ay,  land  appearing  to  the  sailors  past  hope. 
Loveliest  day  to  see  after  a  tempest. 
To  the  wayfaring-one  athirst  a  well-spring, 
— The  joy,  in  short,  of  'scapirig  all  that 's — fatal ! 
I  judge  him  worth  addresses  such  as  these  are 
— Envy  stand  off  ! — for  many  those  old  evils 
We  underwent.    And  now,  to  me — dear  headship ! — 
Dismount  thou  from  this  car,  not  earthward  setting 
The  foot  of  thine,  O  king,  that's  Ilion's  spoiler ! 
Slave-maids,  why  tarry? — whose  the  task  allotted 
To  strew  the  soil  o'  the  road  with  carpet-spreadings. 
Immediately  be  purple-strewn  the  pathway, 


AGAMEMNON  311 

So  that  to  home  unhoped  may  lead  him — Justice  ! 
As  for  the  rest,  care  shall — by  no  sleep  conquered — 
Dispose  things— justly  (gods  to  aid !)  appointed. 

AGAMEMNON. 

Offspring  of  Leda,  of  my  household  warder, 
Suitably  to  my  absence  hast  thou  spoken, 
For  long  the  speech  thou  didst  outstretch  !    But  aptly 
To  praise — from  others  ought  to  go  this  favour. 
And  for  the  rest, — not  me,  in  woman's  fashion, 
Mollify,  nor — as  mode  of  barbarous  man  is — 
To  me  gape  forth  a  groundward-falling  clamour ! 
Nor,  strewing  it  with  garments,  make  my  passage 
Envied !    Gods,  sure,  with  these  behoves  we  honour : 
But,  for  a  mortal  on  these  varied  beauties 
To  walk — to  me,  indeed,  is  nowise  fear-fi;ee. 
I  say — as  man,  not  god,  to  me  do  homage ! 
Apart  from  foot-mats  both  and  varied  vestures, 
Renown  is  loud,  and — not  to  lose  one's  senses, 
God's  greatest  gift.     Behoves  we  him  call  happy 
Who  has  brought  life  to  end  in  loved  well-being. 
If  all  things  I  might  manage  thus — brave  man,  1 1 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Come  now,  this  say,  nor  feign  a  feeling  to  me ! 


312  AGAMEMNON 

f 

AGAMEMNON. 

With  feeling,  know  indeed,  I  do  not  tamper ! 

KLUTAIMNESTRA 

Vowed'st  thou  to  the  gods,  in  fear,  to  act  thus? 

AGAMEMNON. 

If  any,  /well  knew  resolve  I  outspoke. 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

What  think'st  thou  Priamos  had  done,  thus  victor? 

AGAMEMNON. 

On  varied  vests — I  do  think — he  had  passaged 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Then,  do  not,  struck  with  awe  at  human  censure.  •  •  « 

AGAMEMNON. 

Well,  popular  mob-outcry  much  avails  too. 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Ay,  but  the  unenvied  is  not  the  much  valued. 


ACAMBMNON    -  313 

AGAMEMNON. ' 

Sure,  't  is  no  woman's  part  to  long  for  battle., 

KLUTAIMI^ESTRA. 

Why,  to  the  prosperous,  even  suits  a  beating. 

AGAMEMNON. 

What?  thou  this  beating  us  in  war  dost  prize  too? 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Persuade  thee  !  power,  for  once,  grant  me — and  willing ! 

AGAMEMNON. 

But  if  this  seem  so  to  thee — shoes,  let  someone 
Loose  under,  quick — foot's  serviceable  carriage  ! 
And  me,  on  these  sea-products  walking,  may  no 
Grudge  from  a  distance,  from  the  god's  eye,  strike  at ! 
For  great  shame  were  my  strewment-spoiling — riches 
Spoiling  with  feet,  and  silver-purchased  textures ! 
Of  these  things,  thus  then.     But  this  female-stranger 
Tenderly  take  inside !    Who  conquers  mildly 
God,  from  afar,  benignantly  regardeth. 
For,  willing,  no  one  wears  a  yoke  that 's  servile  : 
And  she,  of  many  valuables,  outpicked 


314  AGAMEMNON 

The  flower,  the  army's  gift,  myself  has  followed. 
So, — since  to  hear  thee,  I  am  brought  about  thus, — 
I  go  into  the  palace— purples  treacling. 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

There  is  the  sea — and  what  man  shall  exhaust  it  ? — 

Feeding  much  purple's  worth-its-weight-in-silver 

Dye,  ever  fresh  and  fresh,  our  garments'  tincture  ; 

At  home,  such  wealth,  king,  we  begin — by  gods'  help — 

With  having,  and  to  lack,  the  household  knows  not. 

Of  many  garments  had  I  vowed  a  treading 

(In  oracles  if  fore-enjoined  the  household) 

Of  this  dear  soul  the  safe-return-price  scheming  I 

For,  root  existing,  foliage  goes  up  houses, 

O'erspreading  shadow  against  Seirios  dog-star ; 

And,  thou  returning  to  the  hearth  domestic, 

Warmth,  yea,  in  winter  dost  thou  show  returning. 

And  when,  too,  Zeus  works,  from  the  green-grape  acrid, 

Wine — then,  already,  cool  in  houses  cometh — 

The  perfect  man  his  home  perambulating ! 

Zeus,  Zeus  Perfecter,  these  my  prayers  perfect  thou ! 

Thy  care  be — yea — of  things  thou  mayst  make  perfect  1 

CHOROS. 

Wherefore  to  me,  this  fear — 


AGAMEMNON  315 

Groundedly  stationed  here 

Fronting  my  heart,  the  portent-watcher — flits  she? 

Wherefore  should  prophet-play 

The  uncalled  and  unpaid  lay, 

Nor— having  spat  forth  fear,  like  bad  dreams— sits  she 

On  the  mind's  throne  beloved — ^well-suasive  Boldness  ? 

For  time,  since,  by  a  throw  of  all  the  hands, 

The  boat's  stern-cables  touched  the  sands, 

Has  past  from  youth  to  oldness, — 

When  under  Ilion  rushed  the  ship-borne  bands. 

And  from  my  eyes  I  learn — 

Being  myself  my  witness — their  return. 

Yet,  all  the  same,  without  a  lyre,  my  soul, 

Itself  its  teacher  too,  chants  from  within 

Erjnus'  dirge,  not  having  now  the  whole 

Of  Hope's  dear  boldness  :  nor  my  inwards  sin — 

The  heart  that 's  rolled  in  whirls  against  the  mind 

Justly  presageful  of  a  fate  behind. 

But  I  pray — things  false,  from  my  hope,  may  fall 

Into  the  fate  that 's  not-fulfilled-at-all ! 

Especially  at  least,  of  health  that 's  great 
The  term 's  insatiable  :  for,  its  weight 
— A  neighbour,  with  a  common  wall  between — 
Ever  will  sickness  lean ; 


3i5  AGAMEMNON 

And  destiny,  her  course  pursuing  straight. 

Has  struck  man's  ship  against  a  reef  unseen. 

Now,  when  a  portion,  rather  than  the  treasure. 

Fear  casts  from  sling,  with  peril  in  right  measure, 

It  has  not  sunk — ^the  universal  freight, 

(With  misery  freighted  over-full) 

Nor  has  fear  whelmed  the  hull. 

Then  too  the  gift  of  2^us, 

Two-handedly  profuse. 

Even  from  the  furrows'  jrield  for  yearly  use 

Has  done  away  with  famine,  the  disease ; 

But  blood  of  man  to  earth  once  falling— deadly,  black — 

In  times  ere  these, — 

Who  may,  by  singing  spells,  call  back  ? 

Zeus  had  not  else  stopped  one  who  rightly  knew 

The  way  to  bring  the  dead  again. 

But,  did  not  an  appointed  Fate  constrain 

The  Fate  from  gods,  to  bear  no  more  than  due, 

My  heart,  outstripping  what  tongue  utters. 

Would  have  all  out :  which  now,  in  darkness,  mutters 

Moodily  grieved,  nor  ever  hopes  to  find 

How  she  a  word  in  season  may  unwind 

From  out  the  enkindling  mind. 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Take  thyself  in,  thou  too— I  say,  Kassandra! 


AGAMEMNON  317 

Since  Zeus — not  angrily — in  household  placed  thee 
Partaker  of  hand-sprinklings,  with  the  many 
Slaves  stationed,  his  the  Owner's  altar  close  to. 
Descend  from  out  this  car,  nor  be  high-minded  ! 
And  truly  they  do  say  Alkmen^'s  child  once 
Bore  being  sold,  slaves'  barley-bread  his  living. 
If,  then,  necessity  of  this  lot  overbalance, 
Much  is  the  favour  of  old-wealthy  masters : 
For  those  who,  never  hoping,  made  fine  harvest 
Are  harsh  to  slaves  in  all  things,  beyond  measure. 
Thou  hast — with  us — such  usage  as  law  warrants. 

CHOROS. 

To  thee  it  was,  she  paused  plain  speech  from  speaking. 

Being  inside  the  fatal  nets— obeying, 

Thou  mayst  obey  :  but  thou  mayst  disobey  too  I 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Why,  if  she  is  not,  in  the  swallow's  fashion. 

Possessed  of  voice  that 's  unknown  and  barbaric, 

I,  with  speech — speaking  in  mind's  scope— persuade  her. 

CHOROS. 

Follow !    The  best — as  things  now  stand— she  speaks  of 
Obey  thou,  leaving  this  thy  car-enthronement  I 


3i8  AGAMEMNON 


KLUTAIMNESTRA. 


Well,  with  this  thing  at  door,  for  me  no  leisure 
To  waste. time :  as  concerns  the  hearth  mid-navellcd^ 
Already  stand  the  sheep  for  fireside  slaying 
By  those  who  never  hoped  to  have  such  favour. 
If  thou,  then,  aught  of  this  wilt  do,  delay  not ! 
But  if  thou,  being  witless,  tak'st  no  word  in, 
Speak  thou,  instead  of  voice,  with  hand  as  Kars  do ! 

CHORDS. 

She  seems  a  plain  interpreter  in  need  of, 

The  stranger !  and  her  way — a  beast's  new-captured  ! 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Why,  she  is  mad,  sure, — hears  her  own  bad  senses, — 
Who,  while  she  comes,  leaving  a  town  new-captured. 
Yet  knows  not  how  to  bear  the  bit  o'  the  bridle 
Before  she  has  out-frothed  her  bloody  fierceness. 
Not  I — throwing  away  more  words — ^will  shamed  be  ! 

CHORDS. 

But  I, — ^for  1  compassionate, — will  chafe  not. 
Come,  O  unhappy  one,  this  car  vacating, 
Yielding  to  this  necessity,  prove  yoke's  use ! 


AGAMEMNON  319 

KASSANDRA. 

Otototoi,  Gods,  Earth, — 
ApoUon,  ApoUon ! 

CHORDS. 

Why  didst  thou  "ototoi "  concerning  Loxias? 
Since  he  is  none  such  as  to  suit  a  mourner. 

KASSANDRA. 

Otototoi,  Gods,  Earth, — 
ApoUon,  Apollon  I 

CHORDS. 

Ill-boding  here  again  the  god  invokes  she 

— Nowise  empowered  in  woes  to  stand  by  helpful. 

KASSANDRA. 

Apollon,  Apollon, 

Guard  of  the  ways,  my  destroyer ! 

For  thou  hast  quite,  this  second  time,  destroyed  me. 

CHORDS. 

To  prophesy  she  seems  of  her  own  evils : 
Remains  the  god-gift  to  the  slave-soul  present. 


320  AGAMEMNO.V 

KASSANDRA. 

ApoUon,  ApoUon, 

Guard  of  the  ways,  my  destroyer ! 

Ha,  whither  hast  thou  led  me  ?  to  what  roof  now  ? 

CHORDS. 

To  the  Atreidai's  roof;  if  this  thou  know'st  not, 
I  tell  it  thee,  nor  this  wilt  thou  call  falsehood. 

KASSANDRA. 

How !    How ! 

God-hated,  then !    Of  many  a  crime  it  knew — 

Self-slaying  evils,  halters  too : 

Man's-shambles,  blood-besprinkler  of  the  ground ! 

CHORDS. 

She  seems  to  be  good-nosed,  the  stranger :  dog-like, 
She  snuffs  indeed  the  victims  she  will  find  there. 

KASSANDRA. 

How !    How ! 

By  the  witnesses  here  I  am  certain  now ! 

These  children  bewailing    their    slaughters— flesh 

dressed  in  the  fire 
And  devoured  by  their  sire  1 


AGAMEMNON  321 


CHORDS. 


Ay,  we  have  heard  of  thy  soothsaying  glory. 
Doubtless :  but  prophets  none  are  we  in  scent  of ! 


KASSANDRA. 

Ah,  gods,  what  ever  does  she  meditate  ? 

What  this  new  anguish  great  ? 

Great  in  the  house  here  she  meditates  ill 

Such  as  friends  cannot  bear,  cannot  cure  it :  and  still 

Off  stands  all  Resistance 

Afar  in  the  distance ! 

CHOROS. 

Of  these  I  witless  am — these  prophesyings. 

But  those  I  knew :  for  the  whole  city  bruits  them. 

KASSANBRA. 

Ah,  unhappy  one,  this  th6u  consummatest  ? 

Thy  husband,  thy  bed's  common  guest. 

In  the  bath  having  brightened.  .  .  How  shall  I  declare 

Consummation  ?    It  soon  will  be  there : 

For  hand  after  hand  she  outstretches. 

At  life  as  she  reaches  ! 

XIII.  Y 


323  AGAMEMNON 


CHOROS. 


Nor  yet  IVe  gone  with  thee !  for — ^after  riddles — 
Now,  in  blind  oracles,  I  feel  resourcdess. 

KASSANDRA. 

Eh,  eh,  papai,  papai, 

What  this,  I  espy? 

Some  net  of  Haides  undoubtedly 

Nay,  rather,  the  snare 

Is  she  who  has  share 

In  his  bed,  who  takes  part  in  the  murder  there ! 

But  may  a  revolt — 

Unceasing  assault — 

On  the  Race,  raise  a  shout 

Sacrificial,  about 

A  victim — by  stoning — 

For  murder  atoning ! 

CHORDS. 

What  this  Erinus  which  i'  the  house  thou  callest 

To  raise  her  cry  ?    Not  me  thy  word  enlightens ! 

To  my  heart  has  run 

A  drop  of  the  crocus-dye : 

Which  makes  for  those 

On  earth  by  the  spear  that  lie, 


AGAMEMNON  323 

A  common  close 

With  life's  descending  sun. 

Swift  is  the  curse  begun ! 

KASSANDRA. 

How !     How ! 

See— see  quick ! 

Keep  the  bull  from  the  cow ! 

In  the  vesture  she  catching  him,  strikes  him  now 

With  the  black-homed  trick, 

And  he  falls  in  the  watery  vase ! 

Of  the  craft-killing  cauldron  I  tell  thee  the  case ! 

CHOROS. 

I  would  not  boast  to  be  a  topping  critic 

Of  oracles :  but  to  some  sort  of  evil 

I  liken  these.     From  oracles,  what  good  speech 

To  mortals,  beside,  is  sent? 

It  comes  of  their  evils :  these  arts  word-abounding 

that  sing  the  event 
Bring  the  fear 't  is  their  office  to  teach. 

KASSANDRA. 

Ah  me,  ah  me — 

Of  me  unhappy,  evil-destined  fortunes  ! 

For  I  bewail  my  proper  woe 

Y  2 


334  AGAMEMNON 

As,  mine  with  his,  all  into  one  I  throw. 
Why  hast  thou  hither  me  unhappy  brought  ? 
— Unless  that  I  should  die  with  him — ^for  nought  I 
What  else  was  sought  ? 

CHOROS. 

Thou  art  some  mind-mazed  creature,  god-possessed : 

And  all  about  thyself  dost  wail 

A  lay — no  lay ! 

Like  some  brown  nightingale 

Insatiable  of  noise,  who — well-away ! — 

From  her  unhappy  breast 

Keeps  moaning  Itus,  Itus,  and  his  life 

With  evils,  flourishing  on  each  side,  rife. 

KASSANDRA. 

Ah  me,  ah  me. 

The  fate  o'  the  nightingale,  the  clear  resounder ! 

For  a  body  wing-borne  have  the  gods  cast  round  her, 

And  sweet  existence,  from  misfortunes  free : 

But  for  myself  remains  a  sundering 

With  spear,  the  two-edged  thing ! 

CHOROS. 

Whence  hast  thou  this  on-rushing  god-involving  pain 


AGAMEMNON  325 

And  spasms  in  vain  ? 

For,  things  that  terrify, 

With  changing  unintelligible  cry 

Thou  strikest  up  in  tune,  yet  all  the  while 

After  that  Orthian  style ! 

Whence  hast  thou  limits  to  the  oracular  road, 

That  evils  bode  ? 

KASSANDRA. 

Ah  me,  the  nuptials,  the  nuptials  of  Paris,  the  deadly 

to  friends ! 
Ah  me,  of  Skamandros  the  draught 
Paternal !    There  once,  to  these  ends. 
On  thy  banks  was  I  brought, 
The  unhappy  !    And  now,  by  Kokutos  and  Acheron's 

shore 
I  shall  soon  be,  it  seems,  these  my  oracles  singing  once 

more! 

CHOROS. 

Why  this  word,  plain  too  much. 

Hast  thou  uttered?    A  babe  might  learn  of  such  I 

I  am  struck  with  a  bloody  bite — here  under — 

At  the  fate  woe-wreaking 

Of  thee  shrill  shrieking  : 

To  me  who  hear — a  wonder ! 


326  AGAMEMNON 

KASSANDRA. 

Ah  me,  the  toils — the  toils  of  the  city 

The  wholly  destroyed :  ah,  pity, 

Of  the  sacrificings  my  father  made 

In  the  ramparts'  aid — 

Much  slaughter  of  grass-fed  flocks — that  afforded  no  cure 

That  the  city  should  not,  as  it  does  now,  the  burthen 

endure ! 
But  I,  with  the  soul  on  fire, 
Soon  to  the  earth  shall  cast  me  and  expire. 

CHORDS. 

To  things,  on  the  former  consequent, 

Again  hast  thou  given  vent : 

And  't  is  some  evil-meaning  fiend  doth  move  thee, 

Heavily  falling  firom  above  thee. 

To  melodize  thy  sorrows — else,  in  singing. 

Calamitous,  death-bringing ! 

And  of  all  this  the  end 

I  am  without  resource  to  apprehend 

KASSANDRA. 

Well  then,  the  oracle  from  veils  no  longer 
Shall  be  outlooking,  like  a  bride  new-married : 


AGAMEMNON  337 

But  bright  it  seems,  against  the  sun's  uprisings 

Breathing,  to  penetrate  thee :  so  as,  wave-like, 

To  wash  against  the  rays  a  woe  much  greater 

Than  this.     I  will  no  longer  teach  by  riddles. 

And  witness,  running  with  me,  that  of  evils 

Done  long  ago,  I  nosing  track  the  footstep  ! 

For,  this  same  roof  here — never  quits  a  Choros 

One-voiced,  not  well-tuned  since  no  "  well "  it  utters : 

And  truly  having  drunk,  to  get  more  courage, 

Man's  blood— the  Komos  keeps  within  the  household 

— Hard  to  be  sent  outside — of  sister  Furies : 

They  hymn  their  hymn — within  the  house  close  sitting — 

The  first  beginning  curse  :  in  turn  spit  forth  at 

The  Brother's  bed,  to  him  who  spurned  it  hostile. 

Have  I  missed  aught,  or  hit  I  like  a  bowman? 

False  prophet  am  I, — knock  at  doors,  a  babbler? 

Henceforward  witness,  swearing  now,  I  know  not 

By  other's  word  the  old  sins  of  this  household ! 


CHORDS. 

And  how  should  oath,  bond  honourably  binding, 

Become  thy  cure?    No  less  I  wonder  at  thee 

— ^That  thou,  beycMid  sea  reared,  a  strange-tongued 

city 
Shouldst  hit  in  speaking,  just  as  if  thou  stood'st  by ! 


328  AGAMEMNON 

KASSANDRA. 

Prophet  ApoUon  put  me  in  this  office. 

CHORDS. 

What,  even  though  a  god,  with  longing  smitten? 

KASSANDRA. 

At  first,  indeed,  shame  was  to  me  to  say  this. 

CHOROS. 

For,  more  relaxed  grows  everyone  who  fares  well 

KASSANDRA. 

But  he  was  athlete  to  me — huge  grace  breathing  ! 

CHORDS. 

Well,  to  the  work  of  children,  went  ye  law's  way? 

KASSANDRA. 

Having  consented,  I  played  false  to  Loxias. 

CHORDS. 

Already  when  the  wits  inspired  possessed  of? 


AGAMEMNON  329 

KASSANDRA. 

Already  townsmen  all  their  woes  I  foretold. 

CHORDS. 

How  wast  thou  then  unhurt  by  Loxias^  anger  ? 

KASSANDRA. 

I  no  one  aught  persuaded,  when  I  sinned  thus. 

CHORDS. 

To  us,  at  least,  now  sooth  to  say  thou  seemest. 

KASSANDRA. 

Halloo,  halloo,  ah,  evils ! 

Again,  straightforward  foresight's  fearful  labour 

Whirls  me,  distracting  with  prelusive  last-lays  ! 

Behold  ye  those  there,  in  the  household  seated, — 

Young  ones, — of  dreams  approaching  to  the  figures? 

Children,  as  if  they  died  by  their  beloveds — 

Hands  they  have  filled  with  flesh,  the  meal  domestic — 

Entrails  and  vitals  both,  most  piteous  burthen, 

Plain  they  are  holding ! — which  their  father  tasted ! 

For  this,  I  say,  plans  punishment  a  certain 

Lion  ignoble,  on  the  bed  that  wallows, 


330  AGAMEMNON 

House-guard  (ah,  me !)  to  the  returning  master 

— Mine,  since  to  bear  the  slavish  yoke  behoves  me ! 

The  ship's  commander,  Ilion's  desolator, 

Knows  not  what  things  the  tongue  of  the  lewd  she-dog 

Speaking,  outspreading,  shiny-souled,  in  fashion 

Of  Ate  hid,  will  reach  to,  by  ill  fortune ! 

Such  things  she  dares — the  female,  the  male's  slayer ! 

She  is  .  .  .  how  calling  her  the  hateful  bite- beast 

May  I  hit  the  mark?    Some  amphisbaina, — Skulk 

Housing  in  rocks,  of  mariners  the  mischief, 

Revelling  Haides'  mother, — curse,  no  truce  with, 

Breathing  at  friends !     How  piously  she  shouted, 

The  all-courageous,  as  at  turn  of  battle  1 

She  seems  to  joy  at  the  back-bringing  safety ! 

Of  this,  too,  if  I  nought  persuade,  all's  one  !    Why? 

What  is  to  be  will  come.     And  soon  thou,  present, 

"  True  prophet  all  too  much  "  wilt  pitying  style  me. 

CHORDS. 

Thuestes'  feast,  indeed,  on  flesh  of  children, 

I  went  with,  and  I  shuddered.    Fear  too  holds  me 

Listing  what's  true  as  life,  nowise  out-imaged. 

KASSANDRA. 

I  say,  thou  Agamemnon's  fate  shalt  look  on. 


AGAMEMNON'  331 

CHORDS. 

Speak  good  words,  O  unhappy !    Set  mouth  sleeping  1 

KASSANDRA. 

But  Paian  stands  in  no  stead  to  the  speech  here. 

CHORDS. 

Nay,  if  the  thing  be  near :  but  never  be  it ! 

KASSANDRA. 

Thou,  indeed,  prayest :  they  to  kill  are  busy. 

CHORDS. 

Of  what  man  is  it  ministered,  this  sorrow? 

KASSANDRA. 

There  again,  wide  thou  look'st  of  my  foretellings. 

CHORDS. 

For,  the  fulfiller's  scheme  I  have  not  gone  with. 

KASSANDRA. 

And  yet  too  well  I  know  the  speech  Hellenic^ 


332  AGAMEMNON 

CHORDS. 

For  Puthian  oracles,  thy  speech,  and  hard  too. 

KASSANDRA 

Papai :  what  fire  this !  and  it  comes  upon  me ! 
Ototoi,  Lukeion  Apollon,  ah  me— me  ! 
She,  the  two-footed  Honess  that  sleeps  with 
The  wolf,  in  absence  of  the  generous  lion, 
Kills  me  the  unhappy  one :  and  as  a  poison 
Brewing,  to  put  my  price  too  in  the  anger, 
She  vows,  against  her  mate  this  weapon  whetting 
To  pay  him  back  the  bringing  me,  with  slaughter. 
Why  keep  I  then  these  things  to  make  me  laughed  at, 
Both  wands  and,  round  my  neck,  oracular  fillets? 
Thee,  at  least,  ere  my  own  fate  will  I  ruin  : 
Go,  to  perdition  falling !     Boons  exchange  we — 
Some  other  Ate  in  my  stead  make  wealthy ! 
See  there — himself,  Apollon  stripping  from  me 
The  oracular  garment !  having  looked  upon  me 
— Even  in  these  adornments,  laughed  by  friends  at. 
As  good  as  foes,  i'  the  balance  weighed :  and  vainly— 
For,  called  crazed  stroller, — as  I  had  been  gipsy. 
Beggar,  unhappy,  starved  to  death, — I  bore  it. 
And  now  the  Prophet — prophet  me  undoing. 
Has  led  away  to  these  so  deadly  fortunes  1 


AGAMEMNON  333 

Instead  of  my  sire's  altar,  waits  the  hack-block 

She  struck  with  first  warm  bloody  sacrificing ! 

Yet  nowise  unavenged  of  gods  will  death  be : 

For  there  shall  come  another,  our  avenger, 

The  mother-slaying  scion,  father's  doomsman : 

Fugitive,  wanderer,  from  this  land  an  exile, 

Back  shall  he  come, — for  friends,  copestone  these 

curses ! 
For  there  is  sworn  a  great  oath  from  the  gods  that 
Him  shall  bring  hither  his  fallen  sire's  prostration. 
Why  make  I  then,  like  an  indweller,  moaning? 
Since  at  the  first  I  foresaw  Ilion's  city 
Suffering  as  it  has  suffered :  and  who  took  it, 
Thus  by  the  judgment  of  the  gods  are  faring. 
I  go,  will  suffer,  will  submit  to  dying ! 
But,  Haides'  gates — these  same  I  call,  I  speak  to. 
And  pray  that  on  an  opportune  blow  chancing. 
Without  a  struggle, — blood  the  calm  death  bringing 
In  easy  outflow, — I  this  eye  may  close  up ! 


CHOROS. 


O  much  unhappy,  but,  again,  much  learned 
Woman,  long  hast  thou  outstretched !    But  if  truly 
Thou  knowest  thine  own  fate,  how  comes  that,  like  to 
A  god-led  steer,  to  altar  bold  thou  treadest  ? 


334  AGAMEMNON 

KASSANDRA. 

There 's  no  avodiance, — strangers,  no  some  time  more  I 

CHOROS. 

He  last  is,  anyhow,  by  time  advantaged. 

KASSANDRA. 

It  comes,  the  day  :  I  shall  by  flight  gain  little. 

CHOROS. 

But  know  thou  patient  art  from  thy  brave  spirit ! 

KASSANDRA. 

Such  things  hears  no  one  of  the  happy-fortuned 

CHOROS. 

But  gloriously  to  die — for  man  is  grace,  sure. 

KASSANDRA. 

Ah,  sire,  for  thee  and  for  thy  noble  children  ! 

CHOROS. 

But  what  thing  is  it?    What  fear  turns  thee  backwards  ? 


AGAMEMNON  335 


KASSANDRA. 

Alas,  alas ! 

CHORDS. 

Why  this  "  Alas !  '*  if 't  is  no  spirit's  loathing? 

KASSANDRA. 

Slaughter  blood-dripping  does  the  household  smell  of  I 

CHOROS. 

How  else  ?    This  scent  is  of  hearth-sacrifices. 

KASSANDRA. 

Such  kind  of  steam  as  from  a  tomb  is  proper ! 

CHOROS. 

No  Surian  honour  to  the  House  thou  speak'st  of! 

KASSANDRA. 

But  I  will  go, — even  in  the  household  wailing 
My  fate  and  Agamemnon's.  Life  suffice  me ! 
Ah,  strangers  I 

I  cry  not  "ah" — ^as  bird  at  bush— through  terror 
Idly !  to  me,  the  dead  this  much  bear  witness : 


336  AGAMEMNON 

When,  for  me — woman,  there  shall  die  a  woman, 
And,  for  a  man  ill-wived,  a  man  shall  perish  ! 
This  hospitality  I  ask  as  dying. 

CHORDS. 

O  sufferer,  thee— thy  foretold  fate  I  pity. 

KASSANDRA. 

Yet  once  for  all,  to  speak  a  speech,  I  fain  am : 
No  dirge,  mine  for  myself!    The  sun  I  pray  to. 
Fronting  his  last  light ! — to  my  own  avengers— 
That  from  my  hateful  slayers  they  exact  too 
Pay  for  the  dead  slave— easy-managed  hand's  work! 

CHORDS. 

Alas  for  mortal  matters  1     Happy-fortuned, — 

Why,  any  shade  would  turn  them  :  if  unhappy, 

By  throws  the  wetting  sponge  has  spoiled  the  picture ! 

And  more  by  much  in  mortals  this  I  pity. 

The  being  well-to-do — 

Insatiate  a  desire  of  this 

Bom  with  all  mortals  is. 

Nor  any  is  there  who 

Well-being  forces  off,  aroints 

From  roofs  whereat  a  finger  points, 


AGAMEMNON  337 

'*  No  more  come  in ! "  exclaiming.    This  man,  too, 
To  take  the  city  of  Priamos  did  the  celestials  give. 
And,  honoured  by  the  god,  he  homeward  comes ; 
But  now  if,  of  the  former,  he  shall  pay 
The  blood  back,  and,  for  those  who  ceased  to  live, 
Dying,  for  deaths  in  turn  new  punishment  he  dooms — • 
Who,  being  mortal,  would  not  pray 
With  an  unmischievous 

Daimon  to  have  been  born— who  would  not,  hearing 
thus? 

AGAMEMNON. 

Ah  me !  I  am  struck — a  right-aimed  stroke  within  me ! 

CHORDS. 

Silence!    Who  is  it  shouts  "stroke" — " right-aimedly " 
a  wounded  one? 

AGAMEMNON. 

Ah  me !  indeed  again, — a  second,  struck  by ! 

CHORDS. 

This  work  seems  to  me  completed  by  this  "  Ah  me  "  of 

the  king's ; 
But  we  somehow  may  together  share  in  solid  counsellings. 
xrif.  z 


338  AGAMEMNON 


CHORDS   I. 


I,  in  the  first  place,  my  opinion  tell  you : 

— To  cite  the  townsmen,  by  help-cry,  to  house  here. 

CHORDS   2. 

To  me,  it  seems  we  ought  to  fall  upon  them 

At  quickest — prove  the  fact  by  sword  fresh-flowing ! 

CHORDS  3. 

And  I,  of  such  opinion  the  partaker. 

Vote — to  do  something :  not  to  wait — the  main  point  I 

CHORDS  4. 

T  is  plain  to  see :  for  they  prelude  as  though  of 
A  tyranny  the  signs  they  gave  the  city. 

CHORDS  5. 

For  we  waste  time ;  while  they, — this  waiting's  glory 
Treading  to  ground, — allow  the  hand  no  slumber. 

CHORDS  6. 

I  know  not — chancing  on  some  plan —to  tell  it : 
T  is  for  the  doer  to  plan  of  the  deed  also. 


AGAMEMNON  339 

CHORDS   7. 

And  I  am  such  another :  since  I  'm  schemeless 
How  to  raise  up  again  by  words — a  dead  man ! 

CHORDS  8. 

What,  and,  protracting  life,  shall  we  give  way  thus 
To  the  disgracers  of  our  home,  these  rulers? 

CHORDS  9. 

Why,  't  is  unbearable :  but  to  die  is  better : 
For  death  than  tyranny  is  the  riper  finish  I 

CHORDS  10. 

What,  by  the  testifying  "  Ah  me  "  of  him. 
Shall  we  prognosticate  the  man  as  perished? 

CHORDS   II. 

We  must  quite  know  ere  speak  these  things  concerning : 
For  to  conjecture  and  "  quite  know  "  are  two  things. 

CHORDS   12. 

This  same  to  praise  I  from  all  sides  abound  in— 
Clearly  to  know — Atreides,  what  he 's  doing ! 

Z2 


340  AGAMEMNON 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Much  having  been  before  to  purpose  spoken, 

The  opposite  to  say  I  shall  not  shamed  be : 

For  how  should  one,  to  enemies, — in  semblance, 

Friends, — enmity  proposing, — sorrow's  net-frame 

Enclose,  a  height  superior  to  outleaping  ? 

To  me,  indeed,  this  struggle  of  old — not  mindless 

Of  an  old  victory — came :  with  time,  I  grant  you  ! 

I  stand  where  I  have  struck,  things  once  accomplished: 

And  so  have  done, — and  this  deny  I  shall  not, — 

As  that  his  fate  was  nor  to  fly  nor  ward  off. 

A  wrap-round  with  no  outlet,  as  for  fishes, 

I  fence  about  him — the  rich  woe  of  the  garment : 

I  strike  him  twice,  and  in  a  double  "  Ah-me ! " 

He  let  his  limbs  go — there/    And  to  him,  fallen, 

The  third  blow  add  I,  giving — of  Below -ground 

Zeus,  guardian  of  the  dead — the  votive  favour. 

Thus  in  the  mind  of  him  he  rages,  falling. 

And  blowing  forth  a  brisk  blood-spatter,  strikes  me 

With  the  dark  drop  of  slaughterous  dew — rejoicing 

No  less  than,  at  the  god-given  dewy-comfort. 

The  sown-stuff  in  its  birth-throes  from  the  calyx. 

Since  so  these  things  are, — Argives,  my  revered  here, — 

Ye  may  rejoice — if  ye  rejoice :  but  I — boast ! 

If  it  were  fit  on  corpse  to  pour  Hbation. 


AGAMEMNON  341 

That  would  be  right — right  over  and  above,  too ! 

The  cup  of  evils  in  the  house  he,  having 

Filled  with  such  curses,  himself  coming  drinks  of. 

CHOROS. 

We  wonder  at  thy  tongue :  since  bold-mouthed  truly 
Is  she  who  in  such  speech  boasts  o'er  her  husband  1 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Ye  test  me  as  I  were  a  witless  woman : 
But  I—with  heart  intrepid — to  you  knowers 
Say  (and  thou — if  thou  wilt  or  praise  or  blame  me. 
Comes  to  the  same) — this  man  is  Agamemnon, 
My  husband,  dead,  the  work  of  the  right  hand  here, 
Ay,  of  a  just  artificer :  so  things  are. 

CHOROS. 

What  evil,  O  woman,  food  or  drink,  earth-bred 

Or  sent  from  the  flowing  sea, 

Of  such  having  fed 

Didst  thou  set  on  thee 

This  sacrifice 

And  popular  cries 

Of  a  curse  on  thy  head? 

Off  thou  hast  thrown  him,  off  hast  cut 


343  AGAMEMNON 

The  man  from  the  city :  but — 
Off  from  the  city  thyself  shalt  be 
Cut — to  the  citizens 
A  hate  immense ! 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Now,  indeed,  thou  adjudgest  exile  to  me, 
And  citizens'  hate,  and  to  have  popular  curses : 
Nothing  of  this  against  the  man  here  bringing. 
Who,  no  more  awe-checked  than  as  't  were  a  beast's 

fate, — 
With  sheep  abundant  in  the  well-fleeced  graze-flocks, — 
Sacrificed  his  child, — dearest  fruit  of  travail 
To  me, — as  song-spell  against  Threkian  blowings. 
Not  him  did  it  behove  thee  hence  to  banish 
— Pollution's  penalty?     But  hearing  my  deeds 
Justicer  rough  thou  art  1     Now,  this  I  tell  thee : 
To  threaten  thus — me,  one  prepared  to  have  thee 
(On  like  conditions,  thy  hand  conquering)  o'er  me 
Rule :  but  if  God  the  opposite  ordain  us, 
Thou  shalt  learn — late  taught,  certes — to  be  modest 


CHOROS. 


Greatly-intending  thou  art : 
Much-mindful,  too,  hast  thou  cried 


AGAMEMNON  343 

(Since  thy  mind,  with  its  slaughter-outpouring  part, 

Is  frantic)  that  over  the  eyes,  a  patch 

Of  blood — with  blood  to  match — 

Is  plain  for  a  pride ! 

Yet  still,  bereft  of  friends,  thy  fate 

Is — blow  with  blow  to  expiate ! 


KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

And  this  thou  hearest— of  my  oaths,  just  warrant ! 

By  who  fulfilled  things  for  my  daughter,  Justice, 

Ate,  Erinus,—by  whose  help  I  slew  him, — ■ 

Not  mine  the  fancy — Fear  will  tread  my  palace 

So  long  as  on  my  hearth  there  bums  a  fire, 

Aigisthos  as  before  well-caring  for  me ; 

Since  he  to  me  is  shield,  no  small,  of  boldness. 

Here  does  he  lie — outrager  of  this  female. 

Dainty  of  all  the  Chruseids  under  Ilion ; 

And  she — the  captive,  the  soothsayer  also 

And  couchmate  of  this  man,  oracle-speaker. 

Faithful  bed-fellow, — ay,  the  sailors'  benches 

They  wore  in  common,  nor  unpunished  did  so. 

Since  he  is — thus  !    While,  as  for  her, — swan-fashion, 

Her  latest  having  chanted, — dying  wailing 

She  lies, — to  him,  a  sweetheart :  me  she  brought  to — 

My  bed's  by-nicety — the  whet  of  dalliance. 


344  AGAMEMNON 

CHORDS. 

Alas,  that  some 

Fate  would  come 

Upon  us  in  quickness — 

Neither  much  sickness 

Neither  bed-keeping — 

And  bear  unended  sleeping, 

Now  that  subdued 

Is  our  keeper,  the  kindest  of  mood ! 

Having  borne,  for  a  woman's  sake,  much  strife — 

By  a  woman  he  withered  from  life ! 

Ah  me! 

Law-breaking  Helena  who,  one. 

Hast  many,  so  many  souls  undone 

'Neath  Troia !  and  now  the  consummated 

Much-memorable  curse 

Hast  thou  made  flower-forth,  red 

With  the  blood  no  rains  disperse, 

That  which  was  then  in  the  House — 

Strife  all-subduing,  the  woe  of  a  spouse. 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 


Nowise,  of  death  the  fate 

Burdened  by  these  things — supplicate ! 

Nor  on  Helena  turn  thy  wrath 


AGAMEMNON  345 

As  the  man-destroyer,  as  "  she  who  hath, 

Being  but  one, 

Many  and  many  a  soul  undone 

Of  the  men,  the  Danaoi " — 

And  wrought  immense  annoy ! 

CHORDS. 

Daimon,  who  fallest 

Upon  this  household  and  the  double-raced 

Tantalidai,  a  rule,  minded  like  theirs  displaced, 

Thou  rulest  me  with,  now, 

Whose  heart  thou  gallest ! 

And  on  the  body,  like  a  hateful  crow, 

Stationed,  all  out  of  tune,  his  chant  to  chant 

Doth  Something  vaunt ! 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Now,  of  a  truth,  hast  thou  set  upright 

Thy  mouth's  opinion, — 

Naming  the  Sprite, 

The  triply  gross. 

O'er  the  race  that  has  dominion : 

For  through  him  it  is  that  Eros 

The  camage-licker 

In  the  belly  is  bred :  ere  ended  quite 

Is  the  elder  throe — new  ichor  I 


346  AGAMEMNON 


CHORDS. 


Certainly,  great  of  might 

And  heavy  of  wrath,  the  Sprite 

Thou  tellest  of,  in  the  palace 

(Woe,  woe !) 

— An  evil  tale  of  a  fate 

By  Ate's  malice 

Rendered  insatiate ! 

Oh,  oh,— 

King,  king,  how  shall  I  beweep  thee  ? 

From  friendly  soul  whatever  say  ? 

Thou  liest  where  webs  of  the  spider  o'ersweep 

thee 
In  impious  death,  life  breathing  away. 
O  me — me ! 
This  couch,  not  free . 
By  a  slavish  death  subdued  thou  art, 
From  the  hand,  by  the  two-edged  dart. 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Thou  boastest  this  deed  to  be  mine : 

But  leave  off  styling  me 

"  The  Agamemnonian  wife ! " 

For,  showing  himself  in  sign 

Of  the  spouse  of  the  corpse  thou  dost  see, 


AGAMEMNON  347 

Did  the  ancient  bitter  avenging-ghost 

Of  Atreus,  savage  host, 

Pay  the  man  here  as  price — 

A  full-grown  for  the  young  one's  sacrifice. 


CHORDS. 

That  no  cause,  indeed,  of  this  killing  art  thou, 

Who  shall  be  witness-bearer  ? 

How  shall  he  bear  it — how  ? 

But  the  sire's  avenging-ghost  might  be  in  the 

deed  a  sharer. 
He  is  forced  on  and  on 
By  the  kin-born  flowing  of  blood, 
— Black  Ares :  to  where,  having  gone, 
He  shall  leave  off,  flowing  done. 
At  the  frozen-child's-flesh  food. 
King,  king,  how  shall  I  beweep  thee  ? 
From  friendly  soul  whatever  say  ? 
Thou  liest  where  webs  of  the  spider  o'ersweep 

thee 
In  impious  death,  hfe  breathing  away. 
O  me — me ! 
This  couch,  not  free ! 
By  a  slavish  death  subdued  thou  art. 
From  the  hand,  by  the  two-edged  dart 


348  AGAMEMNON 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

No  death  "unfit  for  the  free  " 

Do  I  think  this  man's  to  be : 

For  did  not  himself  a  slavish  curse 

To  his  household  decree  ? 

But  the  scion  of  him,  myself  did  nurse — 

That  much-bewailed  Iphigeneia,  he 

Having  done  well  by, — and  as  well,  nor  worse, 

Been  done  to, — let  him  not  in  Haides  loudly 

Bear  himself  proudly ! 

Being  by  sword-destroying  death  amerced 

For  that  sword's  punishment  himself  inflicted  first. 

CHOROS. 

I  at  a  loss  am  left — 

Of  a  feasible  scheme  of  mind  bereft — 

Where  I  may  turn :  for  the  house  is  falling : 

I  fear  the  bloody  crash  of  the  rain 

That  ruins  the  roof  as  it  bursts  amain : 

The  warning-drop 

Has  come  to  a  stop. 

Destiny  doth  Justice  whet 

For  other  deed  of  hurt,  on  other  whetstones  yet. 

Woe,  earth,  earth — ^would  thou  hadst  taken  me 

Ere  I  saw  the  man  I  see. 


AGAMEMNON  349 

On  the  pallet-bed 

Of  the  silver-sided  bath-vase,  dead  I 

Who  is  it  shall  bury  him,  who 

Sing  his  dirge  ?    Can  it  be  true 

That  thou  wilt  dare  this  same  to  do — 

Having  slain  thy  husband,  thine  own, 

To  make  his  funeral  moan : 

And  for  the  soul  of  him,  in  place 

Of  his  mighty  deeds,  a  graceless  grace 

To  wickedly  institute  ?    By  whom 

Shall  the  tale  of  praise  o'er  the  tomb 

At  the  god-like  man  be  sent — 

From  the  truth  of  his  mind  as  he  toils  intent  ? 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

It  belongs  not  to  thee  to  declare 

This  object  of  care ! 

By  us  did  he  fall — down  there  ! 

Did  he  die — down  there  1  and  down,  no  less. 

We  will  bury  him  there,  and  not  beneath 

The  wails  of  the  household  over  his  death : 

But  Iphigeneia, — with  kindliness, — 

His  daughter, — as  the  case  requires, 

Facing  him  full,  at  the  rapid-flowing 

Passage  of  Groans  shall— both  hands  throwing 

Around  him — kiss  that  kindest  of  sires ! 


350  AGAMEMNON 


CHORDS. 


This  blame  comes  in  the  place  of  blame  •. 

Hard  battle  it  is  to  judge  each  claim. 

"  He  is  borne  away  who  bears  away : 

And  the  killer  has  all  to  pay." 

And  this  remains  while  Zeus  is  remaining, 

"The  doer  shall  suffer  in  time" — for,  such  his 

ordaining. 
Who  may  cast  out  of  the  House  its  cursed  brood  ? 
The  race  is  to  Ate  glued ! 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Thou  hast  gone  into  this  oracle 

With  a  true  result.     For  me,  then, — I  will 

— ^To  the  Daimon  of  the  Pleisthenidai 

Making  an  oath — with  all  these  things  comply 

Hard  as  they  are  to  bear.     For  the  rest — 

Going  from  out  this  House,  a  guest. 

May  he  wear  some  other  family 

To  nought,  with  the  deaths  of  kin  by  kin ! 

And, — keeping  a  little  part  of  my  goods, — 

Wholly  am  I  contented  in 

Having  expelled  from  the  royal  House 

These  frenzied  moods 

The  mutually-murderous. 


AGAMEMNON 


AIGISTHOS. 


351 


0  light  propitious  of  day  justice-bringing ! 

1  may  say  truly,  now,  that  men's  avengers. 

The  gods  from  high,  of  earth  behold  the  sorrows— 

Seeing,  as  I  have,  i'  the  spun  robes  of  the  Erinues, 

This  man  here  lying, — sight  to  me  how  pleasant ! — 

His  father's  hands'  contrivances  repaying. 

For  Atreus,  this  land's  lord,  of  this  man  father. 

Thuestes,  my  own  father — to  speak  clearly — 

His  brother  too, — being  i'  the  rule  contested, — 

Drove  forth  to  exile  from  both  town  and  household : 

And,  coming  back,  to  the  hearth  turned,  a  suppliant. 

Wretched  Thuestes  found  the  fate  assured  him 

— Not  to  die,  bloodying  his  paternal  threshold 

Just  there :  but  host-wise  this  man's  impious  father 

Atreus,  soul-keenly  more  than  kindly, — seeming 

To  joyous  hold  a  flesh-day, — to  my  father 

Served  up  a  meal,  the  flesh  of  his  own  children. 

The  feet  indeed  and  the  hands'  top  divisions 

He  hid,  high  up  and  isolated  sitting : 

But,  their  unshowing  parts  in  ignorance  taking. 

He  forthwith  eats  food — as  thou  seest — ^perdition 

To  the  race :  and  then,  'ware  of  the  deed  ill-omened. 

He  shrieked  O  1 — falls  back,  vomiting,  from  the  carnage, 

And  fate  on  the  Pelopidai  past  bearing 


35a  AGAMEMNON 

He  prays  down — putting  in  his  curse  together 
The  kicking  down  o'  the  feast — that  so  might  perish 
The  race  of  Pleisthenes  entire :  and  thence  is 
That  it  is  given  thee  to  see  this  man  prostrate. 
And  I  was  rightly  of  this  slaughter  stitch-man : 
Since  me, — being  third  from  ten, — with  my  poor  fathci 
He  drives  out — being  then  a  babe  in  swathe-bands  : 
But,  grown  up,  back  again  has  justice  brought  me : 
And  of  this  man  I  got  hold— being  without-doors— 
Fitting  together  the  whole  scheme  of  ill-will. 
So,  sweet,  in  fine,  even  to  die  were  to  me. 
Seeing,  as  I  have,  this  man  i'  the  toils  of  justice ! 

CHOROS. 

Aigisthos,  arrogance  in  ills  I  love  not.. 
Dost  thou  say — willing,  thou  didst  kill  the  man  here. 
And,  alone,  plot  this  lamentable  slaughter  ? 
I  say — thy  head  in  justice  will  escape  not . 
The  people's  throwing — know  that! — stones   and 
curses ! 

AIGISTHOS. 

Thou  such  things  soundest — seated  at  the  lower 
Oarage  to  those  who  rule  at  the  ship's  mid-bench  ? 
Thou  shalt  know,  being  old,  how  heavy  is  teaching 
To  one  of  the  like  age — bidden  be  modest  I 


AGAMEMNON  353 

But  chains  and  old  age  and  the  pangs  of  fasting 
Stand  out  before  all  else  in  teaching,— prophets 
At  souls'-cure !     Dost  not,  seeing  aught,  see  this  too? 
Against  goads  kick  not,  lest  tript-up  thou  suffer ! 

CHOROS. 

Woman,  thou, — of  him  coming  new  from  battle 
Houseguard — thy  husband's    bed    the  while    dis- 
gracing,— 
For  the  Army-leader  didst  thou  plan  this  fate  too  ? 

AIGISTHOS. 

These  words  too  are  of  groans  the  prime -begetters ! 
Truly  a  tongue  opposed  to  Orpheus  hast  thou : 
Foi  he  led  all  things  by  his  voice's  grace-charm, 
But  thou,  upstirring  them  by  these  wild  yelpings, 
Wilt  lead  them  !     Forced,  thou  wilt  appear  the  tamer ! 

CHOROS. 

So — thou  shalt  be  my  king  then  of  the  Argeians — 
Who,  not  when  for  this  man  his  fate  thou  plannedst, 
Daredst  to  do  this  deed — thyself  the  slayer ! 

AIGISTHOS. 

For,  to  deceive  him  was  the  wife's  part,  certes : 
XIII.  A  A 


354  AGAMEMSON 

/was  looked  after— foe,  ay,  old-begotten !  -^ 

But  out  of  this  man's  wealth  will  I  endeavour  :\ 

To  rule  the  citizens :  and  the  no -man-minder  • 

—  Him  will  I  heavily  yoke — by  no  means  trace-horse, 
A  corned-up  colt !  but  that  bad  friend  in  darkness. 
Famine  its  housemate,  shall  behold  him  gentle. 


CHORDS. 

Why  then,  this  man  here,  from  a  coward  spirit, 
Didst  not  thou  slay  thyself?     But, — helped, — ^a  woman. 
The  country's  pest,  and  that  of  gods  o'  the  country. 
Killed  him !    Orestes,  where  may  he  see  light  now  ? 
That  coming  hither  back,  with  gracious  fortune. 
Of  both  these  he  may  be  the  all-conquering  slayer  ? 


AIGISTHOS. 

But  since  this  to  do  thou  thinkest — ^and  not  talk— thou 

soon  shalt  know ! 
Up  then,  comrades  dear!  the  proper  thing. to  do— not 

distant  this ! 

CHOROS 

Up  then !  hilt  in  hold,  his  sword  let  everyone  aright  dis- 


pose 


f 


I 


AGAMEMNON  355 

AIGISTHOS. 

Ay,  but  I  myself  too,  hilt  in  hold,  do  not  refuse  to  die. 

CHOROS. 

Thou  wilt  die,  thou  say'st,  to  who  accept  it    We  the 
chance  demand 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Nowise,  O  belovedest  of  men,  may  we  do  other  ills ! 
To  have  reaped  away  these,  even,  is  a  harvest  much  to 

me. 
Go,  both  thou  and  these  the  old  men,  to  the  homes 

appointed  each. 
Ere  ye  suffer !    It  behoved  one  do  these  things  just  as 

we  did : 
And  if  of  these  troubles  there  should  be  enough— we 

may  assent 
— By  the  Daimon's  heavy  heel  unfortunately  stricken 

•  ones! 
So  a  woman's  counsel  hath  it — if  one  judge  it  learning 

worth. 

AIGISTHOS. 

But  to  think  that  these  at  me  the  idle  tongue  should  thus 
o'erbloom, 


i 


356  AGAMEMNON 

And  throw  out  such  words— the  Daimon*s  power  experi- 
menting on— 
And,  of  modest  knowledge  missing, — me,  the  ruler,  .  .  . 

CHOROS. 

Ne'er  may  this  befall  Argeians — wicked  man  to  fawn 
before ! 

.  AIGISTHOS.. 

Anyhow,  in  after  days,  will  I,  yes,  I,  be  at  thee  yet ! . 

CHORDS. 

Not  if  hither  should  the  Daimon  make  Orestes  straight- 
way come ! 

AIGISTHOS, 

O,  I  know,  myself,  that  fugitives  on  hopes  are  pasture- 
fed ! 

CHOROS. 

Do  thy  deed,  get  fat,  defiling  justice^  since  the  power  is 
thine ! 

AIGISTHOS. 

Know  that  thou  shalt  give  me  satisfaction  for  this  folly's 
sake ! 


AGAMEMNON  357 

CHORDS. 

Boast  on,  bearing  thee  audacious,  like  a  cock  his  females 
by! 

KLUTAIMNESTRA. 

Have  not  thou  respect  for  these  same  idle  yelpings !  I 

and  thou 
Will  arrange  it,  o*er  this  household  ruling  excellently 

well. 


END  Of  THE  THIRTEENTH   VOLUME. 


THE    POETICAL    WORKS 


of 


ROBERT    BROWNING 


VOL,  XIV. 
PACCHIAROTTO 

AND 

HOW  HE   WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER 
WITH  OTHER   POEMS 


|[tfo  fork 

MACMILLAN    AND    CO. 

1894 


CONTENTS. 


PAGB 

Of  Pacchiarotto  and  how  he  worked  in  distemper.    .  I 

At  the  "Mermaid" 31 

House 39 

Shop 42 

Pia>3AH-SlGHTS.    I.              .........  49 

PiSGAH-SlGHTS.    II ••,•.51 

Fears  and  Scruples  .•.•».>..  54 

Natural  Magic       e       .....•••  58 

Magical  Nature        ....•••••  60 

Bifurcation      ....        .*••..  61 

numpholeptos     ...,.»••«.  63 

Appearances ,       ....  70 

St.  Martin's  Summer         •••••...  71 


V!  CONTENTS 

PAGB 

Hekv£  Riel 77 

A  Forgiveness     .       •       •       •       • 86 

Cenciaja ••...•  Z04 

FiLiPPO  Baldinucci  on  the  Privilege  of  Burial        •    •  117 

Epilogue •       .       •       .  141 

La  Saisiaz •       •    •  153 

The  Two  Poets  of  Croisic •  205 


PACCHIAROTTO 

AND 

HOW   HE  WORKED   IN   DISTEMPER 


ST  CETERA 


XIV. 


PROLOGUE, 


I. 


O  the  old  wall  here !    How  I  could  pass 
Life  in  a  long  Midsummer  day, 

My  feet  confined  to  a  plot  of  grass, 
My  eyes  from  a  wall  not  once  away  I 


II. 

And  lush  and  Kthe  do  the  creepers  clothe 
Yon  wall  I  watch,  with  a  wealth  of  green  • 

Its  bald  red  bricks  draped,  nothing  loth. 
In  lappets  of  tangle  they  laugh  between. 

III. 

Now,  what  is  it  makes  pulsate  the  robe  ? 

Why  tremble  the  sprays  ?    What  life  o'erbrims 
The  body, — the  house,  no  eye  can  probe, — 

Divined  as,  beneath  a  robe,  the  limbs  ? 

62 


PROLOGUE 
IV. 

And  there  again !    But  my  heart  may  guess 
Who  tripped  behind ;  and  she  sang  perhaps : 

So,  the  old  wall  throbbed,  and  its  life's  excess 
Died  out  and  away  in  the  leafy  wraps. 

V. 

Wall  upon  wall  are  between  us :  life 
And  song  should  away  from  heart  to  heart. 

I — prison-bird,  with  a  ruddy  strife 
At  breast,  and  a  lip  whence  storm-notes  start — 

VI. 

Hold  on,  hope  hard  in  the  subtle  thing 
That 's  spirit :  though  cloistered  fast,  soar  free ; 

Account  as  wood,  brick,  stone,  this  ring 
Of  the  rueful  neighbours,  and — forth  to  thee ! 


OF  PACCHIAROTTO,  AND  HOW  HE 
WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER. 

1876 

I. 

Query  ;  was  ever  a  quainter 
Crotchet  than  this  of  the  painter 
Giacomo  Pacchiarotto 
Who  took  "  Reform  "  for  his  motto? 

II. 

He,  pupil  of  old  Fungaio, 
Is  always  confounded  (heigho !) 
With  Pacchia,  contemporaneous 
No  question,  but  how  extraneous 
In  the  grace  of  soul,  the  power 
Of  hand, — undoubted  dower 
Of  Pacchia  who  decked  (as  we  know, 
My  Kirkup !)  San  Bernardino, 


OP  PACCHIAROTTO, 

Turning  the  small  dark  Oratory 
To  Siena's  Art-laboratory, 
As  he  made  its  straitness  roomy 
And  glorified  its  gloomy. 
With  Bazzi  and  BeccafumL 
(Another  heigho  for  Bazzi : 
How  people  miscall  him  Razzi !) 


III. 

This  Painter  was  of  opinion 
Our  earth  should  be  his  dominion 
Whose  Art  could  correct  to  pattern 
What  Nature  had  slurred — the  slattern  I 
And  since,  beneath  the  heavens. 
Things  lay  now  at  sixes  and  sevens, 
Or,  as  he  said,  sopra-sotti? — 
Thought  the  painter  Pacchiarotto 
Things  wanted  reforming,  therefore,      n 
"  Wanted  it  " — ay,  but  wherefore  ? 
When  earth  held  one  so  ready 
As  he  to  step  forth,  stand  steady 
In  the  middle  of  God's  creation 
And  prove  to  demonstration 
What  the  dark  is,  what  the  light  is. 
What  the  wrong  is,  what  the  right  is. 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER 

What  the  ugly,  what  the  beautiful, 
What  the  restive,  what  the  dutiful, 
In  Mankind  profuse  around  him  ? 
Man,  devil  as  now  he  found  him. 
Would  presently  soar  up  angel 
At  the  summons  of  such  evangel, 
And  owe — what  would  Man  not  owe 
To  the  painter  Pacchiarotto  ? 
Ay,  look  to  thy  laurels,  Giotto  I 


IV 

But  Man,  he  perceived,  was  stubborn, 
Grew  regular  brute,  once  cub  born ; 
And  it  struck  him  as  expedient — 
Ere  he  tried  to  make  obedient 
The  wolf,  fox,  bear  and  monkey. 
By  piping  advice  in  one  key — 
That  his  pipe  should  play  a  prelude 
To  something  heaven-tinged  not  hell-hued, 
Something  not  harsh  but  docile, 
Man-liquid,  not  Man-fossil — 
Not  fact,  in  short,  but  fancy. 
By  a  laudable  necromancy 
He  would  conjure  up  ghosts— a  circle 
Deprived  of  the  means  to  work  ill 


({  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

Should  his  music  prove  distasteful 
And  pearls  to  the  swine  go  wasteful. 
To  be  rent  of  swine — that  was  hard  ! 
With  fancy  he  ran  no  hazard : 
Fact  might  knock  him  o'er  the  mazzard. 


So,  the  painter  Pacchiarotto 
Constructed  himself  a  grotto 
In  the  quarter  of  Stalloreggi — 
As  authors  of  note  allege  ye. 
And  on  each  of  the  whitewashed  sides  of  it 
He  painted — (none  far  and  wide  so  fit 
As  he  to  perform  in  fresco)  — 
He  painted  nor  cried  quiesco 
Till  he  peopled  its  every  square  foot 
With  Man — from  the  Beggar  barefoot 
To  the  Noble  in  cap  and  feather  : 
All  sorts  and  conditions  together. 
The  Soldier  in  breastplate  and  helmet 
Stood  frowningly — hail  fellow  well  met — 
By  the  Priest  armed  with  bell,  book  and  candle. 
Nor  did  he  omit  to  handle 
The  Fair  Sex,  our  brave  distemperer : 
Not  merely  King,  Clown,  Pope,  Emperor — 
He  diversified  too  his  Hades 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER 

Of  all  forms,  pinched  Labour  and  paid  Ease, 
With  as  mixed  an  assemblage  of  Ladies. 


VI. 

Which  work  done,  dry, — he  rested  him, 
Cleaned  pallet,  washed  brush,  divested  him 
Of  the  apron  that  snit^  frescanti^ 
And,  bonnet  on  ear  stuck  jaunty, 
This  hand  upon  hip  well  planted. 
That,  free  to  wave  as  it  wanted, 
He  addressed  in  a  choice  oration 
His  folk  of  each  name  and  nation. 
Taught  its  duty  to  every  station. 
The  Pope  was  declared  an  arrant 
Impostor  at  once,  I  warrant. 
The  Emperor— truth  might  tax  him 
With  ignorance  of  the  maxim 
"  Shear  sheep  but  nowise  flay  them ! " 
And  the  Vulgar  that  obey  them. 
The  Ruled,  well-matched  with  the  Ruling, 
They  failed  not  of  wholesome  schooling 
On  their  knavery  and  their  fooling. 
As  for  Art— Where's  decorum?    Pooh-poohed  it  is 
By  Poets  that  plague  us  with  lewd  ditties, 
And  Painters  that  pester  with  nudities ! 


xo  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 


VII. 


Now,  your  rater  and  debater 
Is  baulked  by  a  mere  spectator 
Who  simply  stares  and  listens 
Tongue  tied,  while  eye  nor  glistens 
Nor  brow  grows  hot  and  twitchy, 
Nor  mouth,  for  a  combat  itchy. 
Quivers  with  some  convincing 
Reply — that  sets  him  wincing  ? 
Nay,  rather — reply  that  furnishes 
Your  debater  with  just  what  burnishes 
The  crest  of  him,  all  one  triumph. 
As  you  see  him  rise,  hear  him  cry  "  Humph  ! 
Convinced  am  I  ?    This  confutes  me  ? 
Receive  the  rejoinder  that  suits  me  I 
Confutation  of  vassal  for  prince  meet — 
Wherein  all  the  powers  that  convince  meet. 
And  mash  my  opponent  to  mincemeat ! " 

VIII. 

So,  off  from  his  head  flies  the  bonnet. 
His  hip  loses  hand  planted  on  it, 
While  t*  other  hand,  frequent  in  gesture. 
Slinks  modestly  back  beneath  vesture. 
As, — hop,  skip  and  jump, — he  's  along  with 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER  xx 

Those  weak  ones  he  late  proved  so  strong  with ! 

Pope,  Emperor,  lo,  he 's  beside  them, 

Friendly  now,  who  late  could  not  abide  them, 

King,  Clown,  Soldier,  Priest,  Noble,  Burgess; 

And  his  voice,  that  out-roared  Boanerges, 

How  minikin-mildly  it  urges 

In  accents  how  gentled  and  gingered 

Its  word  in  defence  of  the  injured ! 

"  O  call  him  not  culprit,  this  Pontiff ! 

Be  hard  on  this  Kaiser  ye  won't  if 

Ve  take  into  con-si-der-ation 

What  dangers  attend  elevation ! 

The  Priest — who  expects  him  to  descant 

On  duty  with  more  zeal  and  less  cant  ? 

He  preaches  but  rubbish  he  *s  reared  in. 

The^  Soldier,  grown  deaf  (by  the  mere  din 

Of  battle)  to  mercy,  learned  tippiing 

And  what  not  of  vice  while  a  stripling. 

The  Lawyer — his  lies  are  conventional. 

And  as  for  the  Poor  Sort— why  mention  all 

Obstructions  that  leave  barred  and  bolted 

Access  to  the  brains  of  each  dolt-head  ?  " 

IX. 

He  ended,  you  wager?    Not  half !    A  bet ? 
Precedence  to  males  in  the  alphabet  I 


12  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

Still,  disposed  of  Man's  A,  B,  C,  there 's  X, 

Y,  Z,  want  assistance, — the  Fair  Sex  ! 

How  much  may  be  said  in  excuse  of 

Those  vanities — males  see  no  use  of — 

From  silk  shoe  on  heel  to  laced  polFs-hood ! 

What 's  their  frailty  beside  our  own  falsehood? 

The  boldest,  most  brazen  of  .  .  .  trumpets, 

How  kind  can  they  be  to  their  dumb  pets ! 

Of  their  charms — how  are  most  frank,  how  few  venal  I 

While  as  for  those  charges  of  Juvenal — 

QucB  nemo  dixisset  in  toto 

Nisi  {cedepol)  ore  illoto  — 

He  dismissed  every  charge  with  an  ^^Apage/^* 

X. 

Then,  cocking  (in  Scotch  phrase)  his  cap  a-gee, 
Right  hand  disengaged  from  the  doublet 
— Like  landlord,  in  house  he  had  sub-let 
Resuming  of  guardianship  gestion, 
To  call  tenants'  conduct  in  question — 
Hop,  skip,  jump,  to  inside  from  outside 
Of  chamber,  he  lords,  ladies,  louts  eyed 
With  such  transformation  of  visage 
As  fitted  the  censor  of  this  age. 
No  longer  an  advocate  tepid 
Of  frailty,  but  champion  intrepid 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER         13 

Of  Strength,  not  of  falsehood  but  verity, 
He,  one  after  one,  with  asperity 
Stripped  bare  all  the  cant-clothed  abuses, 
Disposed  of  sophistic  excuses. 
Forced  folly  each  shift  to  abandon, 
And  left  vice  with  no  leg  to  stand  on. 
So  crushing  the  force  he  exerted, 
That  Man  at  his  foot  lay  converted ! 

XI. 

True — Man  bred  of  paint-pot  and  mortar ! 
But  why  suppose  folks  of  this  sort  are 
More  likely  to  hear  and  be  tractable 
Than  folks  all  alive  and,  in  fact,  able 
To  testify  promptly  by  action 
Their  ardour,  and  make  satisfaction 
For  misdeeds  non  verbis  sedf cutis  f 
"  With  folk  all  alive  be  my  practice 
Henceforward !    O  mortar,  paint-pot  O, 
Farewell  to  ye ! "  cried  Pacchiarotto, 
"  Let  only  occasion  interpose ! " 

XII. 

It  did  so :  for,  pat  to  the  purpose 
Through  causes  I  need  not  examine, 


OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

There  fell  upon  Siena  a  femine. 
In  vain  did  the  magistrates  busily 
Seek  succour,  fetch  grain  out  of  Sicily, 
Nay,  throw  mill  and  bakehouse  wide  open- 
Such  misery  followed  as  no  pen 
Of  mine  shall  depict  ye.     Faint,  fainter 
Waxed  hope  of  relief:  so,  our  painter, 
Emboldened  by  triumph  of  recency. 
How  could  he  do  other  with  decency 
Than  rush  in  this  strait  to  the  rescue. 
Play  schoolmaster,  point  as  with  fescue 
To  each  and  all  slips  in  Man's  spelling 
The  law  of  the  land  ? — slips  now  telling 
With  monstrous  effect  on  the  city, 
Whose  magistrates  moved  him  to  pity 
As,  bound  to  read  law  to  the  letter, 
They  minded  their  hornbook  no  better. 


XIII. 

I  ought  to  have  told  you,  at  starting, 
How  certain,  who  itched  to  be  carting 
Abuses  away  clean  and  thorough 
From  Siena,  both  province  and  borough, 
Had  formed  themselves  into  a  company 
Whose  swallow  could  bolt  in  a  lump  any 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER  15 

Obstruction  of  scruple,  provoking 

The  nicer  throat's  coughing  and  choking : 

Fit  Club,  by  as  fit  a  name  dignified 

Of  "Freed  Ones  "—''Bardoftt'"— which  signified 

"  Spare-Horses  "  that  walk  by  the  waggon 

The  team  has  to  drudge  for  and  drag  on. 

This  notable  club  Pacchiarotto 

Had  joined  long  since,  paid  scot  and  lot  to, 

As  free  and  accepted  "  Bardotto." 

The  Bailiwick  watched  with  no  quiet  eye 

The  outrage  thus  done  to  society. 

And  noted  the  advent  especially 

Of  Pachiarotto  their  fresh  ally. 

XIV. 

These  Spare-Horses  forthwith  assembled : 
Neighed  words  whereat  citizens  trembled 
As  oft  as  the  chiefs,  in  the  Square  by 
The  Duomo,  proposed  a  way  whereby 
The  city  were  cured  of  disaster. 
"  Just  substitute  servant  for  master, 
Make  Poverty  Wealth  and  Wealth  Poverty, 
Unloose  Man  from  overt  and  covert  tie, 
And  straight  out  of  social  confusion 
True  Order  would  spring ! "    Brave  illusion — 
Aims  heavenly  attained  by  means  earthy ! 


i6  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 


XV. 


Off  to  these  at  full  speed  rushed  our  worthy, — 
Brain  practised  and  tongue  no  less  tutored, 
In  argument's  armour  accoutred,— 
Sprang  forth,  mounted  rostrum  and  essayed 
Proposals  like  those  to  which  "  Yes  "  said 
So  glibly  each  personage  painted 
O'  the  wall-side  wherewith  you  're  acquainted. 
He  harangued  on  the  faults  of  the  Bailiwick : 
"  Red  soon  were  our  State-candle's  paly  wick, 
If  wealth  would  become  but  interfluous, 
Fill  voids  up  with  just  the  superfluous ; 
If  ignorance  gave  way  to  knowledge 
— Not  pedantry  picked  up  at  college 
From  Doctors,  Professors  et  ccetera — 
{They  say :  *  kai  ta  loipa  ' — like  better  a 
Long  Greek  string  of  kappas^  taus^  lambdaSy 
Tacked  on  to  the  tail  of  each  damned  ass) — 
No  knowledge  we  want  of  this  quality. 
But  knowledge  indeed — practicality 
Through  insight's  fine  universality ! 
If  you  shout  *  Bailiffs,  out  on  ye  all/    jRV, 
Thou  Chief  of  our  forcesy  Amalfi, 
Who  shieldest  the  rogue  and  the  clotpoll! ' 
If  you  pounce  on  and  poke  out,  with  what  pole 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER  17 

I  leave  ye  lo  fancy,  our  Siena's 
Beast-litter  of  sloths  and  hyenas — " 
(Whoever  to  scan  this  is  ill  able  ^ 

Forgets  the  town's  name 's  a  dissyllable) 
"  If,  this  ^one,  ye  did — as  ye  might — place 
For  once  the  right  man  in  the  right  place, 
If  you  listened  to  me  .  .  ." 


XVI. 

At  which  last  "If'' 
There  flew  at  his  throat  like  a  mastiff 
One  Spare-Horse — another  and  another ! 
Such  outbreak  of  tumult  and  pother, 
Horse-faces  a-laughing  and  fleering, 
Horse-voices  a-mocking  and  jeering, 
Horse-hands  raised  to  collar  the  caitifl" 
Whose  impudence  ventured  the  late  "  If" — 
That,  had  not  fear  sent  Pacchiarotto 
Ofl"  tramping,  as  fast  as  could  trot  toe, 
Away  from  the  scene  of  discomfiture — 
Had  he  stood  there  stock-still  in  a  dumb  fit— sure 
Am  I  he  had  paid  in  his  person 
Till  his  mother  might  fail  to  know  her  son, 
Though  she  gazed  on  him  never  so  wistful. 
In  the  figure  so  tattered  and  tristful. 

XIV.  c 


iS  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

Each  mouth  full  of  curses,  each  fist  full 
Of  cuffings — behold,  Pacchiarotto, 
The  pass  which  thy  project  has  got  to, 
Of  trusting,  nigh  ashes  still  hot — tow ! 
(The  paraphrase — which  I  much  need — is 
From  Horace  "/^r  ignes  incedis") 


XVII. 

Right  and  left  did  he  dash  helter-skelter 
In  agonized  search  of  a  shelter. 
No  purlieu  so  blocked  and  no  alley 
So  blind  as  allowed  him  to  rally 
His  spirits  and  see — nothing  hampered 
His  steps  if  he  trudged  and  not  scampered 
Up  here  and  down  there  in  a  city 
That 's  all  ups  and  downs,  more  the  pity 
For  folk  who  would  outrun  the  constable. 
At  last  he  stopped  short  at  the  one  stable 
And  sure  place  of  refuge  that 's  offered 
Humanity.     Lately  was  coffered 
A  corpse  in  its  sepulchre,  situate 
By  St.  John's  Observance.     "  Habituate 
Thyself  to  the  strangest  of  bedfellows. 
And,  kicked  by  the  live,  kiss  the  dead  fellows ! " 
So  Misery  counselled  the  craven. 


AND  HOW  HR    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER         19 

At  once  he  crept  safely  to  haven 

Through  a  hole  left  unbricked  in  the  structure. 

Ay,  Misery,  in  have  you  tucked  your 

Poor  client  and  left  him  conterminous 

With — pah ! — the  thing  fetid  and  verminous  I 

(I  gladly  would  spare  you  the  detail, 

But  History  writes  what  I  retail.) 


XVIII. 

Two  days  did  he  groan  in  his  domicile  : 
"  Good  Saints,  set  me  free  and  I  promise  1 11 
Abjure  all  ambition  of  preaching 
Change,  whether  to  minds  touched  by  teaching 
— The  smooth  folk  of  fancy,  mere  figments 
Created  by  plaster  and  pigments, — 
Or  to  minds  that  receive  with  such  rudeness 
Dissuasion  from  pride,  greed  and  lewdness, 
— The  rough  folk  of  fact,  life's  true  specimens 
Of  mind — *  haud  in  posse  sed  esse  mens ' 
As  it  was,  is,  and  shall  be  for  ever 
Despite  of  my  utmost  endeavour. 

0  live  foes  I  thought  to  illumine. 
Henceforth  lie  untroubled  your  gloom  in ! 

1  need  my  own  light,  every  spark,  as 

I  couch  with  this  sole  friend— -a  carcase ! " 

C2 


20  OF  PACCHIAROTTO. 


XIX. 


Two  days  thus  he  maundered  and  rambled ; 
Then,  starved  back  to  sanity,  scrambled 
From  out  his  receptacle  loathsome. 
"  A  spectre ! " — declared  upon  oath  some 
Who  saw  him  emerge  and  (appalling 
To  mention)  his  garments  a-crawling 
With  plagues  far  beyond  the  Egyptian. 
He  gained,  in  a  state  past  description 
A  convent  of  monks,  the  Observancy. 

XX. 

Thus  far  is  a  fact :  I  reserve  fancy 
For  Fancy's  more  proper  employment : 
And  now  she  waves  wing  with  enjoyment, 
To  tell  ye  how  preached  the  Superior 
When  somewhat  our  painter's  exterior 
Was  sweetened.     He  needed  (no  mincing 
,  The  matter)  much  soaking  and  rincing, 
Nay,  rubbing  with  drugs  odoriferous. 
Till,  rid  of  his  garments  pestiferous 
And  robed  by  the  help  of  the  Brotherhood 
In  odds  and  ends, — this  gown  and  t'  other  hood,- 
His  empty  inside  first  well-garnished, — 
He  delivered  a  tale  round,  unvarnished. 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER  21 


XXI. 

"  Ah,  Youth  ! "  ran  the  Abbot's  admonishment, 
"  Thine  error  scarce  moves  my  astonishment. 
For — why  shall  I  shrink  from  asserting  ? — 
Myself  have  had  hopes  of  converting 
The  foolish  to  wisdom,  till,  sober, 
My  life  found  its  May  grow  October. 
I  talked  and  I  wrote,  but,  one  morning. 
Life's  Autumn  bore  fruit  in  this  warning : 
^  Let  tongue  rest,  and  quiet  thy  quill  be! 
Earth  is  earth  and  not  heaven,  and  ne^er  will  be,* 
Man's  work  is  to  labour  and  leaven — 
As  best  he  may — earth  here  with  heaven ; 
T  is  work  for  work's  sake  that  he 's  needing : 
Let  him  work  on  and  on  as  if  speeding 
Work's  end,  but  not  dream  of  succeeding ! 
Because  if  success  were  intended. 
Why,  heaven  would  begin  ere  earth  ended. 
A  Spare- Horse?     Be  rather  a  thill-horse. 
Or — what 's  the  plain  truth — just  a  mill-horse ! 
Earth 's  a  mill  where  we  grind  and  wear  mufflers : 
A  whip  awaits  shirkers  and  shufflers 
Who  slacken  their  pace,  sick  of  lugging 
At  what  don't  advance  for  their  tugging. 


22  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

Though  round  goes  the  mill,  we  must  still  post 

On  and  on  as  if  moving  the  mill-post. 

So,  grind  away,  mouth-wise  and  pen-wise, 

Do  all  that  we  can  to  make  men  wise ! 

And  if  men  prefer  to  be  foolish. 

Ourselves  have  proved  horse-like  not  mulish : 

Sent  grist,  a  good  sackful,  to  hopper. 

And  worked  as  the  Master  thought  proper. 

Tongue  I  wag,  pen  I  ply,  who  am  Abbot ; 

Stick  thou.  Son,  to  daub-brush  and  dab-pot ! 

But,  soft  I    I  scratch  hard  on  the  scab  hot  ? 

Though  cured  of  thy  plague,  there  may  linger 

A  pimple  I  fray  with  rough  finger? 

So  soon  could  my  homily  transmute 

Thy  brass  into  gold  ?    Why,  the  man 's  mute ! " 


XXII. 

"  Ay,  Father,  I  'm  mute  with  admiring 
How  Nature's  indulgence  untiring 
Still  bids  us  turn  deaf  ear  to  Reason's 
Best  rhetoric — clutch  at  all  seasons 
And  hold  fast  to  what 's  proved  untenable ! 
Thy  maxim  is — Man 's  not  amenable 
To  argument :  whereof  by  consequence — 
Thine  arguments  reach  me :  a  non- sequence ! 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER  23 

Yet  blush  not  discouraged,  O  Father ! 
I  stand  unconverted,  the  rather 
That  nowise  I  need  a  conversion. 
No  live  man  (I  cap  thy  assertion) 
By  argument  ever  could  take  hold 
Of  me.    T  was  the  dead  thing,  the  clay-cold, 
Which  grinned  *  Art  thou  so  in  a  hurry 
That  out  of  warm  light  thou  must  skurry 
And  join  me  down  here  in  the  dungeon 
Because^  above^  one  ^s  Jack  and  one—John^ 
One  ^s  swift  in  the  race^  one — a  hobbler, 
One  ^s  a  crowned  kingy  and  one — a  capped  cobbler^ 
Rich  and  poor y  sage  andfool^  virtuous,  vicious? 
Why  complain  ?    Art  thou  so  unsuspicious 
That  all  ^sfor  an  hour  of  essaying 
Who  ^sfit  and  who 's  unfit  for  playing 
His  part  in  the  after-construction 
— Heaven 's  Piece  whereof  Earth  ^s  the  Induction  ? 
Things  rarely  go  smooth  at  Rehearsal, 
Wait  patient  the  change  universal. 
And  act,  and  let  act,  in  existence! 
For,  as  thou  art  clapped  hence  or  hissed  hence. 
Thou  hast  thy  promotion  or  otJierwise, 
And  why  must  wise  thou  have  thy  brother  wise 
Because  in  rehearsal  thy  cue  be 
To  shine  by  the  side  of  a  booby  1 


24  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

No  polishing  garnet  to  ruby! 
All 's  well  that  ends  well— through  Arfs  magic 
Sonie  end^  whether  comic  or  tragic. 
The  Artist  has  purposed^  be  certain! 
Explained  at  the  fall  of  the  curtain — 
Li  showing  thy  wisdom  at  odds  with 
That  folly:  he  tries  men  and  gods  with 
No  problem  for  weak  wits  to  solve  meant ^ 
But  one  worth  such  Author^ s  evolvement, 
Soy  back  nor  disturb  play  ^s  production 
By  giving  thy  brother  instruction 
To  throw  up  his  fooV s-part  allotted! 
Lest  haply  thyself  prove  besotted 
When  stripty  for  thy  pains,  of  that  costume 
Of  sage,  which  Jias  bred  the  imposthume 
I  prick  to  relieve  thee  of —  Vanity!' 


XXIII. 

"  So,  Father,  behold  me  in  sanity ! 
I  'm  back  to  the  palette  and  mahlstick : 
And  as  for  Man — let  each  and  all  stick 
To  what  was  prescribed  them  at  starting 
Once  planted  as  fools — no  departing 
From  folly  one  inch,  sceculorum 
In  scecula!    Pass  me  the  jorum, 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKEt)  IN  DISTEMPER  25 

And  push  me  the  platter — my  stomach 
Retains,  through  its  fasting,  still  some  ache — 
And  then,  with  your  kind  Benedidte^ 
Good-bye ! " 

XXIV. 

I  have  told  with  simplicity 
My  tale,  dropped  those  harsh  analytics, 
And  tried  to  content  you,  my  critics, 
Who  greeted  my  early  uprising ! 
I  knew  you  through  all  the  disguising, 
Droll  dogs,  as  I  jumped  up,  cried  "  Heyday ! 
This  Monday  is— what  else  but  May-day  ? 
And  these  in  the  drabs,  blues  and  yellows. 
Are  surely  the  privileged  fellows. 
So,  saltbox  and  bones,  tongs  and  bellows," 
(I  threw  up  the  window)  "  your  pleasure  ?  " 


XXV. 

Then  he  who  directed  the  measure — 
An  old  friend — put  leg  forward  nimbly, 
"  We  critics  as  sweeps  out  your  chimbly ! 
Much  soot  to  remove  from  your  flue,  sir ! 
Who  sj)ares  coal  in  kitchen  an't  you,  sir ! 


9d  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

And  neighbours  complain  it 's  no  joke,  sir, 

— ^You  ought  to  consume  your  own  smoke,  sir ! " 

XXVI. 

Ah,  rogues,  but  my  housemaid  suspects  you — 
Is  confident  oft  she  detects  you 
In  bringing  more  filth  into  my  house 
Than  ever  you  found  there  !     I  'm  pious 
However :  't  was  God  made  you  dingy 
And  me — with  no  need  to  be  stingy 
Of  soap,  when  't  is  sixpence  the  packet. 
So,  dance  away,  boys,  dust  my  jacket, 
Bang  drum  and  blow  fife — ay,  and  rattle 
Your  brushes,  for  that 's  half  the  battle  ! 
Don't  trample  the  grass, — hocus-pocus 
With  grime  my  Spring  snowdrop  and  crocus, — 
And,  what  with  your  rattling  and  tinkling. 
Who  knows  but  you  give  me  an  inkling 
How  music  sounds,  thanks  to  the  jangle 
Of  regular  drum  and  triangle? 
Whereby,  tap-tap,  chink-chink,  't  is  proven 
I  break  rule  as  bad  as  Beethoven. 
"That  chord  now— a  groan  or  a  grunt  is 't? 
Schumann's  self  was  no  worse  contrapuntist. 
No  ear !  or  if  ear,  so  tough-gristled — 
He  thought  that  he  sung  while  he  whistled ! " 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER  27 

XXVII. 

So,  this  time  I  whistle,  not  sing  at  all, 
My  story,  the  largess  I  fling  at  all 
And  every  the  rough  there  whose  aubade 
Did  its  best  to  amuse  me, — nor  so  bad ! 
Take  my  thanks,  pick  up  largess,  and  scamper 
Off  free,  ere  your  mirth  gets  a  damper ! 
You  Ve  Monday,  your  one  day,  your  fun-day. 
While  mine  is  a  year  that 's  all  Sunday. 
I  Ve  seen  you,  times — who  knows  how  many  ? — 
Dance  in  here,  strike  up,  play  the  zany, 
Make  mouths  at  the  tenant,  hoot  warning 
You  '11  find  him  decamped  next  May-morning  ; 
Then  scuttle  away,  glad  to  'scape  hence 
With — kicks  ?  no,  but  laughter  and  ha'pence  ! 
Mine 's  freehold,  by  grace  of  the  grand  Lord 
Who  lets  out  the  ground  here, — my  landlord : 
To  him  I  pay  quit-rent — devotion ; 
Nor  hence  shall  I  budge,  I  Ve  a  notion. 
Nay,  here  shall  my  whistling  and  singing 
Set  all  his  street's  echoes  a-ringing 
Long  after  the  last  of  your  number 
Has  ceased  my  front-court  to  encumber 
While,  treading  down  rose  and  ranunculus, 
You  Tommy-make'room-for-your-  Uncle  us ! 


a8  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

Troop,  all  of  you— man  or  homunculus, 

Quick  march  !  for  Xanthippe,  my  housemaid, 

If  once  on  your  pates  she  a  souse  made- 

With  what,  pan  or  pot,  bowl  or  skoramis 

First  comes  to  her  hand — things  were  more  amiss ! 

I  would  not  for  worlds  be  your  place  in — 

Recipient  of  slops  from  the  basin  ! 

You,  Jack-in-the-Green,  leaf-and-twiggishness 

Won't  save  a  dry  thread  on  your  priggishness  ! 

While  as  for  Quilp-Hop-o'-my-thumb  there, 

Banjo- Byron  that  twangs  the  strum -strum  there — 

He  11  think,  as  the  pickle  he  curses, 

I  Ve  discharged  on  his  pate  his  own  verses  ! 

"  Dwarfs  are  saucy,"  says  Dickens :  so,  sauced  in 

Your  own  sauce,  .  .  .' 

XXVIII. 

But,  back  to  my  Knight  of  the  Pencil, 
Dismissed  to  his  fresco  and  stencil ! 
Whose  story — begun  with  a  chuckle. 
And  throughout  timed  by  raps  of  the  knuckle, — 
To  small  enough  purpose  were  studied 
If  it  ends  with  crown  cracked  or  nose  bloodied. 

*  No,  please  !    For 

•'  Who  would  be  satirical 
On  a  thing  so  very  small  ?  "—PRINTER'S  Devil. 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER  99 

Come,  critics,— not  shake  hands,  excuse  me ! 

But — say  have  you  grudged  to  amuse  me 

This  once  in  the  forty-and-over 

Long  years  since  you  trampled  my  clover 

And  scared  from  my  house-eaves  each  sparrow 

I  nev\£r  once  harmed  by  that  arrow 

Of  song,  karterotaton  belos^ 

(Which  Pindar  declares  the  true  melos) 

I  was  forging  and  filing  and  finishing. 

And  no  whit  my  labours  diminishing 

Because,  though  high  up  in  a  chamber 

Where  none  of  your  kidney  may  clamber 

Your  hullabaloo  would  approach  me? 

Was  it  "  grammar  "  wherein  you  would  "  coach  "  me— « 

You, — pacing  in  even  that  paddock 

Of  language  allotted  you  ad  hoc^ 

With  a  clog  at  your  fetlocks, — you — scorners 

Of  me  free  of  all  its  four  corners  ? 

Was  it  "clearness  of  words  which  convey  thought?" 

Ay,  if  words  never  needed  enswathe  aught 

But  ignorance,  impudence,  envy 

And  malice — what  word-swathe  would  then  vie 

With  yours  for  a  clearness  crystalline? 

But  had  you  to  put  in  one  small  line 

Some  thought  big  and  bouncing — as  noddle 

Of  goose,  born  to  cackle  and  waddle 


30  OF  PACCHIAROTTO 

And  bite  at  man's  heel  as  goose-wont  is, 
Never  felt  plague  its  puny  osfrontis — 
You  'd  know,  as  you  hissed,  spat  and  sputtered, 
Clear  cackle  is  easily  uttered ! 

XXIX. 

Lo,  I  Ve  laughed  out  my  laugh  on  this  mirth-day ! 
Beside,  at  week's  end,  dawns  my  birth-day. 
That  hebdomCy  hieron  emar — 
(More  things  in  a  day  than  you  deem  are !) 
— Tei  gar  Apollona  chrusaora 
Egeinato  Leto,     So,  gray  or  ray 
Betide  me,  six  days  hence,  I  'm  vexed  here 
By  no  sweep,  that 's  certain,  till  next  year ! 
"  Vexed?  " — roused  from  what  else  were  insipid  ease  1 
Leave  snoring  a-bed  to  Pheidippides ! 
We  '11  up  and  work !  won't  we,  Euripides  ? 


31 


AT  THE  ''MERMAW 
1876. 

The  figure  that  thou  here  seest  .  .  .  Tut  I 
Was  it  for  gentle  Shakespeare  put? 

B.  JONSON.    (Adapted.) 
I. 

I — "Next  Poet?"    No,  my  hearties, 

I  nor  am  nor  fain  would  be ! 
Choose  your  chiefs  and  pick  your  parties, 

Not  one  soul  revolt  to  me ! 
I,  forsooth,  sow  song-sedition? 

I,  a  schism  in  verse  provoke? 
I,  blown  up  by  bard's  ambition, 

Burst — your  bubble-king  ?    You  joke. 

II. 

Come,  be  grave !    The  sherris  mantling 
Still  about  each  mouth,  mayhap, 

Breeds  you  insight — ^just  a  scantling — 
Brings  me  truth  out — ^just  a  scrap. 


32  AT  THE  '^AfERMAID" 

Look  and  tell  me !  Written,  spoken. 
Here  's  my  life-long  work :  and  where 

— Where 's  your  warrant  or  my  token 
I  'm  the  dead  king's  son  and  heir? 

in. 

Here 's  my  work :  does  work  discover — 

What  was  rest  from  work — my  life  ? 
Did  I  live  man's  hater,  lover? 

Leave  the  world  at  peace,  at  strife  ? 
Call  earth  ugliness  or  beauty  ? 

See  things  there  in  large  or  small  ? 
Use  to  pay  its  Lord  my  duty? 

Use  to  own  a  lord  at  all? 

IV. 

Blank  of  such  a  record,  truly 

Here 's  the  work  I  hand,  this  scroll, 
Yours  to  take  or  leave ;  as  duly, 

Mine  remains  the  unproffered  soul. 
So  much,  no  whit  more,  my  debtors — 

How  should  one  like  me  lay  claim 
To  that  largess  elders,  betters 

Sell  you  cheap  their  souls  for — fame? 


AT  THE  ''MERMAID^  33 

V. 

Which  of  you  did  I  enable 

Once  to  slip  inside  my  breast, 
There  to  catalogue  and  label 

What  I  like  least,  what  love  best, 
Hope  and  fear,  believe  and  doubt  of, 

Seek  and  shun,  respect — deride? 
Who  has  right  to  make  a  rout  of 

Rarities  he  found  inside? 

VI. 

Rarities  or,  as  he  'd  rather. 

Rubbish  such  as  stocks  his  own  : 
Need  and  greed  (O  strange)  the  Father 

Fashioned  not  for  him  alone ! 
Whence — the  comfort  set  a-strutting. 

Whence — the  outcry  "  Haste,  behold ! 
Bard's  breast  open  wide,  past  shutting. 

Shows  what  brass  we  took  for  gold ! " 

VII. 

Friends,  I  doubt  not  he  'd  display  you 

Brass — myself  call  orichalc, — 
Furnish  much  amusement ;  pray  you 

Therefore,  be  content  I  baulk 

XIV.  D 


34  AT  TUB  ^'MERMAID'' 

Him  and  you,  and  bar  my  portal ! 

Here 's  my  work  outside :  opine 
What 's  inside  me  mean  and  mortal ! 

Take  your  pleasure,  leave  me  mine ! 

VIII. 

Which  is — not  to  buy  your  laurel 

As  last  king  did,  nothing  loth. 
Tale  adorned  and  pointed  moral 

Gained  him  praise  and  pity  both. 
Out  rushed  sighs  and  groans  by  dozens, 

Forth  by  scores  oaths,  curses  flew : 
Proving  you  were  cater-cousins, 

Kith  and  kindred,  king  and  you ! 

IX. 

Whereas  do  I  ne'er  so  little 

(Thanks  to  sherris)  leave  ajar 
Bosom's  gate — no  jot  nor  tittle 

Grow  we  nearer  than  we  are. 
Sinning,  sorrowing,  despairing, 

Body-ruined,  spirit -wrecked, — 
Should  I  give  my  woes  an  airing, — 

Where 's  one  plague  that  claims  respect? 


AT  THE  ''MERMAID**  35 

Have  you  found  your  life  distasteful  ? 

My  life  did,  and  does,  smack  sweet 
Was  your  youth  of  pleasure  wasteful? 

Mine  I  saved  and  hold  complete. 
Do  your  joys  with  age  diminish? 

When  mine  fail  me,  1 11  complain. 
Must  in  death  your  daylight  finish? 

My  sun  sets  to  rise  again. 

XI. 

What,  like  you,  he  proved — your  Pilgrim — 

This  our  world  a  wilderness, 
Earth  still  grey  and  heaven  still  grim. 

Not  a  hand  there  his  might  press, 
Not  a  heart  his  own  might  throb  to, 

Men  all  rogues  and  women— say, 
Dolls  which  boys'  heads  duck  and  bob  to, 

Grown  folk  drop  or  throw  away? 

XII. 

My  experience  being  other. 

How  should  I  contribute  verse 
Worthy  of  your  king  and  brother? 

Balaam-like  I  bless,  not  curse. 

D2 


36  AT  THE   '^MERMAID" 

I  find  earth  not  grey  but  rosy, 
Heaven  not  grim  but  fair  of  hue. 

Do  I  stoop?    I  pluck  a  posy. 
Do  I  stand  and  stare  ?    All 's  blue. 


XIIL 

Doubtless  I  am  pushed  and  shoved  by 

Rogues  and  fools  enough :  the  more 
Good  luck  mine,  I  love,  am  loved  by 

Some  few  honest  to  the  core. 
Scan  the  near  high,  scout  the  far  low ! 

"  But  the  low  come  close : "  what  then  ? 
Simpletons  ?    My  match  is  Marlowe ; 

Sciolists  ?    My  mate  is  Ben. 

XIV. 

Womankind — "  the  cat-like  nature, 

False  and  ficTcle,  vain  and  weak  " — 
What  of  this  sad  nomenclature 

Suits  my  tongue,  if  I  must  speak  ? 
Does  the  sex  invite,  repulse  so. 

Tempt,  betray,  by  fits  and  starts  ? 
So  becalm  but  to  convulse  so, 

Decking  heads  and  breaking  hearts  ? 


AT  THE  ''MERMAID''  37 

XV. 

Well  may  you  blaspheme  at  fortune  1 

I  "  threw  Venus  "  (Ben,  expound !) 
Never  did  I  need  importune 

Her,  of  all  the  Olympian  round. 
Blessings  on  my  benefactress ! 

Cursings  suit — for  aught  I  know — 
Those  who  twitched  her  by  the  back  tress, 

Tugged  and  thought  to  turn  her— so ! 

XVI. 

Therefore,  since  no  leg  to  stand  on 

Thus  I  'm  left  with, — ^joy  or  grief 
Be  the  issue, — I  abandon 

Hope  or  care  you  name  me  Chief ! 
Chief  and  king  and  Lord 's  anointed, 

I?— who  never  once. have  wished 
Death  before  the  day  appointed : 

Lived  and  liked,  not  poohed  and  pished ! 

XVII. 

"  Ah,  but  so  I  shall  not  enter, 
Scroll  in  hand,  the  common  heart — 

Stopped  at  surface :  since  at  centre 
Song  should  reach  Welt-schmerZy  world-smart ! " 


38  AT  THE  *' MERMAJD" 

"  Enter  in  the  heart  ?  "    Its  shelly 
Cuirass  guard  mine,  fore  and  aft ! 

Such  song  "  enters  in  the  belly 
And  is  cast  out  in  the  draught." 

XVIII. 

Back  then  to  our  sherris-brewage ! 

"  Kingship  "  quotha  ?    I  shall  wait-^ 
Waive  the  present  time :  some  new  age  .  .  . 

But  let  fools  anticipate ! 
Meanwhile  greet  me — "  friend,  good  fellow, 

Gentle  Will,"  my  merry  men ! 
As  for  making  Envy  yellow 

With  "  Next  Poet  "—(Manners,  Ben  !) 


39 


HOUSE. 
1876. 


I. 


Shall  I  sonnet-sing  you  about  myself? 

Do  I  live  in  a  house  you  would  like  to  see  ? 
Is  it  scant  of  gear,  has  it  store  of  pelf? 

"  Unlock  my  heart  with  a  sonnet-key  ? 


IL 


Invite  the  world,  as  my  betters  have  done  ? 

"  Take  notice :  this  building  remains  on  view, 
Its  suites  of  reception  every  one, 

Its  private  apartment  and  bedroom  too ; 


III. 


"For  a  ticket,  apply  to  the  Publisher." 
No :  thanking  the  public,  I  must  decline. 

A  peep  through  my  window,  if  folk  prefer ; 
But,  please  you,  no  foot  over  threshold  of  mine ! 


40  HOUSE 


IV. 


I  have  mixed  with  a  crowd  and  heard  free  talk 
In  a  foreign  land  where  an  earthquake  chanced  : 

And  a  house  stood  gaping,  nought  to  baulk 
Man's  eye  wherever  he  gazed  or  glanced. 


V. 


The  whole  of  the  frontage  shaven  sheer, 
The  inside  gaped :  exposed  to  day, 

Right  and  wrong  and  common  and  queer, 
Bare,  as  the  palm  of  your  hand,  it  lay. 


VI. 


The  owner?    Oh,  he  had  been  crushed,  no  doubt ! 

"  Odd  tables  and  chairs  for  a  man  of  wealth  1 
What  a  parcel  of  musty  old  books  about ! 

He  smoked, — no  wonder  he  lost  his  health ! 


VII. 


"  I  doubt  if  he  bathed  before  he  dressed. 

A  brasier  ? — the  pagan,  he  burned  perfumes ! 
You  see  it  is  proved,  what  the  neighbours  guessed 

His  wife  and  himself  had  separate  rooms," 


HOUSE  41 

VIII. 

Friends,  the  goodman  of  the  house  at  least 
Kept  house  to  himself  till  an  earthquake  came : 

'T  is  the  fall  of  its  frontage  permits  you  feast 
On  the  inside  arrangement  you  praise  or  blame. 

IX. 

Outside  should  suffice  for  evidence : 

And  whoso  desires  to  penetrate 
Deeper,  must  dive  by  the  spirit-sense- 

No  optics  like  yours,  at  any  rate ! 

X. 

"  Hoity  toity !    A  street  to  explore, 

Your  house  the  exception  !     *  With  this  same  key 
Shakespeare  unlocked  his  hearty  once  more ! " 

Did  Shakespeare  ?    If  so,  the  less  Shakespeare  he ! 


4^ 


SHOP. 
1876. 

I. 

So,  friend,  your  shop  was  all  your  house ! 
Its  front,  astonishing  the  street, 

Invited  view  from  man  and  mouse 
To  what  diversity  of  treat 
Behind  its  glass — the  single  sheet ! 

II. 

What  gimcracks,  genuine  Japanese : 
Gape-jaw  and  goggle-eye,  the  frog ; 

Dragons,  owls,  monkeys,  beetles,  geese; 
Some  crush-nosed  human-hearted  dog : 
Queer  names,  too,  such  a  catalogue ! 

III. 

I  thought  "And  he  who  owns  the  wealth 
Which  blocks  the  window's  vastitude, 


SHOP  43 

— Ah,  could  I  peep  at  him  by  stealth 
Behind  his  ware,  pass  shop,  intrude 
On  house  itself,  what  scenes  were  viewed ! 

IV. 

"  If  wide  and  showy  thus  the  shop, 
What  must  the  habitation  prove  ? 

The  true  house  with  no  name  a-top — 
The  mansion,  distant  one  remove. 
Once  get  him  off  his  traffic-groove ! 

V. 

"  Pictures  he  likes,  or  books  perhaps ; 
And  as  for  buying  most  and  best 

Commend  me  to  these  City  chaps ! 
Or  else  he 's  social,  takes  his  rest 
On  Sundays,  with  a  Lord  for  guest 

VI. 

"Some  suburb-palace,  parked  about 
And  gated  grandly,  built  last  year : 

The  four-mile  walk  to  keep  off  gout ; 
Or  big  seat  sold  by  bankrupt  peer : 
But  then  he  takes  the  rail,  that 's  clear. 


44  SHOP 


VII. 


"  Or,  stop !    I  wager,  taste  selects 
Some  out  o'  the  way,  some  all-unknown 

Retreat :  the  neighbourhood  suspects 
Little  that  he  who  rambles  lone 
Makes  Rothschild  tremble  on  his  throne ! " 

VIII. 

Nowise !    Nor  Mayfair  residence 
Fit  to  receive  and  entertain, — 

Nor  Hampstead  villa's  kind  defence 
From  noise  and  crowd,  from  dust  and  drain,- 
Nor  country-box  was  souFs  domain ! 

IX. 

Nowise !    At  back  of  all  that  spread 
Of  merchandize,  woe 's  me,  I  find 

A  hole  i'  the  wall  where,  heels  by  head, 
The  owner  couched,  his  ware  behind, 
— In  cupboard  suited  to  his  mind. 

X. 

For  why  ?    He  saw  no  use  of  life 
But,  while  he  drove  a  roaring  trade. 


SHOP  45 

To  chuckle  "  Customers  are  rife  !  " 
To  chafe  "So  much  hard  cash  outlaid 

Yet  zero  in  my  profits  made  ! 

I- 

XI. 

"  This  novelty  costs  pains,  but — takes  ? 
Cumbers  my  counter !    Stock  no  more ! 

This  article,  no  such  great  shakes. 
Fizzes  like  wildfire  ?    Underscore 
The  cheap  thing — thousands  to  the  fore ! " 

XII. 

'T  was  lodging  best  to  live  most  nigh 
(Cramp,  coffinlike  as  crib  might  be) 

Receipt  of  Custom ;  ear  and  eye 
Wanted  no  outworld :  "  Hear  and  see 
The  bustle  in  the  shop ! "  quoth  he. 

XIII. 

My  fancy  of  a  merchant-prince 

Was  different.    Through  his  wares  we  groped 
Our  darkling  way  to — not  to  mince 

The  matter — no  black  den  where  moped 
I  The  master  if  we  interloped ! 


A    I 


46  SHDP 


XIV. 


Shop  was  shop  only :  household-stuff? 

What  did  he  want  with  comforts  there  ? 
"  Walls,  ceiling,  floor,  stay  blank  and  rough, 

So  goods  on  sale  show  rich  and  rare ! 

*  Sell  and  scud  home '  be  shop's  aflFair ! " 

XV. 

What  might  he  deal  in  ?    Gems,  suppose ! 
Since  somehow  business  must  be  done 

At  cost  of  trouble, — see,  he  throws 
You  choice  of  jewels,  everyone. 
Good,  better,  best,  star,  moon  and  sun ! 

XVI. 

Which  lies  within  your  power  of  purse  ? 
This  ruby  that  would  tip  aright 

Solomon's  sceptre  ?    Oh,  your  nurse 
Wants  simply  coral,  the  delight 
Of  teething  baby, — stuff  to  bite ! 

XVII. 

However  your  choice  fell,  straight  you  took 
Your  purchase,  prompt  your  money  rang 


SHOP  A7 

On  counter,— scarce  the  man  forsook 
His  study  of  the  "  Times,"  just  swang 
Till-ward  his  hand  that  stopped  the  clang, — 

XVIII. 

Then  off  made  buyer  with  a  prize, 
Then  seller  to  his  "  Times  "  returned 

And  so  did  day  wear,  wear,  till  eyes 
Brightened  apace,  for  rest  was  earned : 
He  locked  door  long  ere  candle  burned. 

XIX. 

And  whither  went  he  ?    Ask  himself, 
Not  me !     To  change  of  scene,  I  think. 

Once  sold  the  ware  and  pursed  the  pelf, 
Chaffer  was  scarce  his  meat  and  drink, 
Nor  all  his  music — money-chink. 

XX. 

Because  a  man  has  shop  to  mind 
In  time  and  place,  since  flesh  must  live, 

Needs  spirit  lack  all  hfe  behind. 
All  stray  thoughts,  fancies  fugitive, 
All  loves  except  what  trade  can  give  ? 


48  SHOP 


XXI. 


I  want  to  know  a  butcher  paints, 
A  baker  rhymes  for  his  pursuit, 

Candlestick-maker  much  acquaints 
His  soul  with  song,  or,  haply  mute, 
Blows  out  his  brains  upon  the  flute ! 

XXH. 

But— shop  each  day  and  all  day  long ! 
Friend,  your  good  angel  slept,  your  star 

Suffered  eclipse,  fate  did  you  wrong ! 
From  where  these  sorts  of  treasures  are, 
There  should  our  hearts  be — Christ,  how  far  I 


49 


PISGAH'SIGHTS.    \, 

1876. 

I. 

Over  the  ball  of  it, 

Peering  and  prying, 
How  I  see  all  of  it, 

Life  there,  outlying ! 
Roughness  and  smoothness. 

Shine  and  defilement, 
Grace  and  uncouthness : 

One  reconcilement 


11. 

Orbed  as  appointed, 

Sister  with  brother 
Joins,  ne'er  disjointed 

One  from  the  other. 

XIV.  E 


50  PISGAHSIGHTS 

All 's  lend-and-borrow ; 

Good,  see,  wants  evil, 
Joy  demands  sorrow. 

Angel  weds  devil ! 

III. 

"  Which  things  must— wAy  be  ?  " 

Vain  our  endeavour ! 
So  shall  things  aye  be 

As  they  were  ever. 
"  Such  things  should  so  be ! " 

Sage  our  desistence  I 
Rough-smooth  let  globe  be, 

Mixed — man's  existence ! 

IV. 

Man — wise  and  foolish, 

Lover  and  scomer. 
Docile  and  mulish — 

Keep  each  his  comer ! 
Honey  yet  gall  of  it ! 

There 's  the  life  lying. 
And  I  see  all  of  it, 

Only,  I  'm  dying ! 


PISGAH^SIGHTS.    II. 

1876. 

I. 

Could  I  but  live  again, 

Twice  my  life  over, 
Would  I  once  strive  again  ? 

Would  not  I  cover 
Quietly  all  of  it — 

Greed  and  ambition — 
So,  from  the  pall  of  it. 

Pass  to  fruition  ? 


II. 


"  Soft ! "  I  'd  say,  "  Soul  mine .' 
Three-score  and  ten  years, 

Let  the  blind  mole  mine 
Digging  out  deniers ! 


B2 


52  PISGAH'SIGHTS 

Let  the  dazed  hawk  soar, 
Claim  the  sun's  rights  too ! 

Turf 't  is  thy  walk 's  o'er, 
Foliage  thy  flight 's  to." 


III. 

Only  a  learner, 

Quick  one  or  slow  one, 
Just  a  discerner, 

I  would  teach  no  one. 
I  am  earth's  native  : 

No  rearranging  it  1 
/be  creative, 

Chopping  and  changing  it  ? 

IV. 

March,  men,  my  fellows ! 

Those  who,  above  me, 
(Distance  so  mellows) 

Fancy  you  love  me : 
Those  who,  below  me, 

(Distance  makes  great  so) 
Free  to  forego  me. 

Fancy  you  hate  so ! 


PISGAH-SIGHTS  53 

V. 

Praising,  reviling, 

Worst  head  and  best  head, 
Past  me  defiling, 

Never  arrested, 
Wanters,  abounders, 

March,  in  gay  mixture, 
Men,  my  surrounders ! 

I  am  the  fixture. 

VI. 

So  shall  I  fear  thee, 

Mightiness  yonder ! 
Mock-sun — more  near  thee, 

What  is  to  wonder? 
So  shall  I  love  thee, 

Down  in  the  dark, — lest 
Glowworm  I  prove  thee. 

Star  that  now  sparkiest  J 


54 


FEARS  AND  SCRUPLES, 

1876. 


I. 


Here  's  my  case.    Of  old  I  used  to  love  him 
This  same  unseen  friend,  before  I  knew : 

Dream  there  was  none  like  him,  none  above  him, 
Wake  to  hope  and  trust  my  dream  was  true. 


II. 


Loved  I  not  his  letters  full  of  beauty? 

Not  his  actions  famous  far  and  wide  ? 
Absent,  he  would  know  I  vowed  him  duty ; 

Present,  he  would  find  me  at  his  side. 


III. 


Pleasant  fancy !  for  I  had  but  letters, 

Only  knew  of  actions  by  hearsay : 
He  himself  was  busied  with  my  betters ; 

What  of  that  ?    My  turn  must  come  some  day. 


FEARS  AND  SCRUPLES  55 


IV. 


"  Some  day  "  proving— no  day !    Here 's  the  puzzle. 

Passed  and  passed  my  turn  is.    Why  complain  ? 
He 's  so  busied !    If  I  could  but  muzzle 

People's  foolish  mouths  that  give  me  pain ! 


V. 


"  Letters  ?  "  (hear  them !)    "  You  a  judge  of  writing  ? 

Ask  the  experts ! — How  they  shake  the  head 
O'er  these  characters,  your  friend's  inditing — 

Call  them  forgery  from  A  to  Z ! 


VI. 


"  Actions  ?    Where 's  your  certain  proof"  (they  bother) 
"  He,  of  all  you  find  so  great  and  good, 

He,  he  only,  claims  this,  that,  the  other 
Action — claimed  by  men,  a  multitude?" 


VII. 


I  can  simply  wish  I  might  refute  you, 
Wish  my  friend  would, — by  a  word,  a  wink, — 

Bid  me  stop  that  foolish  mouth, — you  brute  you ! 
He  keeps  absent, — why,  I  cannot  think. 


S6  FEARS  AND  SCRUPLES 

VIII. 

Never  mind !    Though  foolishness  may  flout  me, 

One  thing 's  sure  enough :  't  is  neither  frost,  \ 

No,  nor  fire,  shall  freeze  or  burn  from  out  me 

Thanks  for  truth— though  falsehood,  gained— though  j 

lost. 

I 

IX.  ^ 

All  my  days,  I  '11  go  the  softlier,  sadlier, 

For  that  dream's  sake  !     How  forget  the  thrill 
Through  and  through  me  as  I  thought  "  The  gladlier 

Lives  my  friend  because  I  love  him  still  I " 

Ah,  but  there 's  a  menace  someone  utters! 

"  What  and  if  your  friend  at  home  play  tricks  ? 
Peep  at  hide-and-seek  behind  the  shutters  ? 

Mean  your  eyes  should  pierce  through  solid  bricks? 

XI. 

"What  and  if  he,  frowning,  wake  you,  dreamy? 

Lay  on  you  the  blame  that  bricks — conceal  ? 
Say  *  At  least  I  saw  who  did  not  see  me, 

Does  see  now,  and  presently  shall  feeVV^ 


FEARS  AND  SCRUPLES  57 


XII. 


VVhy,  that  makes  your  friend  a  monster ! "  say  you : 
Had  his  house  no  window?    At  first  nod, 
Would  you  not  have  hailed  him  ?  "    Hush,  I  pray  you ! 
AMiat  if  this  friend  happen  to  be — God  ? 


Sl^ 


NATURAL  MAGIC. 
1876. 

I. 

All  I  can  say  is — I  saw  it ! 
The  room  was  as  bare  as  your  hand. 
I  locked  in  the  swarth  little  lady, — I  swear, 
From  the  head  to  the  foot  of  her — well,  quite  as  bare ! 
"  No  Nautch  shall  cheat  me,"  said  I,  "  taking  my  stand 
At  this  bolt  which  I  draw ! "    And  this  bolt— I  with- 
draw it, 
And  there  laughs  the  lady,  not  bare,  but  embowered 
With — who  knows  what  verdure,  o'erfruited,  o'erflowered  ? 
Impossible !    Only — I  saw  it ! 

IL 

All  I  can  sing  is— I  feel  it ! 
This  life  was  as  blank  as  that  room ; 
I  let  you  pass  in  here.     Precaution,  indeed  ? 
Walls,  ceiling  and  floor, — not  a  chance  for  a  weed ! 


f 


NATURAL  MAGIC  59 

Wide  opens  the  entrance:  where 's  cold  now,  where 's 

gloom  ? 
No  May  to  sow  seed  here,  no  June  to  reveal  it, 
Behold  you  enshrined  in  these  blooms  of  your  bringing. 
These   fruits    of  your    bearing — nay,    birds    of  your 

winging  t 
A  fairy-tale !    Only — I  feel  it ! 


6o. 


MAGICAL  NATURE. 
1876. 

I. 

Flower — I  never  fancied,  jewel— I  profess  you  ! 

Bright  I  see  and  soft  I  feel  the  outside  of  a  flower. 
Save  but  glow  inside  and — ^jewel,  I  should  guess  you, 

Dim  to  sight  and  rough  to  touch:  the  glory  is  the 
dower. 

II. 

You,  forsooth,  a  flower?    Nay,  my  love,  a  jewel — 
Jewel  at  no  mercy  of  a  moment  in  your  prime ! 

Time  may  fray  the  flower-face :  kind  be  time  or  cruel, 
Jewel,  from  each  facet,  flash  your  laugh  at  time ! 


6z 


BIFURCATION. 
1876. 

We  were  two  lovers ;  let  me  he  by  her, 

My  tomb  beside  her  tomb.     On  hers  inscribe — 

"  I  loved  him ;  but  my  reason  bade  prefer 

Duty  to  love,  reject  the  tempter's  bribe 

Of  rose  and  lily  when  each  path  diverged. 

And  either  I  must  pace  to  life's  far  end 

As  love  should  lead  me,  or,  as  duty  urged, 

Plod  the  worn  causeway  arm-in-arm  with  friend. 

So,  truth  turned  falsehood  :  *  How  I  loathe  a  flower^ 

How  prize  the  pavement  I  ^  still  caressed  his  ear — 

The  deafish  friend's — through  life's  day,  hour  by  hour. 

As  he  laughed  (coughing)  *  Ay^  it  would  appear!  * 

But  deep  within  my  heart  of  hearts  there  hid 

Ever  the  confidence,  amends  for  all. 

That  heaven  repairs  what  wrong  earth's  journey  did. 

When  love  from  life-long  exile  comes  at  call. 

Duty  and  love,  one  broadway,  were  the  best — 

Who  doubts?    But  one  or  other  was  to  choose. 


63  BIFURCATION 

I  chose  the  darkling  half,  and  wait  the  rest 

In  that  new  world  where  light  and  darkness  fuse." 

Inscribe  on  mine — "  I  loved  her :  love's  track  lay 
O'er  sand  and  pebble,  as  all  travellers  know. 
Duty  led  through  a  smiling  country,  gay 
With  greensward  where  the  rose  and  lily  blow. 
*  Our  roads  are  diverse:  farewell^  love  I  ^  said  she; 
*^^Tis  duty  I  abide  by:  homely  sward 
And  not  the  rock-rough  picturesque  for  me! 
Above^  where  both  roads  join^  I  wait  reward. 
Be  you  as  constant  to  the  path  whereon 
I  leave  you  planted!^    But  man  needs  must  move, 
Keep  moving — whither,  when  the  star  is  gone 
Whereby  he  steps  secure  nor  strays  from  love? 
No  stone  but  I  was  tripped  by,  stumbling-block 
But  brought  me  to  confusion.    Where  I  fell, 
There  I  lay  flat,  if  moss  disguised  the  rock, 
Thence,  if  flint  pierced,  I  rose  and  cried  ^  AlVs  well! 
Duty  be  mine  to  tread  in  that  high  sphere 
Where  love  from  duty  ne^er  disparts y  I  trusty 
And  two  halves  make  that  whole,  whereof-- since  here 
One  must  suffice  a  man—why,  this  one  must! ' " 

Inscribe  each  tomb  thus :  then,  some  sage  acquaint 
The  simple — which  holds  sinner,  which  holds  saint ! 


NUMPHOLEPTOS. 

1876. 

Still  you  stand,  still  you  listen,  still  you  smile ! 

Still  melts  your  moonbeam  through  me,  white  awhile. 

Softening,  sweetening,  till  sweet  and  soft 

Increase  so  round  this  heart  of  mine,  that  oft 

I  could  believe  your  moonbeam-smile  has  past 

The  pallid  limit,  lies,  transformed  at  last 

To  sunlight  and  salvation — warms  the  soul 

It  sweetens,  softens !    Would  you  pass  that  goal, 

Gain  love's  birth  at  the  limit's  happier  verge, 

And,  where  an  iridescence  lurks,  but  urge 

The  hesitating  pallor  on  to  prime 

Of  dawn ! — true  blood-streaked,  sun-warmth,  action-time. 

By  heart-pulse  ripened  to  a  ruddy  glow 

Of  gold  above  my  clay — I  scarce  should  know 

From  gold's  self,  thus  suffused !    For  gold  means  love. 

What  means  the  sad  slow  silver  smile  above 

My  clay  but  pity,  pardon? — at  the  best, 

But  acquiescence  that  I  take  my  rest, 


64  NUMPHOLEPTOS 

Contented  to  be  clay,  while  in  your  heaven 
The  sun  reserves  love  for  the  Spirit-Seven 
Companioning  God's  throne  they  lamp  before, 
— Leaves  earth  a  mute  waste  only  wandered  o'er 
By  that  pale  soft  sweet  disempassioned  moon 
Which  smiles  me  slow  forgiveness  !     Such  the  boon 
I  beg  ?     Nay,  dear,  submit  to  this — ^just  this 
Supreme  endeavour !     As  my  lips  now  kiss 
Your  feet,  my  arms  convulse  your  shrouding  robe, 
My  eyes,  acquainted  with  the  dust,  dare  probe 
Your  eyes  above  for — what,  if  born,  would  blind 
Mine  with  redundant  bliss,  as  flash  may  find 
The  inert  nerve,  sting  awake  the  palsied  limb, 
Bid  with  life's  ecstasy  sense  overbrim 
And  suck  back  death  in  the  resurging  joy — 
Love,  the  love  whole  and  sole  without  alloy  ! 

Vainly !    The  promise  withers  !     I  employ 
Lips,  arms,  eyes,  pray  the  prayer  which  finds  the  word, 
Make  the  appeal  which  must  be  felt,  not  heard. 
And  none  the  more  is  changed  your  calm  regard : 
Rather,  its  sweet  and  soft  grow  harsh  and  hard — 
Forbearance,  then  repulsion,  then  disdain. 
Avert  the  rest !     I  rise,  see ! — make,  again 
Once  more,  the  old  departure  for  some  track 
Untried  yet  through  a  world  which  brings  me  back 


NUMPHOLEPTOS  €><, 

Ever  thus  fruitlessly  to  find  your  feet, 

To  fix  your  eyes,  to  pray  the  soft  and  sweet 

Which  smfle  there— take  from  his  new  pilgrimage 

Your  outcast,  once  your  inmate,  and  assuage 

With  love — not  placid  pardon  now — his  thirst 

For  a  mere  drop  from  out  the  ocean  erst 

He  drank  at !    Well,  the  quest  shall  be  renewed. 

Fear  nothing !     Though  I  linger,  unembued 

With  any  drop,  my  lips  thus  close.     I  go  ! 

So  did  I  leave  you,  I  have  found  you  so. 

And  doubtlessly,  if  fated  to  return, 

So  shall  my  pleading  persevere  and  earn 

Pardon — not  love — in  that  same  smile,  I  learn, 

And  lose  the  meaning  of,  to  Learn  once  more. 

Vainly ! 

What  fairy  track  do  I  explore  ? 
What  magic  hall  return  to,  like  the  gem 
Centuply-angled  o'er  a  diadem  ? 
You  dwell  there,  hearted ;  from  your  midmost  home 
Rays  forth — through  that  fantastic  world  I  roam 
Ever — from  centre  to  circumference, 
Shaft  upon  coloured  shaft :  this  crimsons  thence, 
That  purples  out  its  precinct  through  the  waste. 
Surely  I  had  your  sanction  when  I  faced. 
Fared  forth  upon  that  untried  yellow  ray 

XIV,  F 


66  NUMPHOLEPTOS 

Whence  I  retrack  my  steps  ?    They  end  to-day 

Where  they  began — before  your  feet,  beneath 

Your  eyes,  your  smile :  the  blade  is  shut  in  sheath, 

Fire  quenched  in  flint ;  irradiation,  late 

Triumphant  through  the  distance,  finds  its  fate. 

Merged  in  your  blank  pure  soul,  alike  the  source 

And  tomb  of  that  prismatic  glow  :  divorce 

Absolute,  all-conclusive  !     Forth  I  fared, 

Treading  the  lambent  flamelet :  little  cared 

If  now  its  flickering  took  the  topaz  tint. 

If  now  my  dull-caked  path  gave  sulphury  hint 

Of  subterranean  rage — no  stay  nor  stint 

To  yellow,  since  you  sanctioned  that  I  bathe. 

Burnish  me,  soul  and  body,  swim  and  swathe 

In  yellow  license.     Here  I  reek  suffused 

With  crocus,  saffron,  orange,  as  I  used 

With  scarlet,  purple,  every  dye  o*  the  bow 

Born  of  the  storm-cloud.     As  before,  you  show 

Scarce  recognition,  no  approval,  some 

Mistrust,  more  wonder  at  a  man  become 

Monstrous  in  garb,  nay — flesh  disguised  as  well, 

Through  his  adventure.     Whatsoe'er  befell, 

I  followed,  whereso'er  it  wound,  that  vein 

You  authorized  should  leave  your  whiteness,  stain 

Earth's  sombre  stretch  beyond  your  midmost  place 

Of  vantage, — trode  that  tinct  whereof  the  trac^ 


NUMPHOLEPTOS  67 

On  garb  and  flesh  repel  you !     Yes,  I  plead 

Your  own  permission— your  command,  indeed. 

That  who  would  worthily  retain  the  love 

Must  share  the  knowledge  shrined  those  eyes  above, 

Go  boldly  on  adventure,  break  through  bounds 

O'  the  quintessential  whiteness  that  surrounds 

Your  feet,  obtain  experience  of  each  tinge 

That  bickers  forth  to  broaden  out,  impinge 

Plainer  his  foot  its  pathway  all  distinct 

From  every  other.     Ah,  the  wonder,  linked 

With  fear,  as  exploration  manifests 

What  agency  it  was  first  tipped  the  crests 

Of  unnamed  wildflower,  soon  protruding  grew 

Portentous  mid  the  sands,  as  when  his  hue 

Betrays  him  and  the  burrowing  snake  gleams  through ; 

Till,  last  .  .  .  but  why  parade  more  shame  and  pain  ? 

Are  not  the  proofs  upon  me  ?     Here  again 

I  pass  into  your  presence,  I  receive 

Your  smile  of  pity,  pardon,  and  I  leave  .  .  . 

No,  not  this  last  of  times  I  leave  you,  mute, 

Submitted  to  my  penance,  so  my  foot 

May  yet  again  adventure,  tread,  from  source 

To  issue,  one  more  ray  of  rays  which  course 

Each  other,  at  your  bidding,  from  the  sphere 

Silver  and  sweet,  their  birthplace,  down  that  drear 

Dark  of  the  world, — you  promise  shall  return 

F2 


68  NUMPHOLEPTOS 

Your  pilgrim  jewelled  as  with  drops  o'  the  urn 

The  rainbow  paints  from,  and  no  smatch  at  all 

Of  ghastliness  at  edge  of  some  cloud-pall 

Heaven  cowers  before,  as  earth  awaits  the  fall 

O'  the  bolt  and  flash  of  doom.     Who  trusts  your  word 

Tries  the  adventure :  and  returns — absurd 

As  frightful — in  that  sulphur-steeped  disguise 

Mocking  the  priestly  cloth-of-gold,  sole  prize 

The  arch-heretic  was  wont  to  bear  away 

Until  he  reached  the  burning.     No,  I  say ; 

No  fresh  adventure !    No  more  seeking  love 

At  end  of  toil,  and  finding,  calm  above 

My  passion,  the  old  statuesque  regard. 

The  sad  petrific  smile ! 

O  you— less  hard 
And  hateful  than  mistaken  and  obtuse 
Unreason  of  a  she- intelligence  I 
You  very  woman  with  the  pert  pretence 
To  match  the  male  achievement !    Like  enough ! 
Ay,  you  were  easy  victors,  did  the  rough 
Straightway  efface  itself  to  smooth,  the  gruff 
Grind  down  and  grow  a  whisper, — did  man's  truth 
Subdue,  for  sake  of  chivalry  and  ruth, 
Its  rapier-edge  to  suit  the  bulrush-spear 
Womanly  falsehood  fights  with !     O  that  ear 


NUMPHQLEPTOS  69 

All  fact  pricks  rudely,  that  thrice-superfine 
Feminity  of  sense,  with  right  divine 
To  waive  all  process,  take  result  stain-free 
From  out  the  very  muck  wherein  .  .  . 

Ah  me! 
The  true  slaveys  querulous  outbreak !    All  the  rest 
Be  resignation  1    Forth  at  your  behest 
I  fare.     Who  knows  but  this — the  crimson-quest — 
May  deepen  to  a  sunrise,  not  decay 
To  that  cold  sad  sweet  smile  ?— which  I  obey. 


1 


70 


APPEARANCES. 
1876 

I. 

And  so  you  found  that  poor  room  dull, 
Dark,  hardly  to  your  taste,  my  dear  ? 

Its  features  seemed  unbeautiful : 

But  this  I  know — 't  was  there,  not  here, 

You  plighted  troth  to  me,  the  word 

Which — ask  that  poor  room  how  it  heard 

II. 

And  this  rich  room  obtains  your  praise 
Unqualified, — so  bright,  so  fair, 

So  all  whereat  perfection  stays  ? 
Ay,  but  remember — here,  not  there. 

The  other  word  was  spoken  !    Ask 

This  rich  room  how  you  dropped  the  mask 


7X 


ST.  MARTIN'S  SUMMER, 

1876. 

I. 

No  protesting,  dearest ! 
Hardly  kisses  even ! 
Don^t  we  both  know  how  it  ends  ? 
How  the  greenest  leaf  turns  serest. 
Bluest  outbreak—  blankest  heaven, 
Lovers — friends  ? 

II. 

You  would  build  a  mansion, 
I  would  weave  a  bower 
— Want  the  heart  for  enterprise. 
Walls  admit  of  no  expansion  : 
Trellis-work  may  haply  flower 
Twice  the  size. 


72  ST.   MARTINIS  SUMMER 

III. 

What  makes  glad  Life's  Winter  ? 
New  buds,  old  blooms  after. 
Sad  the  sighing  "  How  suspect 
Beams  would  ere  mid- Autumn  splinter, 
Rooftree  scarce  support  a  rafter, 
Walls  lie  wrecked  ?  " 


IV. 

You  are  young,  my  princess ! 
I  am  hardly  older : 
Yet — I  steal  a  glance  behind. 
Dare  I  tell  you  what  convinces 
Timid  me  that  you,  if  bolder. 
Bold — are  blind  ? 


V. 

Where  we  plan  our  dwelling 
Glooms  a  graveyard  surely ! 

Headstone,  footstone  moss  may  drape,- 
Name,  date,  violets  hide  from  spelling, — 
But,  though  corpses  rot  obscurely, 
Ghosts  escape. 


ST.   MARTINIS  SUMMER  73 


VI. 


Ghosts !    O  breathing  Beauty, 
Give  my  frank  word  pardon  ! 
What  if  I — somehow,  somewhere- 
Pledged  my  soul  to  endless  duty 
Many  a  time  and  oft  ?    Be  hard  on 
Love— laid  there  ? 


VII. 

Nay,  blame  grief  that 's  fickle, 
Time  that  proves  a  traitor, 

Chance,  change,  all  that  purpose  warps,—' 
Death  who  spares  to  thrust  the  sickle 

Laid  Love  low,  through  flowers  which  later 
Shroud  the  corpse ! 


VIII. 

And  you,  my  winsome  lady, 
Whisper  with  like  frankness ! 
Lies  nothing  buried  long  ago  ? 
Are  yon — which  shimmer  mid  the  shady 
Where  moss  and  violet  run  to  rankness- 
Tombs  or  no  ? 


1 


74  ST.   MARTHA'S  SUMMER 

IX. 

Who  taxes  you  with  murder  ? 
My  hands  are  clean— -or  nearly! 
Love  being  mortal  needs  must  pass. 
Repentance  ?    Nothing  were  absurder. 
Enough  :  we  felt  Love's  loss  severely ; 
Though  now — alas ! 


X. 

Love's  corpse  lies  quiet  therefore, 
Only  Love's  ghost  plays  truant, 
And  warns  us  have  in  wholesome  awe 
Durable  mansionry ;  that 's  wherefore 
I  weave  but  trellis-work,  pursuant 
— Life,  to  law. 


XI. 

The  solid,  not  the  fragile, 

Tempts  rain  and  hail  and  thunder. 
If  bower  stand  firm  at  Autumn's  close. 
Beyond  my  hope, — why,  boughs  were  agile ; 
If  bower  fall  flat,  we  scarce  need  wonder 
Wreathing—  rose  I 


ST.   MARTIN'S  SUMMER  75 

XII. 

So,  truce  to  the  protesting, 
So,  muffled  be  the  kisses ! 
For,  would  we  but  avow  the  truth, 
Sober  is  genuine  joy.     No  jesting ! 
Ask  else  Penelope,  Ulysses — 
Old  in  youth ! 


XIII. 

For  why  should  ghosts  feel  angered  ? 
Let  all  their  interference 
Be  faint  march-music  in  the  air ! 
"  Up !    Join  the  rear  of  us  the  vanguard ! 
Up,  lovers,  dead  to  all  appearance, 
Laggard  pair ! " 


XIV. 

The  while  you  clasp  me  closer. 
The  while  I  press  you.  deeper. 
As  safe  we  chuckle, — under  breath. 
Yet  all  the  slyer,  the  jocoser, — 

"  So,  life  can  boast  its  day,  like  leap-year, 
Stolen  from  death  ! " 


76  ST.  MARTIN'S  SUMMER 


XV. 


Ah  me — the  sudden  terror ! 

Hence  quick — avaunt,  avoid  me, 
You  cheat,  the  ghostly  flesh -disguised ! 
Nay,  all  the  ghosts  in  one  !    Strange  error ! 
So,  't  was  Death's  self  that  clipped  and  coyed  me, 
Loved— and  lied ! 


XVI. 

Ay,  dead  loves  are  the  potent ! 
Like  any  cloud  they  used  you, 
Mere  semblance  you,  but  substahce  they ! 
Build  we  no  mansion,  weave  we  no  tent ! 
Mere  flesh — their  spirit  interfused  you ! 
Hence,  I  say ! 


XVII. 

All  theirs,  none  yours  the  glamour ! 
Theirs  each  low  word  that  won  me, 
Soft  look  that  found  me  Love's,  and  left 
What  else  but  you — the  tears  and  clamour 
That 's  all  your  very  own !     Undone  me — 
Ghost-bereft ! 


77 


HERVE  KIEL, 
1876. 

I. 

On  the  sea  and  at  the  Hogue,  sixteen  hundred  ninety- 
two, 
Did  the  English  fight  the  French, — woe  to  France  ! 

And,  the  thirty-first  of  May,  helter-skelter  through  the 
blue, 

Like  a  crowd  of  frightened  porpoises  a  shoal  of  sharks 
pursue. 
Came  crowding  ship  on  ship  to  Saint-Malo  on  the 
Ranee, 

With  the  English  fleet  in  view. 

II. 

'Twas  the  squadron  that  escaped,   with  the  victor  in 
full  chase  ; 
First  and  foremost  of  the  drove,  in  his  great  ship, 
Damfreville ; 
Close  on  him  fled,  great  and  small, 
Twenty-two  good  ships  in  all ; 


78  HERVE  RIEL 

And  they  signalled  to  the  place 
"  Help  the  winners  of  a  race ! 

Get  us  guidance^  give  as  harbour,  take  us  quick- 
or,  quicker  still. 

Here 's  the  English  can  and  will ! " 


III. 

Then  the  pilots  of  the  place  put  out  brisk  and  leapt 
on  board; 
"Why,  what  hope  or  chance  have  ships  like  these 
to  pass  ?  "  laughed  they : 
"  Rocks  to  starboard,  rocks   to  port,  all  the  passage 

scarred  and  scored, — 
Shall  the  *  Formidable '  here,  with  her  twelve  and  eighty 
guns, 
Think  to  make  the  river-mouth  by  the  single  narrow 
way, 
Trust  to  enter — where  't  is  ticklish  for  a  craft  of  twenty 
tons. 
And  with  flow  at  full  beside  ? 
Now,  't  is  slackest  ebb  of  tide. 
Reach  the  mooring  ?    Rather  say, 
While  rock  stands  or  water  runs, 
Not  a  ship  will  leave  the  bay ! " 


HERVE  RIEL  79 

IV. 

Then  was  called  a  council  straight 

Brief  and  bitter  the  debate : 

"  Here 's  the  English  at  our  heels ;   would  you   have 

them  take  in  tow 
All  that's  left  us  of  the  fleet,  linked  together  stern 

and  bow, 
For  a  prize  to  Plymouth  Sound  ? 
Better  run  the  ships  aground  ! " 

(Ended  Damfreville  his  speech). 
"  Not  a  minute  more  to  wait ! 
Let  the  Captains  all  and  each 

Shove  ashore,  then  blow   up,  bum  the  vessels  on 
the  beach ! 
France  must  undergo  her  fate. 

V. 

Give  the  word !  "     But  no  such  word 
Was  ever  spoke  or  heard ; 
For  up  stood,  for  out  stepped,  for  in  struck  amid  all 
these 
— A  Captain  ?    A  Lieutenant  ?    A  Mate — first,  second, 
third? 
No  such  man  of  mark,  and  meet 
With  his  betters  to  compete ! 


«o  HERVB  RIEL 

But  a  Simple  Breton  sailor  pressed  by  Tourrille  fcM* 
the  fleet, 
A  poor  coasting-pilot  he,  Herve  Rid  the  Cioisickese. 


VL 


And  "What  mockery  or  malice  have  we  here?"  cries 
Herv^  Riel : 
"Are  you  mad,  you  Malouins?    Are  you  cowards, 
fools,  or  rogues  ? 
Talk  to  me  of  rocks  and  shoals,   me  who  took  the 

soundings,  tell 
On  my  fingers  every  bank,  every  shallow,  every  swell 
Twixt  the  offing  here   and  Gr^e  where  the  river 
disembogues  ? 
Are    you    bought  by   English  gold?      Is  it  love  the 
lying 's  for  ? 
Mom  and  eve,  night  and  day. 
Have  I  piloted  your  bay, 
Entered  free  and  anchored  fast  at  the  foot  of  Solidor. 
Bum  the  fleet  and  ruin  France?    That  were  worse 
than  fifty  Hogues ! 
Sirs,  they  know  I  speak  the  truth !     Sirs,  believe  me 
there 's  a  way  ! 
Only  let  me  lead  the  line. 


HERVE  RIEL  8x 

Have  the  biggest  ship  to  steer, 
Get  this  *  Formidable '  clear, 
Make  the  others  follow  mine, 

And  I  lead  them,  most  and  least,  by  a  passage  I  know 
well, 
Right  to  Solidor  past  Gr^ve, 

And  there  lay  theAi  safe  and  sound ; 
And  if  one  ship  misbehave, — 

— Keel  so  much  as  grate  the  ground. 
Why,  I  Ve  nothing  but  my  life, — here 's  my  head  I " 
cries  Herve  Riel. 


vii. 

Not  a  minute  more  to  wait. 

"  Steer  us  in,  then,  small  and  great ! 

Take  the  helm,  lead  the  line,  save  the  squadron  ! " 
cried  its  chief. 
Captains,  give  the  sailor  place  1 

He  is  Admiral,  in  brief. 
Still  the  north-wind,  by  God's  grace 
See  the  noble  fellow's  face 
As  the  big  ship,  with  a  bound, 
Clears  the  entry  like  a  hound,    . 
Keeps  the  passage,  as  its  inch  of  way  were  the  wide 
sea's  profound ! 

XIV.  G 


82  HBRVB  RIEL 

See,  safe  thro'  shoal  and  rock, 

How  they  follow  in  a  flock, 
Not  a  ship  that  misbehaves,  not  a  keel  that  grates  the 
ground. 

Not  a  spar  that  comes  to  grief ! 
The  peril,  see,  is  past. 
All  are  harbeured  to  the  last,   • 
And  just  as  Herve  Riel  hollas  "Anchor!" — sure  as 

fate, 
Up  the  English  come, — too  late ! 

VIIL 

So,  the  storm  subsides  to  calm : 

They  see  the  green  trees  wave 

On  the  heights  overlooking  Grfeve. 
Hearts  that  bled  are  stanched  with  balm. 
"  Just  our  rapture  to  enhance, 

Let  the  English  rake  the  bay. 
Gnash  their  teeth  and  glare  askance 

As  they  cannonade  away ! 
'Neath  rampired  Solidor  pleasant  riding  on  the  Ranee !  " 
How  hope  succeeds  despair  on  each  Captain's  coun- 
tenance ! 

■ 

Out  burst  all  with  one  accord, 
"  This  is  Paradise  for  Hell  1 


HERVE  RIEL  83 

Let  France,  let  France's  King 
Thank  the  man  that  did  the  thing ! " 
What  a  shout,  and  all  one  word, 

"  Herv^  Riel ! " 
As  he  stepped  in  front  once  more, 
Not  a  symptom  of  surprise 
In  the  frank  blue  Breton  eyes. 
Just  the  same  man  as  before. 

IX. 

# 

Then  said  Damfreville,  "  My  friend, 
I  must  speak  out  at  the  end, 

Though  I  find  the  speaking  hard. 
Praise  is  deeper  than  the  lips : 
You  have  saved  the  King  his  ships, 

You  must  name  your  own  reward. 
'Faith,  our  sun  was  near  eclipse ! 
Demand  whatever  you  will, 
France  remains  your  debtor  still. 
Ask  to  heart's  content  and  have!  or  my  name's 
not  Damfreville." 

X. 

Then  a  beam  of  fun  outbroke 

On  the  bearded  mouth  that  spoke, 

G  2 


84  HERVE  RIEL 

As  the  honest  heart  laughed  through 
Those  frank  eyes  of  Breton  blue : 
"  Since  I  needs  must  say  my  say, 

Since  on  board  the  duty's  done, 

And  from  Malo  Roads  to  Croisic  Point,  what  is  it 
but  a  run  ? — 
Since  't  is  ask  and  have,  I  may — 

Since  the  others  go  ashore — 
Come !     A  good  whole  holiday ! 

Leave  to  go  and  see  my  wife,    whom   I  call  the 
Belle  Aurore ! " 

That  he  asked  and  that  he  got, — nothing  more. 

XI. 

Name  and  deed  alike  are  lost : 
Not  a  pillar  nor  a  post 

In  his  Croisic  keeps  alive  the  feat  as  it  befell ; 
Not  a  head  in  white  and  black 
On  a  single  fishing-smack. 
In  memory  of  the  man  but  for  whom  had  gone  to  wrack 

All  that  France  saved  from  the  fight  whence  England 
bore  the  bell. 
Go  to  Paris  :  rank  on  rank 

Search  the  heroes  flung  pell-mell 
On  the  Louvre,  face  and  flank ! 


HERVB  KIEL  85 

You  shall  look  long  enough  ere  you  come  to  Herve 
Riel. 
So,  for  better  and  for  worse, 
Herv^  Riel,  accept  my  verse  \ 
In  my  verse,  Herv^  Riel,  do  thou  once  more 
Save  the  squadron,  honour  France,  love  thy  wife  the 
Belle  Aurore ! 


86 


A  FORGIVENESS. 


1876. 


I  AM  indeed  the  personage  you  know. 
As  for  ray  wife, — ^what  happened  long  ago, — 
You  have  a  right  to  question  me,  as  I 
Am  bound  to  answer. 

("  Son,  a  fit  reply ! " 
The  monk  half  spoke,  half  ground  through  his  clenched 

teeth, 
At  the  confession-grate  I  knelt  beneath.) 

Thus  then  all  happened,  Father !    Power  and  place 
I  had  as  still  I  have.     I  ran  life's  race, 
With  the  whole  world  to  see,  as  only  strains 
His  strength  some  athlete  whose  prodigious  gains 
Of  good  appal  him :  happy  to  excess, — 
Work  freely  done  should  balance  happiness 


A  FORGIVENESS  87 

Fully  enjoyed ;  and,  since  beneath  my  roof 

Housed  she  who  made  home  heaven,   in  heaven's 

behoof 
I  went  forth  every  day,  and  all  day  long 
Worked  for  the  world.      Look,   how  the  labourer's 

song 
Cheers  him !    Thus  sang  my  soul,  at  each  sharp  throe 
Of  labouring  flesh  and  blood — "  She  loves  me  so !  " 

One  day,  perhaps  such  song  so  knit  the  nerve 
That  work  grew  play  and  vanished.     "  I  deserve 
Haply  my  heaven  an  hour  before  the  time  !  " 
I  laughed,  as  silverly  the  clockhouse-chime 
Surprised  me  passing  through  the  postern-gate 
— Not  the  main  entry  where  the  menials  wait 
And  wonder  why  the  world's  affairs  allow 
The  master  sudden  leisure.     That  was  how 
I  took  the  private  garden-way  for  once. 

Forth  from  the  alcove,  I  saw  start,  ensconce 
Himself  behind  the  porphyry  vase,  a  man. 

My  fancies  in  the  natural  order  ran : 

"  A  spy, — perhaps  a  foe  in  ambuscade, — 

A  thief, — more  like,  a  sweetheart  of  some  maid 

Who  pitched  on  the  alcove  for  tryst  perhaps." 


88  A   FORGIVENESS 

"  Stand  there ! "    Ibid. 

Whereat  my  man  but  wraps 
His  face  the  closelier  with  upHfted  arm 
Whereon  the  cloak  lies,  strikes  in  bhnd  alarm 
This  and  that  pedestal  as, — stretch  and  stoop, — 
Now  in,  now  out  of  sight,  he  thrids  the  group 
Of  statues,  marble  god  and  goddess  ranged 
Each  side  the  pathway,  till  the  gate 's  exchanged 
For  safety :  one  step  thence,  the  street,  you  know ! 

Thus  far  I  followed  with  my  gaze.     Then,  slow, 
Near  on  admiringly,  I  breathed  again, 
And — back  to  that  last  fancy  of  the  train — 
"  A  danger  risked  for  hope  of  just  a  word 
With — ^which  of  all  my  nest  may  be  the  bird 
This  poacher  covets  for  her  plumage,  pray? 
Carmen  ?    Juana  ?    Carmen  seems  too  gay 
For  such  adventure,  while  Juana  *s  grave 
— Would  scorn  the  folly.     I  applaud  the  knave ! 
He  had  the  eye,  could  single  from  my  brood 
His  proper  fledgeling ! " 

As  I  turned,  there  stood 
In  face  of  me,  my  wife  stone-still  stone- white. 
Whether  one  bound  had  brought  her, — at  first  sight 
Of  what  she  judged  the  encounter,  sure  to  be 


A  FORGIVENESS  89 

Next  moment,  of  the  venturous  man  and  me, — 

Brought  her  to  clutch  and  keep  me  from  my  prey : 

Whether  impelled  because  her  death  no  day 

Could  come  so  absolutely  opportune 

As  now  at  joy's  height,  like  a  year  in  June 

Stayed  at  the  fall  of  its  first  ripened  rose : 

Or  whether  hungry  for  my  hate — who  knows  ? — 

Eager  to  end  an  irksome  lie,  and  taste 

Our  tingling  true  relation,  hate  embraced 

By  hate  one  naked  moment : — anyhow 

There  stone-still  stone-white  stood  my  wife,  but  now 

The  woman  who  made  heaven  within  my  house. 

Ay,  she  who  faced  me  was  my  very  spouse 

As  well  as  love  -  you  are  to  recollect ! 

"  Stay ! "  she  said.     "  Keep  at  least  one  soul  unspecked 

With  crime,  that 's  spotless  hitherto— your  own  ! 

Kill  me  who  court  the  blessing,  who  alone 

Was,  am,  and  shall  be  guilty,  first  to  last ! 

The  man  lay  helpless  in  the  toils  I  cast 

About  him,  helpless  as  the  statue  there 

Against  that  strangling  bell-flower's  bondage :  tear 

Away  and  tread  to  dust  the  parasite, 

But  do  the  passive  marble  no  despite ! 

I  love  him  as  I  hate  you.     Kill  me !     Strike 

At  one  blow  both  infinitudes  alike 


90  A  FORGIVENESS 

Out  of  existence — hate  and  love  I    Whence  love  ? 
That 's  safe  inside  my  heart,  nor  will  remove 
For  any  searching  of  your  steel,  I  think. 
Whence  hate  ?    The  secret  lay  on  lip,  at  brink 
Of  speech,  in  one  fierce  tremble  to  escape, 
At  every  form  wherein  your  love  took  sliape, 
At  each  new  provocation  of  your  kiss. 
Kill  me ! " 

We  went  in. 

Next  day  after  this, 
I  felt  as  if  the  speech  might  come.     I  spoke — 
Easily,  after  all. 

"  The  lifted  cloak 
Was  screen  sufficient :  I  concern  myself 
Hardly  with  laying  hands  on  who  for  pelf — 
Whatever  the  ignoble  kind — may  prowl  and  brave 
Cuffing  and  kicking  proper  to  a  knave 
Detected  by  my  household's  vigilance. 
Enough  of  such !     As  for  my  love-romance — 
I,  like  our  good  Hidalgo,  rub  my  eyes 
And  wake  and  wonder  how  the  film  could  rise 
Which  changed  for  me  a  barber's  basin  straight 
Into — Mambrino's  helm  ?     I  hesitate 
Nowise  to  say — God's  sacramental  cup  ! 


A  FORGIVENESS  91 

Why  should  I  blame  the  brass  which,  burnished  up, 

Will  blaze,  to  all  but  me,  as  good  as  gold  ? 

To  me — '3i  warning  I  was  overbold 

In  judging  metals.     The  Hidalgo  waked 

Only  to  die,  if  I  remember, — staked 

His  life  upon  the  basin's  worth,  and  lost : 

While  I  confess  torpidity  at  most 

In  here  and  there  a  limb;  but,  lame  and  halt. 

Still  should  I  work  on,  still  repair  my  fault 

Ere  I  took  rest  in  death, — no  fear  at  all ! 

Now,  work — no  word  before  the  curtain  fall  I " 

The  "curtain"?    That  of  death  on  life,  I  meant : 

My  "  word,"  permissible  in  death's  event. 

Would  be — truth,  soul  to  soul ;  for,  otherwise, 

Day  by  day,  three  years  long,  there  had  to  rise 

And,  night  by  night,  to  fall  upon  our  stage — 

Ours,  doomed  to  public  play  by  heritage — 

Another  curtain,  when  the  world,  perforce 

Our  critical  assembly,  in  due  course 

Came  and  went,  witnessing,  gave  praise  or  blame 

To  art-mimetic.     It  had  spoiled  the  game 

If,  suffered  to  set  foot  behind  our  scene. 

The  world  had  witnessed  how  stage-king  and  queen. 

Gallant  and  lady,  but  a  minute  since 

Enarming  each  the  other,  would  evince 


92  A  FORGIVENESS 

No  sign  of  recognition  as  they  took 

His  way  and  her  way  to  whatever  nook 

Waited  them  in  the  darkness  either  side 

Of  that  bright  stage  where  lately  groom  and  bride 

Had  fired  the  audience  to  a  frenzy-fit 

Of  sympathetic  rapture — every  whit 

Earned  as  the  curtain  fell  on  her  and  me, 

— Actors.    Three  whole  years,  nothing  was  to  see 

But  calm  and  concord ;  where  a  speech  was  due 

There  came  the  speech :  when  smiles  were  wanted  too 

Smiles  were  as  ready.     In  a  place  like  mine, 

Where  foreign  and  domestic  cares  combine, 

There  *s  audience  every  day  and  all  day  long ; 

But  finally  the  last  of  the  whole  throng 

Who  linger  lets  one  see  his  back.     For  her — 

Why,  liberty  and  liking :  I  aver. 

Liking  and  liberty !     For  me — I  breathed, 

Let  my  face  rest  from  every  wrinkle  wreathed 

Smile-like  about  the  mouth,  unlearned  my  task 

Of  personation  till  next  day  bade  mask, 

And  quietly  betook  me  from  that  world 

To  the  real  world,  not  pageant :  there  unfurled 

In  work,  its  wings,  my  soul,  the  fretted  power. 

Three  years  I  worked,  each  minute  of  each  hour 

Not  claimed  by  acting :— work  I  may  dispense 

With  talk  about,  since  work  in  evidence* 


A  FORGIVENESS  93 

Perhaps  in  history ;  who  knows  or  cares  ? 

After  three  years,  this  way,  all  unawares, 

Our  acting  ended.    She  and  I,  at  close 

Of  a  loud  night-feast,  led,  between  two  rows 

Of  bending  male-and  female  loyalty. 

Our  lord  the  king  down  staircase,  while,  held  high 

At  arm's  length  did  the  twisted  tapers'  flare 

Herald  his  passage  from  our  palace,  where 

Such  visiting  left  glory  evermore. 

Again  the  ascent  in  public,  till  at  door 

As  we  two  stood  by  the  saloon — now  blank 

And  disencumbered  of  its  guests — there  sank 

A  whisper  in  my  ear,  so  low  and  yet 

So  unmistakable ! 

"  I  half  forget 
The  chamber  you  repair  to,  and  I  want 
Occasion  for  one  short  word — if  you  grant 
That  grace — within  a  certain  room  you  called 
Our  '  Study,'  for  you  wrote  there  while  I  scrawled 
Some  paper  full  of  faces  for  my  sport. 
That  room  I  can  remember.    Just  one  short 
Word  with  you  there,  for  the  remembrance'  sake ! " 

"  Follow  me  thither ! "  \  replied. 


94  A  FORGIVENESS 

We  break 

« 

The  gloom  a  little,  as  with  guiding  lamp 

I  lead  the  way,  leave  warmth  and  cheer,  by  damp 

Blind  disused  serpentining  ways  afar 

From  where  the  habitable  chambers  are, — 

Ascend,  descend  stairs  tunnelled  through  the  stone,- 

Always  in  silence, — till  I  reach  the  lone 

Chamber  sepulchred  for  my  very  own 

Out  of  the  palace-quarry.     When  a  boy. 

Here  was  my  fortress,  stronghold  from  annoy, 

Proof-positive  of  ownership ;  in  youth 

I  garnered  up  my  gleanings  here— uncouth 

But  precious  relics  of  vain  hopes,  vain  fears ; 

Finally,  this  became  in  after  years 

My  closet  of  entrenchment  to  withstand 

Invasion  of  the  foe  on  every  hand — 

The  multifarious  herd  in  bower  and  hall. 

State-room,— rooms  whatsoe'er  the  style,  which  call 

On  masters  to  be  mindful  that,  before 

Men,  they  must  look  like  men  and  something  more. 

Here, — when  our  lord  the  king's  bestowment  ceased 

To  deck  me  on  the  day  that,  golden-fleeced, 

I  touched  ambition's  height, — 't  was  here,  released 

From  glory  (always  symboUed  by  a  chain !) 

No  sooner  was  I  privileged  to  gain 

My  secret  domicile  than  glad  I  flung 


A  FORGIVENESS  95 

That  last  toy  on  the  table — ^gazed  where  hung 
On  hook  my  father's  gift,  the  arquebuss — 
And  asked  myself  "  Shall  I  envisage  thus 
l^he  new  prize  and  the  old  prize,  when  I  reach 
Another  year's  experience  ? — own  that  each 
Equalled  advantage  —sportsman's — statesman's  tool  ? 
That  brought  me  down  an  eagle,  this — a  fool ! " 

Into  which  room  on  entry,  I  set  down 
The  lamp,  and  turning  saw  whose  rustled  gown 
Had  told  me  my  wife  followed,  pace  for  pace. 
Each  of  us  looked  the  other  in  the  face. 
She  spoke.     "  Since  I  could  die  now     .  ." 

(To  explain 
Why  that  first  struck  me,  know — not  once  again 
Since  the  adventure  at  the  porphyry's  edge 
Three  years  before,  which  sundered  like  a  wedge 
Her  soul  from  mine,—  though  daily,  smile  to  smile. 
We  stood  before  the  public,— all  the  while 
Not  once  had  I  distinguished,  in  that  face 
I  paid  observance  to,  the  faintest  trace 
Of  feature  more  than  requisite  for  eyes 
To  do  their  duty  by  and  recognize : 
So  did  I  force  mine  to  obey  my  will. 
And  pry  no  further.     There  exists  such  skill, — 


96  A  FORGIVENESS 

'Those  know  who  need  it     What  physician  shrinks 
From  needful  contact  with  a  corpse  ?     He  drinks 
No  plague  so  long  as  thirst  for  knowledge — not 
An  idler  impulse— prompts  inquiry.     What, 
And  will  you  disbelieve  in  power  to  bid 
Our  spirit  back  to  bounds,  as  though  we  chid 
A  child  from  scrutiny  that 's  just  and  right 
In  manhood?      Sense,  not  soul,  accomplished 

sight, 
Reported  daily  she  it  was — not  how 
Nor  why  a  change  had  come  to  cheek  and  brow.) 

"  Since  I  could  die  now  of  the  truth  concealed, 

Yet  dare  not,  must  not  die — so  seems  revealed 

The  Virgin's  mind  to  me — for  death  means  peace, 

Wherein  no  lawful  part  have  I,  whose  lease 

Of  life  and  punishment  the  truth  avowed 

May  haply  lengthen, — let  me  push  the  shroud 

Away,  that  steals  to  muffle  ere  is  just 

My  penance-fire  in  snow !     I  dare — I  must 

Live,  by  avowal  of  the  truth — this  truth — 

I  loved  ypu  !    Thanks  for  the  fresh  serpent's  tooth 

That,  by  a  prompt  new  pang  more  exquisite 

Than  all  preceding  torture,  proves  me  right  1 

I  loved  you  yet  I  lost  you  !     May  I  go 

Burn  to  the  ashes,  now  my  shame  you  know  ?  " 


A  FORGIVENESS  97 

I  think  there  never  was  such — how  express? — 

Horror  coquetting  with  voluptuousness, 

As  in  those  arms  of  Eastern  workmanship — 

Yataghan,  kandjar,  things  that  rend  and  rip, 

Gash  rough,  slash  smooth,  help  hate  so  many  ways. 

Yet  ever  keep  a  beauty  that  betrays 

Love  still  at  work  with  the  artificer 

Throughout  his  quaint  devising.     Why  prefer, 

Except  for  love's  sake,  that  a  blade  should  writhe 

And  bicker  like  a  flame  ? — now  play  the  scythe 

As  if  some  broad  neck  tempted, — now  contract 

And  needle  off  into  a  fineness  lacked 

For  just  that  puncture  which  the  heart  demands  ? 

Then,  such  adornment !    Wherefore  need  our  hands 

Enclose  not  ivory  alone,  nor  gold 

Roughened  for  use,  but  jewels  ?    Nay,  behold ! 

Fancy  my  favourite — which  I  seem  to  grasp 

While  I  describe  the  luxury.     No  asp 

Is  diapered  more  delicate  round  throat 

Than  this  below  the  handle  !     These  denote 

— These  mazy  lines  meandering,  to  end 

Only  in  flesh  they  open — what  intend 

They  else  but  water-purlings— pale  contrast 

With  the  life-crimson  where  they  blend  at  last  ? 

And  mark  the  handle's  dim  pellucid  green, 

Carved,  the  hard  jadestone,  as  you  pinch  a  bean, 

XIV.  H 


98  A  FORGIVENESS 

Into  a  sort  of  parrot-bird !     He  pecks 
A  grape-bunch ;  his'  two  eyes  are  ruby-specks 
Pure  from  the  mine :  seen  this  way, — glassy  blank. 
But  turn  them, — lo  the  inmost  fire,  that  shrank 
From  sparkling,  sends  a  red  dart  right  to  aim ! 
Why  did  I  choose  such  toys  ?    Perhaps  the  game 
Of  peaceful  men  is  warlike,  just  as  merj 
War-wearied  get  amusement  from  that  pen 
And  paper  we  grow  sick  of — statesfolk  tired 
Of  merely  (when  such  measures  are  required) 
Dealing  out  doom  to  people  by  three  words, 
A  signature  and  seal :  we  play  with  swords 
Suggestive  of  quick  process.     That  is  how 
I  came  to  like  the  toys  described  you  now, 
Store  of  which  glittered  on  the  walls  and  strewed 
The  table,  even,  while  my  wife  pursued 
Her  purpose  to  its  ending.     "  Now  you  know 
This  shame,  my  three  years'  torture,  let  me  go. 
Burn  to  the  very  ashes !     You — I  lost, 
Yet  you— I  loved ! " 

The  thing  I  pity  most 
In  men  is— action  prompted  by  surprise 
Of  anger :  men  ?  nay,  bulls — whose  onset  lies 
At  instance  of  the  firework  and  the  goad ! 
Once  the  foe  prostrate, — trampling  once  bestowed, 


A  PORGIVMNESS  ^ 

Prompt  follows  placability,  regret, 
Atonement.     Trust  me,  blood-warmth  never  yet 
Betokened  strong  will !    As  no  leap  of  pulse 
Pricked  me,  that  first  time,  so  did  none  convulse 
My  veins  at  this  occasion  for  resolve. 
Had  that  devolved  which  did  not  then  devolve 
Upon  me,  I  had  done — what  now  to  do 
Was  quietly  apparent. 

"  Tell  me  who 
The  man  was,  crouching  by  the  porphyry  vase ! " 

"  No,  never !    All  was  folly  in  his  case, 

All  guilt  in  mine.     I  tempted,  he  complied." 

"  And  yet  you  loved  me  ?  " 

"  Loved  you.     Double-dyed 
In  folly  and  in  guilt,  I  thought  you  gave 
Your  heart  and  soul  away  from  me  to  slave 
At  statecraft.     Since  my  right  in  you  seemed  lost, 
I  stung  myself  to  teach  you,  to  your  cost. 
What  you  rejected  could  be  prized  beyond 
Life,  heaven,  by  the  first  fool  I  threw  a  fond 
Look  on,  a  fatal  word  to." 

H2 


xoo  A   FORGIVENESS 

"  And  you  still 
Love  me  ?    Do  I  conjecture  well  or  ill  ? '' 

"  Conjecture — ^well  or  ill !     I  had  three  years 
To  spend  in  learning  you." 

"  We  both  are  peers 
In  knowledge,  therefore :  since  three  years  are  spent 
Ere  thus  much  of  yourself  /  learn — who  went 
Back  to  the  house,  that  day,  and  brought  my  mind 
To  bear  upon  your  action,  uncombined 
Motive  from  motive,  till  the  dross,  deprived 
Of  every  purer  particle,  survived 
At  last  in  native  simple  hideousness, 
Utter  contemptibility,  nor  less 
Nor  more.     Contemptibility — exempt 
How  could  I,  from  its  proper  due — contempt  ? 
I  have  too  much  despised  you  to  divert 
My  life  from  its  set  course  by  help  or  hurt 
Of  your  all-despicable  life — perturb 
The  calm,  I  work  in,  by — men's  mouths  to  curb, 
Which  at  such  news  were  clamorous  enough — 
Men's  eyes  to  shut  before  my  broidered  stuff 
With  the  huge  hole  there,  my  emblazoned  wall 
Blank  where  a  scutcheon  hung, — by,  worse  than  all. 
Each  day's  procession,  my  paraded  life 


A  FORGIVENESS  loi 

Robbed  and  impoverished  through  the  wanting  wife 

— Now  that  my  life  (which  means — my  work)  was  grown 

Riches  indeed !    Once,  just  this  worth  alone 

Seemed  work  to  have,  that  profit  gained  thereby 

Of  good  and  praise  would— how  rewardingly ! — 

Fall  at  your  feet, — a  crown  I  hoped  to  cast 

Before  your  love,  my  love  should  crown  at  last. 

No  love  remaining  to  cast  crown  before, 

My  love  stopped  work  now :  but  contempt  the  more 

Impelled  me  task  as  ever  head  and  hand, 

Because  the  very  fiends  weave  ropes  of  sand 

Rather  than  taste  pure  hell  in  idleness. 

Therefore  I  kept  my  memory  down  by  stress 

Of  daily  work  I  had  no  mind  to  stay 

For  the  world's  wonder  at  the  wife  away. 

Oh,  it  was  easy  all  of  it,  believe. 

For  I  despised  you  !     But  your  words  retrieve 

Importantly  the  past.     No  hate  assumed 

The  mask  of  love  at  any  time  !    There  gloomed 

A  moment  when  love  took  hate's  semblance,  urged 

By  causes  you  declare ;  but  love's  self  purged 

Away  a  fancied  wrong  I  did  both  loves 

— ^Yours  and  my  own :  by  no  hate's  help,  it  proves, 

Purgation  was  attempted.     Then,  you  rise 

High  by  how  many  a  grade !     I  did  despise — 

I  do  but  hate  you.     Let  hate's  punishment; 


xoe  A  FORGIVENESS 

Replace  contempt's !    First  step  to  which  ascent^ 
Write  down  your  own  words  I  re-utter  you ! 
^  I  loved  my  husband  and  I  hated — who 
He  was,  I  took  up  as  my  first  chance,  mere 
Mud-ball  to  fling  and  make  love  foul  with  / '     Here 
Lies  paper  I " 

"Would  my  blood  for  ink  suffice ! " 

"  It  may :  this  minion  from  a  land  of  spice, 
Silk,  feather — every  bird  of  jewelled  breast  — 
This  poignard's  beauty,  ne'er  so  lightly  prest 
Above  your  heart  there  .  .  ." 

"Thus?" 

"  It  flows,  I  see. 
Dip  there  the  point  and  write ! " 

"  Dictate  to  me  I 
Nay,  I  remember." 

And  she  wrote  the  words. 
I  read  them.    Then — "  Since  love,  in  you,  affords 
License  for  hate,  in  me,  to  quench  (I  say) 
Contempt — why,  hate  itself  has  passed  away 


A  FORGIVENESS  103 

In  vengeance — foreign  to  contempt.     Depart 
Peacefully  to  that  death  which  Eastern  art 
Imbued  this  weapon  with,  if  tales  be  true ! 
Love  will  succeed  to  hate.     I  pardon  you — 
Dead  in  our  chamber ! " 

True  as  truth  the  tale. 
She  died  ere  morning ;  then,  I  saw  how  pale 
Her  cheek  was  ere  it  wore  day's  paint-disguise, 
And  what  a  hollow  darkened  'neath  her  eyes. 
Now  that  I  used  my  own.     She  sleeps,  as  erst 
Beloved^  in  this  your  church :  ay,  yours  ! 

Immersed 
In  thought  so  deeply.  Father  ?    Sad,  perhaps? 
For  whose  sake,  hers  or  mine  or  his  who  wraps 
— Still  plain  I  seem  to  see  !— about  his  head 
The  idle  cloak, — about  his  heart  (instead 
Of  cuirass)  some  fond  hope  he  may  elude 
My  vengeance  in  the  cloister's  solitude? 
Hardly,  I  think !     As  little  helped  his  brow 
The  cloak  then,  Father — as  your  grate  helps  now  ! 


I04 


CENCIA/A. 
1876. 

Ogni  cencio  vuol  entrare  in  bucato. — Italian  Proverb, 

May  I  print,  Shelley,  how  it  came  to  pass 
That  when  your  Beatrice  seemed — ^by  lapse 
Of  many  a  long  month  since  her  sentence  fell — 
Assured  of  pardon  for  the  parricide, — 
By  intercession  of  staunch  friends,  or,  say, 
By  certain  pricks  of  conscience  in  the  Pope 
Conniver  at  Francesco  Cenci's  guilt, — 
Suddenly  all  things  changed  and  Clement  grew 
"  Stem,"  as  you  state,  "  nor  to  be  moved  nor  "bent, 
But  said  these  three  words  coldly  ^  She  must  die; 
Subjoining  *  Pardon  ?    Paolo  Santa  Croce 
Murdered  his  mother  also  yestereve^ 
And  he  is  fled:  she  shall  not  flee  at  least^,  ' 
—So,  to  the  letter,  sentence  was  fulfilled? 
Shelley,  may  I  condense  verbosity 
That  lies  before  me,  into  some  few  words 
Of  English,  and  illustrate  your  superb 


CENCIAJA  105 

Achievement  by  a  rescued  anecdote, 

No  great  things,  only  new  and  true  beside  ? 

As  if  some  mere  familiar  of  a  house 

Should  venture  to  accost  the  group  at  gaze 

Before  its  Titian,  famed  the  wide  world  through, 

And  supplement  such  pictured  masterpiece 

By  whisper  "  Searching  in  the  archives  here, 

I  found  the  reason  of  the  Lady's  fate. 

And  how  by  accident  it  came  to  pass 

She  wears  the  halo  and  displays  the  palm : 

Who,  haply,  else  had  never  suffered — no, 

Nor  graced  our  gallery,  by  consequence." 

Who  loved  the  work  would  like  the  little  news : 

Who  lauds  your  poem  lends  an  ear  to  me 

Relating  how  the  penalty  was  paid 

By  one  Marchese  dell'  Oriolo,  called 

Onofrio  Santa  Croce  otherwise. 

For  his  complicity  in  matricide 

With  Paolo  his  own  brother, — he  whose  crime 

And  flight  induced  "  those  three  words — She  must  die." 

Thus  I  unroll  you  then  the  manuscript 

"  God's  justice  " — (of  the  multiplicity 
Of  such  communications  extant  still. 
Recording,  each,  injustice  done  by  God 
In  person  of  his  Vicar-upon-earth, 


io6  CENCIAJA 

Scarce  one  but  leads  off  to  the  self-same  tune) — 
"  God^s  justice,  tardy  though  it  prove  perchance, 
Rests  never  on  the  track  until  it  reach 
Delinquency.     In  proof  I  cite  the  case 
Of  Paolo  Santa  Croce." 

Many  times 
The  youngster, — having  been  importunate 
That  Marchesine  Costanza,  who  remained 
His  widowed  mother,  should  supplant  the  heir 
Her  elder  son,  and  substitute  himself 
In  sole  possession  of  her  faculty, — 
And  meeting  just  as  often  with  rebuff, — 
Blinded  by  so  exorbitant  a  lust 
Of  gold,  the  youngster  straightway  tasked  his  wits, 
Casting  about  to  kill  the  lady — thus. 

He  first,  to  cover  his  iniquity, 
Writes  to  Onofrio  Santa  Croce,  then 
Authoritative  lord,  acquainting  him 
Their  mother  was  contamination — wrought 
Like  hell-fire  in  the  beauty  of  their  House 
By  dissoluteness  and  abandonment 
Of  soul  and  body  to  impure  delight. 
Moreover,  since  she  suffered  from  disease, 
Those  symptoms  which  her  death  made  manifest 


CENCIAJA  107 

Hydroptic,  he  affirmed  were  fruits  of  sin 
About  to  bring  confusion  and  disgrace 
Upon  the  ancient  lineage  and  high  fame 
O'  the  family,  when  published.     Duty  bound, 
He  asked  his  brother — what  a  son  should  do? 

Which  when  Marchese  deir  Oriolo  heard 
By  letter,  being  absent  at  his  land 
Oriolo,  he  made  answer,  this,  no  more : 
"  It  must  behove  a  son, — things  haply  so, — 
To  act  as  honour  prompts  a  cavalier 
And  son,  perform  his  duty  to  all  three. 
Mother  and  brothers  "—here  advice  broke  off. 

By  which  advice  informed  and  fortified, 
As  he  professed  himself — since  bound  by  birth 
To  hear  God's  voice  in  primogeniture — 
Paolo,  who  kept  his  mother  company 
In  her  domain  Subiaco,  straightway  dared 
His  whole  enormity  of  enterprise 
And,  falling  on  her,  stabbed  the  lady  dead ; 
Whose  death  demonstrated  her  innocence. 
And  happened, — by  the  way, — since  Jesus  Christ 
Died  to  save  man,  just  sixteen  hundred  years. 
Costanza  was  of  aspect  beautiful 
Exceedingly,  and  seemed,  although  in  age 


io8  CE  NCI  Ay  A 

Sixty  about,  to  far  surpass  her  peers 

The  coetaneous  dames,  in  youth  and  grace. 

Done  the  misdeed,  its  author  takes  to  flight. 
Foiling  thereby  the  justice  of  the  world : 
Not  God's  however, — God,  be  sure,  knows  well 
The  way  to  clutch  a  culprit.     Witness  here ! 
The  present  sinner,  when  he  least  expects, 
Snug-cornered  somewhere  i'  the  Basilicate, 
Stumbles  upon  his  death  by  violence. 
A  man  of  blood  assaults  a  man  of  blood 
And  slays  him  somehow.     This  was  afterward ; 
Enough,  he  promptly  met  with  his  deserts. 
And,  ending  thus,  permits  we  end  with  him. 
And  push  forthwith  to  this  important  point — 
His  matricide  fell  out,  of  all  the  days. 
Precisely  when  the  law-procedure  closed 
Respecting  Count  Francesco  Cenci's  death 
Chargeable  on  his  daughter,  sons  and  wife. 
"  Thus  patricide  was  matched  with  matricide," 
A  poet  not  inelegantly  rhymed : 
Nay,  fratricide — those  Princes  Massimi ! — 
Which  so  disturbed  the  spirit  of  the  Pope 
That  all  the  likelihood  Rome  entertained 
Of  Beatrice's  pardon  vanished  straight, 
And  she  endured  the  piteous  death. 


CENCIAJA  109 

Now  see 
The  sequel — what  effect  commandment  had 
For  strict  inquiry  into  this  last  case, 
When  Cardinal  Aldobrandini  (great 
His  efficacy— nephew  to  the  Pope) 
Was  bidden  crush — ay,  though  his  very  hand 
Got  soil  i'  the  act — crime  spawning  everywhere ! 
Because,  when  all  endeavour  had  been  used 
To  catch  the  aforesaid  Paolo,  all  in  vain — 
"  Make  perquisition  "  quoth  our  Eminence, 
"  Throughout  his  now  deserted  domicile  ! 
Ransack  the  palace,  roof  and  floor,  to  find 
If  haply  any  scrap  of  writing,  hid 
In  nook  or  corner,  may  convict — who  knows  ? — 
Brother  Onofrio  of  intelligence 
With  brother  Paolo,  as  in  brotherhood 
Is  but  too  likely :  crime  spawns  ever)rwhere.'' 

And,  every  cranny  searched  accordingly, 
There  comes  to  light— O  lynx-eyed  Cardinal ! — 
Onofrio's  unconsidered  writing-scrap. 
The  letter  in  reply  to  Paolo^s  prayer. 
The  word  of  counsel  that — things  proving  so, 
Paolo  should  act  the  proper  knightly  part. 
And  do  as  was  incumbent  on  a  son, 
A  brother— and  a  man  of  birth,  be  sure  ! 


ixo  CENCIAJA 

^Vhereat  immediately  the  officers 
Proceeded  to  arrest  Onofrio— found 
At  foot-ball,  child's  play,  unaware  of  harm. 
Safe  with  his  friends,  the  Orsini,  at  their  seat 
Monte  Giordano ;  as  he  left  the  house 
He  came  upon  the  watch  in  wait  for  him 
Set  by  the  Barigel, — was  caught  and  caged. 

News  of  which  capture  being,  that  same  hour, 
Conveyed  to  Rome,  forthwith  our  Eminence 
Commands  Taverna,  Governor  and  Judge, 
To  have  the  process  in  especial  care, 
Be,  first  to  last,  not  only  president 
In  person,  but  inquisitor  as  well, 
Nor  trust  the  by-work  to  a  substitute  : 
Bids  him  not,  squeamish,  keep  the  bench,  but  scrub 
The  floor  of  Justice,  so  to  speak, — go  try 
His  best  in  prison  with  the  criminal : 
Promising,  as  reward  for  by-work  done 
Fairly  on  all-fours,  that,  success  obtained 
And  crime  avowed,  or  such  connivency 
With  crime  as  should  procure  a  decent  death — 
Himself  will  humbly  beg — which  means,  procure  — 
The  Hat  and  Purple  from  his  relative 
The  Pope,  and  so  repay  a  diligence 
Which,  meritorious  in  the  Cenci-case, 


CENCIAJA  XIX 

Mounts  plainly  here  to  Purple  and  the  Hat 

Whereupon  did  my  lord  the  Governor 
So  masterfully  exercise  the  task 
Enjoined  him,  that  he,  day  by  day,  and  week 
By  week,  and  month  by  month,  from  first  to  last 
Toiled  for  the  prize :  now,  punctual  at  his  place. 
Played  Judge,  and  now,  assiduous  at  his  post. 
Inquisitor — pressed  cushion  and  scoured  plank. 
Early  and  late.     Noon's  fervour  and  night's  chill. 
Nought  moved  whom  morn  would,  purpling,  make 

amends ! 
So  that  observers  laughed  as,  many  a  day, 
He  left  home,  in  July  when  day  is  flame, 
Posted  to  Tordinona-prison,  plunged 
Into  a  vault  where  daylong  night  is  ice. 
There  passed  his  eight  hours  on  a  stretch,  content, 
Examining  Onofrio  :  all  the  stress 
Of  all  examination  steadily 
Converging  into  one  pin-point, — he  pushed 
Tentative  now  of  head  and  now  of  heart. 
As  when  the  nuthatch  taps  and  tries  the  nut 
This  side  and  that  side  till  the  kernel  sound, — 
So  did  he  press  the  sole  and  single  point 
— What  was  the  very  meaning  of  the  phrase 
^  Do  as  beseems  an  honoured  cavalier '/ 


iia  CENCIAJA 

Which  one  persistent  question-torture, — plied 
Day  by  day,  week  by  week,  and  month  by  month, 
Morn,  noon  and  night, — fatigued  away  a  mind 
Grown  imbecile  by  darkness,  solitude. 
And  one  vivacious  memory  gnawing  there 
As  when  a  corpse  is  coffined  with  a  snake : 
— Fatigued  Onofrio  into  what  might  seem 
Admission  that  perchance  his  judgment  groped 
So  blindly,  feeling  for  an  issue— aught 
With  semblance  of  an  issue  from  the  toils 
Cast  of  a  sudden  round  feet  late  so  free. 
He  possibly  might  have  envisaged,  scarce 
Recoiled  from — even  were  the  issue  death 
— Even  her  death  whose  life  was  death  and  worse ! 
Always  provided  that  the  charge  of  crime, 
Each  jot  and  tittle  of  the  charge  were  true. 
In  such  a  sense,  belike,  he  might  advise 
His  brother  to  expurgate  crime  with  .  .  .  well, 
With  blood,  if  blood  must  follow  on  *  the  course 
Taken  as  might  beseem  a  cavalier.^ 

Whereupon  process  ended,  and  report 
Was  made  without  a  minute  of  delay 
To  Clement  who,  because  of  those  two  crimes 
O'  the  Massimi  and  Cenci  flagrant  late, 
Must  needs  impatiently  desire  result 


CENCIAJA  113 

Result  obtained,  he  bade  the  Governor 
Summon  the  Congregation  and  despatch. 
Summons  made,  sentence  passed  accordingly 
— Death  by  beheading.     When  his  death-decree 
Was  intimated  to  Onofrio,  all 
Man  could  do — that  did  he  to  save  himself. 
T  was  much,  the  having  gained  for  his  defence 
The  Advocate  o'  the  Poor,  with  natural  help 
Of  many  noble  friendly  persons  fain 
To  disengage  a  man  of  family. 
So  young  too,  from  his  grim  entanglement : 
But  Cardinal  Aldobrandini  ruled 
There  must  be  no  diversion  of  the  law. 
Justice  is  justice,  and  the  magistrate 
Bears  not  the  sword  in  vain.     Who  sins  must  die. 

So,  the  Marchese  had  his  head  cut  off, 
With  Rome  to  see,  a  concourse  infinite, 
In  Place  Saint  Angelo  beside  the  Bridge  : 
Where,  demonstrating  magnanimity 
Adequate  to  his  birth  and  breed, — poor  boy  \ — 
He  made  the  people  the  accustomed  speech, 
Exhorted  them  to  true  faith,  honest  works, 
And  special  good  behaviour  as  regards 
A  parent  of  no  matter  what  the  sex. 
Bidding  each  son  take  warning  from  himself. 

XIV.  I 


A     I 


1X4  CENCIAJA 

Truly,  it  was  considered  in  the  boy 

Stark  staring  lunacy,  no  less,  to  snap 

So  plain  a  bait,  be  hooked  and  hauled  ashore 

By  such  an  angler  as  the  Cardinal ! 

Why  make  confession  of  his  privity 

To  Paolo's  enterprise  ?    Mere  sealing  lips — 

Or,  better,  saying  "  When  I  counselled  him 

^  To  do  as  might  beseem  a  cavaliery 

What  could  I  mean  but  *  Hide  ourparenfs  shame 

As  Christian  ought^  by  aid  of  Holy  Church! 

Bury  it  in  a  convent — ay^  beneath 

Enough  dotation  to  prevent  its  ghost 

From  troubling  earth  ! ' "    Mere  saying  thus, — 't  is 

plain, 
Not  only  were  his  life  the  recompense. 
But  he  had  manifestly  proved  himself 
True  Christian,  and  in  lieu  of  punishment 
Got  praise  of  all  men.    So  the  populace. 

Anyhow,  when  the  Pope  made  promise  good 
(That  of  Aldobrandini,  near  and  dear) 
And  gave  Tavema,  who  had  toiled  so  much, 
A  Cardinal's  equipment,  some  such  word 
As  this  from  mouth  to  ear  went  saucily : 
"  Tavema's  cap  is  dyed  in  what  he  drew 
From  Santa  Croce's  veins! "    So  joked  the  world. 


CENCIAJA  lis 

I  add :  Onofrio  left  one  child  behind, 
A  daughter  named  Valeria,  dowered  with  grace 
Abundantly  of  soul  and  body,  doomed 
To  life  the  shorter  for  her  father's  fate. 
By  death  of  her,  the  Marquisate  returned 
To  that  Orsini  House  from  whence  it  came : 
Oriolo  having  passed  as  donative 
To  Santa  Croce  from  their  ancestors. 

And  no  word  more  ?    By  all  means !    Would  you 
know 
The  authoritative  answer,  when  folk  urged 
"  What  made  Aldobrandini,  hound-like  staunch, 
Hunt  out  of  life  a  harmless  simpleton  ?  " 
The  answer  was — "  Hatred  implacable, 
By  reason  they  were  rivals  in  their  love." 
The  Cardinal's  desire  was  to  a  dame 
Whose  favour  was  Onofrio's.     Pricked  with  pride. 
The  simpleton  must  ostentatiously 
Display  a  ring,  the  Cardinal's  love-gift, 
Given  to  Onofrio  as  the  lady's  gage ; 
Which  ring  on  finger,  as  he  put  forth  hand 
To  draw  a  tapestry,  the  Cardinal 
Saw  and  knew,  gift  and  owner,  old  and  young ; 
Whereon  a  fury  entered  him — the  fire 
He  quenched  with  what  could  quench  fire  only — blood. 

I  2 


Ii6  CENCJAJA 

Nay,  more :  "  there  want  not  who  affirm  to  boot. 

The  unwise  boy,  a  certain  festal  eve, 

Feigned  ignorance  of  who  the  wight  might  be 

That  pressed  too  closely  on  him  with  a  crowd. 

He  struck  the  Cardinal  a  blow :  and  then, 

To  put  a  face  upon  the  incident. 

Dared  next  day,  smug  as  ever,  go  pay  court 

I'  the  Cardinal's  antechamber.    Mark  and  mend, 

Ye  youth,  by  this  example  how  may  greed 

Vainglorious  operate  in  worldly  souls ! " 

So  ends  the  chronicler,  beginning  with 
"  God's  justice,  tardy  though  it  prove  perchance, 
Rests  never  till  it  reach  delinquency." 
Ay,  or  how  otherwise  had  come  to  pass 
That  Victor  rules,  this  present  year,  in  Rome? 


XX7 


FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI  ON  THE  PRIVILEGE 

OF  BURIAL. 

A  REMINISCENCE  OF  A.D.  1676. 
1876. 

I. 

"  No,  boy,  we  must  not  "—so  began 

My  Uncle  (he  's  with  God  long  since) 
A-petting  me,  the  good  old  man ! 

"  We  must  not " — and  he  seemed  to  wince, 
And  lost  that  laugh  whereto  had  grown 

His  chuckle  at  my  piece  of  news, 
How  cleverly  I  aimed  my  stone— 

"  I  fear  we  must  not  pelt  the  Jews ! 

II. 

"  When  I  was  young  indeed, — ah,  faith 
Was  young  and  strong  in  Florence  too ! 

We  Christians  never  dreamed  of  scathe 
Because  we  cursed  or  kicked  the  crew. 


Ii8  FlUPPO  BALDINUCCI 

But  now — well,  well !    The  olive-crops 
Weighed  double  then,  and  Amo's  pranks 

Would  always  spa'e  religious  shops 
Whenever  he  overflowed  his  banks ! 


III. 

•^ 111  tell  you" — ^and  his  eye  regained 

Its  twinkle — "  tell  you  something  choice ! 
Something  may  help  you  keep  unstained 

Your  honest  zeal  to  stop  the  voice 
Of  unbelief  with  stone-throw — spite 

Of  laws,  which  modem  fools  enact, 
That  we  must  suffer  Jews  in  sight 

Go  wholly  unmolested  1    Fact ! 


IV. 

"  There  was,  then,  in  my  youth,  and  yet 

Is,  by  our  San  Frediano,  just 
Below  the  Blessed  Olivet, 

A  wayside  ground  wherein  they  thrust 
Their  dead,— these  Jews, — the  more  our  shame ! 

Except  that,  so  they  will  but  die, 
Christians  perchance  incur  no  blame 

In  giving  hogs  a  hoist  to  stye. 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  BURIAL  119 

V. 

"  There,  anyhow,  Jews  stow  away 

Their  dead ;  and, — such  their  insolence, — 
Slink  at  odd  times  to  sing  and  pray 

As  Christians  do— all  make-pretence ! — 
Which  wickedness  they  perpetrate 

Because  they  think  no  Christians  see. 
They  reckoned  here,  at  any  rate, 

Without  their  host :  ha,  ha,  he,  he  ! 

VI. 

"  For,  what  should  join  their  plot  of  ground 

But  a  good  Farmer's  Christian  field? 
The  Jews  had  hedged  their  corner  round 

With  bramble-bush  to  keep  concealed 
Their  doings :  for  the  public  road 

Ran  betwixt  this  their  ground  and  that 
The  Farmer's,  where  he  ploughed  and  sowed. 

Grew  corn  for  barn  and  grapes  for  vat. 

VII. 

"  So,  properly  to  guard  his  store 

And  gall  the  unbelievers  too. 
He  builds  a  shrine  and,  what  is  more, 

Procures  a  painter  whom  I  knew. 


120  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCi 

One  Buti  (he 's  with  God)  to  paint 

A  holy  picture  there — no  less 
Than  Virgin  Mary  free  from  taint 

Borne  to  the  sky  by  angels :  yes ! 

VIII. 

"Which  shrine  he  fixed, — who  says  him  nay?- 

A-facing  with  its  picture-side 
Not,  as  you  'd  think,  the  public  way, 

But  just  where  sought  these  hounds  to  hide 
Their  carrion  from  that  very  truth 

Of  Mary^s  triumph :  not  a  hound 
Could  act  his  mummeries  uncouth 

But  Mary  shamed  the  pack  all  round ! 

IX. 

"  Now,  if  it  was  amusing,  judge ! 

— To  see  the  company  arrive, 
Each  Jew  intent  to  end  his  trudge 

And  take  his  pleasure  (though  alive) 
With  all  his  Jewish  kith  and  kin 

Below  ground,  have  his  venom  out. 
Sharpen  his  wits  for  next  day's  sin, 

Curse  Christians,  and  so  home,  no  doubt ! 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  BURIAL  121 

X. 

"  Whereas,  each  phyz  upturned  beholds 

Mary,  I  warrant,  soaring  brave ! 
And  in  a  trice,  beneath  the  folds 

Of  filthy  garb  which  gowns  each  knave, 
Down  drops  it — there  to  hide  grimace, 

Contortion  of  the  mouth  and  nose 
At  finding  Mary  in  the  place 

They  'd  keep  for  Pilate,  I  suppose ! 

XI. 

"  At  last,  they  will  not  brook — not  they  I — 

Longer  such  outrage  on  their  tribe  : 
So,  in  some  hole  and  corner,  lay 

Their  heads  together — how  to  bribe 
The  meritorious  Farmer's  self 

To  straight  undo  his  work,  restore 
Their  chance  to  meet  and  muse  on  pelf — 

Pretending  sorrow,  as  before ! 

XII. 

"  Forthwith,  a  posse,  if  you  please, 

Of  Rabbi  This  and  Rabbi  That 
Almost  go  down  upon  their  knees 

To  get  him  lay  the  picture  flat. 


I2a  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

The  spokesman,  eighty  years  of  age, 
Grey  as  a  badger,  with  a  goat's 

Not  only  beard  but  bleat,  'gins  wage 
War  with  our  Mary.    Thus  he  dotes  :- 


XIII. 

"  *  Friends^  grant  a  grace  1    How  Hebrews  toil 

Through  life  in  Florence — why  relate 
To  those  who  lay  the  burden^  spoil 

Our  paths  of  peace?     We  bear  our  fate. 
But  when  with  life  the  long  toil  ends, 

Why  must  you — the  expression  craves 
Pardon,  but  truth  compels  me,  friends! — 

Why  must  you  plague  us  in  our  graves! 

XIV. 

"  *  Thoughtlessly  plague,  I  would  believe! 

For  how  can  you — the  lords  of  ease 
By  nurture,  birthright — e^en  conceive 

Our  luxury  to  lie  with  trees 
And  turf, — the  cricket  and  the  bird 

Left  for  our  last  companionship: 
No  harsh  deed,  no  unkindly  word, 

No  frowning  brow  nor  scornful  lip  ! 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE  Ot  BURIAL  123 

XV. 

"  *  Deaths  luxury^  we  now  rehearse 

While y  livings  through  your  streets  we  fare 
And  take  your  hatred:  nothing  worse 

Have  we^  once  dead  and  safe^  to  bear! 
So  we  refresh  our  souls ^  fulfil 

Our  works y  our  daily  tasks;  and  thus 
Gather  you  grain — earth! s  harvest — still 

The  wheat  for  yoUy  the  straw  for  us, 

XVI. 

"  * '  What  flouting  in  a  face,  what  harm, 

In  just  a  lady  bome  from  bier 
By  boys*  heads,  wings  for  leg  and  arm?' 

You  question.     Friends,  the  harm  is  here — 
That  just  when  our  last  sigh  is  heaved. 

And  we  would  fain  thank  God  and  you 
For  labour  done  and  peace  achieved. 

Back  conies  the  Fast  in  full  review! 

XVII. 

"  *  At  sight  of  just  that  simple  flag. 

Starts  the  foe-feeling  serpent-like 
From  slumber.    Leave  it  lulled,  nor  drag — 

Though  fangless^orth,  what  needs  must  strike 


134  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

When  stricken  sore,  though  stroke  be  vain 
Against  the.  mailed  oppressor  /     Give 

Play  to  our  fancy  that  we  gain 

Life's  rights  when  once  wc  cease  to  live! 


XVIII. 

**  *  Thus  much  to  courtesy ^  to  kind^ 

To  conscience  I    Now  to  Florence  folk  ! 
There  ^s  core  beneath  this  apple-rind^ 

Beneath  this  white-ofegg  there 's  yolk  ! 
Beneath  this  prayef  to  courtesy , 

Kindy  conscience — there's  a  sum  to  pouch! 
How  many  ducats  down  will  buy 

Our  shame's  removal,  sirs  ?    Avouch  ! 


XIX. 

^^^ Removal,  not  destruction,  sirs! 

Just  turn  your  picture  !    Let  it  front 
The  public  path!     Or  memory  errs. 

Or  that  same  public  path  is  wont 
To  witness  many  a  chance  befall 

Of  lust,  theft,  bloodshed — sins  enough. 
Wherein  our  Hebrew  part  is  small 

Convert  yourselves  !'—h.Q  cut  up  rough. 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  BURIAL  125 

XX. 

"  Look  you,  how  soon  a  service  paid 

Religion  yields  the  servant  fruit ! 
A  prompt  reply  our  Farmer  made 

So  following :  *  SirSy  to  grant  your  suit 
Involves  much  danger !    Howl     Transpose 

Our  Lady  ?    Stop  the  chastisement^ 
All  for  your  good,  herself  bestows  ? 
What  wonder  if  I  grudge  consent? 

XXI. 

« <  —  Yet  grant  it:  since,  what  cash  I  take 

Is  so  much  saved  from  wicked  use. 
We  know  you  I    And,  for  Marfs  sake, 

A  hundred  ducats  shall  induce 
Concession  to  your  prayer.     One  day 

Suffices:  Master  ButVs  brush 
Turns  Mary  round  the  ether  way. 

And  deluges  your  side  with  slush. 

XXII. 

^^^Down  with  the  ducats  therefore!'    Dump, 
Dump,  dump  it  falls,  each  counted  piece. 

Hard  gold.     Then  out  of  door  they  stump, 
These  dogs,  each  bri3k  as  with  new  Ipase 


136  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

Of  life,  I  warrant, — glad  he  '11  die 
Henceforward  just  as  he  may  choose, 

Be  buried  and  in  clover  lie ! 
Well  said  Esaias — *  stiff-necked  Jews  / ' 

xxin. 

"  Off  posts  without  a  minute's  loss 

Our  Farmer,  once  the  cash  in  poke 
And  summons  Buti— ere  its  gloss 

Have  time  to  fade  from  off  the  joke — 
To  chop  and  change  his  work,  undo 

The  done  side,  make  the  side,  now  blank. 
Recipient  of  our  Lady — who, 

Displaced  thus,  had  these  dogs  to  thank ! 

XXIV. 

"  Now,  boy,  you  're  hardly  to  instruct 

In  technicalities  of  Art ! 
My  nephew's  childhood  sure  has  sucked 

Along  with  mother's-milk  some  part 
Of  painter's-practice — learned,  at  least. 

How  expeditiously  is  plied 
A  work  in  fresco — never  ceased 

When  once  begun — a  day,  eadi  side. 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  BURIAL  i«7 

XXV. 

"  So,  Buti— (he 's  with  God)— begins : 

First  covers  up  the  shrine  all  round 
With  hoarding ;  then,  as  like  as  twins. 

Paints,  t'  other  side  the  burial-ground, 
New  Mary,  every  point  the  same ; 

Next,  sluices  over,  as  agreed, 
The  old  ;  and  last — but,  spoil  the  game 

By  telling  you  ?    Not  I,  indeed ! 

XXVI. 


(( 


Well,  ere  the  week  was  half  at  end, 

Out  came  the  object  of  this  zeal. 
This  fine  alacrity  to  spend 

Hard  money  for  mere  dead  men's  weal  \ 
How  think  you  ?    That  old  spokesman  Jew 

Was  High  Priest,  and  he  had  a  wife 
As  old,  and  she  was  dying  too. 

And  wished  to  end  in  peace  her  life  I 

XXVII. 

"And  he  must  humour  dying  whims. 
And  soothe  her  with  the  idle  hope 

They  'd  say  their  prayers  and  sing  their  hymns 
As  if  her  husband  were  the  Pope  I 


128  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

And  she  did  die — believing  just 

This  privilege  was  purchased !    Dead 

In  comfort  through  her  foolish  trust ! 
^Stiff-necked  ones^  well  Esaias  said  I 

XXVIII. 

"  So,  Sabbath  morning,  out  of  gate 

And  on  to  way,  what  sees  our  arch 
Good  Farmer  ?    Why,  they  hoist  their  freight- 

The  corpse — on  shoulder,  and  so,  march ! 
^  Now  for  ity  Buti! '     In  the  nick 

Of  time  't  is  pully-hauly,  hence 
With  hoarding !    O'er  the  wayside  quick 

There 's  Mary  plain  in  evidence ! 

XXIX. 

"And  here 's  the  convoy  halting :  right ! 

O  they  are  bent  on  howling  psalms 
And  growling  prayers,  when  opposite  \ 

And  yet  they  glance,  for  all  their  qualms, 
Approve  that  promptitude  of  his. 

The  Farmer's — duly  at  his  post 
To  take  due  thanks  from  every  phyz. 

Sour  smirk — nay,  surly  smile  almost ! 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  BURIAL  129 

XXX. 

"  Then  earthward  drops  each  brow  again ; 

The  solemn  task 's  resumed ;  they  reach 
Their  holy  field— the  unholy  train : 

Enter  its  precinct,  all  and  each, 
Wrapt  somehow  in  their  godless  rites ; 

Till,  rites  at  end,  up-waking,  lo 
They  lift  their  faces  !    What  delights 

The  mourners  as  they  turn  to  go? 

XXXI. 

"  Ha,  ha,  he,  he  !    On  just  the  side 

They  drew  their  purse-strings  to  make  quit 
Of  Mary, — Christ  the  Crucified 

Fronted  them  now — these  biters  bit ! 
Never  was  such  a  hiss  and  snort, 

Such  screwing  nose  and  shooting  lip ! 
Their  purchase — honey  in  report — 

Proved  gall  and  verjuice  at  first  sip ! 

XXXII. 

"  Out  they  break,  on  they  bustle,  where, 

A-top  of  wall,  the  Farmer  waits 
With  Buti :  never  fun  so  rare ! 

The  Farmer  has  the  best :  he  rates 
XIV.  K 


130  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

The  rascal,  as  the  old  High  Priest 
Takes  on  himself  to  sermonize — 

Nay,  sneer  *  We  Jews  supposed,  at  least, 
Theft  was  a  crime  in  Christian  eyes! 

XXXIII. 

"  *  Theft  V  cries  the  Farmer.    *  Eat  your  words! 

Show  me  what  constitutes  a  breach 
Of  faith  in  aught  was  said  or  heard! 

I  promised  you  in  plainest  speech 
I^d  take  the  thing  you  count  disgrace 

And  put  it  here— and  here  ^t  is  put! 
Did  you  suppose  I V  leave  the  place 

Blank,  therefore,  just  your  rage  to  glutei 

XXXIV. 

^^^  I  guess  you  dared  not  stipulate 

For  such  a  damned  impertinence! 
So,  quick,  my  greybeard,  out  of  gate 

And  in  at  Ghetto!    Haste  you  hence! 
As  long  as  I  have  house  and  land. 

To  spite  you  irreligious  chaps 
Here  shall  the  Crucifixion  stand — 

Unless  you  down  with  cash,  perhaps !  ^ 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE  OP  BURIAL  131 

XXXV. 

"  So  snickered  he  and  Buti  both. 

The  Jews  said  nothing,  interchanged 
A  glance  or  two,  renewed  their  oath 

To  keep  ears  stopped  and  hearts  estranged 
From  grace,  for  all  our  Church  can  do ; 

Then  off  they  scuttle ;  sullen  jog 
Homewards,  against  our  Church  to  brew 

Fresh  mischief  in  their  synagogue. 

XXXVI. 

"  But  next  day — see  what  happened,  boy ! 

See  why  I  bid  you  have  a  care 
How  you  pelt  Jews  1    The  knaves  employ 

Such  methods  of  revenge,  forbear 
No  outrage  on  our  faith,  when  free 

To  wreak  their  malice !     Here  they  took 
So  base  a  method — plague  o'  me 

If  I  record  it  in  my  Book  ! 

XXXVII. 

"  For,  next  day,  while  the  Farmer  sat 

Laughing  with  Buti,  in  his  shop. 
At  their  successful  joke, — rat-tat, — 

Door  opens,  and  they  're  like  to  drop 

K2 


132  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCl 

Down  to  the  floor  as  in  there  stalks 
A  six-feet-high  herculean-built 

Young  he- Jew  with  a  beard  that  baulks 
Description.     *  Help  ere  blood  be  spilt! ' 

XXXVIII. 

— "Screamed  Buti:  for  he  recognized 

Whom  but  the  son,  no  less  no  more. 
Of  that  High  Priest  his  work  surprised 

So  pleasantly  the  day  before ! 
Son  of  the  mother,  then,  whereof 

The  bier  he  lent  a  shoulder  to, 
And  made  the  moans  about,  dared  scoff 

At  sober  Christian  grief— the  Jew ! 

XXXIX. 

"  *  Sirs^  I  salute  you  I    Never  rise  t 

No  apprehension  ! '     (Buti,  white 
And  trembling  like  a  tub  of  size, 

Had  tried  to  smuggle  out  of  sight 
The  picture's  self—- the  thing  in  oils. 

You  know,  from  which  a  fresco 's  dashed 
Which  courage  speeds  while  caution  spoils) 

^  Stay  and  be  praised^  sir^  unabashed! 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  BURIAL  133 

XL. 

**  ^  Praised^ — ay^  and  paid  too:  for  I  come 

To  buy  that  very  work  of  yours. 
My  poor  abode^  which  boasts — well^  some 

Few  specimens  of  Art^  secures 
Haply ^  a  masterpiece  indeed 

If  I  should  find  my  humble  means 
Suffice  the  outlay.     So,  proceed! 

Propose — ere  prudence  intervenes! ' 

XLI. 

"  On  Buti,  cowering  like  a  child, 

These  words  descended  from  aloft, 
In  tone  so  ominously  mild, 

With  smile  terrifically  soft 
To  that  degree — could  Buti  dare 

(Poor  fellow)  use  his  brains,  think  twice  ? 
He  asked,  thus  taken  unaware, 

No  more  than  just  the  proper  price  I 

XLII. 

"  *  Done  ! '  cries  the  monster.     *  /  disburse 

Forthwith  your  moderate  demand. 
Count  on  my  custom — if  no  worse 

Your  future  work  be,  understand. 


134  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

Than  this  I  carry  off!    No  aid! 

My  arm^  sir,  lacks  nor  bone  nor  thews: 
The  burden  V  easy^  and  we  We  tnade^ 

Easy  or  hard^  to  bear — we  Jews  I  ^ 

i 

XLIII.  I 

! 

"  Crossing  himself  at  such  escape, 

Buti  by  turns  the  money  eyes 
And,  timidly,  the  stalwart  shape 

Now  moving  doorwards ;  but,  more  wise, 
The  Farmer, — who,  though  dumb,  this  while 

Had  watched  advantage, — straight  conceived 
A  reason  for  that  tone  and  smile 

So  mild  and  soft !    The  Jew — believed ! 


XLIV. 

"  Mary  in  triumph  borne  to  deck 

A  Hebrew  household !     Pictured  where 
No  one  was  used  to  bend  the  neck 

In  praise  or  bow  the  knee  in  prayer.' 
Borne  to  that  domicile  by  whom? 

The  son  of  the  High  Priest !     Through  what? 
An  insult  done  his  mother's  tomb  ! 

Saul  changed  to  Paul — the  case  came  pat ! 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE  OP  BURIAL  135 

XLV. 

"  *  Stay,  dog'/ew  .  .  .  gentle  sir,  that  is/ 

Resolve  me!     Can  it  be,  she  crowned, — 
Mary,  by  miracle, — Oh  bliss! — 

My  present  to  your  burial  ground? 
Certain,  a  ray  of  light  has  burst 

Your  veil  of  darkness!    Had  you  else, 
Only  for  Marfs  sake,  unpursed 

So  much  hard  money  f     Tell — oh,  tell  ^st ' 

XLVI. 

"  Round — like  a  serpent  that  we  took 

For  worm  and  trod  on — turns  his  bulk 
About  the  Jew.     First  dreadful  look 

Sends  Buti  in  a  trice  to  skulk 
Out  of  sight  somewhere,  safe — alack ! 

But  our  good  Farmer  faith  made  bold : 
And  firm  (with  Florence  at  his  back) 

He  stood,  while  gruff  the  gutturals  rolled — 

XLVII. 

"  *  Ay,  sir,  a  miracle  was  worked,  , 

By  quite  another  power,  I  trow. 
Than  ever  yet  in  canvas  lurked, 

Or  you  would  scarcely  face  me  now! 


136  FIUPPO  BALDINUCCl 

A  certain  impulse  did  sugge$t 

A  certain  grasp  with  this  right-hxind, 

Which  probably  had  put  to  rest 
Our  quarrel^ — thus  your  throat  once  spanned! 

XLVIII. 

"  *  But  Irefnembered  me^  subdued 

That  impulse^  and  you  face  me  still/ 
And  soon  a  philosophic  mood 

Succeeding  {hear  it,  if  you  will/) 
Has  altogether  changed  my  views 

Concerning  Art     Blind  prejudice/ 
Well  may  you  Christiam  tax  us  Jews 

With  scrupulosity  too  nice! 

XLIX. 

"  *  For,  donU  I  see, — let  *s  issue  Join/ — 

Whenever  I  *m  allowed  pollute 
{I— and  my  little  bag  of  coin) 

Some  Christian  palace  of  repute, — 
Don^t  I  see  stuck  up  everywhere 

Abundant  proof  that  cultured  taste 
Has  Beauty  for  its  only  care. 

And  upon  Truth  no  thought  to  wasted 


[ 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  BURIAL  137 


"  *  *  Jew,  since  it  must  be,  take  in  pledge 

Of  payment  * — so  a  Cardinal 
Has  sighed  to  me  as  if  a  wedge 

Entered  his  heart — ^  this  best  of  all 
My  treasures !  *    Leda^  Ganymede 

Or  Antiqpe:  swan,  eag/e,  ape^ 
(Or  what  ^s  the  beast  of  what  V  the  breed) 

And  Jupiter  in  every  shape! 

LI. 

"*  Whereat  if  I  presume  to  ask 

'  But,  Eminence,  though  Titian's  whisk 
Of  brush  have  well  performed  its  task, 

How  comes  it  these  false  godships  frisk 
In  presence  of — what  yonder  frame 

Pretends  to  image  ?    Surely,  odd 
It  seems,  you  let  confront  The  Name 

Each  beast  the  heathen  called  his  god ! ' 

LII 

"  *  Benignant  smiles  me  pity  straight 
The  Cardinal     '  T  is  Truth,  we  prize ! 

Art 's  the  sole  question  in  debate ! 
These  subjects  are  so  many  lies. 


138  FILIPPO  BALDlNUCa 

We  treat  them  with  a  proper  scorn 
When  we  turn  lies — called  gods  forsooth- 

To  lies'  fit  use,  now  Christ  is  born. 
Drawing  and  colouring  are  Truth. 


LIII. 

i 
"  * '  Think  you  I  honour  lies  so  much 

As  scruple  to  parade  the  charms 
Of  Leda — ^Titian,  every  touch — 

Because  the  thing  within  her  arms 
Means  Jupiter  who  had  the  praise 

And  prayer  of  a  benighted  world  ? 
He  would  have  mine  too,  if,  in  days 

Of  light,  I  kept  the  canvas  furled !  * 


LIV. 

"  *  So  endings  with  some  easy  gibe. 

What  power  has  logic!    /,  at  once, 
Acknowledged  error  in  our  tribe 

So  squeamish  that,  when  friends  ensconce 
A  pretty  picture  in  its  niche 

To  do  us  honour,  deck  our  graves, 
We  fret  and  fume  and  have  an  itch 

To  strangle  folk — ungrateful  knaves! 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  BURIAL  139 

LV. 

"  *  Noy  sir!    Be  sure  that — what  *s  its  style^ 

Your  pictured — shall  possess  ungrudged 
A  place  among  my  rank  and  file 

Of  Ledas  and  what  not — be  judged 
Just  as  a  picture!  and  {because 

I  fear  me  much  I  scarce  have  bought 
A  Titian^  Master  ButVs  flaws 

Found  there,  will  have  the  laugh  flaws  ought! ' 

LVI. 

"So,  with  a  scowl,  it  darkens  door — 

This  bulk — no  longer !     Buti  makes 
Prompt  glad  re-entry ;  there 's  a  score 

Of  oaths,  as  the  good  Farmer  wakes 
From  what  must  needs  have  been  a  trance, 

Or  he  had  struck  (he  swears)  to  ground 
The  bold  bad  mouth  that  dared  advance 

Such  doctrine  the  reverse  of  sound ! 

LVII. 

"  Was  magic  here  ?    Most  like !    For,  since. 
Somehow  our  city's  faith  grows  still 

More  and  more  lukewarm,  and  our  Prince 
Or  loses  heart  or  wants  the  will 


I40  ON  THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  BURIAL 

To  check  increase  of  cold.    T  is  *  Live 
And  let  live!    Languidly  repress 

The  Dissident!    In  shorty — contrive 
Christians  must  bear  with  Jews:  no  less!  ^ 

LVIII. 

"The  end  seems,  any  Israelite 

Wants  any  picture, — pishes,  poohs, 
Purchases,  hangs  it  full  in  sight 

In  any  chamber  he  may  choose ! 
In  Christ's  crown,  one  more  thorn  we  rue ! 

In  Mary's  bosom,  one  more  sword ! 
No,  boy,  you  must  not  pelt  a  Jew ! 

O  Lord,  how  long  ?    How  long,  O  Lord  ?  " 


141 


EPILOGUE. 

fxearol  •  •  • 
ol  8*  afi^fnis  oXvov  fi4\uvos  iXvBofffitov, 


I. 

"  The  poets  pour  us  wine — " 

Said  the  dearest  poet  I  ever  knew, 
Dearest  and  greatest  and  best  to  me. 
You  clamour  athirst  for  poetry — 
We  pour.     **  But  when  shall  a  vintage  be  " — 

You  cry — "  strong  grape,  squeezed  gold  from  screw. 
Yet  sweet  juice,  flavoured  flowery-fine? 
That  were  indeed  the  wine ! " 


II. 

One  pours  your  cup — stark  strength, 

Meat  for  a  man ;  and  you  eye  the  pulp 
Strained,  turbid  stOl,  from  the  viscous  blood 
Of  the  snaky  bough :  and  you  grumble  "  Good  I 


143  EPILOGUE 

For  it  swells  resolve,  breeds  hardihood ; 
Despatch  it,  then,  in  a  single  gulp ! " 
So,  down,  with  a  wry  face,  goes  at  length 
The  liquor :  stuff  for  strength. 


III. 

One  pours  your  cup — sheer  sweet, 
The  fragrant  fumes  of  a  year  condensed  *. 

Suspicion  of  all  that 's  ripe  or  rathe, 

From  the  bud  on  branch  to  the  grass  in  swathe. 

"  We  suck  mere  milk  of  the  seasons,"  saith 
A  curl  of  each  nostril — "  dew,  dispensed 

Nowise  for  nerving  man  to  feat : 

Boys  sip  such  honeyed  sweet !  " 

IV. 

And  thus  who  wants  wine  strong. 

Waves  each  sweet  smell  of  the  year  away ; 
Who  likes  to  swoon  as  the  sweets  suffuse 
His  brain  with  a  mixture  of  beams  and  dews 
Turned  syrupy  drink— rough  strength  eschews : 

"  What  though  in  our  veins  your  wine-stock  stay  ? 
The'lack  of  the  bloom  does  our  palate  wrong. 
Give  us  wine  sweet,  not  strong ! " 


EPILOGUE  143 

V. 

Yet  wine  is — some  affirm — 

Prime  wine  is  found  in  the  world  somewhere, 
Of  potable  strength  with  sweet  to  match. 
You  double  your  heart  its  dose,  yet  catch — 
As  the  draught  descends — a  violet-smatch, 

Softness — however  it  came  there, 
Through  drops  expressed  by  the  fire  and  worm : 
Strong  sweet  wine — some  alfirm. 

VI. 

Body  and  bouquet  both  ? 

'T  is  easy  to  ticket  a  bottle  so ; 
But  what  was  the  case  in  the  cask,  my  friends  ? 
Cask  ?    Nay,  the  vat — where  the  maker  mends 
His  strong  with  his  sweet  (you  suppose)  and  blends 

His  rough  with  his  smooth,  till  none  can  know 
How  it  comes  you  may  tipple,  nothing  loth, 
Body  and  bouquet  both. 

VII. 

**  You  "  being  just— the  world. 

No  poets — who  turn,  themselves,  the  winch 
Of  the  press ;  no  critics — I  '11  even  say, 
(Being  flustered  and  easy  of  faith  to-day) 


144  EPILOGUE 

Who  for  love  of  the  work  have  learned  the  way 

Till  themselves  produce  home-made,  at  a  pinch : 
No !    You  are  the  world,  and  wine  ne'er  purled 
Except  to  please  the  world ! 


VIII. 

"  For,  oh  the  common  heart ! 

And,  ah  the  irremissible  sin 
Of  poets  who  please  themselves,  not  us  ? 
Strong  wine  yet  sweet  wine  pouring  thus, 
How  please  still — Pindar  and  -^schylus  !■ 

Drink — dipt  into  by  the  bearded  chin 
Alike  and  the  bloomy  lip— no  part 
Denied  the  common  heart ! 


IX. 

"  And  might  we  get  such  grace. 

And  did  you  modems  but  stock  our  vault 
With  the  true  half-brandy  half-attar-gul, 
How  would  seniors  indulge  at  a  hearty  pull 
While  juniors  tossed  off  their  thimbleful ! 

Our  Shakespeare  and  Milton  escaped  your  fault, 
So,  they  reign  supreme  o'er  the  weaker  race 
That  wants  the  ancient  grace ! " 


EPILOGUE  145 

X. 

If  I  paid  myself  with  words 

(As  the  French  say  well)  I  were  dupe  indeecj ! 
I  were  found  in  belief  that  you  quaffed  and  bowsed 
At  your  Shakespeare  the  whole  day  long,  caroused 
In  your  Milton  pottle-deep  nor  drowsed 

A  moment  of  night — toped  on,  took  heed 
Of  nothing  like  modern  cream -and-curds. 
Pay  me  with  deeds,  not  words ! 

XL 

For — see  your  cellarage ! 

There  are  forty  barrels  with  Shakespeare's  brand. 
Some  five  or  six  are  abroach :  the  rest 
Stand  spigoted,  fauceted.     Try  and  test 
What  yourselves  call  best  of  the  very  best ! 

How  comes  it  that  still  untouched  they  stand  ? 
Why  don't  you  try  tap,  advance  a  stage 
With  the  rest  in  cellarage  ? 

XII. 

For — see  your  cellarage ! 

There  are  four  big  butts  of  Milton's  brew. 
How  comes  it  you  make  old  drips  and  drops 
Do  duty,  and  there  devotion  stops  ? 

XIV.  L 


146  EPILOGUE 

Leave  such  an  abyss  of  malt  and  hops 

Embellied  in  butts  which  bungs  still  glue  ? 
You  hate  your  bard !    A  fig  for  your  rage ! 
Free  him  from  cellarage ! 

XIII. 

T  is  said  I  brew  stiff  drink, 

But  the  deuce  a  flavour  of  grape  is  there. 
Hardly  a  May-go-down,  't  is  just 
A  sort  of  a  gruff  Go-down-it-must — 
No  Merry-go-down,  no  gracious  gust 

Commingles  the  racy  with  Springtide's  rare  ! 
"  What  wonder,"  say  you  "  that  we  cough,  and  blink 
At  Autumn's  heady  drink  ?  " 


XIV. 

Is  it  a  fancy,  friends  ? 

Mighty  and  mellow  are  never  mixed, 
Though  mighty  and  mellow  be  born  at  once. 
Sweet  for  the  future, — strong  for  the  nonce ! 
Stuff  you  should  stow  away,  ensconce 

In  the  deep  and  dark,  to  be  found  fast-fixed 
At  the  century's  close :  such  time  strength  spends 
A-sweetening  for  my  friends ! 


EPILOGUE  147 


XV 


And  then— why,  what  you  quaff 

With  a  smack  of  lip  and  a  cluck  of  tongue, 
Is  leakage  and  leavings — ^just  what  haps 
From  the  tun  some  learned  taster  taps 
With  a  promise  **- Prepare  your  watery  chaps ! 

Here 's  properest  wine  for  old  and  young ! 
Dispute  its  perfection — you  make  us  laugh  I 
Have  faith,  give  thanks,  but— quaff!" 

XVI. 

Leakage,  I  say,  or — worse — 

Leavings  suffice  pot-valiant  souls. 
Somebody,  brimful,  long  ago, 
Frothed  flagon  he  drained  to  the  dregs ;  and  lo, 
Down  whisker  and  beard  what  an  overflow ! 

Lick  spilth  that  has  trickled  from  classic  jowls. 
Sup  the  single  scene,  sip  the  only  verse — 
Old  wine,  not  new  and  worse ! 

XVII. 

I  grant  you :  worse  by  much ! 

Renounce  that  new  where  you  never  gained 

One  glow  at  heart,  one  gleam  at  head, 

And  stick  to  the  warrant  of  age  instead ! 

L  2 


148  EPILOGUE 

No  dwarfs-lap !     Fatten,  by  giants  fed ! 

You  fatten,  with  oceans  of  drink  undrained  ? 
You  feed — who  would  choke  did  a  cobweb  smutch 
The  Age  you  love  so  much  ? 

XVIII. 

A  mine  's  beneath  a  moor : 
Acres  of  moor  roof  fathoms  of  mine 

Which  diamonds  dot  where  you  please  to  dig ; 

Yet  who  plies  spade  for  the  bright  and  big? 

Your  product  is — truffles,  you  hunt  with  a  pig ! 
Since  bright-and-big,  when  a  man  would  dine, 

Suits  badly :  and  therefore  the  Koh-i-noor 

May  sleep  in  mine  'neath  moor ! 

XIX. 

Wine,  pulse  in  might  from  me ! 

It  may  never  emerge  in  must  from  vat, 
Never  fill  cask  nor  furnish  can, 
Never  end  sweet,  which  strong  began — 
God's  gift  to  gladden  the  heart  of  man ; 

But  spirit 's  at  proof,  I  promise  that ! 
No  sparing  of  juice  spoils  what  should  be 
Fit  brewage — mine  for  me. 


J 


EPILOGUE  149 

XX. 

Man's  thoughts  and  loves  and  hates ! 

Earth  is  my  vineyard,  these  grew  there : 
From  grape  of  the  ground,  I  made  or  marred 
My  vintage ;  easy  the  task  or  hard, 
Who  set  it — his  praise  be  my  reward  ! 

Earth's  yield !    Who  yearn  for  the  Dark  Blue  Sea's, 
Let  them  "  lay,  pray,  bray  " — the  addle-pates ! 
Mine  be  Man's  thoughts,  loves,  hates ! 

XXI. 

But  someone  says  "Good  Sir !" 

('T  is  a  worthy  versed  in  what  concerns 
The  making  such  labour  turn  out  well) 
"  You  don't  suppose  that  the  nosegay-smell 
Needs  always  come  from  the  grape  ?    Each  bell 

At  your  foot,  each  bud  that  your  culture  spurns. 
The  very  cowslip  would  act  like  myrrh 
On  the  stiffest  brew — good  Sir ! 

XXII. 

"  Cowslips,  abundant  birth 

O'er  meadow  and  hillside,  vineyard  too, 
—  Like  a  schoolboy's  scrawlings  in  and  out 
Distasteful  lesson-book — all  about 


I50  EPILOGUE 

Greece  and  Rome,  victory  and  rout — 

Love-verses  instead  of  such  vain  ado  J 
So,  fancies  frolic  it  o'er  the  earth 
Where  thoughts  have  rightlier  birth. 

XXIII. 

"  Nay,  thoughtlings  they  themselves : 

Loves,  hates — in  little  and  less  and  least ! 
Thoughts  ?     '  What  is  a  man  beside  a  mount!  * 
Loves  ?     *  Absent— poor  lovers  the  minutes  count! 
Hates  ?     *  Fie — Pope^s  letters  to  Martha  Blount! 

These  furnish  a  wine  for  a  children's-feast  : 
Insipid  to  man,  they  suit  the  elves 
Like  thoughts,  loves,  hates  themselves." 

XXIV. 

And,  friends,  beyond  dispute 

I  too  have  the  cowslips  dewy  and  dear. 

Punctual  as  Springtide  forth  peep  they : 

I  leave  them  to  make  my  meadow  gay. 

But  I  ought  to  pluck  and  impound  them,  eh  ? 
Not  let  them  alone,  but  deftly  shear 

And  shred  and  reduce  to — what  may  suit 

Children,  beyond  dispute  ? 


EPILOGUE  151 


XXV. 


And,  here 's  May-month,  all  bloom. 

All  bounty :  what  if  I  sacrifice  ? 
If  I  out  with  shears  and  shear,  nor  stop 
Shearing  till  prostrate,  lo,  the  crop? 
And  will  you  prefer  it  to  ginger-pop 

When  I  Ve  made  you  wine  of  the  memories 
Which  leave  as  bare  as  a  churchyard  tomb 
My  meadow,  late  all  bloom  ? 

XXVI. 

Nay,  what  ingratitude 

Should  I  hesitate  to  amuse  the  wits 
That  have  pulled  so  long  at  my  flask,  nor  grudged 
The  headache  that  paid  their  pains,  nor  budged 
From  bunghole  before  they  sighed  and  judged 

"  Too  rough  for  our  taste,  to-day,  befits 
The  racy  and  right  when  the  years  conclude !  ** 
Out  on  ingratitude ! 

XXVII. 

Grateful  or  ingrate — none. 

No  cowslip  of  all  my  fairy  crew 
Shall  help  to  concoct  what  makes  you  wink 
And  goes  to  your  head  till  you  think  you  think  I 


IS2  EPILOGUE 

I  like  them  alive :  the  printer's  ink 

Would  sensibly  tell  on  the  perfume  too. 
I  may  use  up  my  nettles,  ere  I  Ve  done ; 
But  of  cowslips — friends  get  none  1 

XXVIII. 

Don't  nettles  make  a  broth 

Wholesome  for  blood  grown  lazy  and  thick? 
Maws  out  of  sorts  make  mouths  out  of  taste. 
My  Thirty-four  Port — no  need  to  waste 
On  a  tongue  that 's  fur  and  a  palate — paste ! 

A  magnum  for  friends  who  are  sound !    The  sick- 
1 11  posset  and  cosset  them,  nothing  loth, 
Henceforward  with  nettle-broth ! 


LA    SAISIAZ. 


Z55 


Good,  to  forgive ; 

Best,  to  forget ! 

Living,  we  fret ; 
Dying,  we  live. 
Fretless  and  free, 

Soul,  clap  thy  pinion ! 

Earth  have  dominion. 
Body,  o*er  thee ! 

II. 

Wander  at  will, 
Day  after  day, — 
Wander  away. 

Wandering  still — 

Soul  that  canst  soar  ! 
Body  may  slumber : 
Body  shall  cumber 

Soul-flight  no  more. 


IS6 


III. 


Waft  of  souFs  wing ! 

What  lies  above? 

Sunshine  and  Love, 
Skyblue  and  Spring ! 
Body  hides— rwhere  ? 

Ferns  of  all  feather, 

Mosses  and  headier 
Yours  be  the  care  I 


157 


LA  SAISIAZ. 

1878. 

A.  £.  Sb    September  14,  1877. 

Dared  and  done:  at  last  I  stand  upon  the  summit, 

Dear  and  True ! 
Singly  dared  and  done;  the  climbing  both  of  us  were 

bound  to  do. 
Petty  feat  and  yet  prodigious :  every  side  my  glance  was 

bent 
O'er  the  grandeur  and  the  beauty  lavished  through  the 

whole  ascent. 
Ledge  by  ledge,  out  broke  new  marvels,  now  minute  and 

now  immense : 
Earth's  most  exquisite  disclosure,  heaven's  own  God  in 

evidence ! 
And  no  berry  in  its  hiding,  no  blue  space  in  its  out- 
spread, 


158  LA  SAISJAZ 

Pleaded  to  escape  my  footstep,  challenged  my  emerging 

head, 
(As  I  climbed  or  paused  from  climbing,  now  o'erbranched 

by  shrub  and  tree, 
Now  built  round  by  rock  and  boulder,  now  at  just  a  turn 

set  free. 
Stationed  face  to  face  with — Nature  ?  rather  with  Infini- 
tude) 
— No  revealment  of   them  all,   as   singly   I   my  path 

pursued, 
But  a  bitter  touched  it3  sweetness,  for  the  thought  stung 

"  Even  so 
Both  of  us  had  loved  and  wondered  just  the  same, 

five  days  ago ! " 
Five  short  days,  sufficient  hardly  to  entice,  from  out  its 

den 
Splintered    in    the  slab,   this  pink  perfection    of  the 

cyclamen ; 
Scarce  enough  to  heal  and  coat  with  amber  gum  the 

sloe-tree's  gash. 
Bronze  the  clustered  wilding   apple,  redden  ripe  the 

mountain-ash : 
Yet  of  might  to  place  between  us — Oh  the  barrier !  Yon 

Profound 
Shrinks  beside  it,  proves  a  pin-point :  barrier  this,  with- 
out a  bound ! 


LA  SAISIAZ  159 

Boundless  though  it  be,  I  reach  you :  somehow  seem  to 

have  you  here 
— ^Who  are  there.    Yes,  there  you  dwell  now,  plain  the 

four  low  walls  appear ; 
Those  are  vineyards  they  enclose  from;  and  the  little 

spire  which  points 
— ^That's  CoUonge,  henceforth  your  dwelling.    All  the 

same,  howe'er  disjoints 
Past  from  present,  no  less  certain   you  are   here,  not 

there :  have  dared. 
Done  the  feat  of  mountain-climbing, — five  days  since,  we 

both  prepared 
Daring,  doing,  arm  in  arm,  if  other  help  should  haply 

fail. 
For  you  asked,  as  forth  we  sallied  to  see  sunset  from  the 

vale, 
"  Why  not  try  for  once  the  mountain, — take  a  foretaste, 

snatch  by  stealth 
Sight  and  sound,  some  unconsidered  fragment  of  the 

hoarded  wealth? 
Six  weeks  at  its  base,  yet  never  once  have  we  together 

won 
Sight  or  sound  by  honest  climbing :  let  us  two  have 

dared  and  done 
Just  so  much  of  twil^ht  journey  as  may  prove  to- 
morrow's jaunt 


i6o  LA  SAISIAZ 

Not  the  only  mode  of  wayfare — wheeled  to  reach  the 

eagle's  haunt ! " 
So,  we  turned  from  the  low  grass-path  you  were  pleased 

to  call  "  your  own," 
Set  our  faces  to  the  rose-bloom  o*er  the  summit's  front  of 

stone 
Where  Salfeve  obtains,  from  Jura  and  the  sunken  sun  she 

hides, 
Due  return  of  blushing  "  Good  Night,"  rosy  as  a  bome- 

off  bride's, 
For  his  masculine  "  Good  Morrow  "  when,  with  sunrise 

still  in  hold, 
Gay  he  hails  her,  and,  magnific,  thrilled  her  black  length 

bums  to  gold. 
Up  and  up  we  went,  how  careless — nay,  how  joyous ! 

All  was  new, 
All  was  strange.  "  Call  progress  toilsome?  that  were  just 

insulting  you ! 
How  the  trees  must  temper  noontide !    Ah,  the  thicket's 

sudden  break ! 
What  will  be  the  morning  glory,  when  at  dusk  thus 

gleams  the  lake? 
Light  by  light  puts  forth  Geneva :  what  a  land— and,  of 

the  land, 
Can  there  be  a  lovelier  station  than  this  spot  where  now 

we  stand  ? 


LA  SAISIAZ  i6i 

Is  it  late,  and  wrong  to  linger  ?    True,  to-morrow  makes 

amends. 
Toilsome  progress  ?  child's  play,  call  it— specially  when 

one  descends ! 
There,  the  dread  descent  is  over— hardly  our  adventure, 

though ! 
Take  the  vale  where  late  we  left  it,  pace  the  grass-path, 

'  mine,'  you  know ! 
Proud  completion  of  achievement ! "    And  we  paced  it, 

praising  still 
That  soft  tread  on  velvet  verdure  as  it  wound  through 

hill  and  hill; 
And  at  very  end  there  met  us,  coming  from  CoUonge, 

the  pair 
— All  our  people  of  the  Chalet — two,  enough  and  none 

to  spare. 
So,  we  made  for  home  together,  and  we  reached  it  as  the 

stars 
One  by  one  came  lamping — chiefly  that  prepotency  of 

Mars — 
And  your  last  word  was  "  I  owe  you  this  enjoyment ! " — 

met  with  "  Nay : 
With  yourself  it  rests  to  have  a  month  of  morrows  like 

to-day ! " 
Then  the  meal,  with  talk  and  laughter,  and  the  news  of 

that  rare  nook 

XIV.  M 


x63  LA  SAISIAZ 

Yet  untroubled  by  the  tourist,  touched  on  by  no  travel- 
book, 
All  the  same — though  latent — patent,  hybrid  birth  of 

land  and  sea, 
And  (our  travelled  friend  assured  you) — if  such  miracle 

might  be — 
Comparable  for   completeness    of  both  blessings — all 

around 
Nature,  and,  inside  her  circle,  safety  from  world's  sight 

and  sound — 
Comparable  to  our  Saisiaz.  "  Hold  it  fast  and  guard  it  well ! 
Go  and  see  and  vouch  for  certain,  then  come  back  and 

never  tell 
Living  soul  but  us ;  and  haply,  prove  our  sky  from  cloud 

as  clear. 
There  may  we  four  meet,  praise  fortune  just  as  now, 

another  year ! " 

Thus  you  charged  him  on  departure;  not  without  the 

final  charge 
"Mind  to-morrow's  early  meeting !    We  must  leave  our 

journey  marge 
Ample  for  the  wayside  wonders :  there 's  the  stoppage  at 

the  inn 
Three-parts  up  the  mountain,  where  the  hardships  of  the 

track  begin ; 


LA  SAISIAZ    .  X63 

There's  the  convent  worth  a  visit;  but,  the  triumph 

crowning  all — 
There 's  Salbve's  own  platform  facing  glory  which  strikes 

greatness  small, 
— Blanc,  supreme  above  his  earth-brood,  needles  red 

and  white  and  green, 
Horns  of  silver,  fangs  of  crystal  set  on  edge  in  his 

demesne. 
So,  some  three  weeks  since,  we  saw  them  :  so,  to-morrow 

we  intend 
You  shall  see  them  likewise ;  therefore  Good  Night  till 

to-morrow,  friend ! " 
Last,  the  nothings  that  extinguish  embers  of  a  vivid  day : 
"  What  might  be  the  Marshal's  next  move,  what  Gam- 

betta's  counter-play  ?  " 
Till  the  landing  on  the  staircase  saw  escape  the  latest 

spark : 
"Sleep  you  well!"    "Sleep  but  as  well,  youT' — lazy 

love  quenched,  all  was  dark. 

Nothing  dark  next  day  at  sundawn!    Up  I  rose  and 

forth  I  fared : 
Took  my  plunge  within    the    bath-pool,   pacified  the 

watch-dog  scared, 
Saw  proceed  the  transmutation — Jura's  black  to  one 

gold  glow, 

M2 


I64  LA   SAISIAZ 

Trod  your  level  path  that  let  me  drink  the  morning  deep 
and  slow, 

Reached  the  little  quarry — ravage  recompensed  by  shrub 
and  fern — 

Till  the  overflowing  ardours  told  me  time  was  for  return. 

So,  return  I  did,  and  gaily.  But,  for  once,  from  no  far 
mound 

Waved  salute  a  tall  white  figure.  "  Has  her  sleep  been 
so  profound  ? 

Foresight,  rather,  prudent  saving  strength  for  day's  ex- 
penditure ! 

Ay,  the  chamber- window 's  open  :  out  and  on  the  terrace, 
sure  I " 

No,  the  terrace  showed  no  figure,  tall,  white,  leaning 

through  the  wreaths. 
Tangle-twine  of  leaf  and  bloom  that  intercept  the  air  one 

breathes. 
Interpose  between  one's  love  and  Nature's  loving,  hill 

and  dale 
Down  to  where  the  blue  lake's  wrinkle  marks  the  river's 

inrush  pale 
—Mazy  Arve :  whereon  no  vessel  but  goes  sliding  white 

and  plain. 
Not  a  steamboat  pants  from  harbour  but  one  hears 

pulsate  amain, 


LA  SAISIAZ  165 

Past  the  city's  congregated  peace  of  homes  and  pomp  of 

spires 
— Man's  mild  protest  that  there 's  something  more  than 

Nature,  man  requires, 
And  that,  useful  as  is  Nature  to  attract  the  tourist's  foot, 
Quiet  slow  sure  money-making  proves  the  matter's  very 

root, — 
Need  for  body, — ^while  the  spirit  also  needs  a  comfort 

reached 
By  no  help  of  lake  or  mountain,  but  the  texts  whence 

Calvin  preached. 
"  Here 's  the  veil  withdrawn  from  landscape :  up  to  Jura 

and  beyond. 
All  awaits  us  ranged  and  ready;  yet  she  violates  the 

bond, 
Neither  leans  nor  looks  nor  listens:  why  is  this?"    A 

turn  of  eye 
Took  the  whole  sole  answer,  gave  the  undisputed  reason 

"  why ! " 

This  dread  way  you  had  your  summons  !  No  premoni- 
tory touch, 

As  you  talked  and  laughed  ('t  is  told  me)  scarce  a  minute 
ere  the  clutch 

Captured  you  in  cold  forever.  Cold?  nay,  warm  you 
were  as  life 


i66  LA  SAISIAZ 

When  I  raised  you,  while  the  others  used,  in  passionate 

poor  strife. 
All  the  means  that  seemed  to  promise  any  aid,  and  all  in 

vain. 
Gone  you  were,  and  I  shall  never  see  that  earnest  face 

again 
Grow  transparent,  grow  transfigured  with  the  sudden  light 

that  leapt. 
At  the  first  word's  provocation,  from  the  heart-deeps 

where  it  slept. 


Therefore,  paying  piteous  duty,  what  seemed  You  have 

we  consigned 
Peacefully  to— what  I  think  were,  of  all  earth-beds,  to 

your  mind 
Most  the  choice  for  quiet,  yonder :  low  walls  stop  the 

vines'  approach. 
Lovingly  Salbve  protects  you;  village-sports  will  ne'er 

encroach 
On  the  stranger  lady's  silence,  whom  friends  bore  so  kind 

and  well  ^ 

Thither  "  just  for  love's  sake," — such  their  own  word  was  : 

and  who  can  tell  ? 
You  supposed  that  few  or  none  had  known  and  loved 

you  in  the  world : 


LA  SAJSIAZ  167 

May  be!  flower  that's  full-blown  tempts  the  butterfly, 

not  flower  that 's  furled. 
But  more  learned  sense  unlocked  you,  loosed  the  sheath 

and  let  expand 
Bud  to  bell  and  outspread  flower-shape  at  the  least  warm 

touch  of  hand 
— Maybe,  throb  of  heart,  beneath  which, — quickening 

farther  than  it  knew, — 
Treasure  oft  was  disembosomed,  scent  all  strange  and 

imgiiessed  hue. 
Disembosomed,  re-embosomed, — must  one  memory  suf- 
fice. 
Prove  I  knew  an  Alpine-rose  which  all  beside  named 

Edelweiss  ? 

Rare  thing,  red  or  white,  you  rest  how :  two  days  slum- 
bered through ;  and  since 

One  day  more  will  see  me  rid  of  this  same  scene  whereat 
I  wince. 

Tetchy  at  all  sights  and  sounds  and  pettish  at  each  idle 
charm 

Profiered  me  who  pace  now  singly  where  we  two  went 
arm  in  arm, — 

I  have  turned  upon  my  weakness :  asked  "  And  what, 
forsooth,  prevents 

That,  this  latest  day  allowed  me,  I  fulfil  of  her  intents 


i68  LA  SAISIAZ 

One  she  had  the  most  at  heart — that  we  should  thus 

again  survey 
From  Salfeve  Mont  Blanc  together  ?  "    Therefore, — dared 

and  done  to-day 
Climbing, — here  I  stand :  but  you — where  ? 

If  a  spirit  of  the  place 
Broke  the  silence,  bade  me  question,  promised  answer, — 

what  disgrace 
Did  I  stipulate  "  Ppovided  answer  suit  my  hopes,  not 

fears  1 " 
Would  I   shrink  to   learn  my  life-time's   limit — days, 

weeks,  months  or  years  ? 
Would  I  shirk  assurance  on  each  point  whereat  I  can 

but  guess — 
"  Does  the  soul  survive  the  body  ?    Is  there  God's  self, 

no  or  yes  ?  " 
If  I  know  my  mood,  't  were  constant— come  in  whatsoe'er 

uncouth 
Shape  it  should,  nay,  formidable— so  the  answer  were 

but  truth. 

Well,  and  wherefore  shall  it  daunt  me,  when  't  is  I  myself 

am  tasked, 
When,  by  weakness  weakness  questioned,  weakly  answers 

— weakly  asked  ? 


LA  SAISIAZ  169 

Weakness  never  needs  be  falseness:  truth  is  truth  in 

each  degree 
— Thunderpealed  by  God  to  Nature,  whispered  by  my 

soul  to  me. 
Nay,  the  weakness  turns  to  strength  and  triumphs  in  a 

truth  beyond : 
"  Mine  is  but  man's  truest  answer — how  were  it  did  God 

respond  ?  " 
I  shall  no  more  dare  to  mimic  such  response  in  futile 

speech, 
Pass  off  human  lisp  as  echo  of  the  sphere-song  out  of 

reach. 
Than, — because  it  well  may  happen  yonder,  where  the 

far  snows  blanch 
Mute  Mont  Blanc,  that  who  stands  near  them  sees  and 

hears  an  avalanche, — 
I  shall  pick  a  clod  and  throw, — cry  "  Such  the  sight  and 

such  the  sound ! 
What  though  I  nor  see  nor  hear  them?    Others  do,  the 

proofs  abound ! " 
Can  I  make  my  eye  an  eagle's,  sharpen  ear  to  recog- 
nize 
Sound  o'er  league  and  league  of  silence  ?    Can  I  know, 

who  but  surmise  ? 
If  I  dared  no  self-deception  when,  a  week  since,  I  and 

you 


I70  LA  SAISIAZ 

Walked  and  talked  along  the  grass-path,  passing  lightly 

in  review 
What  seemed  hits  and  what  seemed  misses  in  a  certain 

fence-play, — strife 
Sundry  minds  of  mark  engaged  in  "On  the  Soul  and 

Future  Life,"— 
If  I  ventured  estimating  what  was  come  of  parried 

thrust, 
Subtle  stroke,  and,  rightly,  wrongly,  estimating  could  be 

just   • 
— Just,  though  life  so   seemed  abundant  in  the  form 

which  moved  by  mine, 
I  might  well  have  played  at  feigning,  fooling, — laughed 

"  What  need  opine 
Pleasure  must  succeed  to  pleasure,  else  past  pleasure 

turns  to  pain, 
And  this  first  life  claims  a  second,  else  I  count  its  good 

no  gain  ?  " — 
Much  less  have  I  heart  to  palter  when  the  matter  to 

decide 
Now  becomes  "Was  ending  ending  once  and  always, 

when  you  died  ?  " 
Did  the  face,  the  form   I  lifted  as  it  lay,  reveal  the 

loss 
Not  alone  of  life  but  soul?    A  tribute  to  yon  flowers 

and  moss, 


LA  SAISIAZ  17X 

What  of  you  remains  beside?    A  memory!    Easy  to 

attest 
"Certainly  from  out  the  world  that  one  believes  who 

knew  her  best 
Such  was  good  in  her,  such  fair,  which  fair  and  good 

were  great  perchance 
Had  but  fortune  favoured,   bidden    each  shy  faculty 

advance ; 
After  all — who  knows  another?    Only  as  I  know,   I 

speak.  ** 
So  much  of  you  hves  within  me  while  I  live  my  year  or 

week. 
Then  my  fellow  takes  the  tale  up,  not  unwilling  to 

aver 
Duly  in  his  turn  "  I  knew  him  best  of  all,  as  he  knew 

her: 
Such  he  was,  and  such  he  was  not,  and  such  other  might 

have  been 
But  that  somehow  every  actor,  somewhere  in  this  earthly 

scene, 
Fails."    And  so  both  memories  dwindle,  yours  and  mine 

together  linked. 
Till  there  is  but  left  for  comfort,  when  the  last  spark 

proves  extinct, 
This — that  somewhere  new  existence  led  by  men  and 

women  new 


172  LA  SAISIAZ 

Possibly  attains  perfection  coveted  by  me  and  you ; 
While  ourselves,  the  only  witness  to  what  work  our  life 

evolved, 
Only  to    ourselves   proposing  problems  proper  to  be 

solved 
By  ourselves  alone, — who  working  ne'er  shall  know  if 

work  bear  fruit 
Others  reap  and  garner,  heedless  how  produced  by  stalk 

and  root, — 
We  who,  darkling,  timed  the  day's  birth, — struggling, 

testified  to  peace, — 
Earned,    by    dint    of    failure,    triumph, — we,    creative 

thought,  must  cease 
In  created  word,  thought's  echo,  due  to  impulse  long 

since  sped ! 
Why  repine  ?    There 's  ever  someone  lives  although  our^ 

selves  be  dead ! 

Well,  what  signifies  repugnance  ?    Truth  is  truth  howe'er 

it  strike. 
Fair  or  foul  the  lot  apportioned  life  on  earth,  we  bear 

alike. 
Stalwart  body  idly  yoked  to  stunted  spirit,  powers,  that 

fain 
Else  would    soar,   condemned    to  grovel,   groundlings 

through  the  fleshly  chain, — 


LA  SAISIAZ  173 

Help  that  hinders,  hindrance  proved  but  help  disguised 

when  all  too  late, — 
Hindrance  is  the  fact  acknowledged,  howsoever  explained 

as  Fate, 
Fortune,  Providence :  we  bear,  own  life  a  burthen  more 

or  less. 
Life  thus  owned  unhappy,  is  there  supplemental  happi- 
ness 
Possible  and  probable  in  life  to  come?   or  must  we 

count 
Life  a  curse  and  not  a  blessing,  summed-up  in  its  whole 

amount. 
Help  and  hindrance,  joy  and  sorrow  ? 

Why  should  I  want  courage  here  ? 
I  will  ask  and  have  an  answer, — with  no  favour,  with  no 

fear, — 
From  myself.     How  much,  how  little,  do  I   inwardly 

believe 
True  that  controverted  doctrine  ?    Is  it  fact  to  which  I 

cleave, 
Is  it  fancy  I   but    cherish,   when    I    take    upon    my 

lips 
Phrase  the  solemn  Tuscan  fashioned,  and  declare  the 

soul's  eclipse 
Not  the  souFs  extinction?  take  his  "I  believe  and  I 

declare — 


174  ^A  SAISIAZ 

Certain  am   I— from  this  life  I    pass  into    a    better, 

there 
Where  that  lady  lives  of  whom  enamoured  was  my  soul " 

— where  this 
Other  lady,  my  companion  dear  and  true,  she  also  is  ? 

I  have  questioned  and  am  answered.     Question,  answer 

presuppose 
Two  points :    that    the    thing  itself  which  questions, 

answers, — /V,  it  knows ; 
As  it  also  knows  the  thing  perceived  outside  itself, — a 

force 
Actual  ere  its  own  beginning,   operative    through   its 

course, 
Unaffected  by  its  end, — that  thjs  thing  likewise  needs; 

must  be ; 
Call  this — God,  then,   call  that — soul,  and   both — the 

only  facts  for  me. 
Prove  them  facts?    that  they  g'erpass  my  power    of 

proving,  proves  them  such : 
Fact  it  is  I  know  I  know  not  something  which  is  fact  as 

much. 
What  before  caused  all  the  causes,  what  effect  of  all 

effects 
Haply  follows, — these  are  fancy.     Ask  the  rush  if  it 

suspects 


LA  SAISIAZ  175 

Whence  and  how  the  stream  which  floats  it  had  a  rise, 

and  where  and  how 
Falls  or  flows  on  still!    What  answer  makes  the  nish 

except  that  now 
Certainly  it  floats  and  is,   and,   no  less  certain  than 

itself, 
Is  the  everyway  external  stream  that  now  through  shoal 

and  shelf 
Floats  it  onward,  leaves  it — may  be — wrecked  at  last,  or 

lands  on  shore 
Ther^    to    root    again  and  grow  and    flourish    stable 

evermore. 
-T-May  be!  mere  surmise  not  knowledge:  much  con- 
jecture styled  belief, 
What  the  rush  conceives  the  stream  means  through  the 

voyage  blind  and  brief. 
Why,  because  I  doubtless  am,  shall  I  as  doubtless  be  ? 

"  Because 
God  seems  good  and  wise."    Yet  under  this  our  life's 

apparent  laws 
Reigns  a  wrong  which,  righted  once,  would  give  quite 

other  laws  to  life. 
"  He  seems  potent."    Potent  here,  then :  why  are  right 

and  wrong  at  strife  ? 
Has  in  life  the  wrong  the  better  ?    Happily  Hfe  ends  so 

soon! 


176  LA  SAISIAZ 

Right  predominates  in  life?    Then  why  two  lives  and 

double  boon  ? 
"Anyhow,  we  want  it:    wherefore  want?"    Because, 

without  the  want, 
Life,  now  human,  would  be  brutish:  just  that  hope,  how- 
ever scant, 
Makes  the  actual  life  worth  leading;   take  the  hope 

therein  away, 
All  we    have    to    do    is    surely  not    endure   another 

day. 
This  life  has  its  hopes  for  this  life,  hopes  that  promise 

joy :  life  done — 
Out  of  all  the  hopes,  how  many  had  complete  fulfilment  ? 

none. 
"  But  the  soul  is  not  the  body : "  and  the  breath  is  not 

the  flute  j 
Both  together  make  the  music :  either  marred  and  all  is 

mute. 
Truce  to  such  old  sad  contention  whence,  according  as 

we  shape 
Most  of  hope  or  most  of  fear,  we  issue  in  a  half- 
escape  : 
"We  believe"  is  sighed.     I  take  the  cup  of  comfort 

proffered  thus. 
Taste  and  try  each  soft  ingredient,  sweet  infusion,  and 

discuss 


Ui   SAISIAZ  177 

What  their  blending  may  accomphsh  for  the  cure  of 

doubt,  till — slow, 
Sorrowful,  but  how  decided !  needs  must  I  overturn  it— so  ! 
Cause  before,  effect  behind  me — blanks  !    The  midway 

point  I  am, 
Caused,   itself— itself   efficient:   in  that    narrow  space 

must  cram 
All  experience— out  of  which  there  crowds  conjecture 

manifold, 
But,  as  knowledge,  this  comes  only— things  may  be  as  I 

behold, 
Or  may  not  be,  but,  without  me  and  above  me,  things 

there  are ; 
I  myself  am  what  I  know  not — ignorance  which  proves 

no  bar 
To  the  knowledge  that  I  am,   and,   since  I  am,  can 

recognize 
What  to  me  is  pain  and  pleasure :  this  is  sure,  the  rest — 

surmise. 
If  my  fellows  are  or  are  not,  what  may  please  them  and 

what  pain, — 
Mere  surmise :  my  own  experience — ^^that  is  knowledge, 

once  again  I 

I  have  lived,  then,  done  and  suffered,  loved  and  hated, 
learnt  and  taught 

XIV.  N 


178  LA  SAISIAZ 

This — there  is  no  reconciling  wisdom  with  a  world  dis- 
traught, 
Goodness  with  triumphant  evil,  power  with  failure  in  the 

aim, 
If — (to  my  own  sense,  remember!   though  none  other 

feel  the  same !) — 
If  you  bar  me  from  assuming  earth  to  be  a  pupiFs 

place, 
And  hfe,  time, — with  all  their  chances,  changes, — ^just 

probation-space. 
Mine,  for  me.    But  those  apparent  other  mortals — theirs, 

for  them  ? 
Knowledge  stands  on  my  experience:  all  outside  its 

narrow  hem, 
Free  surmise  may  sport  and  welcome  !    Pleasures,  pains 

affect  mankind 
Just  as  they  affect  myself?    Why,  here 's  my  neighbour 

colour-blind. 
Eyes  like  mine  to  all  appearance:  "green  as  grass"  do 

I  affirm  ? 
"  Red  as  grass  "  he  contradicts  me  :  which  employs  the 

proper  term  ? 
Were  we  two  the  earth's  sole  tenants,  with  no  third  for 

referee, 
How  should  I  distinguish  ?    Just  so,  God  must  judge 

'twixt  man  and  me. 


LA  SAISIAZ  xn 

To  each  mortal  peradventure  earth   becomes  a  new' 

machine, 
Pain  and  pleasure  no  more  tally  in  our  sense  than  red 

and  green ; 
Still,  without  what  seems  such  mortal's  pleasure,  pain, 

my  life  were  lost 
— Life,  my  whole  sole  chance  to  prove — although  at 

man's  apparent  cost — 
What  is  beauteous  and  what  ugly,  right  to  strive  fDr, 

right  to  shun. 
Fit  to  help  and  fit  to  hinder,— prove  my  forces  everyone, 
Good  and  evil, — learn  life's  lesson,  hate  of  evil,  love  of 

good. 
As  't  is  set  me,  understand  so  much  as  may  be  under- 
stood— 
Solve  the  problem :  "  From  thine  apprehended  scheme 

of  things,  deduce 
Praise  or  blame  of  its  contriver,  shown  a  niggard  or 

profuse 
In  each  good  or  evil  issue  !  nor  miscalculate  alike 
Counting  one  the  other  in  the  final  balance,  which  to 

strike. 
Soul  was  born  and  life  allotted :  ay,  the  show  of  things 

unfurled 
For  thy  summing-up  and  judgment,— thine,  no  other 

mortal's  world ! " 

N  % 


x8a  LA  SAISIAZ 

What  though  fancy  scarce  may  grapple  with  the  complex 

and  immense 
— "  His  own  world  for  every  mortal  ?  "    Postulate  om- 
nipotence ! 
Limit  power,  and  simple  grows  the  complex :  shrunk  to 

atom  size, 
That  which  loomed  immense  to  fancy  low  before  my 

reason  lies, — 
I  survey  it  and  pronounce  it  work  hke  other  work: 

success 
Here  and  there,  the  workman's  glory, — here  and  there, 

his  shame  no  less. 
Failure  as  conspicuous.     Taunt  not  "  Human  work  ape 

work  divine  ?  " 
As  the  power,  expect  performance !     God's  be  God's  as 

mine  is  mine ! 
God  whose  power  made  man  and  made  man's  wants,  and 

made,  to  meet  those  wants. 
Heaven  and  earth  which,  through  the  body,  prove  the 

spirit's  ministrants. 
Excellently  all, — did  He  lack  power  or  was  the  will  in 

fault 
When  He  let  blue  heaven  be  shrouded  o'er  by  vapours 

of  the  vault. 
Gay  earth  drop  her  garlands  shrivelled  at  the  first  infect- 
ing breath 


LA  SAISIAZ  .181 

Of  the  serpent  pains  which  herald,  swarming  in,  the 

dragon  death  ? 
What,  no  way  but  this  that  man  may  learn  and  lay  to 

heart  how  rife 
Life  were  with  delights  would  only  death  allow  their 

taste  to  life  ? 
Must  the  rose  sigh  "  Pluck — I  perish !  "  must  the  eve 

weep  "  Gaze — I  fade ! " 
— Every  sweet  warn  "  Ware  my  bitter !  "  every  shine  bid 

"  Wait  my  shade  "  ? 
Can  we  love  but  on  condition,  that  the  thing  we  love 

must  die  ? 
Needs  there  groan  a  world  in  anguish  just  to  teach  us 

sympathy — 
Multitudinously  wretched  that  we,  wretched  too,  may  guess 
What  a  preferable  state  were  universal  happiness  ? 
Hardly  do  I  so  conceive  the  outcome  of  that  power 

which  went 
To  the  making  of  the  worm  there  in  yon  clod  its 

tenement. 
Any  more  than  I  distinguish  aught  of  that  which,  wise 

and  good. 
Framed  the  leaf,  its  plain  of  pasture,  dropped  the  dew, 

its  fineless  food. 
Nay,  were  fancy  fact,  were  earth  and  all  it  holds  illusion 

mere. 


i8a  LA  SAISIAZ 

Only  a  machine  for  teaching  love  and  hate  and  hope  and 

fear 
To  myself,  the  sole  existence,  single  truth  mid  falsehood, 

—well! 
If  the  harsh  throes  of  the  prelude  die  not  off  into  the 

swell 
Of  that  perfect  piece  they  sting  me  to  become  a-strain 

for, — if 
Roughness  of  the  long  rock-clamber  lead  not  to  the  last 

of  cliff, 
First  of  level  country  where  is  sward  my  pilgrim-foot  can 

prize, — 
Plainlier!    if   this    life's    conception    new  life   fail    to 

realize, — 
Though  earth  burst  and  proved  a  bubble  glassing  hues 

of  hell,  one  huge 
Reflex  of  the  devil's  doings— God's  work  by  no  subter- 
fuge— 
(So  death's  kindly  touch  informed  me  as  it  broke  the 

glamour,  gave 
Soul  and  body  both  release  from  life's  long  nightmare  in 

the  grave) 
Still, — with  no  more  Nature,  no  more  Man  as  riddle  to 

be  read, 
Only  my  own  joys  and  sorrows  now  to  reckon  real 

instead, — 


LA  SAISIAZ  183 

I  must  say—  or  choke  in  silence — "  Howsoever  came  my 

fate, 
Sorrow  did  and  joy  did  nowise, — life  well  weighed, — 

preponderate." 
By  necessity  ordained  thus  ?    I  shall  bear  as  best  I  can ; 
By  a  cause  all-good,  all-wise,  all-patent  ?    No,  as  I  am 

man! 
Such  were  God  :  and  was  it  goodaess  that  the  good 

within  my  range 
Or  had  evil  in  admixture  or  grew  evil's  self  by  change  ? 
Wisdom — that  becoming  wise  meant  making  slow  and 

sure  advance 
From  a  knowledge  proved  in  error  to  acknowledged 

ignorance? 
Power?  't  is  just  the  main  assumption  reason  most  revolts 

at !  power 
Unavailing  for  bestowment  on  its  creature  of  an  hour, 
Man,  of  so  much  proper  action  rightly  aimed  and  reach- 
ing aim, 
So  much  passion, — no  defect  there,  no  excess,  but  still 

the  same, — 
As  what  constitutes  existence,  pure  perfection  bright  as 

brief 
For  yon  worm,  man's  fellow-creature,  on  yon  happier 

world— its  leaf ! 
No,  as  I  am  man,  I  mourn  the  poverty  I  must  impute : 


i84  LA  SAISIAZ 

Goodness,  wisdom,  power,  all  bounded,  each  a  human 
attribute ! 

But,  O  world  outspread  beneath  me !  only  for  myself  I 

speak, 
Nowise  dare  to  play  the  spokesman  for  my  brothers 

strong  and  weak. 
Full  and  empty,  wise  and  foolish,  good  and  bad,  in  every 

age, 
Every  clime,  I  turn  my  eyes  from,  as  in  one  or  other 

stage 
Of  a  torture  writhe  they.  Job-like  couched  on  dung  and 

crazed  with  blains 
— Wherefore?   whereto?  ask  the  whirlwind  what  the 

dread  voice  thence  explains  ! 
I  shall  "  vindicate  no  way  of  God's  to  man,"  nor  stand 

apart, 
"  Laugh,  be  candid  1 "  while  I  watch  it  traversing  the  human 

heart. 
Traversed  heart  must  tell  its  story  uncommented  on :  no 

less 
Mine  results  in  "  Only  grant  a  second  life,  I  acquiesce 
In  this  present  life  as  failure,  count  misfortune's  worst 

assaults 
Triumph,  not  defeat,  assured  that  loss  so  much  th?  more 

exalts 


LA  SAISIAZ  185 

Gain  about  to  be.    For  at  what  moment  did  I  so 

advance 
Near  to  knowledge  as  when  frustrate  of  escape  from 

ignorance? 
Did  not  beauty  prove  most  precious  when  its  opposite 

obtained 
Rule,  and  truth  seem  more  than  ever  potent  because  false-- 

hood  reigned? 
While  for  love — Oh  how  but,  losing  love,  does  whoso 

loves  succeed 
By  the  death-pang  to  the  birth-throe — learning  what  is 

love  indeed? 
Only  grant  my  soul  may  carry  high  through  death  her 

cup  unspilled, 
Brimming  though  it  be  with  knowledge,  life's  loss  drop. 

by  drop  distilled, 
I  shall  boast  it  mine — the  balsam,  bless  each  kindly 

wrench  that  wrung 
From  life's  tree  its  inmost  virtue,  tapped  the  root  whence 

pleasure  sprung, 
Barked  the  bole,  and  broke  the  bough,  and  bruised  the 

berry,  left  all  grace 
Ashes  in  death's  stern  alembic,  loosed  elixir  in  its  place ! 

Witness,  Dear  and  True,  how  little  I  was  'ware  of— not 
your  worth 


i86  LA   SAISIAZ 

— That  I  knew,  my  heart  assures  me — but  of  what  a 

shade  on  earth 
Would  the  passage  from  my  presence  of  the  tall  white 

figure  throw 
0*er  the  ways  we  walked  together !    Somewhat  narrow, 

somewhat  slow 
Used  to  seem  the  ways,  the  walking :  narrow  ways  are 

well  to  tread 
When  there's  moss  beneath  the  footstep,  honeysuckle 

overhead : 
Walking  slow  to  beating  bosom  surest  solace  soonest 

gives, 
Liberates    the  brain   overloaded — best  of   all    restora- 
tives. 
Nay,  do  I  forget  the  open  vast  where  soon  or  late  con- 
verged 
Ways    though    winding? — world-wide  heaven-high  sea 

where  music  slept  or  surged 
As  the  angel  had  ascendant,  and   Beethoven's  Titan 

mace 
Smote  the  immense  to  storm  Mozart  would  by  a  finger's 

lifting  chase  ? 
Yes,  I  knew — but  not  with  knowledge  such  as  thrills  me 

while  I  view 
Yonder  precinct  which  henceforward  holds  and  hides  the 

Dear  and  True. 


LA  SAISIAZ  187 

Grant  me  (once  again)  assurance  we  shall  each  meet 

each  some  day, 
Walk— but  with  how  bold  a  footstep!  on  a  way— but 

what  a  way ! 
— Worst  were  best,  defeat  were  triumph,  utter  loss  were 

utmost  gain. 
Can  it  be,  and  must,  and  will  it? 

Silence !    Out  of  fact's  domain. 
Just  surmise  prepared  to  mutter  hope,  and  also  fear — 

dispute 
Fact's  inexorable  ruling  "  Outside  fact,  surmise  be  mute  I " 
Well! 

Ay,  well  and  best,  if  fact's  self  I  may  force  the 

answer  from ! 
T  is  surmise  I  stop  the  mouth  of.     Not  above  in  yonder 

dome 
All  a  rapture  with  its  rose-glow,— not  around,  where  pile 

and  peak  . 
Strainingly  await  the  sun's  fall, — not  beneath,   where 

crickets  creak, 
Birds  assemble  for  their  bed-time,  soft  the  tree-top  swell 

subsides, — 
No,  nor  yet  within  my  deepest  sentient  self  the  know- 
ledge hides. 
Aspiration,  reminiscence,  plausibilities  of  trust 


i88  LA  SAISIAZ 

—  Now  the  ready  "  Man  were  wronged  else,"  now  the  rash 

"and  God  unjust " — 
None  of  these  I  need.    Take  thou,  my  soul,  thy  solitary 

stand, 
Umpire  to  the  champions  Fancy,  Reason,  as  on  either 

hand 
Amicable  war    they  wage  and    play  the    foe    in  thy 

behoof! 
Fancy  thrust  and  Reason  parry !    Thine  the  prize  who 

stand  aloof. 

FANCY. 

I  concede  the  thing  refused :  henceforth  no  certainty 

more  plain 
Than  this  mere  surmise  that  after  body  dies  soul  lives 

again. 
Two,  the  only  facts  acknowledged  late,  are  now  increased 

to  three — 
God  is,  and  the  soul  is,  and,  as  certain,  after  death 

shall  be. 
Put  this  third  to  use  in  life,  the  time  for  using  fact ! 

REASON. 

Ido: 
Find  it  promises  advantage,  coupled  with  the  other  two. 


LA  SAISIAZ  ^89 

Life  to  come  will  be  improvement  on  the  life  that 's  now ; 

destroy 
Body's  thwartings,  there 's  no  longer  screen  betwixt  soul 

and  soul's  joy. 
Why  should  we  expect  new  hindrance,  novel  tether?    In 

this  first 
Life,  I  isee  the  good  of  evil,  why  our  world  began  at 

worst : 
Since    time    means    amelioration,  tardily  enough  dis- 
played. 
Yet    a  mainly    onward    moving,    never   wholly    retro- 
grade. 
We  know  more  though  we  know  little,  we  grow  stronger 

though  still  weak, 
Partly  see  though  all  too  purblind,  stammer  though  we 

cannot  speak. 
There  is  no  such  grudge  in  God  as  scared  the  ancient 

Greek,  no  fresh 
Substitute  of  trap  for  dragnet,  once  a  breakage  in  the 

mesh. 
Dragons  were,  and  serpents  are,  and  blindworms  will  be : 

ne'er  emerged 
Any  new-created  python  foreman's  plague  since  earth  was 

purged. 
Failing  proof,  then,  of  invented  trouble  to  replace  the 

old, 


igo  LA  SAISIAZ 

O'er  this  life  the  next  presents  advantage  much  and 

manifold : 
\Vhich  advantage —in  the  absence  of  a  fourth  and  farther 

fact 
Now  conceivably  surmised,  of  harm  to  follow  from  the 

act — 
I  pronounce  for  man's  obtaining  at  this  moment    Why 

delay? 
Is  he  happy?,  happiness  will  change:    anticipate  the 

day! 
Is  he  sad?  there's  ready  refuge:  of  all  sadness  death's 

prompt  cure ! 
Is  he  both,  in  mingled  measure?  cease  a  burthen  to 

endure ! 
Pains  with  sorry  compensations,  pleasures  stinted  in  the 

dole, 
Power  that  sinks  and  pettiness  that  soars^  all  halved  and 

nothing  whole. 
Idle  hopes  that  lure  man  onward,  forced  back  by  as  idle 

fears — 
What  a  load  he  stumbles  under  through  his  glad  sad 

seventy  years, 
When  a  touch  sets  right  the  turmoil,  lifts  his  spirit  where, 

flesh-freed, 
Knowledge  shall  be  rightly  named  so,  all  that  seems  be 

truth  indeed ! 


LA  SAISIAZ  rgt 

Grant  his  forces  no  accession,  nay,  no  faculty's  increase, 
Only  let  what  now  exists  continue,  let  him  prove  in 

peace 
Power  whereof  the  interrupted  unperfected  play  enticed 
Man  through  darkness,  which  to  lighten  any  spark  of 

hope  sufficed, — 
What  shall  then  deter  his  dying  out  of  darkness  into 

light? 
Death  itself  perchance,  brief  pain  that 's  pang,  condensed 

and  infinite  ? 
But  at  worst,  he  needs  must  brave  it  one  day,  while,  at 

best,  he  laughs — 
Drops  a  drop  within  his  chalice,  sleep  not  death  his 

science  quaffs  ! 
Any  moment  claims  more  courage  when,  by  crossing  cold 

and  gloom. 
Manfully  man  quits  discomfort,  makes  for  the  provided 

room 
Where  the  old  friends  want  their  fellow,  where  the  new 

acquaintance  wait, 
Probably  for  talk  assembled,  possibly  to  sup  in  state ! 
I    affirm    and    re-affirm    it  therefore :    only  make  as 

plain 
As  that  man  now  lives,  that,  after  dying,  man  will  live 

again, — 
Make  as  plain  the  absence,  also,  of  a  law  to  contravene 


.,r 


192  LA  SAISIAZ 

Voluntary  passage  from  this  life  to  that  by  change  of 

scene, — 
And  I  bid  him — at  suspicion  of  first  cloud  athwart  his 

sky, 
Flower's  departure,   frost's  arrival — never  hesitate,   but 

die! 

FANCY. 

Then  I  double  my  concession  :   grant,  along  with  new 

life  sure, 
This  same  law  found  lacking  now :  ordain  that,  whether 

rich  or  poor 
Ptesent  life  is  judged  in  aught  man  counts  advantage — 

be  it  hope, 
Be  it  fear  that  brightens,  blackens  most  or  least  his 

horoscope, — 
He,  by  absolute  compulsion  such  as  made  him  live  at  all. 
Go  on  living  to  the  fated  end  of  life  whate'er  befall. 
What  though,  as  on  earth  he  darkling  grovels,  man  de- 
scry the  sphere, 
Next  life's — call  it,  heaven  of  freedom,  close  above  ancj 

crystal-clear  ? 
He  shall  find — say,  hell  to  punish  who  in  aught  curtails 

the  term. 
Fain  would  act  the  butterfly  before  he  has  played  out  the 

worm. 


LA  SAISIAZ  193 

God,  soul,  earth,  heaven,  hell, — five  facts  now  :  what  is 
to  desiderate  ? 

REASON. 

Nothing!     Henceforth  man's   existence  bows  to  the 

monition  "  Wait ! 
Take  the  joys  and  bear  the  sorrows— neither  with  extreme 

concern ! 
Living  here  means  nescience  simply :  't  is  next  life  that 

helps  to  learn. 
Shut  those  eyes,  next  life  will  open, — stop  those  ears, 

next  life  will  teach 
Hearing's  office, — close  those  lips,  next  life  will  give  the 

power  of  speech ! 
Or,  if  action  more  amuse  thee  than  the  passive  attitude, 
Bravely  bustle  through  thy  being,  busy  thee  for  ill  or 

good, 
Reap  this  life's  success  or  failure  !    Soon  shall  things  be 

unperplexed 
And  the  right  and  wrong,  now  tangled,  lie  unravelled  in 

the  next." 

FANCY. 

Not  so  fast !    Still  more  concession !  not  alone  do  I 
declare 

XIV.  o 


194  /.-^   SAISIAZ 

Life  must  needs  be  borne, — I  also  will  that  man  become 

aware 
Life  has  worth   incalculable,   every    moment    that   he 

spends 
So  much  gain  or  loss  for  that  next  life  which  on  this  life 

depends. 
Good,  done  here,  be  there  rewarded, — evil,  worked  here, 

there  amerced ! 
Six  facts  now,  and  all  established,  plain  to  man  the  last 

as  first.  ^ 


REASON. 

There  was  good  and  evil,  then,  defined  to  man  by  this 

decree  ? 
Was—fox  at  its  promulgation  both  alike  have  ceased 

to  be. 
Prior  to  this   last  announcement  "  Certainly  as   God 

exists. 
As  He  made  man's  soul,  as  soul  is  quenchless  by  the 

deathly  mists, 
Yet  is,  all  the  same,  forbidden  premature  escape  from 

time 
To  eternity's  provided  purer  air  and  brighter  clime, — 
Just  so  certainly  depends  it  on  the  use  to,  which  maq 

turns 


LA   SAISIAZ  195 

Earth,  the  good  or  evil  done  there,  whether  after  death 

he  earns 
Life  eternal, — heaven,  the  phrase  be,  or  eternal  death,— 

say,  hell. 
As  his  deeds,  so  proves  his  portion,  doing  ill  or  doing  well  " 
— Prior  to  this  last  announcement,   earth  was  man's 

probation-place: 
Liberty  of  doing  evil  gave  his  doing  good  a  grace ; 
Once  lay  down  the  law,  with  Nature's  simple  "Such 

effects  succeed 
Causes  such,  and  heaven  or  hell  depends  upon  man's 

earthly  deed 
Just  as  surely  as  depends  the  straight  or  else  the  crooked 

line 
On  his  making  point  meet  point  or  with  or  else  without 

incline," — 
Thenceforth  neither  good  nor  evil  does  man,  doing  what 

he  must. 
Lay  but  down  that  law  as  stringent  "  Wouldst  thou  live 

again,  be  just ! " 
As  this  other  "  Wouldst  thou  live  now,  regularly  draw 

thy  breath  1 
For,  suspend  the  operation,  straight  law's  breach  results 

in  death — " 
And  (provided  always,  man,  addressed  this  mode,  be 

sound  and  sane) 

02 


196  LA  SAISIAZ 

Prompt  and  absolute  obedience,  never  doubt,  will  law 
obtain ! 

Tell  not  me  "  Look  round  us !  nothing  each  side  but 
acknowledged  law. 

Now  styled  God's — now,  Nature's  edict ! "  Where  's 
obedience  without  flaw 

Paid  to  either  ?  What 's  the  adage  rife  in  man's  mouth  ? 
Why,  «  The  best 

I  both  see  and  praise,  the  worst  I  follow  " — which,  despite 
professed 

Seeing,  praising,  all  the  same  he  follows,  since  he  dis- 
believes 

In  the  heart  of  him  that  edict  which  for  truth  his  head 
receives. 

There 's  evading  and  persuading  and  much  making  law 
amends 

Somehow,  there 's  the  nice  distinction  'twixt  fast  foes  and 
faulty  friends, 

— Any  consequence  except  inevitable  death  when  "  Die, 

Whoso  breaks  our  law ! "  they  publish,  God  and  Nature 
equally. 

Law  that 's  kept  or  broken — subject  to  man's  will  and 
pleasure!    Whence? 

How  comes  law  to  bear  eluding  ?  Not  because  of  im- 
potence: 

Certain  laws  exist  already  which  to  hear  means  to  obey ; 


LA  SAISIAZ  X97 

Therefore  not  without  a  purpose  these  man  must,  while 

those  man  may 
Keep  and,  for  the  keeping,  haply  gain  approval  and 

reward. 
Break  through  this  last  superstructure,  all  is  empty  air — 

no  sward 
Firm  like  my  first  fact  to  stand  on  '*  God  there  is,  and 

soul  there  is," 
And  souFs  earthly  life-allotment :  wherein,  by  hypothesis, 
Soul  is  bound  to  pass  probation,  prove  its  powers,  and 

exercise 
Sense  and  thought  on  fact,  and  then,  from  fact  educing 

fit  surmise, 
Ask  itself,  and  of  itself  have  solely  answer,  "  Does  the 

scope 
Earth  affords  of  fact  to  judge  by  warrant  future  fear  or 

hope?" 

Thus  have  we  come  back  full  circle:  fancy's  footsteps 

one  by  one 
Go  their  round  conducting  reason  to  the  point  where 

they  begun. 
Left  where  we  were  left  so  lately,  Dear  and  True ! 

When,  half  a  week 
Since,  we  walked  and  talked  and  thus  I  told  you,  how 

suffused  a  cheek 


198  LA   SAISiAZ 

You  had  turned  me  had  I  sudden  brought  the  blush  into 

the  smile 
By  some  word  like  "  Idly  argued !  you  know  better  all 

the  while  1 " 
Now,  from  me— Oh  not  a  blush  but,  how  much  more, 

a  joyous  glow, 
Laugh  triumphant,  would  it  strike  did  your  '*  Yes,  better 

I  do  know  " 
Break,  my  warrant  for  assurance !  which  assurance  may 

not  be 
If,  supplanting  hope,  assurance  needs  must  change  this 

life  to  me. 
So,  I  hope— no  more  than  hope,  but  hope— no  less  than 

hope,  because 
I  can  fathom,  by  no  plumb-line  sunk  in  life's  apparent 

laws. 
How  I  may  in  any  instance  fix  where  change  should 

meetly  fall 
Nor    involve,    by    one    revisal,    abrogation    of    them 

all: 
— Which  again  involves  as  utter  change  in  life  thus  law- 

released. 
Whence  the  good  of  goodness  vanished  when  the  ill  of 

evil  ceased. 
Whereas,   life  and  laws  apparent  re-instated.— all  we 

know. 


/ 


LA   SAISIAZ  190 

All  we  know  not, — o'er  our  heaven  again  cloud  closes, 

until,  lo — 
Hope  the  arrowy,  just  as  constant,  comes  to  pierce  its 

gloom,  compelled 
By  a  power  and  by  a  purpose  which,  if  no  one  else 

beheld, 
I  behold  in  life,  so — hope  i 

Sad  summing-up  of  all  to  say  ! 
Athanasius  contra  mundum,  why  should  he  hope  more 

than  they  ? 
So  are  men  made  notwithstanding,  such  magnetic  virtue 

darts 
From  each  head  their  fancy  haloes  to  their  unresisting 

hearts ! 

Here  I  stand,  methinks  a  stone's  throw  from  yon  village 

I  this  mom 
Traversed  for  the  sake  of  looking  one  last  look  at  its 

forlorn 
Tenement's  ignoble  fortune :  through  a  crevice,  plain  its 

floor 
Piled  with  provender  for  cattle,  while  a  dung-heap  blocked 

the  door. 
In  that  squalid  Bossex,  under  that  obscene  red  roof, 

arose, 


aoo  LA  SAISIAZ 

Like  a  fiery  flying   serpent    from    its    egg,   a  soul— 
Rousseau's. 

Turn  thence !    Is  it  Diodati  joins  the  glimmer  of  the 
lake? 

There  I  plucked  a  leaf,  one  week  since, — ivy,  plucked 
for  Byron's  sake. 

Famed  unfortunates !     And  yet,  because  of  that  phos- 
phoric fame 

Swathing  blackness'  self  with  brightness  till   putridity 
looked  flame. 

All  the  world  was  witched  :  and  wherefore  ?  what  could 
lie  beneath,  allure 

Heart  of  man  to  let  corruption  serve  man's  head  as  cyno- 
sure? 

Was  the  magic  in  the  dictum  "  All  that 's  good  is  gone 
and  past ; 

Bad  and  worse  still  grows  the  present,  and  the  worst  of 
all  comes  last : 

Which  believe — for  I  believe  it  ?  "    So  preached  one  his 
gospel-news ; 

While  melodious  moaned  the  other  "  Dying  day  with 
dolphin-hues ! 

Storm,  for  loveliness  and  darkness  like  a  woman's  eye ! 
Ye  mounts 

Where  I  climb  to  'scape  my  fellow,  and  thou  sea  wherein 
he  counts 


LA  SAISIAZ  aoi 

Not  one  inch  of  vile  dominion !    What  were  your  especial 

worth 
Failed  ye  to  enforce  the  maxim  *  Of  all  objects  found  on 

earth 
Man  is  meanest,  much  too  nonoured  when  compared 

with — what  by  odds 
Beats  him— any  dog:  so,  let  him  go  a-howling  to  his 

gods ! ' 
Which  believe —for  I  believe  it ! "  such  the  comfort  man 

received 
Sadly  since  perforce  he  must :  for  why  ?  the  famous  bard 

believed ! 

Fame !     Then,  give  me  fame,  a  moment !     As  I  gather 

at  a  glance 
Human  glory  after  glory  vivifying  yon  expanse. 
Let  me  grasp  them  all  together,  hold  on  high  and  brandish 

well 
Beacon-like  above  the  rapt  world  ready,  whether  heaven 

or  hell 
Send  the  dazzling  summons  earthward,  to  submit  itself 

the  same. 
Take  on  trust  the  hope  or  else  despair  flashed  full  on 

face  by — Fame ! 
Thanks,  thou  pine-tree  of  Makistos,  wide  thy  giant  torch 

I  wave ! 


202  LA  SAISIAZ 

Know  ye  whence  I  plucked  the  pillar,  late  with  sky  for 

architrave  ? 
This  the  trunk,  the  central  solid  Knowledge,  kindled  core, 

began 
Tugging  earth-deeps,  trying  heaven-heights,  rooted  yonder 

at  Lausanne. 
This  which  flits  and  spits,  the  aspic, — sparkles  in  and  out 

the  boughs 
Now,  and  now  condensed,  the  python,  coiling  round  and 

round  allows 
Scarce  the  bole  its  due  effulgence,  dulled  by  flake  on 

flake  of  Wit- 
Laughter    so    bejewels    Learning,  —  what    but    Ferney 

nourished  it  ? 
Nay,  nor  fear — since  every  resin  feeds  the  flame— that  I 

dispense 
With   yon   Bossex  terebinth  -  tree's  all  -  explosive  Elo- 
quence : 
No,  be  sure !  nor,  any  more  than  thy  resplendency,  Jean- 

Jacques, 
Dare  I  want  thine,  Diodati !    What  though  monkeys  and 

macaques 
Gibber  "  Byron  "  ?    Byron's  ivy  rears  a  branch  beyond 

the  crew, 
Green  for  ever,  no  deciduous  trash  macaques  and  mon- 
keys chew  i 


LA  SAISIAZ  ao3 

As  Rousseau,  then,  eloquent,  as  Byron  prime  in  poet's 

power, — 
Detonations,  figurations,  smiles— the  rainbow,  tears— 

the  shower, — 
Lo,  I  lift  the  coruscating  marvel — Fame !  and,  famed, 

declare 
— Learned  for  the  nonce  as  Gibbon,  witty  as  wit's  self 

Voltaire  .  .  . 
O  the  sorriest  of  conclusions  to  whatever  man  of  sense 
Mid  the  millions  stands  the  unit,  takes  no  flare  for 

evidence ! 
Yet  the  millions  have  their  portion,  live  their  calm  or 

troublous  day. 
Find  significance  in  fireworks :  so,  by  help  of  mine,  they 

may 
Confidently  lay  to  heart  and  lock  in  head  their  life  long 

— this : 
"  He  there  with  the  brand  flamboyant,  broad  o'er  night's 

forlorn  abyss. 
Crowned  by  prose  and  verse ;  and  wielding,  with  Wit's 

bauble,  Learning's  rod  •  »  . 
Well  ?    Why,  he  at  least  believed  in  Soul,  was  very  sure 

of  God. 


204  LA  SAISIAZ 

So  the  poor  smile  played,  that  evening :  pallid  smile  long 

since  extinct 
Here  in   London's    mid-November!      Not   so  loosely 

thoughts  were  linked, 
Six  weeks  since  as  I,  descending  in  the  sunset  from  Salbve, 
Found  the  chain,  I  seemed  to  forge  there,  flawless  till  it 

reached  your  grave, — 
Not  so  filmy  was  the  texture,  but  I  bore  it  in  my  breast 
Safe  thus  far.     And  since  I  found  a  something  in  me 

would  not  rest 
Till  I,  Hnk  by  link,  unravelled  any  tangle  of  the  chain, 
— Here  it  lies,  for  much  or  little !     I  have  lived  all  o'er 

again 
That  last  pregnant  hour :  I  saved  it,  just  as  I  could  save 

a  root 
Disinterred  for  re-interment  when  the  time  best  helps  to 

shoot. 
Life  is  stocked  with  germs  of  torpid  life ;  but  may  I  never 

wake 
Those  of  mine  whose  resurrection  could  not  be  without 

earthquake ! 
Rest  all  such,  unraised  forever  !    Be  this,  sad  yet  sweet, 

the  sole 
Memory  evoked  from  slumber  1    Least  part  this:  then 

what  the  whole? 


THE 

TWO    POETS    OF    CROISIC 


I. 

Such  a  starved  bank  of  moss 
Till  that  May-mom, 

Blue  ran  the  flash  across : 
Violets  were  bom ! 


II. 

Sky  -  what  a  scowl  of  cloud 

Till,  near  and  far, 
Ray  on  ray  split  the  shroud 

Splendid,  a  star ! 


208 

III. 

World — how  it  walled  about 

Life  with  disgrace 
Till  God's  own  smile  came  out : 

That  was  thy  face ! 


ao9 


THE  TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC. 


1878. 


I. 

"  Fame  !  "    Yes,  I  said  it  and  you  read  it.    First, 
Praise  the  good  log-fire !    Winter  howls  without. 

Crowd  closer,  let  us !    Ha,  the  secret  nursed 
Inside  yon  hollow,  crusted  roundabout 

With  copper  where  the  clamp  was, — how  the  burst 
Vindicates  flame  the  stealthy  feeder !    Spout 

Thy  splendidest — a  minute  and  no  more  ? 

So  soon  again  all  sobered  as  before? 

II. 

Nay,  for  I  need  to  see  your  face !    One  stroke 
Adroitly  dealt,  and  lo,  the  pomp  revealed ! 

Fire  in  his  pandemonium,  heart  of  oak 
Palatial,  where  he  wrought  the  works  concealed 

XIV.  p 


aio  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

Beneath  the  solid-seeming  roof  I  broke, 

As  redly  up  and  out  and  off  they  reeled 
Like  disconcerted  imps,  those  thousand  sparks 
From  fire's  slow  tunnelling  of  vaults  and  arcs ! 


III. 

Up,  out,  and  off,  see !    Were  you  never  used,— 
You  now,  in  childish  days  or  rather  nights, — 

As  I  was,  to  watch  sparks  fly  ?  not  amused 
By  that  old  nurse-taught  game  which  gave  the  sprites 

Each  one  his  title  and  career, — confused 
Belief  't  was  all  long  over  with  the  flights 

From  earth  to  heaven  of  hero,  sage  and  bard. 

And  bade  them  once  more  strive  for  Fame's  award? 


IV. 

New  long  bright  life !  And  happy  chance  befell — 
That  I  know — when  some  prematurely  lost 

Child  of  disaster  bore  away  the  bell 

From  some  too-pampered  son  of  fortune,  crossed 

Never  before  my  chimney  broke  the  spell ! 
Octogenarian  Keats  gave  up  the  ghost, 

While — never  mind  Who  was  it  cumbered  earth — 

Sank  stifled,  span-long  brightness,  in  the  birth. 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  211 

V. 

Well,  try  a  variation  of  the  game ! 

Our  log  is  old  ship-timber,  broken  bulk. 
There's  sea-brine  spirits  up  the  brimstone  flame, 

That  crimson-curly  spiral  proves  the  hulk 
Was  saturate  with — ask  the  chloride's  name 

From  somebody  who  knows !     I  shall  not  sulk 
If  yonder  greenish  tonguelet  licked  from  brass 
Its  life,  I  thought  was  fed  on  copperas. 

VI. 

Anyhow,  there  they  flutter !   What  may  be 
The  style  and  prowess  of  that  purple  one? 

Who  is  the  hero  other  eyes  shall  see 
Than  yours  and  mine  ?  That  yellow,  deep  to  dun — 

Conjecture  how  the  sage  glows,  whom  not  we 
But  those  unborn  are  to  get  warmth  by !    Son 

O'  the  coal, — as  Job  and  Hebrew  name  a  spark, — 

What  bard,  in  thy  red  soaring,  scares  the  dark? 

VII. 

Oh  and  the  lesser  lights,  the  dearer  still 

That  they  elude  a  vulgar  eye,  give  ours 
The  glimpse  repaying  astronomic  skill 

Which  searched  sky  deeper,  passed  those  patent  powers 

F  2 


aia  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

Constellate  proudly, — swords,  scrolls,  harps,  that  fill 

The  vulgar  eye  to  surfeit, — found  best  flowers 
Hid  deepest  in  the  dark, — named  unplucked  grace 
Of  soul,  ungathered  beauty,  form  or  face  I 


VIII. 

Up  with  thee,  mouldering  ash  men  never  knew, 
But  I  know  !  flash  thou  forth,  and  figure  bold, 

Calm  and  columnar  as  yon  flame  I  view  ! 
Oh  and  I  bid  thee,— to  whom  fortune  doled 

Scantly  all  other  gifts  out — bicker  blue. 
Beauty  for  all  to  see,  zinc's  uncontrolled 

Flake-brilliance  I    Not  my  fault  if  these  were  shown. 

Grandeur  and  beauty  both,  to  me  alone. 

IX. 

No  !  as  the  first  was  boy's  play,  this  proves  mere 
Stripling's  amusement :  manhood's  sport  be  grave  ! 

Choose  rather  sparkles  quenched  in  mid  career. 
Their  boldness  and  their  brightness  could  not  save 

(In  some  old  night  of  time  on  some  lone  drear 
Sea-coast,  monopolized  by  crag  or  cave) 

— Save  from  ignoble  exit  into  smoke. 

Silence,  oblivion,  all  death-damps  that  choke ! 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  C KOI  SIC  ai^ 

X. 

Launched  by  our  ship-wood,  float  we,  once  adrift 
In  fancy  to  that  land-strip  waters  wash, 

We  both  know  well !    Where  uncouth  tribes  made  shift 
Long  since  to  just  keep  life  in,  billows  dash 

Nigh  over  folk  who  shudder  at  each  lift 
Of  the  old  tyrant  tempest's  whirlwind-lash 

Though  they  have  built  the  serviceable  town 

Tempests  but  tease  now,  billows  drench,  not  drown. 

XI. 

Croisic,  the  spit  of  sandy  rock  which  juts 
Spitefully  northward,  bears  nor  tree  nor  shrub 

To  tempt  the  ocean,  show  what  Gu^rande  shuts 
Behind  her,  past  wild  Batz  whose  Saxons  grub 

The  ground  for  crystals  grown  where  ocean  gluts 
Their  promontory's  breadth  with  salt :  all  stub 

Of  rock  and  stretch  of  sand,  the  land's  last  strife 

To  rescue  a  poor  remnant  for  dear  life. 

XII. 

And  what  life !     Here  was,  from  the  world  to  choose, 
The  Druids'  chosen  chief  of  homes :  they  reared 

—Only  their  women,— mid  the  slush  and  ooze 
Of  yon  low  islet, — to  their  sun,  revered 


214  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

In  strange  stone  guise, — a  temple.     May-dawn  dews 
Saw  the  old  structure  levelled ;  when  there  peered 
May's  earliest  eve-star,  high  and  wide  once  more 
Up  towered  the  new  pile  perfect  as  before : 


XIII. 

Seeing  that  priestesses — and  all  were  such — 
Unbuilt  and  then  rebuilt  it  every  May, 

Each  alike  helping — well,  if  not  too  much ! 
For,  mid  their  eagerness  to  outstrip  day 

And  get  work  done,  if  any  loosed  her  clutch 
And  let  a  single  stone  drop,  straight  a  prey 

Herself  fell,  torn  to  pieces,  limb  from  limb. 

By  sisters  in  full  chorus  glad  and  grim. 

XIV. 

And  still  so  much  remains  of  that  grey  cult. 
That  even  now,  of  nights,  do  women  steal 

To  the  sole  Menhir  standing,  and  insult 
The  antagonistic  church-spire  by  appeal 

To  power  discrowned  in  vain,  since  each  adult 
Believes  the  gruesome  thing  she  clasps  may  heal 

Whatever  plague  no  priestly  help  can  cure : 

Kiss  but  the  cold  stone,  the  event  is  sure ! 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  215 

XV. 

Nay  more :  on  May-moms,  that  primeval  rite 
Of  temple-building,  with  its  punishment 

For  rash  precipitation,  lingers,  spite 
Of  all  remonstrance ;  vainly  are  they  shent, 

Those  girls  who  form  a  ring  and,  dressed  in  white. 
Dance  round  it,  till  some  sister's  strength  be  spent : 

Touch  but  the  Menhir,  straight  the  rest  turn  roughs 

From  gentles,  fall  on  her  with  fisticuffs. 

XVI. 

Oh  and,  for  their  part,  boys  from  door  to  door 

Sing  unintelligible  words  to  tunes 
As  obsolete  :  "  scraps  of  Druidic  lore," 

Sigh  scholars,  as  each  pale  man  importunes 
Vainly  the  mumbling  to  speak  plain  once  more. 

Enough  of  this  old  worship,  rounds  and  runes ! 
They  serve  my  purpose,  which  is  but  to  show 
Croisic  to-day  and  Croisic  long  ago. 

XVII. 

What  have  we  sailed  to  see,  then,  wafted  there 
By  fancy  from  the  log  that  ends  its  days 

Of  much  adventure  'neath  skies  foul  or  fair, 
On  waters  rough  or  smooth,  in  this  good  blaze 


2i6  THE    TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

We  two  crouch  round  so  closely,  bidding  care 

Keep  outside  with  the  snow-storm  ?    Something  says 
"  Fit  time  for  story-telHng  ! "     I  begin — 
Why  not  at  Croisic,  port  we  first  put  in  ? 

XVIIL 

Anywhere  serves :  for  point  me  out  the  place 
Wherever  man  has  made  himself  a  home, 

And  there  I  find  the  story  of  our  race 
In  little,  just  at  Croisic  as  at  Rome. 

What  matters  the  degree  ?  the  kind  I  trace. 

Druids  their  temple.  Christians  have  their  dome : 

So  with  mankind ;  and  Croisic,  1 11  engage. 

With  Rome  yields  sort  for  sort,  in  age  fqr  age. 

XIX. 

No  doubt,  men  vastly  differ :  and  we  need 
Some  strange  exceptional  benevolence 

Of  nature's  sunshine  to  develop  seed 
So  well,  in  the  less-favoured  clime,  that  thence 

We  may  discern  how  shrub  means  tree  indeed 
Though  dwarfed  till  scarcely  shrub  in  evidence. 

Man  in  the  ice-house  or  the  hot-house  ranks 

With  beasts  or  gods:  stove-forced,  give  warmth  the 
thanks ! 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  217 

XX. 

While,  is  there  any  ice-checked  ?    Such  shall  learn 
I  am  thankworthy,  who  propose  to  slake 

His  thirst  for  tasting  how  it  feels  to  turn 
Cedar  from  hyssop-on-the-wall.     I  wake 

No  memories  of  what  is  harsh  and  stern 
In  ancient  Croisic-nature,  much  less  rake 

The  ashes  of  her  last  warmth  till  out  leaps 

Live  Herve  Riel,  the  single  spark  she  keeps. 

XXI. 

Take  these  two,  see,  each  outbreak, — spirt  and  spirt 
Of  fire  from  our  brave  billet's  either  edge 

"Which — call  maternal  Croisic  ocean-girt  1 
These  two  shall  thoroughly  redeem  my  pledge. 

One  flames  fierce  gules,  its  feebler  rival — vert. 
Heralds  would  tell  you :  heroes,  I  allege, 

They  both  were :  soldiers,  sailors,  statesmen,  priests. 

Lawyers,  physicians — guess  what  gods  or  beasts ! 

XXII. 

None  of  them  all,  but— poets,  if  you  please ! 

"  What,  even  there,  endowed  with  knack  of  rhyme, 
Did  two  among  the  aborigines 

Of  that  rough  region  pass  the  ungracious  time 


3i8  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

Suiting,  to  rumble-tumble  of  the  sea's, 

The  songs  forbidden  a  serener  clime  ? 
Or  had  they  universal  audience — that 's 
To  say,  the  folk  of  Croisic,  ay  and  Batz  ?  *' 


XXIII. 

Open  your  ears  I    Each  poet  in  his  day 
Had  such  a  mighty  moment  of  success 

As  pinnacled  him  straight,  in  full  display, 
For  the  whole  world  to  worship— nothing  less ! 

Was  not  the  whole  polite  world  Paris,  pray  ? 
And  did  not  Paris,  for  one  moment — yes. 

Worship  these  poet-flames,  our  red  and  green, 

One  at  a  time,  a  century  between  ? 

XXIV. 

And  yet  you  never  heard  their  names !    Assist, 
Clio,  Historic  Muse,  while  I  record 

Great  deeds  !    Let  fact,  not  fancy,  break  the  mist 
And  bid  each  sun  emerge,  in  turn  play  lord 

Of  day,  one  moment !    Hear  the  annalist 
Tell  a  strange  story,  true  to  the  least  word ! 

At  Croisic,  sixteen  hundred  years  and  ten 

Since  Christ,  forth  flamed  yon  liquid  ruby,  then. 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CEO/SIC  219 

XXV. 

Know  him  henceforth  as  Rend  Gentilhomme 

— Appropriate  appellation !  noble  birth 
And  knightly  blazon,  the  device  wherefrom 

Was  "  Better  do  than  say  '* !    In  Croisic's  dearth 
Why  prison  his  career  while  Christendom 

Lay  open  to  reward  acknowledged  worth  ? 
He  therefore  left  it  at  the  proper  age 
And  got  to  be  the  Prince  of  Conde's  page. 

XXVI. 

Which  Prince  of  Condd,  whom  men  called  "  The  Duke," 
— Failing  the  king,  his  cousin,  of  an  heir, 

(As  one  might  hold  would  hap,  without  rebuke, 
Since  Anne  of  Austria,  all  the  world  was  'ware, 

Twenty-three  years  long  sterile,  scarce  could  look 
For  issue) — failing  Louis  of  so  rare 

A  godsend,  it  was  natural  the  Prince 

Should  hear  men  call  him  "  Next  King  "  too,  nor  wince. 

XXVII. 

Now,  as  this  reasonable  hope,  by  growth 
Of  years,  nay,  tens  of  years,  looked  plump  almost 

To  bursting, — would  the  brothers,  childless  both, 
Louis  and  Gaston,  give  but  up  the  ghost — 


290  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

Conde,  called  "  Duke  "  and  *  Next  King,"  nothing  loth 

Awaited  his  appointment  to  the  post, 
And  wiled  away  the  time,  as  best  he  might. 
Till  Providence  should  settle  things  aright. 


XXVIIl. 

So,  at  a  certain  pleasure-house,  withdrawn 
From  cities  where  a  whisper  breeds  offence, 

He  sat  him  down  to  watch  the  streak  of  dawn 
Testify  to  first  stir  of  Providence ; 

And,  since  dull  country  life  makes  courtiers  yawn, 
There  wanted  not  a  poet  to  dispense 

Song's  remedy  for  spleen-fits  all  and  some, 

Which  poet  was  Page  Ren6  Gentilhomme. 


XXIX. 

A  poet  born  and  bred,  his  very  sire 

A  poet  also,  author  of  a  piece 
Printed  and  published,  "  Ladies — their  attire  " : 

Therefore  the  son,  just  born  at  his  decease, 
Was  bound  to  keep  alive  the  sacred  fire. 

And  kept  it,  yielding  moderate  increase 
Of  songs  and  sonnets,  madrigals,  and  much 
Rhyming  thought  poetry  and  praised  as  such. 


THE  TWO  POETS  OP  CROISIC  aai 

XXX. 

Rubbish  unutterable  (bear  in  mind !) 
Rubbish  not  wholly  without  value,  though, 

Being  to  compliment  the  Duke  designed 
And  bring  the  complimenter  credit  so, — 

Pleasure  with  profit  happily  combined. 
Thus  Ren^  Gentilhomme  rhymed,  rhymed  till — lo, 

This  happened,  as  he  sat  in  an  alcove 

Elaborating  rhyme  for  "  love  " — not  "  dove." 

XXXI. 

He  was  alone  :  silence  and  solitude 
Befit  the  votary  of  the  Muse.    Around, 

Nature— not  our  new  picturesque  and  rude, 
But  trim  tree-cinctured  stately  garden-ground — 

Breathed  polish  and  politeness.    All-imbued 
With  these,  he  sat  absorbed  in  one  profound 

Excogitation  "  Were  it  best  to  hint 

Or  boldly  boast  *She  loves  me, — Araminte '?  " 

XXXII. 

When  suddenly  flashed  lightning,  searing  sight 
Almost,  so  close  to  eyes  ;  then,  quick  on  flash. 

Followed  the  thunder,  splitting  earth  downright 
Where  Ren6  sat  a-rhyming :  with  huge  crash 


832  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

Of  marble  into  atoms  infinite — 

Marble  which,  stately,  dared  the  world  to  dash 
The  stone-lhing  proud,  high-pillared,  from  its  place 
One  flash,  and  dust  was  all  that  lay  at  base. 

XXXIII, 

So,  when  the  horrible  confusion  loosed 

Its  wrappage  round  his  senses,  and,  with  breath. 

Seeing  and  hearing  by  degrees  induced 
Conviction  what  he  felt  was  life,  not  death — 

His  fluttered  faculties  came  back  to  roost 
One  after  one,  as  fowls  do  :  ay,  beneath, 

About  his  very  feet  there,  lay  in  dust 

Earthly  presumption  paid  by  heaven's  disgust. 

XXXIV. 

For,  what  might  be  the  thunder-smitten  thing 
But,  pillared  high  and  proud,  in  marble  guise, 

A  ducal  crown— which  meant  "  Now  Duke  :  Next, 
King  "  ? 
Since  such  the  Prince  was,  not  in  his  own  eyes 

Alone,  but  all  the  world's.     Pebble  from  sling 
Prostrates  a  giant ;  so  can  pulverize 

Marble  pretension — how  much  more,  make  moult 

A  peacock-prince  his  plume — God's  thunderbolt. 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CEO/SIC  223 

XXXV. 

That  was  enough  for  Rene,  that  first  fact 
Thus  flashed  into  him.     Up  he  looked :  all  blue 

And  bright  the  sky  above ;  earth  firm,  compact 
Beneath  his  footing,  lay  apparent  too ; 

Opposite  stood  the  pillar :  nothing  lacked 
There,  but  the  Duke's  crown :  see,  its  fragments  strew 

The  earth, — about  his  feet  lie  atoms  fine 

Where  he  sat  nursing  late  his  fourteenth  line ! 

XXXVI. 

So,  for  the  moment,  all  the  universe 
Being  abolished,  all  'twixt  God  and  him, — 

Earth's  praise  or  blame,  its  blessing  or  its  curse, 
Of  one  and  the  same  value,— to  the  brim 

Flooded  with  truth  for  better  or  for  worse, — 
He  pounces  on  the  writing-paper,  prim, 

Keeping  its  place  on  table  :  not  a  dint 

Nor  speck  had  damaged  "  Ode  to  Araminte." 

XXXVII. 

And  over  the  neat  crowquill  calligraph 
His  pen  goes  blotting,  blurring,  as  an  ox 

Tramples  a  flower-bed  in  a  garden, — laugh 
You  may ! — so  does  not  he,  whose  quick  heart  knocks 


324  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

Audibly  at  his  breast :  an  epitaph 

On  earth's  break-up,  amid  the  falling  rocks. 
He  might  be  penning  in  a  wild  dismay, 
Caught  with  his  work  halfrdone  on  Judgment  Day- 

XXXVIII. 

And  what  is  it  so  terribly  he  pens, 
Ruining  "  Cupid,  Venus,  wile  and  smile, 

Hearts,  darts,"  and  all  his  day's  divinior  mens 
Judged  necessary  to  a  perfect  style? 

Little  recks  Rene,  with  a  breast  to  cleanse, 
Of  Rhadamanthine  law  that  reigned  erewhile : 

Brimful  of  truth,  truth's  outburst  will  convince 

(Style  or  no  style)  who  bears  truth's  brunt— the  Prince. 

XXXIX. 

••  Conde,  called  *  Duke,'  be  called  just  *Duke,'  not  more 
To  life's  end !     *  Next  King '  thou  forsooth  wilt  be  ? 

Ay,  when  this  bauble,  as  it  decked  before 
Thy  pillar,  shall  again,  for  France  to  see, 

Take  its  proud  station  there !    Let  France  adore 
No  longer  an  illusive  mock-sun— thee — 

But  keep  her  homage  for  Sol's  self,  about 

To  rise  and  put  pretenders  to  the  rout ! 


THE   TWO  FOETS  OF  CROISIC  225 

XL. 

"  What  ?    France  so  God-abandoned  that  her  root 
Regal,  though  many  a  Spring  it  gave  no  sign, 

Lacks  power  to  make  the  bole,  now  branchless,  shoot 
Greenly  as  ever  ?    Nature,  though  benign. 

Thwarts  ever  the  ambitious  and  astute. 
In  store  for  such  is  punishment  condign : 

Sure  as  thy  Duke's  crown  to  the  earth  was  hurled, 

So  sure,  next  year,  a  Dauphin  glads  the  world  I " 

XLI. 

Which  penned— some  forty  lines  to  this  effect — 
Our  Rene  folds  his  paper,  marches  brave 

Back  to  the  mansion,  luminous,  erect, 
Triumphant,  an  emancipated  slave. 

There  stands  the  Prince.     "  How  now  ?    My  Duke's 
crown  wrecked  ? 
What  may  this  mean  ?  "    The  answer  Ren^  gave 

Was — handing  him  the  verses,  with  the  due 

Incline  of  body :  "  Sir,  God's  word  to  you  ! " 

XLII. 

The  Prince  read,  paled,  was  silent ;  all  around, 
The  courtier-company,  to  whom  he  passed 

XIV.  Q 


a26  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

The  paper,  read,  in  equal  silence  bound. 

Rene  grew  also  by  degrees  aghast 
At  his  own  fit  of  courage— palely  found 

Way  of  retreat  from  that  pale  presence :  classed 
Once  more  among  the  cony-kind.     "  Oh,  son, 
It  is  a  feeble  folk ! "  saith  Solomon. 

XLIII. 

Vainly  he  apprehended  evil :  since, 

When,  at  the  year's  end,  even  as  foretold, 

Forth  came  the  Dauphin  who  discrowned  the  Prince 
Of  that  long-craved  mere  visionary  gold, 

T  was  no  fit  time  for  envy  to  evince 
Malice,  be  sure !    The  timidest  grew  bold : 

Of  all  that  courtier-company  not  one 

But  left  the  semblance  for  the  actual  sun. 

XLIV. 

And  all  sorts  and  conditions  that  stood  by 
Al  Rent's  burning  moment,  bright  escape 

Of  soul,  bore  witness  to  the  prophecy. 
Which  witness  took  the  customary  shape 

Of  verse ;  a  score  of  poets  in  full  cry 

Hailed  the  inspired  one.     Nantes  and  Tours  agape. 

Soon  Paris  caught  the  infection  ;  gaining  strength, 

How  could  it  fail  to  reach  the  Court  at  length  ? 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  227 

XLV. 

"  O  poet ! "  smiled  King  Louis,  "  and  besides, 
O  prophet  1    Sure,  by  miracle  announced, 

My  babe  will  prove  a  prodigy.     Who  chides 
Henceforth  the  unchilded  monarch  shall  be  trounced 

For  irreligion :  since  the  fool  derides 

Plain  miracle  by  which  this  prophet  pounced 

Exactly  on  the  moment  I  should  lift 

Like  Simeon,  in  my  arms,  a  babe,  *  God's  gift  1 ' 

XLVI. 

"  So  call  the  boy  !  and  call  this  bard  and  seer 

By  a  new  title  !  him  I  raise  to  rank 
Of  *  Royal  Poet ; '  poet  without  peer ! 

Whose  fellows  only  have  themselves  to  thank 
If  humbly  they  must  follow  in  the  rear 

My  Rene.     He 's  the  master :  they  must  clank 
Their  chains  of  song,  confessed  his  slaves ;  for  why  ? 
They  poetize,  while  he  can  prophesy  ! " 

XLVII. 

So  said,  so  done ;  our  Rene  rose  august, 
"  The  Royal  Poet ; "  straightway  put  in  type 

His  poem-prophecy,  and  (fair  and  just 
Procedure)  added,— now  that  time  was  ripe 

•     Q3 


228  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

For  proving  friends  did  well  his  word  to  trust,  — 

Those  attestations,  tuned  to  lyre  or  pipe, 
Which  friends  broke  out  with  when  he  dared  foretell 
The  Dauphin's  birth :  friends  trusted,  and  did  well 


XLVIII. 

Moreover  he  got  painted  by  Du  Pr^, 
Engraved  by  Daret  also,  and  prefixed 

The  portrait  to  his  book :  a  crown  of  bay 

Circled  his  brows,  with  rose  and  myrtle  mixed ; 

And  Latin  verses,  lovely  in  their  way, 

Described  him  as  "  the  biforked  hill  betwixt : 

Since  he  hath  scaled  Parnassus  at  one  jump, 

Joining  the  Delphic  quill  and  Getic  trump.'* 


XLIX. 

Whereof  came  .  .  .  What,  it  lasts,  our  spirt,  thus  long 
— The  red  fire?    That 's  the  reason  must  excuse 

My  letting  flicker  Rene's  prophet-song 
No  longer ;  for  its  pertinacious  hues 

Must  fade  before  its  fellow  joins  the  throng 
Of  sparks  departed  up  the  chimney,  dues 

To  dark  oblivion.     At  the  word,  it  winks. 

Rallies,  relapses,  dwindles,  deathward  sinks ! 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROlSIC  329 


So  does  our  poet.     All  this  burst  of  fame, 

Fury  of  favour,  Royal  Poetship, 
Prophetship,  book,  verse,  picture— thereof  came 

— Nothing !     That 's  why  I  would  not  let  outstrip 
Red  his  green  rival  flamelet :  just  the  same 

Ending  in  smoke  waits  both  !     In  vain  we  rip 
The  past,  no  further  faintest  trace  remains 
Of  Ren^  to  reward  our  pious  pains. 

LI. 

Somebody  saw  a  portrait  framed  and  glazed 
At  Croisic.     "  Who  may  be  this  glorified 

Mortal  unheard-of  hitherto  ?  "  amazed 
That  person  asked  the  owner  by  his  side. 

Who  proved  as  ignorant*    The  question  raised 
Provoked  inquiry ;  key  by  key  was  tried 

On  Croisic's  portrait -puzzle,  till  back  flew 

The  wards  at  one  key's  touch,  which  key  was— Who? 

LII. 

The  other  famous  poet !     Wait  thy  turn. 

Thou  green,  our  red's  competitor !     Enough 
Just  now  to  note  't  was  he  that  itched  to  learn 

(A  hundred  years  ago)  how  fate  could  puff 


230  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

Heaven-high  (a  hundred  years  before)  then  spurn 

To  suds  so  big  a  bubble  in  some  huff: 
Since  green  too  found  red's  portrait, — having  heard 
Hitherto  of  red's  rare  self  not  one  word. 


LIII. 

And  he  with  zeal  addressed  him  to  the  task 
Of  hunting  out,  by  all  and  any  means, 

— Who  might  the  brilliant  bard  be,  born  to  bask 
Butterfly-like  in  shine  which  kings  and  queens 

And  baby-dauphins  shed?    Much  need  to  ask  ! 
Is  fame  so  fickle  that  what  perks  and  preens 

The  eyed  wing,  one  imperial  minute,  dips 

Next  sudden  moment  into  blind  eclipse? 

After  a  vast  expenditure  of  pains, 

Our  second  poet  found  the  prize  he  sought : 

Urged  in  his  search  by  something  that  restrains 
From  undue  triumph  famed  ones  who  have  fought. 

Or  simply,  poetizing,  taxed  their  brains : 

Something  that  tells  such — dear  is  triumph  bought 

If  it  means  only  basking  in  the  midst 

Of  fame's  brief  sunshine,  as  thou,  Rene,  didst. 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  231 

LV. 

For,  what  did  searching  find  at  last  but  this? 

Quoth  somebody  "  I  somehow  somewhere  seem 
To  think  I  heard  one  old  De  Chevaye  is 

Or  was  possessed  of  Rene's  works  !  "  which  gleam 
Of  light  from  out  the  dark  proved  not  amiss 

To  track,  by  correspondence  on  the  theme ; 
And  soon  the  twilight  broadened  into  day, 
For  thus  to  question  answered  De  Chevaye. 

LVI. 

"  True  it  is,  I  did  once  possess  the  works 
You  want  account  of — works— to  call  them  so, — 

Comprised  in  one  small  book  :  the  volume  lurks 
(Some  fifty  leaves  in  duodecimo) 

'Neath  certain  ashes  which  my  soul  it  irks 
Still  to  remember,  because  long  ago 

That  and  my  other  rare  shelf-occupants 

Perished  by  burning  of  my  house  at  Nantes. 

LVII. 

"  Yet  of  that  book  one  strange  particular 
Still  stays  in  mind  with  me  " — and  thereupon 

Followed  the  story.     "  Few  the  poems  are  ; 
The  book  was  two-thirds  filled  up  with  this  one, 


2  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CJiOISiC 

And  sundry  witnesses  from  near  and  far 

That  here  at  least  was  prophesying  done 
By  prophet,  so  as  to  preclude  all  doubt, 
Before  the  thing  he  prophesied  about." 

LVIII. 

That's  all  he  knew,  and  all  the  poet  learned, 
And  all  that  you  and  I  are  like  to  hear 

Of  Rene ;  since  not  only  book  is  burned 
But  memory  extinguished, — nay,  I  fear. 

Portrait  is  gone  too :  nowhere  I  discerned 
A  trace  of  it  at  Croisic.     "  Must  a  tear 

Needs  fall  for  that  ?  "  you  smile.     "  How  fortune 
fares 

With  such  a  mediocrity,  who  cares  ?  ^ 

LIX. 

Well,  I  care — intimately  care  to  have 
Experience  how  a  human  creature  felt 

In  after-life,  who  bore  the  burden  grave 
Of  certainly  believing  God  had  dealt 

For  once  directly  with  him  :  did  not  rave 
— A  maniac,  did  not  find  his  reason  melt 

— An  idiot,  but  went  on,  in  peace  or  strife, 

The  world's  way,  lived  an  ordinary  life. 


THR   two  POETS  OP  CROtSiC  233 

LX. 

How  many  problems  that  one  fact  would  solve ! 

An  ordinary  soul,  no  more,  no  less, 
About  whose  life  earth's  common  sights  revolve. 

On  whom  is  brought  to  bear,  by  thunder-stress, 
This  fact — God  tasks  him,  and  will  not  absolve 

Task's  negligent  performer !     Can  you  guess 
How  such  a  soul, — the  task  performed  to  point, — 
Goes  back  to  life  nor  finds  things  out  of  joint? 

LXI. 

Does  he  stand  stock-like  henceforth?  or  proceed 
Dizzily,  yet  with  course  straightforward  still, 

Down-trampling  vulgar  hindrance? — as  the  reed 
Is  crushed  beneath  its  tramp  when  that  blind  will 

Hatched  in  some  old-world  beast's  brain  bids  it  speed 
Where  the  sun  wants  brute-presence  to  fulfil 

Life's  purpose  in  a  new  far  zone,  ere  ice 

Enwomb  the  pasture-tract  its  fortalice 

LXII. 

I  think  no  such  direct  plain  truth  consists 
With  actual  sense  and  thought  and  what  they  take 

To  be  the  solid  walls  of  life :  mere  mists — 

How  such  would,  at  that  truth's  first  piercing,  bieak 


254  ^^^   ^^^'0  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

Into  the  nullity  they  are !— slight  lists 

AV'herein  the  puppet-champions  wage,  for  sake 
Of  some  mock-mistress,  mimic  war :  laid  low 
At  trumpet-blast,  there  's  shown  the  world,  one  foe ! 

Lxni. 

No,  we  must  play  the  pageant  out,  observe 

The  tourney  regulations,  and  regard 
Success — to  meet  the  blunted  spear  nor  swerve, 

Failure — to  break  no  bones  yet  fall  on  sward ; 
Must  prove  we  have — not  courage?  well  then, — nerve  ! 

And,  at  the  day's  end,  boast  the  crown^s  award — 
Be  warranted  as  promising  to  wield 
Weapons,  no  sham,  in  a  true  battle-field. 

LXIV. 

Meantime,  our  simulated  thunderclaps 
Which  tell  us  counterfeited  truths— these  same 

Are— sound,  when  music  storms  the  soul,  perhaps? 
— Sight,  beauty,  every  dart  of  every  aim 

That  touches  just,  then  seems,  by  strange  relapse. 
To  fall  effectless  from  the  soul  it  came 

As  if  to  fix  its  own,  but  simply  smote 

And  startled  to  vague  beauty  more  remote? 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  235 

LXV. 

So  do  we  gain  enough—  yet  not  too  much — 
Acquaintance  with  that  outer  element 

Wherein  there  's  operation  (call  it  such  !) 
Quite  of  another  kind  than  we  the  pent 

On  earth  are  proper  to  receive.     Our  hutch 
Lights  up  at  the  least  chink :  let  roof  be  rent — 

How  inmates  huddle,  blinded  at  first  spasm, 

Cognizant  of  the  sun's  self  through  the  chasm  ! 

LXVI. 

Therefore,  who  knows  if  this  our  Rent's  quick 
Subsidence  from  as  sudden  noise  and  glare 

Into  oblivion  was  impolitic  ? 
No  doubt  his  soul  became  at  once  aware 

That,  after  prophecy,  the  rhyming-trick 
Is  poor  employment :  human  praises  scare 

Rather  than  soothe  ears  all  a- tingle  yet 

With  tones  few  hear  and  live,  but  none  forget. 

LXVII. 

There 's  our  first  famous  poet.     Step  thou  forth 
Second  consummate  songster !     See,  the  tongue 

Of  fire  that  typifies  thee,  owns  thy  worth 
In  yellow,  purple  mixed  its  green  among, 


2^  THE  TWO  POETS  OF  CROlSlC 

No  pure  and  simple  resin  from  the  North, 
But  composite  with  virtues  that  belong 
To  Southern  culture  !     Love  not  more  than  hate 
Helped  to  a  blaze  .  .  .  But  I  anticipate. 

LXVIII. 

Prepare  to  witness  a  combustion  rich 
And  riotously  splendid,  far  beyond 

Poor  Renews  lambent  little  streamer  which 
Only  played  candle  to  a  Court  grown  fond 

By  baby-birth :  this  soared  to  such  a  pitch. 
Alternately  such  colours  doffed  and  donned, 

That  when  I  say  it  dazzled  Paris — please 

Know  that  it  brought  Voltaire  upon  his  knees ! 

LXIX. 

Who  did  it,  was  a  dapper  gentleman, 

Paul  Desforges  Maillard,  Croisickese  by  birth. 

Whose  birth  that  century  ended  w^hich  began 
By  similar  bestowment  on  our  earth 

Of  the  aforesaid  Ren^.     Cease  to  scan 
The  ways  of  Providence  !    See  Croisic's  dearth 

Not  Paris  in  its  plenitude  —  suffice 

To  furnish  France  with  her  best  poet  twice ! 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISJC  ayj 

LXX. 

Till  he  was  thirty  years  of  age,  the  vein 
Poetic  yielded  rhyme  by  drops  and  spirts  : 

In  verses  of  society  had  lain 
His  talent  chiefly ;  but  the  Muse  asserts 

Privilege  most  by  treating  with  disdain 

Epics  the  bard  mouths  out,  or  odes  he  blurts 

Spasmodically  forth.     Have  people  time 

And  patience  nowadays  for  thought  in  rhyme? 

LXXL 

So,  his  achievements  were  the  quatrain's  inch 
Of  homage,  or  at  most  the  sonnet's  ell 

Of  admiration :  welded  lines  with  clinch 
Of  ending  word  and  word,  to  every  belle 

In  Croisic's  bounds ;  these,  brisk  as  any  finch, 
He  twittered  till  his  fame  had  reached  as  well 

Gu^rande  as  Batz ;  but  there  fame  stopped,  for — curse 

On  fortune — outside  lay  the  universe ! 

LXXII. 

That 's  Paris.     Well, — why  not  break  bounds,  and  send 

Song  onward  till  it  echo  at  the  gates 
Of  Paris  whither  all  ambitions  tend, 

And  end  too,  seeing  that  success  there  sates 


838  THE   TWO  PCETS  OF  CROISIC 

The  soul  which  hungers  most  for  fame  ?    Why  spend 

A  minute  in  deciding,  while,  by  Fate's 
Decree,  there  happens  to  be  just  the  prize 
Proposed  there,  suiting  souls  that  poetize  ? 

LXXIII. 

A  prize  indeed,  the  Academy's  own  self 
Proposes  to  what  bard  shall  best  indite 

A  piece  describing  how,  through  shoal  and  shelf, 
The  Art  of  Navigation,  steered  aright, 

Has,  in  our  last  king^s  reign,— the  lucky  elf, — 
Reached,  one  may  say.  Perfection's  haven  quite, 

And  there  cast  anchor.     At  a  glance  one  sees 

The  subject's  crowd  of  capabilities  ! 

LXXIV. 

Neptune  and  Amphitrite  !     Thetis,  who 
Is  either  Tethys  or  as  good — both  tag  ! 

Triton  can  shove  along  a  vessel  too : 

It 's  Virgil !     Then  the  winds  that  blow  or  lag, — 

De  Maille,  Vendome,  Vermandois  !    Toulouse  blew 
Longest,  \ve  reckon :  he  must  puff  the  flag 

To  fullest  outflare ;  while  our  lacking  nymph 

Be  Anne  of  Austria,  Reg^ent  o'er  the  lymph 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  239 

LXXV. 

Promised,  performed  I    Since  irritabilis  gens 
Holds  of  the  feverish  impotence  that  strives 

To  stay  an  itch  by  prompt  resource  to  pea^s 
Scratching  itself  on  paper ;  placid  lives, 

Leisurely  works  mark  the  divinior  mens: 
Bees  brood  above  the  honey  in  their  hives ; 

Gnats  are  the  busy  bustlers.     Splash  and  scrawl,— 

Completed  lay  thy  piece,  swift  penman  Paul  J 

LXXVL 

To  Paris  with  the  product !    This  despatched, 
One  had  to  wait  the  l^orty's  slow  and  sure 

Verdict,  as  best  one  might.     Our  penman  scratched 
Away  perforce  the  itch  that  knows  no  cure 

But  daily  paper-friction :  more  than  matched 
His  first  feat  by  a  second  -  tribute  pure 

And  heartfelt  to  the  Forty  when  their  voice 

Should  peal  with  one  accord  "  Be  Paul  our  choice  I " 

LXXVII. 

Scratch,  scratch  went  much  laudation  of  that  sane 

And  sound  Tribunal,  delegates  august 
Of  Phoebus  and  the  Muses'  sacred  train — 

Whom  every  poetaster  tries  to  thrust  , 


240  THE    TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

From  where,  high-throned,  they  dominate  the  Seine : 

Fruitless  endeavour, — fail  it  shall  and  must  I 
Whereof  in  witness  have  not  one  and  all 
The  Forty  voices  pealed  "  Our  Choice  be  Paul "? 

LXXVIII. 

Thus  Paul  discounted  his  applause.     Alack 
For  human  expectation  !     Scarcely  ink 

Was  dry  when,  lo,  the  perfect  piece  came  back 
Rejected,  shamed  !     Some  other  poet's  clink 

"  Thetis  and  Tethys  "  had  seduced  the  pack 
Of  pedants  to  declare  perfection's  pink 

A  singularly  poor  production.     "  Whew ! 

The  Forty  are  stark  fools,  I  always  knew." 

LXXIX. 

First  fury  over  (for  Paul's  race — to-wit, 
Brain-vibrios — wriggle  clear  of  protoplasm 

Into  minute  life  that  ^s  one  fury-fit), 

"  These  fools  shall  find  a  bard's  enthusiasm 

Comports  with  what  should  counterbalance  it — 
Some  knowledge  of  the  world  !     No  doubt,  orgasm 

Effects  the  birth  of  verse  which,  bom,  demands 

Prosaic  ministration,  swaddling-bands  1 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  1241 

LXXX. 

"  Verse  must  be  cared  for  at  this  early  stage, 
Handled,  nay  dandled  even.     I  should  play 

Their  game  indeed  if,  till  it  grew  of  age, 
I  meekly  let  these  dotards  frown  away 

My  bantling  from  the  rightful  heritage 
Of  smiles  and  kisses  !     Let  the  public  say 

If  it  be  worthy  praises  or  rebukes, 

My  poem,  from  these  Forty  old  perukes ! " 

LXXXI. 

So,  by  a  friend,  who  boasts  himself  in  grace 
With  no  less  than  the  Chevalier  La  Roque, — 

Eminent  in  those  days  for  pride  of  place. 
Seeing  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  block 

The  way  or  smooth  the  road  to  all  the  race 
Of  literators  trudging  up  to  knock 

At  Fame's  exalted  temple- door — for  why? 

He  edited  the  Paris  "  Mercurj' " : — 

LXXXII. 

By  this  friend's  help  the  Chevalier  receives 
Paul's  poem,  prefaced  by  the  due  appeal 

To  Caesar  from  the  Jews.  As  duly  heaves 
A  sigh  the  Chevalier,  about  to  deal 

XIV  R 


^43  THE   two  POETS  OF  Cl^O/S/d: 

With  case  so  customary— -turns  the  leaves, 

Finds  nothing  there  to  borrow,  beg  or  steal - 
Then  brightens  up  the  critic's  brow  deep-lined. 
"  The  thing  may  be  so  cleverly  declined ! " 


LXXXIII. 

Down  to  desk,  out  with  paper,  up  with  quill, 
Dip  and  indite  !     "  Sir,  gratitude  immense 

For  this  true  draught  from  the  Pierian  rill ! 
Our  Academic  clodpoles  must  be  dense 

Indeed  to  stand  unirrigated  still. 
No  less,  we  critics  dare  not  give  offence 

To  grandees  like  the  Forty :  while  we  mock 

We  grin  and  bear.   So,  here 's  your  piece !   La  Roque. 


LXXXIV. 

"  There  now ! "  cries  Paul :  "  the  fellow  can't  avoid 
Confessing  that  my  piece  deserves  the  palm ; 

And  yet  he  dares  not  grant  me  space  enjoyed 
By  every  scribbler  he  permits  embalm 

His  crambo  in  the  Journal's  corner !    Cloyed 
With  stuff  like  theirs,  no  wonder  if  a  qualm 

Be  caused  by  verse  like  mine  :  though  that 's  no  cause 

For  his  defrauding  me  of  just  applause. 


THE  TWO  I'OETS  OF  CROISIC  243 

LXXXV. 

'*  Aha,  he  fears  the  Forty,  this  poltroon  ? 

First  let  him  fear  me/  Change  smooth  speech  to  rough  ! 
I  '11  speak  my  mind  out,  show  the  fellow  soon 

Who  is  the  foe  to  dread :  insist  enough 
On  my  own  merits  till,  as  clear  as  noon. 

He  sees  I  am  no  man  to  take  rebuff 
As  patiently  as  scribblers  may  and  must ! 
Quick  to  the  onslaught,  out  sword,  cut  and  thrust ! " 

LXXXVI. 

And  thereupon  a  fierce  epistle  flings 

Its  challenge  in  the  critic's  face.     Alack ! 

Our  bard  mistakes  his  man  !    The  gauntlet  rings 
On  brazen  visor  proof  against  attack. 

Prompt  from  his  editorial  throne  up  springs 
The  insulted  magnate,  and  his  mace  falls,  thwack, 

On  Paul's  devoted  brainpan, — quite  away 

From  common  courtesies  of  fencing-play ! 

LXXXVII. 

"  Sir,  will  you  have  the  truth  ?    This  piece  of  yours 

Is  simply  execrable  past  belief. 

I  shrank  from  saying  so ;  but,  since  nought  cures 

Conceit  but  truth,  truth  's  at  your  service  !     Brief, 

R  2 


} 


844  THE   TWO  POETS  OP  CPOISIC 

just  SO  long  as  *The  Mercury'  endures, 
So  long  are  you  excluded  by  its  Chief 
From  corner,  nay,  from  cranny !     Play  the  cock 
O'  the  roost,  henceforth,  at  Croisic ! "  wrote  La  Roque. 

LXXXVIII. 

Paul  yellowed,  whitened,  as  his  wrath  from  red 
Waxed  incandescent.     Now,  this  man  of  rhyme 

Was  merely  foolish,  faulty  in  the  head 

Not  heart  of  him :  conceit 's  a  venial  crime. 

"  Oh  by  no  means  malicious  ! "  cousins  said : 
Fussily  feeble, — harmless  all  the  time. 

Piddling  at  so-called  satire —well-advised. 

He  held  in  most  awe  whom  he  satirized. 


LXXXIX. 

Accordingly  his  kith  and  kin — removed 

From  emulation  of  the  poet's  gift 
By  power  and  will — these  rather  liked,  nay,  loved 

The  man  who  gave  his  family  a  lift 
Out  of  the  Croisic  level ;  "  disapproved 

Satire  so  trenchant."    Thus  our  poet  sniffed 
Home-incense,  though  too  churlish  to  unlock 
"  The  Mercury's  "  box  of  ointment  was  La  Roque. 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CEOISIC*  245 

XC. 

But  when  PauFs  visage  grew  from  red  to  white, 
And  from  his  lips  a  sort  of  mumbling  fell 

Of  who  was  to  be  kicked, — "  And  serve  him  right  "— 
A  gay  voice  interposed — "  did  kicking  well 

Answer  the  purpose  !     Only — if  I  might 
Suggest  as  much— a  far  more  potent  spell 

Lies  in  another  kind  of  treatment.     Oh, 

Women  are  ready  at  resource,  you  know  I 

xci. 

"  Talent  should  minister  to  genius !     Good : 

The  proper  and  superior  smile  returns. 
Hear  me  with  patience  !     Have  you  understood 

The  only  method  whereby  genius  earns 
Fit  guerdon  nowadays  ?     In  knightly  mood 

You  entered  lists  wnth  visor  up ;  one  learns 
Too  late  that,  had  you  mounted  Roland's  crest, 
*  Room  ! '  they  had  roared— La  Roque  with  all  the  rest ! 

XCII. 

"  Why  did  you  first  of  all  transmit  your  piece 
To  those  same  priggish  Forty  unprepared 

Whether  to  rank  you  with  the  swans  or  geese 
By  friendly  intervention  ?     If  they  dared 


246  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CEOISIC 

Count  you  a  cackler, — ^wonders  never  cease ! 

I  think  it  still  more  wondrous  that  you  bared 
Your  brow  (my  earlier  image)  as  if  praise 
Were  gained  by  simple  fighting  nowadays! 

XCIII. 

"  Vour  next  step  showed  a  touch  of  the  true  means 
Whereby  desert  is  crowned  :  not  force  but  wile 

Came  to  the  rescue.     *  Get  behind  the  scenes  ! ' 
Your  friend  advised :  he  writes,  sets  forth  your  style 

And  title,  to  such  purpose  intervenes 
That  you  get  velvet-compliment  three-pile ; 

And,  though  *  The  Mercury '  said  *  nay,'  nor  stock 

Nor  stone  did  his  refusal  prove  La  Roque. 


xciv* 

"  Why  must  you  needs  revert  to  the  high  hand. 

Imperative  procedure — what  you  call 
*  Taking  on  merit  your  exclusive  stand'? 

Standi  with  a  vengeance  !     Soon  you  went  to  wall, 
You  and  your  merit !     Only  fools  command 

When  folk  are  free  to  disobey  them,  Paul ! 
You  Ve  learnt  your  lesson,  found  out  what 's  o'clock, 
By  this  uncivil  answer  of  La  Roque, 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  247 

XCV. 

"  Now  let  me  counsel !     Lay  this  piece  on  shelf 
— Masterpiece  though  it  be !   From  out  your  desk 

Hand  me  some  lighter  sample,  verse  the  elf 
Cupid  inspired  you  with,  no  god  grotesque 

Presiding  o'er  the  Navy !     I  myself 
Hand-write  what 's  legible  yet  picturesque ; 

I  '11  copy  fair  and  femininely  frock 

Your  poem  masculine  that  courts  La  Roque ! 

xcvi. 

"  Deidamia  he — Achilles  thou ! 

Ha,  ha,  these  ancient  stories  come  so  apt ! 
My  sex,  my  youth,  my  rank  I  next  avow 

In  a  neat  prayer  for  kind  perusal.     Sapped 
I  see  the  walls  which  stand  so  stoutly  now ! 

I  see  the  toils  about  the  game  entrapped 
By  honest  cunning  !     Chains  of  lady's-smock, 
Not  thorn  and  thistle,  tether  fast  La  Roque ! " 

xcvii. 

Now,  who  might  be  the  speaker  sweet  and  arch 
That  laughed  above  Paul's  shoulder  as  it  heaved 

With  the  indignant  heart  ? — bade  steal  a  march 
And  not  continue  charging  ?    Who  conceived 


2^8  THR   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

This  plan  which  set  our  Paul,  like  pea  you  parch 

On  fire-shovel,  skipping,  of  a  load  relieved, 
From  arm-chair  moodiness  to  escritoire 
Sacred  to  Phoebus  and  the  tuneful  choir  ? 


XCVIII. 

Who  but  Paul's  sister !  named  of  course  like  him 
"  Desforges  " ;  but,  mark  you,  in  those  days  a  queer 

Custom  obtained, — who  knows  whence  grew  the  whim  ? 
That  people  could  not  read  their  title  clear 

To  reverence  till  their  own  true  names,  made  dim 
By  daily  mouthing,  pleased  to  disappear. 

Replaced  by  brand-new  bright  ones  :  Arouet, 

For  instance,  grew  Voltaire ;  Desforges  -  Malcrais. 


xcix. 

"  Demoiselle  Malcrais  de  la  Vigne  " — because 

The  family  possessed  at  Brederac 
A  vineyard,-  few  grapes,  many  hips-and-haws, — 

Still  a  nice  Breton  name.     As  breast  and  back 
Of  this  vivacious  beauty  gleamed  through  gauze. 

So  did  her  sprightly  nature  nowise  lack 
Lustre  when  draped,  the  fashionable  way. 
In  "  Malcrais  de  la  Vigne  " — more  short,  "  Malcrais," 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROfSIC  249 

C. 

Out  from  PauFs  escritoire  behold  escape 
The  hoarded  treasure  !  verse  falls  thick  and  fast, 

Sonnets  and  songs  of  every  size  and  shape. 
The  lady  ponders  on  her  prize ;  at  last 

Selects  one  which — Oh  jingel  and  yet  ape ! — 
Her  malice  thinks  is  probably  surpassed 

In  badness  by  no  fellow  of  the  flock, 

Copies  it  fair,  and  "  Now  for  my  La  Roque ! " 

CI. 

So,  to  him  goes,  with  the  neat  manuscript, 

The  soft  petitionary  letter.     "  Grant 
A  fledgeling  novice  that  with  wing  unclipt 

She  soar  her  little  circuit,  habitant 
Of  an  old  manor ;  buried  in  which  crypt. 

How  can  the  youthful  chitelaine  but  pant 
For  disemprisonment  by  one  ad  hoc 
Appointed  *  Mercury's '  Editor,  La  Roque  ?  " 

CII. 

T  was  an  epistle  that  might  move  the  Turk  ! 

More  certainly  it  moved  our  middle-aged 
Pen-driver  drudging  at  his  weary  work, 

Raked  the  old  ashes  up  and  disengaged 


2SO  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISJC 

The  sparks  of  gallantry  which  always  lurk 

Somehow  in  literary  breasts,  assuaged 
In  no  degree  by  compliments  on  style ; 
Are  Forty  wagging  beards  worth  one  girl's  smile  ? 


cm. 

In  trips  the  lady's  poem,  takes  its  place 

Of  honour  in  the  gratified  Gazette, 
With  due  acknowledgment  of  power  and  grace ; 

Prognostication,  too,  that  higher  yet 
The  Breton  Muse  will  soar :  fresh  youth,  high  race. 

Beauty  and  wealth  have  amicably  met 
That  Demoiselle  Malcrais  may  fill  the  chair 
Left  vacant  by  the  loss  of  Deshouliferes. 


CIV. 

"  There ! "  cried  the  lively  lady.    "  Who  was  right — 
You  in  the  dumps,  or  I  the  merry  maid 

Who  know  a  trick  or  two  can  baffle  spite 
Tenfold  the  force  of  this  old  fool's  ?    Afraid 

Of  Editor  La  Roque  ?    But  come !  next  flight 
Shall  outsoar — Deshouli^res  alone  ?    My  bbde,  * 

Sappho  herself  shall  you  confess  outstript ! 

Quick,  Paul,  another  dose  of  manuscript  1 " 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  251 

CV. 

And  so,  once  well  a-foot,  advanced  the  game : 
More  and  more  verses,  corresponding  gush 

On  gush  of  praise,  till  everywhere  acclaim 
Rose  to  the  pitch  of  uproar.     "  Sappho  ?    Tush ! 

Sure  *  Malcrais  on  her  Parrot '  puts  to  shame 
Deshouliferes'  pastoral,  clay  not  worth  a  rush 

Beside  this  find  of  treasure,  gold  in  crock. 

Unearthed  in  Brittany, — nay,  ask  La  Roque ! " 

cvi. 

Such  was  the  Paris  tribute.     "  Yes,"  you  sneer, 
"  Ninnies  stock  Noodledom,  but  folk  more  sage 

Resist  contagious  folly,  never  fear ! " 

Do  they  ?    Permit  me  to  detach  one  page 

From  the  huge  Album  which  from  far  and  near 
Poetic  praises  blackened  in  a  rage 

Of  rapture  !  and  that  page  shall  be — who  stares 

Confounded  now,  I  ask  you  ?— just  Voltaire's ! 

CVII. 

Ay,  sharpest  shrewdest  steel  that  ever  stabbed 
To  death  Imposture  through  the  armour-joints  1 

How  did  it  happen  that  gross  Humbug  grabbed 
Thy  weapons,  gouged  thine  eyes  out?  Fate  appoints 


252  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

m 

That  pride  shall  have  a  fall,  or  I  had  blabbed 

Hardly  that  Humbug,  whom  thy  soul  aroints. 
Could  thus  cross-buttock  thee  caught  unawares, 
And  dismalest  of  tumbles  proved — Voltaire's ! 


CVIII. 

See  his  epistle  extant  yet,  wherewith 

"  Henri  "  in  verse  and  "  Charles  "  in  prose  he  sent 
To  do  her  suit  and  service !     Here 's  the  pith 

Of  half  a  dozen  stanzas — stones  which  went 
To  build  that  simulated  monolith — 

Sham  love  in  due  degree  with  homage  blent 
As  sham — which  in  the  vast  of  volumes  scares 
The  traveller  still :  "  That  stucco-heap— Voltaire's  ?  " 

cix. 

"  Oh  thou,  whose  clarion-voice  has  overflown 
The  wilds  to  startle  Paris  that 's  one  ear ! 

Thou  who  such  strange  capacity  hast  shown 
For  joining  all  that 's  grand  with  all  that 's  dear, 

Knowledge  with  power  to  please — Deshouli^rcs  grown 
Learned  as  Dacier  in  thy  person  !  mere 

Weak  fruit  of  idle  hours,  these  crabs  of  mine 

I  dare  lay  at  thy  feet,  O  Muse  divine ! 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  253 

ex. 

"  Charles  was  my  taskwork  only ;  Henri  trod 
My  hero  erst ;  and  now,  my  heroine— she 

Shall  be  thyself !     True — is  it  true,  great  God  ? 
Certainly  love  henceforward  must  not  be ! 

Yet  all  the  crowd  of  Fine  Arts  fail— how  odd ! — 
Tried  turn  by  turn,  to  fill  a  void  in  me ! 

There 's  no  replacing  love  with  these,  alas ! 

Yet  all  I  can  I  do  to  prove  no  ass. 

CXI. 

"  I  labour  to  amuse  my  freedom ;  but 
Should  any  sweet  young  creature  slavery  preach, 

And — borrowing  thy  vivacious  charm,  the  slut ! — 
Make  me,  in  thy  engaging  words,  a  speech, 

Soon  should  I  see  myself  in  prison  shut 
With  all  imaginable  pleasure."     Reach 

The  washhand- basin  for  admirers !    There  's 

A  stomach-moving  tribute— and  Voltaire's ! 

CXII. 

Suppose  it  a  fantastic  billet-doux. 
Adulatory  flourish,  not  worth  frown  ! 

What  say  you  to  the  Fathers  of  Trevoux  ? 
These  in  their  Dictionary  have  her  down 


«S4  THE   TWO  POETa  OF  CROISIC 

Under  the  heading  "  Author  " :  "  Malcrais,  too, 

Is  *  Author '  of  much  verse  that  claims  renown." 
While  Jean-Baptiste  Rousseau  .  .  .  but  why  proceed  ? 
Enough  of  this— something  too  much,  indeed ! 

CXIII. 

At  last  La  Roque,  unwilling  to  be  left 
Behindhand  in  the  rivalry,  broke  bounds 

Of  figurative  passion ;  hilt  and  heft, 

Plunged    his  huge  downright  love  through   what 
surrounds 

The  literary  female  bosom ;  reft 

Away  its  veil  of  coy  reserve  with  "  Zounds ! 

I  love  thee,  Breton  Beauty !    All 's  no  use ! 

Body  and  soul  I  love, — the  big  word 's  loose ! '' 

cxiv. 

He  *s  greatest  now  and  to  de-struc-ti-on 
Nearest    Attend  the  solemn  word  I  quote, 

O  Paul !     Tbere^s  no  pause  at  per-fec-ti-on. 
Thus  knolls  thy  knell  the  Doctor's  bronzed  throat  I 

Greatness  a  period  hath^  no  sta-ti-on! 
Better  and  truer  verse  none  ever  wrote 

(Despite  the  antique  outstretched  a-i-on) 

Than  thou,  revered  and  magisterial  Donne  I 


THE  Two  poeTs  of  Croisic  as5 

cxv. 

Flat  on  his  face,  La  Roque,  and, — pressed  to  heart 
His  dexter  hand, — Voltaire  with  bended  knee  ! 

Paul  sat  and  sucked-in  triumph ;  just  apart 

Leaned  over  him  his  sister.     "  Well ! "  smirks  he, 

And  "  Well  ?  "  she  answers,  smiling — woman's  art 
To  let  a  man's  own  mouth,  not  hers,  decree 

What  shall  be  next  move  which  decides  the  game : 

Success?    She  said  so.     Failure?    His  the  blame. 

cxvi. 

"  Well ! "  this  time  forth  affirmatively  comes 
With  smack  of  lip,  and  long-drawn  sigh  through  teelh 

Close  clenched  o'er  satisfaction,  as  the  gums 
Were  tickled  by  a  sweetmeat  teased  beneath 

Palate  by  lubricating  tongue :  "  Well !  crumbs 
Of  comfort  these,  undoubtedly  !  no  death 

Likely  from  famine  at  Fame's  feast !  't  is  clear 

I  may  put  claim  in  for  my  pittance,  Dear ! 

cxvii. 

"  La  Roque,  Voltaire,  my  lovers !    Then  disguise 
Has  served  its  turn,  grows  idle ;  let  it  drop ! 

I  shall  to  Paris,  flaunt  there  in  men's  eyes 
My  proper  manly  garb  and  mount  atop 


256  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

The  pedestal  that  waits  me,  take  the  prize 

Awarded  Hercules.     He  threw  a  sop 
To  Cerberus  who  let  him  pass,  you  know, 
Then,  following,  licked  his  heels :  exactly  so  I 


CXVIll. 

"  I  like  the  prospect— their  astonishment, 
Confusion :  wounded  vanity,  no  doubt, 

Mixed  motives ;  how  I  see  the  brows  quick  bent ! 
*  What,  sir,  yourself,  none  other,  brought  about 

This  change  of  estimation  ?    Phoebus  sent 
His  shafts  as  from  Diana?  '     Critic  pout 

Turns  courtier  smile :  *  Lo,  him  we  took  for  her  ! 

Pleasant  mistake !    You  bear  no  malice,  sir? ' 

CXIX. 

"  Eh,  my  Diana  ?  "     But  Diana  kept 
Smilingly  silent  with  fixed  needle-sharp 

Much-meaning  eyes  that  seemed  to  intercept 
PauVs  very  thoughts  ere  they  had  time  to  warp 

From  earnest  into  sport  the  words  they  leapt 
To  Hfe  with— changed  as  when  maltreated  harp 

Renders  in  tinkle  what  some  player-prig 

Means  for  a  grave  tune  though  it  proves  a  jig. 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  257 

CXX. 

"  What,  Paul,  and  are  my  pains  thus  thrown  away, 
My  lessons  end  in  loss  ?  "  at  length  fall  slow 

The  pitying  syllables,  her  lips  allay 
The  satire  of  by  keeping  in  full  flow, 

Above  their  coral  reef,  bright  smiles  at  play : 
"  Can  it  be,  Paul  thus  fails  to  rightly  know 

And  altogether  estimate  applause 

As  just  so  many  asinine  hee-haws? 

CXXI. 

"  I  thought  to  show  you" ..."  Show  me,"  Paul  in  broke 

"  My  poetry  is  rubbish,  and  the  world 
That  rings  with  my  renown  a  sorry  joke  ! 

What  fairer  test  of  worth  than  that,  form  furled, 
I  entered  the  arena?    Yet  you  croak 

Just  as  if  Phceb^  and  not  Phoebus  hurled 
The  dart  and  struck  the  Python  !     What,  he  crawls 
Humbly  in  dust  before  your  feet,  not  Paul's? 

CXXII. 

"  Nay,  't  is  no  laughing  matter  though  absurd 

If  there 's  an  end  of  honesty  on  earth  ! 
La  Roque  sends  letters,  lying  every  word  ! 

Voltaire  makes  verse,  and  of  himself  makes  mirth 

XIV.  s 


258  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

To  the  remotest  age !     Rousseau  's  the  third 
Who,  driven  to  despair  amid  such  dearth 
Of  people  that  want  praising,  finds  no  one 
More  fit  to  praise  than  Paul  the  simpleton ! 

CXXIII. 

"  Somebody  says — if  a  man  writes  at  all 

It  is  to  show  the  writer's  kith  and  kin 
He  was  unjustly  thought  a  natural ; 

And  truly,  sister,  I  have  yet  to  win 
Your  favourable  word,  it  seems,  for  Paul 

Whose  poetr)'  you  count  not  worth  a  pin 
Though  well  enough  esteemed  by  these  Voltaires, 
Rousseaus  and  suchlike :  let  them  quack,  who  cares?" 

cxxiv. 

" — To  Paris  with  you,  Paul !     Not  one  word's  waste 

4 

Further :  my  scrupulosity  was  vain  ! 
Go  triumph  !     Be  my  foolish  fears  effaced 

From  memory's  record  !     Go,  to  come  again 
With  glory  crowned, — by  sister  re-embraced, 

Cured  of  that  strange  delusion  of  her  brain 
Which  led  her  to  suspect  that  Paris  gloats 
Qn  male  lin^bs  mostly  when  in  petticoats ! " 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  259 

cxxv. 

So  laughed  her  last  word,  with  the  little  touch 
Of  malice  proper  to  the  outraged  pride 

Of  any  artist  in  a  work  too  much 
Shorn  of  its  merits.     "  By  all  means  be  tried 

The  opposite  procedure !    Cast  your  crutch 
Away,  no  longer  crippled,  nor  divide 

The  credit  of  your  march  to  the  World's  Fair 

With  sister  Cherry-cheeks  who  helped  you  there ! " 

CXXVI. 

Crippled,  forsooth !  what  courser  sprightlier  pranced 
Paris-ward  than  did  Paul?    Nay,  dreams  lent  wings : 

He  flew,  or  seemed  to  fly,  by  dreams  entranced. 
Dreams  ?  wide-awake  realities :  no  things 

Dreamed  merely  were  the  missives  that  advanced 
The  claim  of  Malcrais  to  consort  with  kings 

Crowned  by  Apollo— not  to  say  with  queens 

Cinctured  by  Venus  for  Idalian  scenes. 

cxxvii. 

Soon  he  arrives,  forthwith  is  found  before 

The  outer  gate  of  glory.     Bold  tic-toe 
Announces  there 's  a  giant  at  the  door. 

"  Ay,  sir,  here  dwells  the  Chevalier  I^  Roque." 

S2 


I 

a6o  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  \ 

I 

"  Lackey !  Malcrais,  —  mind,  no  word  less  nor  more  ! —  i 

Desires  his  presence.     I  Ve  unearthed  the  brock : 
Now,  to  transfix  him ! "    There  stands  Paul  erect, 
Inched  out  his  uttermost,  for  more  effect. 


CXXVIII. 

A  bustling  entrance :  "  Idol  of  my  flame ! 

Can  it  be  that  my  heart  attains  at  last 
Its  longing  ?  that  you  stand,  the  very  same 

As  in  my  visions?  .  .  .  Ha!  hey,  how?"  aghast 
Stops  short  the  rapture.     "  Oh,  my  boy 's  to  blame ! 

You  merely  are  the  messenger !    Too  fast 
My  fancy  rushed  to  a  conclusion.     Pooh ! 
Well,  sir,  the  lady's  substitute  is— who?" 

CXXIX. 

Then  Paul's  smirk  grows  inordinate.     "  Shake  hands ! 

Friendship  not  love  awaits  you,  master  mine, 
Though  nor  Malcrais  nor  any  mistress  stands 

To  meet  your  ardour !    So,  you  don't  divine 
Who  wrote  the  verses  wherewith  ring  the  land's 

Whole  length  and  breadth  ?    Just  he  whereof  no  line 
Had  ever  leave  to  blot  your  Journal— eh  ? 
Paul  Desforges  Maillard — otherwise  Malcrais ! " 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROlSfC  a6i 

cxxx. 

And  there  the  two  stood,  stare  confronting  -mirk, 
Awhile  dncertain  which  should  yield  the  pas. 

In  vain  the  Chevalier  beat  brain  for  quirk 
To  help  in  this  conjuncture ;  at  length  "  Bah  ! 

Boh !    Since  I  Ve  made  myself  a  fool,  why  shirk 
The  punishment  of  folly  ?    Ha,  ha,  ha, 

Let  me  return  your  handshake ! "    Comic  sock 

For  tragic  buskin  prompt  thus  changed  La  Roque. 

cxxxi. 

"  I  'm  nobody — a  wren-like  journalist ; 

You  Ve  flown  at  higher  game  and  winged  your  bird, 
The  golden  eagle !    That 's  the  grand  acquist ! 

Voltaire's  sly  Muse,  the  tiger-cat,  has  purred 
Prettily  round  your  feet ;  but  if  she  missed 

Priority  of  stroking,  soon  were  stirred 
The  dormant  spit-  fire.     To  Voltaire !  away, 
Paul  Desforges  Maillard,  otherwise  Malcrais ! " 

CXXXII. 

Whereupon,  arm  in  arm,  and  head  in  air. 
The  two  begin  their  journey.     Need  I  say, 

La  Roque  had  felt  the  talon  of  Voltaire, 
Had  a  long  standing  little  debt  to  pay, 


26a  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

And  pounced,  you  may  depend,  on  such  a  rare 

Occasion  for  its  due  discharge  ?    So,  gay 
And  grenadier-like,  marching  to  assault, 
They  reach  the  enemy's  abode,  there  halt. 

CXXXIII. 

"  I  '11  be  announcer ! "  quoth  La  Roque :  "  I  know, 
Better  than  you,  perhaps,  my  Breton  bard, 

How  to  procure  an  audience !     He 's  not  slow 
To  smell  a  rat,  this  scamp  Voltaire !     Discard 

The  petticoats  too  soon,— you  '11  never  show 
Your  haut-de-chausses  and  all  they  Ve  made  or  marred 

In  your  true  person.     Here 's  his  servant.     Pray, 

Will  the  great  man  see  Demoiselle  Malcrais  ?  " 

CXXXIV. 

Now,  the  great  man  was  also,  no  whit  less, 
The  man  of  self-respect, — more  great  man  he ! 

And  bowed  to  social  usage,  dressed  the  dress. 
And  decorated  to  the  fit  degree 

His  person ;  't  was  enough  to  bear  the  stress 
Of  battle  in  the  field,  without,  when  free 

From  outside  foes,  inviting  friends'  attack 

By — sword  in  hand  ?    No, — ill-made  coat  on  back  ! 


THE   TWO  POETS    OF  CROISIC  263 

CXXXV. 

And,  since  the  announcement  of  his  visitor 
Surprised  him  at  his  toilet, — never  glass 

Had  such  solicitation !     "  Black,  now — or 
Brown  be  the  killing  wig  to  wear  ?    Alas, 

Where  's  the  rouge  gone,  this  cheek  were  better  for 
A  tender  touch  of?     Melted  to  a  mass, 

All  my  pomatum  !    There 's  at  all  events 

A  devil — for  he  's  got  among  my  scents ! " 

cxxxvi. 

So,  "  barbered  ten  times  o'er,"  as  Antony 

Paced  to  his  Cleopatra,  did  at  last 
Voltaire  proceed  to  the  fair  presence :  high 

In  colour,  proud  in  port,  as  if  a  blast 
Of  trumpet  bade  the  world  "Take  note !  draws  nigh 

To  Beauty,  Power !     Behold  the  Iconoclast, 
The  Poet,  the  Philosopher,  the  Rod 
Of  iron  for  imposture  !     Ah  my  God ! " 

cxxxvii. 

For  there  stands  smirking  Paul,  and — what  lights  fierce 

The  situation  as  with  sulphur  flash — 
There  grinning  stands  La  Roque !    No  carte  and  tierce 

Observes  the  grinning  fencer,  but,  full  dash 


364  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CEOISJC 

From  breast  to  shoulderblade,  the  thrusts  transpierce 

That  armour  against  which  so  idly  clash 
The  swords  of  priests  and  pedants  !     Victors  there, 
Two  smirk  and  grin  who  have  befooled — Voltaire ! 

CXXXVIIL 

A  moment's  horror ;  then  quick  turn-about 

On  high-heeled  shoe, — flurry  of  ruffles,  flounce 
Of  wig-ties  and  of  coat-tails,— and  so  out 

Of  door  banged  wrathfully  behind,  goes— bounce- 
Voltaire  in  tragic  exit !  vows,  no  doubt, 

Vengeance  upon  the  couple.     Did  he  trounce 
Either,  in  point  of  fact  ?     His  anger's  flash 
Subsided  if  a  culprit  craved  his  cash. 

CXXXIX. 

As  for  La  Roque,  he  having  laughed  his  laugh 
To  heart's  content, — the  joke  defunct  at  once. 

Dead  in  the  birth,  you  see, — its  epitaph 
Was  sober  earnest.     "  Well,  sir,  for  the  nonce, 

You  Ve  gained  the  laurel ;  never  hope  to  graff" 
A  second  sprig  of  triumph  there !     Ensconce 

Yourself  again  at  Croisic  :  let  it  be 

Enough  you  mastered  both  Voltaire  and — me  ! 


sv 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  265 

CXL. 

"  Don't  linger  here  in  Paris  to  parade 

Your  victory,  and  have  the  very  boys 
Point  at  you !     *  There 's  the  Httle  mouse  which  made 

Believe  those  two  big  lions  that  its  noise, 
Nibbling  away  behind  the  hedge,  conveyed 

Intelligence  that — portent  which  destroys 
All  courage  in  the  lion's  heart,  with  horn 
That 's  fable — there  lay  couched  the  unicorn ! ' 

CXLI. 

"  Beware  us,  now  we  Ve. found  who  fooled  us  !     Quick 
To  cover  !     *  In  proportion  to  men's  fright, 

Expect  their  fright's  revenge  ! '  quoth  politic 
Old  Macchiavelli.     As  for  me, — all 's  right : 

I  'm  but  a  journalist.     But  no  pin's  prick 
The  tooth  leaves  when  Voltaire  is  roused  to  bite ! 

So,  keep  your  counsel,  I  advise !     Adieu  ! 

Good  journey  !     Ha,  ha,  ha,  Malcrais  was— you  !  " 

CXLII. 

"  — ^Yes,  I  'm  Malcrais,  and  somebody  beside, 
You  snickering  monkey ! "  thus  w^inds  up  the  tale 

Our  hero,  safe  at  home,  to  that  black-eyed 
Cherry-cheeked  sister,  as  she  soothes  the  pale 


»66  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

Mortified  poet     "  Let  their  worst  be  tried, 

I  'm  their  match  henceforth— very  man  and  male ! 
Don't  talk  to  me  of  knocking-under !  man 
And  male  must  end  what  petticoats  began ! 

CXLIII. 

"  How  woman-like  it  is  to  apprehend 

The  world  will  eat  its  words  I  why,  words  transfixed 
To  stone,  they  stare  at  you  in  print, — at  end, 

Each  writer's  style  and  title !    Choose  betwixt 
Fool  and  knave  for  his  name,  who  should  intend 

To  perpetrate  a  baseness  so  unmixed 
With  prospect  of  advantage  !     What  is  writ 
Is  writ :  they  Ve  praised  me,  there 's  an  end  of  it. 

CXLIV. 

"  No,  Dear,  allow  me  !     I  shall  print  these  same 
Pieces,  with  no  omitted  line,  as  Paul's. 

Malcrais  no  longer,  let  me  see  folk  blame 
What  they— praised  simply? — placed  on  pedestals. 

Each  piece  a  statue  in  the  House  of  Fame  ! 

Fast  will  they  stand  there,  though  their  presence  galls 

The  envious  crew  :  such  show  their  teeth,  perhaps 

And  snarl,  but  never  bite  !     I  know  the  chaps  1 " 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  ^ 

CXLV. 

Oh  Paul,  oh  piteously  deluded  !    Pace 

Thy  sad  sterility  of  Croisic  fiats, 
Watch,  from  their  southern  edge,  the  foamy  race 

Of  high-tide  as  it  heaves  the  drowning  mats 
Of  yellow-berried  web-growth  from  their  place, 

The  rock-ridge,  when,  rolling  as  far  as  Batz, 
One  broadside  crashes  on  it,  and  the  crags. 
That  needle  under,  stream  with  weedy  rags ! 

CXLVI. 

Or,  if  thou  wilt,  at  inland  Bergerac, 
Rude  heritage  but  recognized  domain, 

Do  as  two  here  are  doing :  make  hearth  crack 
With  logs  until  thy  chimney  roar  again 

Jolly  with  fire-glow  !     Let  its  angle  lack 
No  grace  of  Cherry-cheeks  thy  sister,  fain 

To  do  a  sister's  office  and  laugh  smooth 

Thy  corrugated  brow — that  scowls  forsooth ! 

CXLVII. 

Wherefore  ?  Who  does  not  know  how  these  La  Roques, 
Voltaires,  can  say  and  unsay,  praise  and  blame, 

Prove  black  white,  white  black,  play  at  paradox 
And,  when  they  seem  to  lose  it,  win  the  game  ? 


268  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

Care  not  thou  what  this  badger,  and  that  fox, 

His  fellow  in  rascality,  call  "  fame  I " 
Fiddlepin's  end  !     Thou   hadst  it,  —  quack,  quack 

quack  ! 
Have  quietude  from  geese  at  Bergerac ! 

CXLVIII. 

Quietude  !     For,  be  very  sure  of  this ! 

A  twelvemonth  hence,  and  men  shall  know  or  care 
As  much  for  what  to-day  they  clap  or  hiss 

As  for  the  fashion  of  the  wigs  they  wear. 
Then  wonder  at.    There 's  fame  which,  bale  or  bliss,— 

Got  by  no  gracious  word  of  great  Voltaire 
Or  not-so-great  La  Roque,  -  is  taken  back 
By  neither,  any  more  than  Bergerac ! 

CXLIX. 

Too  true  !  or  rather,  true  as  ought  to  be  ! 

No  more  of  Paul  the  man,  Malcrais  the  maid, 
Thenceforth  for  ever  !    One  or  two,  I  see. 

Stuck  by  their  poet :  who  the  longest  stayed 
Was  Jean-Baptiste  Rousseau,  and  even  he 

Seemingly  saddened  as  perforce  he  paid 
A  rhyming  tribute  "  After  death,  survive — 
He  hoped  he  should  ;  and  died  while  yet  alive  ! " 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CEOIS/C  269 

CL. 

No,  he  hoped  nothing  of  the  kind,  or  held 
His  peace  and  died  in  silent  good  old  age. 

Him  it  was,  curiosity  impelled 
To  seek  if  there  were  extant  still  some  page 

Of  his  great  predecessor,  rat  who  belled 
The  cat  once,  and  would  never  deign  engage 

In  after-combat  with  mere  mice, — saved  from 

More  sonnetteering, — Ren^  Gentilhomme. 

CLI. 

Paul's  story  furnished  forth  that  famous  play 
Of  Piron's  "  M^tromanie  "  :  there  you  '11  find 

He 's  Francaleu,  while  Demoiselle  Malcrais 
Is  Demoiselle  No-end-of-names-behind ! 

As  for  Voltaire,  he 's  Damis.     Good  and  gay 
The  plot  and  dialogue,  and  all 's  designed 

To  spite  Voltaire :  at  "Something"  such  the  laugh 

Of  simply  "  Nothing  ! "  (see  his  epitaph). 

GUI. 

But  truth,  tnith,  that 's  the  gold !  and  all  the  good 

I  find  in  fancy  is,  it  serves  to  set 
Gold's  inmost  glint  free,  gold  which  comes  up  rude 

And  rayless  from  the  mine.    All  fume  and  fret 


270  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

Of  artistry  beyond  this  point  pursued 

Brings  out  another  sort  of  burnish :  yet 
Always  the  ingot  has  its  very  own 
Value,  a  sparkle  struck  from  truth  alone. 


CLIII. 

Now,  take  this  sparkle  and  the  other  spirt 
Of  fitful  flame, — twin  births  of  our  grey  brand 

That's  sinking  fast  to  ashes !     I  assert, 
As  sparkles  want  but  fuel  to  expand 

Into  a  conflagration  no  mere  squirt 
Will  quench  too  quickly,  so  might  Croisic  strand. 

Had  Fortune  pleased  posterity  to  chowse. 

Boast  of  her  brace  of  beacons  luminous. 


CLIV. 

Did  earlier  Agamemnons  lack  their  bard  ? 

But  later  bards  lacked  Agamemnon  too ! 
How  often  frustrate  they  of  fame's  award 

Just  because  Fortune,  as  she  listed,  blew 
Some  slight  bark's  sails  to  bellying,  mauled  and  marred 

And  forced  to  put  about  the  First-rate  !     True, 
Such  tacks  but  for  a  time :  still — small- craft  ride 
At  anchor,  rot  while  Beddoes  breasts  the  tide  I 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  271 

CLV. 

Dear,  shall  I  tell  you  ?    There 's  a  simple  test 
Would  serve,  when  people  take  on  them  to  weigh 

The  worth  of  poets,  "  Who  was  better,  best, 
This,  that,  the  other  bard  ?  "  (bards  none  gainsay 

As  good,  observe !  no  matter  for  the  rest) 
"  What  quality  preponderating  may 

Turn  the  scale  as  it  trembles  ?  "     End  the  strife 

By  asking  "  Which  one  led  a  happy  life  ?  " 

CLVI. 

If  one  did,  over  his  antagonist 

That  yelled  or  shrieked  or  sobbed  or  wept  or  wailed 
Or  simply  had  the  dumps, — dispute  who  list, — 

I  count  him  victor.     Where  his  fellow  failed, 
Mastered  by  his  own  means  of  might, — acquist 

Of  necessary  sorrows, — he  prevailed, 
A  strong  since  joyful  man  who  stood  distinct 
Above  slave-sorrows  to  his  chariot  linked. 

CLVII. 

Was  not  his  lot  to  feel  more  ?    What  meant  "  feel " 
Unless  to  suffer  !     Not,  to  see  more  ?    Sight — 

What  helped  it  but  to  watch  the  drunken  reel 
Of  vice  and  folly  round  him,  left  and  right, 


272  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROfSJC 

One  dance  of  rogues  and  idiots !    Not,  to  deal 

More  with  things  lovely?    What  provoked  the  spite 
Of  filth  incarnate,  like  the  poet's  need 
Of  other  nutriment  than  strife  and  greed  ! 


CLVIII. 

Who  knows  most,  doubts  most ;  entertaining  hope. 
Means  recognizing  fear ;  the  keener  sense 

Of  all  comprised  within  our  actual  scope 
Recoils  from  aught  beyond  earth's  dim  and  dense. 

Who,  grown  familiar  with  the  sky,  will  grope 

Henceforward  among  groundlings  ?    That 's  offence 

Just  as  indubitably :  stars  abound 

Overhead,  but  then — what  flowers  make  glad  the  ground ! 

CLIX. 

So,  force  is  sorrow,  and  each  sorrow,  force  : 
What  then  ?  since  Swiftness  gives  the  charioteer 

The  palm,  his  hope  be  in  the  vivid  horse 
Whose  neck  God  clothed  with  thunder,  not  the  steer 

Sluggish  and  safe !    Yoke  Hatred,  Crime,  Remorse, 
Despair :  but  ever  mid  the  whirling  fear, 

Let,  through  the  tumult,  break  the  poet's  face 

Radiant,  assured  his  wild  slaves  win  the  race  I 


THE    TWO  FOETS  OF  CR0I31C  '2ys 

CLX. 

Therefore  I  say  ...  no,  shall  not  say,  but 
think. 
And  save  my  breath  for  better    purpose. 
White 
From  grey  our  log  has  burned  to :  just  one 
blink 
That  quivers,  loth  to  leave  it,  as  a  sprite 
The  outworn  body.     Ere  your  eyelids'  wink 
Punish  who  sealed  so  deep  into  the  night 
Your  mouth  up,  for  two  poets  dead  so  long, — 
Here    pleads  a  live    pretender :    right  your 
wrong ! 


I. 

What  a  pretty  tale  you  told  me 

Once  upon  a  time 
— Said  you  found  it  somewhere  (scold  me !) 

Was  it  prose  or  was  it  rhyme, 
Greek  or  Latin?     Greek,  you  said. 
While  your  shoulder  propped  my  head, 
xiv. 


374  THE    TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 


II. 


Anyhow  there  ''s  no  forgetting 

This  much  if  no  more, 
That  a  poet  (pray,  no  petting !) 

Yes,  a  bard,  sir,  famed  of  yore, 
Went  where  suchlike  used  to  go^ 
Singing  for  a  prize,  you  know. 

III. 

Well,  he  had  to  sing,  nor  merely 

Sing  but  play  the  lyre ; 
Playing  was  important  clearly 

Quite  as  singing :  I  desire, 
Sir,  you  keep  the  fact  in  mind 
For  a  purpose  that 's  behind. 

IV. 

There  stood  he,  while  deep  attention 

Held  the  judges  round, 
— ^Judges  able,  I  should  mention, 

To  detect  the  slightest  sound 
Sung  or  played  amiss :  such  ears 
Had  old  judges,  it  appears  ! 


THE    TWO  POETS  OF  C KOI  SIC  275 


None  the  less  he  sang  out  boldly. 

Played  in  time  and  tune, 
Till  the  judges,  weighing  coldly 

Each  note's  worth,  seemed,  late  or  soon. 
Sure  to  smile  "  In  vain  one  tries 
Picking  faults  out :  take  the  prize ! " 

When,  a  mischief !    Were  they  seven 

Strings  the  lyre  possessed? 
Oh,  and  afterwards  eleven, 

Thank  you !    Well,  sir, — who  had  guessed 
Such  ill  luck  in  store? — it  happed 
One  of  those  same  seven  strings  snapped. 

VII. 

All  was  lost,  then !    No !  a  cricket 

(What  "cicada"?    Pooh!) 
— Some  mad  thing  that  left  its  thicket 

For  mere  love  of  music — flew 
With  its  little  heart  on  fire. 
Lighted  on  the  crippled  lyre. 

T  2 


^   I 


276  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

VIII. 

So  that  when  (ah  joy !)  our  singer 

For  his  truant  string 
Feels  with  disconcerted  finger, 

What  does  cricket  else  but  fling 
Fiery  heart  forth,  sound  the  note 
Wanted  by  the  throbbing  throat? 

IX. 

Ay  and,  ever  to  the  ending, 

Cricket  chirps  at  need, 
Executes  the  hand's  intending, 

Promptly,  perfectly, — indeed 
Saves  the  singer  from  defeat 
With  her  chirrup  low  and  sweet. 

X. 

Till,  at  ending,  all  the  judges 

Cry  with  one  assent 
"  Take  the  prize — a  prize  who  grudges 

Such  a  voice  and  instrument  ? 
Why,  we  took  your  lyre  for  harp. 
So  it  shrilled  us  forth  F  sharp ! " 


THE    TWO  POETS   OF  CROISIC  277 

XI. 

Did  the  conqueror  spurn  the  creature. 

Once  its  service  done  ? 
That 's  no  such  uncommon  feature 

In  the  case  when  Music's  son 
Finds  his  Lotte's  power  too  spent 
For  aiding  soul-development. 


XII. 

No !     This  other,  on  returning 

Homeward,  prize  in  hand, 
Satisfied  his  bosom's  yearning : 

(Sir,  I  hope  you  understand !) 
— Said  "  Some  record  there  must  be 
Of  this  cricket's  help  to  me ! " 

XIII. 

So,  he  made  himself  a  statue : 

Marble  stood,  life-size  3 
On  the  lyre,  he  pointed  at  you 

Perched  his  partner  in  the  prize ; 
Never  more  apart  you  found 
Her,  he  throned,  from  him,  she  crowned. 


278  THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC 

XIV. 

That 's  the  tale :  its  application  ? 

Somebody  I  know 
Hopes  one  day  for  reputation 

Through  his  poetry  that's— Oh, 
All  so  learned  and  so  wise 
And  deserving  of  a  prize ! 

XV. 

If  he  gains  one,  will  some  ticket, 

When  his  statue  's  built, 
Tell  the  gazer  "  T  was  a  cricket 

Helped  my  crippled  lyre,  whose  iilt 
Sweet  and  low,  when  strength  usurped 
Softness'  place  i'  the  scale,  she  chirped  ? 

XVI. 

"  For  as  victory  was  nighest. 
While  I  sang  and  played, — 

With  my  lyre  at. lowest,  highest. 
Right  alike, — one  string  that  made 

*  Love '  sound  soft  was  snapt  in  twain, 

Never  to  be  heard  again, — 


THE   TWO  POETS  OF  CROISIC  270 

XVII. 

"  Had  not  a  kind  cricket  fluttered, 

Perched  upon  the  place 
Vacant  left,  and  duly  uttered 

*  Love,  Love,  Love,'  whene'er  the  bass 
Asked,  the  treble  to  atone 
For  its  somewhat  sombre  drone." 

XVIII. 

But  you  don't  know  music !    Wherefore 

Keep  on  casting  pearls 
To  a— poet  ?     All  I  care  for 

Is — to  tell  him  that  a  girl's 
"  Love  "  comes  aptly  in  when  gruff" 
Grows  his  singing.     (There,  enough  !) 


END  OF  THE  FOURTEENTH  VOLUME.