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IN PREPAEATION 
 PKOTE A PLAY 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
Copyright igio by 
 Desmond FitzGerald, Inc. 
 
 T& 
 
 -3 
 
 ^-5' 
 
 
 Printed in U. S. A. 
 
 ©ci.A2?;^t:66 
 
FRANK AND ELIZABETH DEARDORF 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 FAaH! 
 
 PHYLLIS AND EMOPHOON ... 3 
 PAN AND PITYS ..... 53 
 PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS . . .105 
 ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE . . .151 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 ENEATH the silv'ry sympathy of stars 
 That watch the patient progress of the 
 world, 
 
 Than maiden's love there is no truer thing, 
 Nor aught more pure beneath the flaming 
 
 suns. 
 The finish'd orb that turn'd while yet the earth 
 Flared fearfully in darkness ; that beheld 
 The patient shaping of its loveliness, 
 And view'd its growing grace expectantly. 
 Is slave to Change ; shall wane and headlong 
 
 plunge 
 Adown the Night's insatiable maw. 
 But maiden's love is like the primal calm 
 That brooded over Chaos — asking not 
 The Why or When, and caring not though 
 
 gods 
 
 [3 ] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Create the dream and then dissolve again. 
 
 For, like the simple flower in yonder field, 
 
 That shows but once its beauty to the dawn 
 
 And languishes ere even, maiden's love 
 
 Is still and constant to the cherish'd thing — 
 
 Its altar and its lodestone, and its peace. 
 
 And though that pass, as all things fair must 
 
 pass. 
 And all dreams prove a dream's futility, 
 The love lives on, like fragrance, and the while 
 Scents the soft air and soothes the troubled 
 
 world. 
 And even as the modest daffodil 
 Must rue the fickleness of early Winds 
 And mourn their heartless wooing, so the maid 
 Who loves when Fate opposes, and the gods 
 Turn lovers' vows to idle promises. 
 Must bear her lot ; must bend, but give no sign, 
 As bends the chasten'd lily, but is mute. 
 
 NOR darts nor spears now menaced broken 
 Troy ; 
 The trumpets had been silenced, and from where 
 The yellow plains were black with heroes' blood 
 The sated jackal howl'd beneath the moon. 
 For ten long years the fated town had worn 
 Its pulsing necklace — rows of armed men 
 And awful engines. Grecian hosts had come 
 
 [ 4 ] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 Array'd in bronze and skins of tawny beasts, 
 
 Or glinting splendor of a war-like day ; 
 
 Had pitch'd white tents before the batter'd 
 
 walls 
 And, shouting, rush'd to grapple with their foe. 
 And hosts had gone while yet the sun shone red. 
 While yet life leap'd within them, to the dark 
 Where, voiceless now and cold, they fought no 
 
 more, 
 Nor cared though fell the pillars of the world. 
 Old Priam, too, was gather'd to his sons, 
 Weary of life, of women, and the war 
 Men waged for Helen's whiteness, while she lay 
 And watch'd through heavy and adult'rous eyes 
 The daily change of battle. Now the winds 
 From Ilium's plain upraised the dust and char 
 That once was Troy ; the sun-glare smote 
 
 thereon ; 
 The milder glances of the grieving moon 
 Touch'd it again in pity. But no more 
 From sacred courts would priests implore the 
 
 gods. 
 Or from the walls the brass-helm'd sentry call ; 
 For Priam now was dead, and low the sons 
 On whom he propp'd his utter weariness. 
 And one by one the Grecian triremes turn'd 
 Their high prows westward, and the oars shot 
 
 forth 
 
 [5] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Like human hands and smote the sapphire waves, 
 
 Impelhng homeward. And the heroes sang 
 
 Ajax and wise Ulysses, Menelaus 
 
 And mighty Agamemnon ; then they toid 
 
 The rolhng flood of how Achilles slew 
 
 The son of Priam, Hector ; and the slaves, 
 
 Chain'd to the oars, would howl as wolves may 
 
 howl. 
 Whom instinct tells of carnage. But at night, 
 When slept the heroes, and the sea lay still 
 And brooded on the boastfulness of men. 
 The sweating slaves would groan and bite tkeir 
 
 chains, 
 And call on Death to free them from the oars. 
 
 AMONG the last to lift his face toward home 
 Was Demophoon of Athens, king in mien, 
 And doubly king in bearing ; one on whom 
 The gods had smiled, and made invincible 
 In fiercest fight ; one f avor'd of the stars. 
 Yet man enough to love where lit his glance. 
 And man enough as quickly to forget. 
 For two long years his eyes had gazed on men 
 And all the bloody incidents of war; 
 Glory had waved her banners over him. 
 Yet Death had let him triumph; now he strode 
 The heaving deck, impatient, heeding not 
 The dangers or the favors of the past, 
 
 [6] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 But only what the gods had yet to give. 
 His trusted captain, Halmus, stood apart 
 And watch'd the sea, as one may watch the 
 
 face 
 Of one most loved. A grizzled mariner 
 Whose words were few, he knew its ev'ry mood, 
 And scented now the coming of a storm 
 From out the east, where all was ebon black, 
 As if the winds had heap'd the darkness there 
 To stay the dawn's advances. Troy was now 
 Ten days a dream, as all the Past's a dream, 
 A thing to sing of when the embers glow. 
 And winter's winds push roughly at the door. 
 And Halmus knew that it were wise to find 
 A shelt'ring coast, and face the open sea 
 When wind and waves subsided. " Demophoon," 
 He said, as came the other to his side : 
 " The sea is anger'd. It were best to turn 
 Before the storm is on us. To the north 
 The Thracian headlands offer harborage. 
 If thou and I were on this ship alone 
 We would not care; Death comes but once, my 
 
 king; 
 But wives and babes await in Athens now 
 The freight we bear, these men who laugh'd at 
 
 him 
 Too long for us to sacrifice them now." 
 And Demophoon was kingly. " Turn the ship," 
 
 [7] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 He cried, " when thou art ready. Fight no 
 
 more, 
 For Greece still needs her heroes ; brave art thou, 
 And lovest well thy fellows." Then at once 
 The oarsmen heard the order, and the prow 
 Made answer slowly till the roaring wind 
 Had fill'd the mighty bellies of the sails, 
 And soon the ship raced northward. Now the 
 
 sky 
 Was grey and heavy, and the sea was grey 
 As if with ancient trouble; but the waves 
 Still smote the ship and flung the stinging foam 
 Upon the cringing rowers. All that day 
 The waters hiss'd their fury ; and when night 
 Had blotted out the light's faint sympathy, 
 And stars and moon, the sailors' comforters, 
 Were hid behind the anger-swollen clouds. 
 They rose like shifting mountains, menacing 
 The creaking ship and all who strove thereon. 
 But Halmus still stood keen-eyed at the prow 
 With Demophoon beside him. Silently 
 They watch'd the piling waters in their wake, 
 Or faced the dark before them. Overhead 
 The shrilling Winds were singing lustily 
 Such songs as they delight in ; but, below, 
 Was heard the groaning of the haggard slaves 
 Who tugg'd by turns upon the dripping oars 
 And cursed the overseer. In the hold 
 
 [8] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 The heroes swore defiance of the gods, 
 And smote their hands together ; but, above, 
 The captain still stood guard with Demophoon, 
 And all around them scream'd the dreadful 
 storm. 
 
 AND when the morn broke, Nature seem'd 
 outworn — 
 The Winds had hurried eastward, and where 
 
 brood 
 The Asian deserts, woke the fleet, wild horse. 
 And fearful lions in their shelter'd lairs. 
 But higher still the sea uplifted now 
 Its racing waves ; and erst as that day died. 
 And one by one the stars look'd out again, 
 The liquid mountains sank to peaceful hills 
 And hills became an undulating plain. 
 But even then the slaves cried dismally 
 And strove to steal swift glances through the 
 
 ports 
 To see if land were nearing. And the light 
 That danced upon the waters lit their eyes 
 And made them gleam with madness, and the 
 
 blood 
 Show'd black upon their shoulders ; still they 
 
 row'd. 
 Or bit their chains, or cursed until the lash 
 Fell on their wounds and open'd them again. 
 
 [9] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 And while the ship raced onward, Demophoon 
 And Halmus sat together, and made light 
 Of storm and danger. " By to-morrow's dawn 
 The headland should confront us," Halmus said ; 
 " And thou, my king, as thou art done with war, 
 Perhaps to gentler things thy thoughts may 
 
 turn. 
 Lycurgus rules in Thrace, and men have said 
 His daughter Phyllis is a maid most fair, 
 A maid for kings, although Athenians say 
 His people still are savage. Thou art young; 
 Who knows but she may lure thee from the ways 
 Of single men, and teach thee life indeed ! " 
 " I, too, have heard of Phyllis," said the king, 
 " 'Tis said young Naxos pined for love of her 
 And faced the Trojan arrows day and night, 
 Preferring poison'd barbs when Cupid's dart 
 Had made his young life bitter. When he died 
 That day the wall released him, I was near, 
 And strove to lift the heavy masonry 
 From off his mangled bosom. Naught he said 
 Except the one word " Phyllis." Then his face 
 Was grey as was the sea this awful morn, 
 And from his eyes the light pass'd suddenly. 
 For two long years my thoughts have been with 
 
 men ; 
 Music to me has been the clang of swords 
 On slanting shields, the short, hoarse battle cry, 
 [10] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 The shouts of victors or the captives' prayers. 
 
 And now, rememb'ring Helen, I am loth 
 
 To see myself a slave to all that wakes 
 
 Another's envy and another's hate." 
 
 But Halmus drew his fingers through his beard : 
 
 *' Love and the stars last ever. Who art thou 
 
 To say ' I will '? The gods are over thee, 
 
 And theirs it is to say what things shall be. 
 
 These fifty years the sea has been my bride ; 
 
 Each mood of hers I know. I know each wave. 
 
 That rises once and then is lost again 
 
 Amid the water's beauty. Storm or calm 
 
 Proves unto me her passion ; and her foam 
 
 Is like the light-tipp'd fingers of the Queen, 
 
 The Cytherasan, whom the birds adore. 
 
 True have I been to her, and she to me, 
 
 Though faithless unto others ; and because 
 
 She lures her thousand suitors to their death, 
 
 Shall I evade her wooing, or dictate 
 
 How gods shall prick my final journeyings? " 
 
 But Demophoon look'd moodily to sea 
 
 And seemed to weigh his answer. " Thou and I 
 
 Are equal only in the eyes of Death, 
 
 O Halmus, hardy sailor," he replied. 
 
 " The many love ; the king must stand alone. 
 
 Care sits upon his shoulders ; at his heels 
 
 Suspicion creeps with her insidious voice. 
 
 The very hand that proffers him his cup 
 
 [11] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 May drop a poison in it. Would I were 
 A man like thee, a simple mariner, 
 Whose days are spent beneath the splendid skies, 
 Whose nights are nights of danger, or of peace. 
 I would I were a peasant, one who treads 
 The dewy hills at dawn-burst, and beholds 
 The heaven attired in all its changing hues. 
 He walks with gods who shuns the heartless town 
 Where strong men wither, and the mothers pale 
 To see their children sicken. I would give 
 Sceptre and crown to own a simple hut. 
 Whereof a hound is guardian, with its smoke 
 More dear than all the incense of the East. 
 Then would I woo some maid, whose only dream 
 Should be of children and the twilight hour 
 That drove me homeward with my labor done 
 And hands outstretch'd to her hands. I would 
 
 draw 
 The dear thing to me as the sun doth draw 
 The happy sunflower, that with upturn'd face 
 Awaits a golden blessing. She and I — 
 But thou the sailor art, and I, the king. 
 Whose crown has made the dream impossible. 
 Stars would be suns, the sun would be a star ; 
 The gods must surely pity man's unrest." 
 And Halmus answer'd not. For he had loved. 
 And knew the ache thereof and knew the joy ; 
 And, knowing both, had sooner been a slave 
 [12] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 And heir to women's kisses, than the king 
 Whose rank had kept him ever isolate. 
 
 AND while they- both were musing, came a 
 man 
 Who pointed westward, and in sailor speech 
 Said land was now a few short miles away ; 
 And Halmus rose, and where the waves ran low 
 Beheld the shore. " My eyes can see," he said, 
 " How people leave the city on the cliff, 
 Assembling in such numbers that the sands 
 Are black in places. This, then, must be 
 
 Thrace, 
 Where now Lycurgus sits, and holds his court 
 Amid such savage splendor that the stars 
 Grow pale when once his palace lamps are lit. 
 'Tis like this Phyllis, whom the heroes sing 
 As once they sang of Helen, wears the wealth 
 Of half an Asian province on her breast. 
 Virtue and worth go ever unremark'd ; 
 The hero loves the tinsel and the sham, 
 But never sings in praise of diffidence." 
 And Demophoon, the soldier and the king. 
 Could answer naught. " To-morrow we may 
 
 sail. 
 If winds permit, for Athens," he replied. 
 " The slaves have labor'd staunchly. Bid them 
 
 rest 
 
 [13] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 That thej may pull us happily to Greece, 
 And they shall toil no longer. Would that I 
 Were free as thou art ; free as they shall be 
 To come and go, and do the things they will." 
 And when the slaves were told what gift was 
 
 theirs. 
 They strove to shout, but could not ; and the 
 
 king 
 Knew well what meant that silence. But at last 
 The rythmic movement of the oars proclaim'd 
 The wretches' gratitude ; and while the moon 
 Still lit the swaying waters, and the lights 
 Along the shore grew clearer, up the beach 
 The vessel glided, and the oars were still. 
 
 
 ND when Lycurgus heard what king the 
 storm 
 
 ^Had driven there for shelter, he made 
 haste 
 To bid him welcome, for the day was done 
 Of enmity or war. And Demophoon 
 Approach'd the palace as in times of peace 
 A hero should approach it, through a host 
 Of shouting men and maids, whose beauty vied 
 With that of all the petal'd sisterhood 
 With which his path was cover'd. Thus, at last, 
 [14] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 He reach'd the palace gardens, where the crowd 
 No more might enter ; and an ancient man 
 Array'd in white there met him and the few 
 Whose right it was to follow. Then by beds 
 Of strangest blooms and leafy, winding ways 
 That led each moment upward, they arrived 
 Where stood the palace with its gleaming stairs 
 And fountains flinging jewels to the sky. 
 And there Lycurgus met them. At his side 
 The maiden, Phyllis, flower'd, and all his court 
 Was ranged behind them like a scimetar 
 Of wisdom, wit and chosen loveliness. 
 And Phyllis, when she first saw Demophoon, 
 Felt as the bird feels when it sees the snare. 
 Yet, knowing well the danger, falls therein, 
 And then is lost forever. But no sign 
 The maiden gave of how her heart was touch'd. 
 Only her face turn'd paler. " We have heard 
 In Athens of thy beauty, gentle maid," 
 Said Demophoon, as, bending o'er her hand. 
 He proff'er'd her the homage due a queen, 
 " But, true in that, men's silv'ry tongues have 
 
 err'd 
 In saying that a Thracian pearl was lost 
 Amid a rugged setting ; here I find 
 Thy gracious father and a noble court 
 Lending a lustre to thy perfect grace." 
 Then said Lycurgus : " If thou restest here, 
 [15] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 We hope to prove that thought and elegance 
 Bide elsewhere than in Athens. On the field 
 Thou oft hast seen our heroes ; here they wear 
 Their laurel-wreaths until the trumpets break 
 The dawn's cool hush, and bid them noise to 
 
 war." 
 ** All this I fain would learn," said Demophoon, 
 " And rest a while where so much beauty is. 
 But mom must find me on the settled sea. 
 My ship's prow scenting Athens. Yesterday 
 I laugh'd at danger ; now I face a foe 
 So subtle that the strongest man may fall 
 Who stays to dare him. Let me, therefore, 
 
 hence, 
 O wise Lycurgus ; for, though wind and sea 
 Deliver'd me thy willing prisoner, 
 To them alone that wait me I belong 
 As ere I left for Ilium's windy plain." 
 And when pale Phyllis heard the hero speak 
 Her heart was all a-tremble. Well she knew 
 The foe he dreaded was her maiden charm, 
 Which catches men more easily than wit, 
 Minerva's wisdom or the gift of gold. 
 
 HAPPY the maid to whom, with sympathy. 
 The solemn gods grant beauty. At her 
 birth 
 The wild winds sing impassion'd harmonies, 
 [16] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 And unseen splendors hover over her ; 
 And each fair bloom that claims companionship 
 With splendid stars uplifts its modest head 
 To bid its sister welcome with a smile. 
 Nature knows well when Loveliness is born. 
 At early dawn the first, faint sunbeam tells 
 The cool, lush grass ; and when the roses close. 
 The purple-robed announcers of the Night 
 Whisper the tale where brood the patient hills. 
 Remember'd ever is the burst of dawn ; 
 Death toucheth not the sunset. And with these 
 Is Beauty deathless ; changing, it retains 
 Perfection's spirit and is ever fair. 
 
 WHEN Phyllis saw Lycurgus answer'd not. 
 But stroked his beard and look'd upon the 
 
 ground, 
 She took his arm, then raised her gentle eyes 
 To Demophoon. " Thou must not haste," said 
 
 she 
 With warmth, and yet becoming modesty. 
 " For Rumor hath a quick and sland'rous 
 
 tongue ; 
 And what would Athens think if it were said 
 That Demophoon, who fear'd no foe at Troy, 
 Made haste from Thrace, because " — then stam- 
 
 mer'd she 
 And blush'd because she knew not what she said. 
 
 [17] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 And Demophoon beheld her helplessness, 
 And pitied her: " Because," said he, " he fear'd 
 Beauty, that is more pitiless than Death. 
 Women, perhaps, would say that I was base, 
 A very coward in the lists of Love. 
 But men, fair maid, would say that I did right : 
 Who cannot love with honor, should not love." 
 " Ye argue like two children ; like two birds 
 Ye twitter without thought," Lycurgus said. 
 And laid a hand upon an arm of each. 
 " It were not fair to leave us, Demophoon, 
 After so short a stay. The gods, perhaps. 
 Had purpose when they blew thee hitherward. 
 To rest is right, is good ; and thou hast earn'd 
 The rest of heroes. Bide thou, then, with us. 
 These coming days are days of sacrifice. 
 And thou shalt see our temples. One we have 
 Which, seeing once, thou shalt desire to stay. 
 For fair it is, Athenian. Therefore, stay ! 
 Tempt not the gods by venturing to sea 
 Before thou askest of the oracle 
 If waves shall bear thee homeward without 
 
 hurt." 
 Then Phyllis smiled, and lo ! to Demophoon 
 It seem'd the world as suddenly contain'd 
 A thing till then found wanting. " Wilt thou 
 
 stay.?" 
 She ask'd, yet knew his answer ere he spoke. 
 [18] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 " Our gardens are most pleasant. Trees there 
 
 be 
 Within whose shade the nightingales have sung 
 Their songs to me in childhood ; pretty pools 
 Where dream the lilies of the waxen buds 
 That brood on Nile's still waters ; in the dells 
 The bees intone contentment, and the deer 
 Wander at will, and fear me not, nor mine. 
 Such things I fain would show thee, and much 
 
 more 
 If only thou wilt deign to stay our guest." 
 What man when tempted thus, had still said 
 
 Nay.? 
 Though all the stars had menaced him — dread 
 
 Mars, 
 And awful Sirius that from its post 
 Of utter exile wrecks the plots of men. 
 He still had waver'd. Though the Pleiades, 
 Saddest of constellations, had essay'd 
 To turn his course he still had follow'd her. 
 And when Lycurgus said : " The maid speaks 
 
 well. 
 To stay with us and see the things she loves, 
 Will add a pleasure to their loveliness," 
 He kiss'd her hand, and follow'd where they led. 
 
 [19] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 AND many days he linger'd, unaware 
 Of how she bound him with the wondrous 
 
 web 
 Of maiden charm. For he who looks too long 
 In woman's eyes must surely lose himself. 
 As yonder cloud that wooes the arching sky 
 Dissolves in fleecy passion and is lost. 
 Now morn by morn, while yet Lycurgus slept, 
 They trod the heights and watch'd the steady 
 
 sun. 
 Magnificently solemn, crack the dark 
 Above the distant solitudes of Troy, 
 And pour its wine along the Thracian hills. 
 With lifted arms they sang the morning hymns 
 To rosy-limbed Apollo ; with the dew 
 They cool'd their flushing faces, and were glad. 
 The hill caves knew them also. Echo heard 
 Their careless laughter; and rememb'ring well 
 The one she loved. Narcissus, fill'd their ears 
 With all the ancient story of her woe. 
 And one by one he learnt the shady haunts 
 That made her gardens perfect; scentless dells 
 Of utter peace wherein the asphodel 
 Might slumber undisturb'd, and dream the 
 
 dreams 
 Of still, white flowers. And oft by shelter'd 
 
 pools 
 They linger'd, and were silent ; or attuned 
 [20] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 Their half-hush'd voices to the tiny brook 
 That tinkled o'er the stones amid the fern. 
 Thus pass'd a morn too quickly ; and at noon, 
 When all the air was hot and tremulous, 
 They stay'd within the palace, while the slaves 
 Waved languor from them with their scented 
 
 fans, 
 And sang of loves departed with the leaves. 
 And Demophoon, although he knew it not, 
 Was often troubled by these songs of theirs ; 
 And then his eyes would wander, and would rest 
 At last on Phyllis, and his heart would seem 
 A weight within him ; for the lover thinks 
 When first he loves, or when he first grows fond, 
 His quest is hopeless, and the world is harsh 
 And all the stars against him. Night and day 
 He wraps his soul in sable, until She — 
 The thing he deems most perfect — is his own. 
 But Phyllis hid her love from Demophoon, 
 And even from the keenest of her maids ; 
 *' If so it be the gods decree it not, 
 My love is lost," she said, and said no more. 
 Only at night when heaven seem'd all aflame. 
 And e'en the dusk was odorous and warm 
 With love-begetting silence, she would lean 
 A little closer to him ; and perhaps 
 He lean'd to her, as men have ever lean'd 
 To beauty in the darkness. Thus they trod 
 [21] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 The winding ways of leafy loveliness, 
 And spoke but seldom. Dusk is consecrate 
 To love and lovers, and a sigh is then 
 More fraught with meaning than the winged 
 
 words 
 Lost in the golden sunlight. O'er their heads 
 A thrush would sometimes lift its liquid note 
 To where the stars were gather'd ; but the dark 
 Soon charm'd the bird to silence, and again 
 Night's stilly benediction cover'd them. 
 And thus they came to where the sea now 
 
 croon'd 
 Its endless song, and, hearing it, became 
 Possessors of its secrets, and forgot 
 Their gilded fetters and their helplessness. 
 For Phyllis dream'd his love was now her own ; 
 This very sea had minister'd to her, 
 Had borne him on its bosom ; had upraised 
 Its many hands against his swift return 
 To Athens and his people. Now he stood 
 Beneath the stars beside her, and the sea 
 Would storm until he own'd himself her slave, 
 And perfect friendship turn'd to perfect love. 
 Thus Phyllis dream'd, as maidens often dream. 
 And, sometimes, men ; and later, when the moon 
 Smiled chastely on her marbled loveliness 
 At rest upon her couch, she dream'd again 
 Of Demophoon, and night too swiftly fled. 
 [22 J 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 BUT Halmus daily argued with his king 
 To leave the Thracian beauty. " Let us 
 
 hence. 
 The sea is calling loudly," he would say ; 
 " And ev'ry ebb my anchor'd ship turns home 
 And strains to Greece. The heroes call on thee 
 To bring the maiden with thee, if thou wilt ; 
 But they, too, long for Greece. The very 
 
 slaves, 
 Whose wounds in wanton idleness have heal'd, 
 Would bear thee home, and gain their liberty. 
 Sometimes in dreams I hear a distant cry, 
 A cry from Greece, for Demophoon, the king ; 
 Thy people need thee, and the sea allures — 
 Let us, then, hence while yet the gods permit." 
 And Demophoon perused the other's eyes. 
 Then faced, with folded arms, the calling waves. 
 " Would we were back," he said at last, " in 
 
 Troy. 
 Amid this life I feel but ill at ease, 
 Halmus, my friend. My thoughts are still with 
 
 men. 
 For men are like the star on which at night 
 Thy raven eye is centred ; they are firm 
 In friendship and in hatred. Woman's charm 
 Lasts but the while I see her ; even then. 
 The while she smiles, my thoughts will often rove 
 To sterner ways of days that are no more. 
 [23] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 We men uphold each other ; eye to eye, 
 We know the god within us, see the best — 
 The trust, the faith, the restless energy 
 That makes us conquer while despising praise. 
 But women, by their very gentleness, 
 Their grace that charms like spirit of the grape, 
 Would draw us down, as draws the clinging vine 
 The oak's tried bough ; would make us singing 
 
 men, 
 Or toys, or monkeys, and, when manhood's gone, 
 Turn elsewhere for their pleasure, wonder-eyed. 
 Men were my first companions ; men have train'd 
 These limbs while yet they trembled; men have 
 
 seen 
 What deeds 1 am most proud of; men have 
 
 proved 
 The man within me worthy. Of a truth 
 I would that I were free as thou art free. 
 I would thou wert the king ; that I at sea 
 Might spend my days surrounded by such men 
 As never herd in cities. By the stars 
 I'd prick my daily course, and strive to be 
 As well resolved and patient as themselves. 
 As heedless of the smallness of the world. 
 Thus I would live, O Halmus ; and when came 
 The splendid hour of death, I'd have the storm 
 Sing to my soul so wild a rhapsody 
 That life would seem a thing to tempt a child, 
 [24] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 A pastime for a woman. I would hear 
 The roar of waters and the seagull's scream, 
 The howl of winds o'er darken'd solitudes ; 
 Then with the men who follow'd me in fis-ht 
 I'd shout the gods mj coming; and, at last, 
 Fearless of what might follow, drink my fill. 
 And drinking sink to silence and to death." 
 " Think not of death while yet the trumpets call 
 And work's to do," said Halmus. " Let us 
 
 hence ! 
 Hear how the sea is calling! Yonder stands — 
 Somewhere beyond that surge of blue and 
 
 foam — 
 Our marbled Athens with her arms outstretch'd. 
 Eager to bid thee welcome. All the stars 
 Are smiling now on thee, O Demophoon ; 
 And thou must home, while yet the wreath she 
 
 gives 
 Is soft and fragrant, and her praise sounds 
 
 sweet." 
 Then Demophoon look'd long to where uprose 
 Above the hoary elders of the woods 
 The palace of Lycurgus. " There she lies 
 At rest," he whisper'd, while the sailor shrugg'd 
 His heavy shoulders, then in silence turn'd 
 And walk'd apart. " O wondrous maidenhood ! 
 Thy sister is the lily, that upon 
 Unrippled pools in utter silence dreams 
 [25] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 The long, still dreams of spotless innocence. 
 
 Beneath the sun the thing most sacred thou, 
 
 Bud of the future blossom ; of the pearl 
 
 Its perfect lustre. In yon marbled pile 
 
 She sleeps, and dreams ! Above our heads is 
 
 writ 
 The changeless destiny of human lives. 
 Yet gods alone can read it. She and I 
 Are brought together by the wayward winds. 
 And by the winds are parted when again 
 The gods decree. O Halmus, thou art right 
 To bid me leave before a wrong is done ; 
 And yet — Ah, would that Troy were yet to 
 
 raze. 
 And Helen still to free for Menelaus ; 
 To fight is simple ; death is simple, too ; 
 And I, a fighter and a fighter's king. 
 Was made for action, not for childish dreams." 
 And while he ponder'd, Halmus to himself 
 Excused his lord. " He Avavers yet," he said, 
 " Who should be strong. And yet, I blame him 
 
 not. 
 Irresolution ! Since the world began 
 Were men thus weak. Our better purposes 
 Like snowflakes show, and vanish in the air 
 Where love's concerned. Yet kings should 
 
 firmer be ; 
 Should wake no hope that may not be fulfill'd, 
 [26] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 And leave no broken flowers to mark their 
 
 paths." 
 Then turn'd the king and faced the solemn sea, 
 All calm now and inviting. " Let us hence," 
 He said to Halmus in a voice so low 
 The other bent to hear it. " Let us hence 
 To-morrow eve. One day is all I ask 
 The gods to grant me. Athens, I obey ! 
 One little day, then duty and — the night ! " 
 
 UNCOMPLAINING Night, that wear- 
 
 Thy weeds for him whose wide eyes seek 
 
 an East 
 Eternally beyond him; thou whose breath 
 Is fragrant as compassion, and as mild ; 
 Whose hands are laid on all the restlessness 
 And woe of life, to soothe it, and assuage 
 The anguish of its multi-colored dreams. 
 What thoughts are thine when thou, in silent 
 
 robes. 
 Art come at last to that low ledge from whence 
 The world becomes a slow-unfolding scroll? 
 Unseen of all, in utter solitude. 
 The stars confined amid the mystery 
 That silences their voices, thou dost stand 
 [27] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 As one may stand whom memory makes fond, 
 Whose weighted lashes tell of spirit dreams 
 And hopes that are remember'd, though so vain. 
 About thy form, as clings the maiden mist 
 Where brood the hills, thy sheenless mantle 
 
 clings 
 And hides thy body's beauty ; but thy face 
 Pales through thy curling tresses, dark as are 
 The shadows on unspeculative pools. 
 Thus standest thou in silence, isolate, 
 Above the world and yet below the skies 
 That hear the splendid chanting of the stars 
 And heed not Earth's remonstrance ; thou alone 
 Hast pity in thy palms, and in thine eyes 
 The liffht that makes the cradle consecrate. 
 And one by one beneath thy lashes pass 
 The day's desires, each broken-wing'd, that 
 
 seem'd 
 More fair at dawn than morning's aureole ; 
 And deeds to startle worlds, that only prove 
 Endeavor futile and ambition vain. 
 But thou, O Night, maternal, pitiful. 
 Whose hopeless love for that which ever flies 
 Before thee, veil'd in glory, makes thee kind, 
 Hearest the sighs of wearied suppliants 
 And healest hearts that otherwise would break. 
 Above the world, thy world, thy hands are held 
 As if in benediction ; then from out 
 [28] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 Each blessed palm drips drop by blessed drop 
 The dew, thy pity ; and the very grass 
 Is sweet with all the holiness of tears, 
 While trees and hills grow moist with wonder- 
 ment. 
 And when at last thou flee'st thy radiant love, 
 The golden Day, whose trumpeter 's the sun, 
 Men rise from sleep to bless thee, rise from 
 
 dreams 
 To brave the day and battle, knowing well 
 Thy hands shall soothe them at the hour of 
 peace. 
 
 WHILE yet the darkness veil'd one half 
 the world 
 Lycurgus enter'd softly to the room 
 Where Phyllis slumber'd. At her head her 
 
 nurse 
 Shaded the flame that flicker'd like a life 
 Touch'd by the breath of Death, while at her 
 
 feet, 
 Blinking and still, a shaggy hound kept guard. 
 And long he stood beside her, for he knew 
 (As one who years has sufFer'd silently 
 May read the grief behind the eyes of men) 
 Her secret sorrow. Day by golden day 
 This love had blossom'd like a pallid flower 
 Hid from the sun; its petals had unfurl'd 
 [29] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 With still insistence, and the time was near 
 
 When it must offer to the wooing air 
 
 Its beauty, and be bless'd or desolate. 
 
 But Phyllis knew not that her love was known ; 
 
 Nay, knew not that she loved. Yet now in 
 
 sleep 
 She breathed his name, the name of Demophoon, 
 And darkness learnt her secrets from her sighs. 
 And while she sigh'd, her father gazed at her 
 With folded arms, and thought, perhaps, of one 
 Whose slumbers naught could waken. Well he 
 
 knew 
 A maiden's sorrow is a mother's care, 
 And none can help when she is call'd away. 
 Then bent he down and touch'd most tenderly 
 Her wavy hair, and left her to her dreams ; 
 But all that night he sorrow'd, knowing well 
 That men are blind and gods are merciless. 
 For little heed the gods their handiwork 
 Or care how end their schemings ; and at last 
 When, though afar, the hound had sniff'd the 
 
 dawn 
 And laid its muzzle in the sleeper's hand, 
 She woke and gazed untroubled at her nurse 
 And sigh'd no more, nor knew that she had 
 
 dream'd. 
 
 [30] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 BUT ere the silv'ry treble of the birds 
 Proclaim'd Aurora nearing, or the skies 
 Were bright with rosy promise, Demophoon 
 Had sought a bower most dear to both of 
 
 them — 
 A stilly place that look'd upon the sea, 
 A place of fern and lilacs, odorous 
 As love itself. There coo'd two pretty doves 
 Preening their pink and pearly liveries 
 Unmindful of his presence. And the while 
 He stood amid his memories of her. 
 Thinking of winged words and stolen looks 
 And swift, shy touches of impassion'd hands, 
 She came upon him and — he yearn'd for her ! 
 But now the Winds were waking, and they sang 
 The splendid Hymn of Morning; sang the 
 
 light; 
 The flame-faced Dawn ; the marvel of the buds 
 Aroused from sleep along with irises 
 And scented things. Then Phyllis raised to 
 
 theirs 
 Her lovely lips, and off^r'd them her hair. 
 For who the maid that worships not the Wind.'' 
 And where the Wind that will not play with 
 
 her "^ 
 And, standing there, they watch'd the glory 
 
 grow. 
 And leaping waves aspire to crystal crowns 
 [31] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 With eager, curling fingers ; and the Winds^ 
 With Titan trumpets fashion'd to their lips* 
 Blew longer blasts and louder, till the earth 
 In all its secret places was awake 
 And all the sea was echoing their song. 
 Then turn'd she slowly unto Demophoon 
 And chided him because his mouth was grave 
 And sorrow seemed to dwell within his eyes. 
 " The gods," she said, " are good to thee and 
 
 me, 
 Who live amid the glory. It is good 
 To be alive on such a morn as this. 
 To be as free as is the careless bird 
 That wots not when its final note shall sound, 
 But sings, and sings. Who knows what destiny 
 The deathless ones apportion thee and me.'' 
 Too soon we may be voiceless ! But to-day 
 We have our being, and a day 's a life 
 To him who truly lives it. We may see 
 The things a myriad eyes no more may see ; 
 Hear the sweet sounds that never penetrate 
 To Proserpine's dim gardens. Now I live, 
 And thank the gods for living ; when I die, 
 If winds should blow thee here upon that 
 
 day. 
 Lay lilacs on my bosom, and their scent 
 Shall speak to me of such a morn as this ! " 
 " And ever more shall lilacs hint of thee," 
 [32] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 Said Demophoon. " But speak thou not of 
 
 death 
 Amid this subtle fragrance. Blooms like these 
 Are Life's and Love's. The lips of goddesses 
 Have touch'd them ere we waken'd ; and from 
 
 eyes 
 That soften'd as they gazed in wonderment 
 At each delightful cluster, blessed tears 
 Have dropp'd ; and still they linger, lest the sun 
 Should sear such utter beauty with his kiss." 
 And speaking thus he pluck'd a heavy spray 
 From off the bushes. " This shall speak," he 
 
 said, 
 " Of thee, sweet maiden, when the envious sea 
 Hints Athens and my duty. Thou wilt spend 
 Long mornings here amid this loveliness 
 While dawns for thee thy girlhood's heritage.'* 
 " Amid such utter fragrance, and such peace 
 As here surrounds us, Death too often lurks," 
 The maiden answer'd. " In the shade of Love 
 He creeps, unseen of lovers ; even now 
 His hand may reach from out the odor'd peace 
 And cull us to the silence. Wouldst thou go 
 Unsighing to the mistlands, should he call,'' " 
 " Until that moment comes I cannot say," 
 Said Demophoon. " Men question not, but go 
 When sounds the call. How often, facing Troy, 
 His muffled trumpets drew my friends away 
 [33] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 And left me there to battle ! Slaves and kings 
 Went without pomp to where the dark enshrouds 
 The lowly brow or noble ; and at dawn 
 We only thought of Helen. For the dead 
 Are things of mist to us whose pulses throb 
 To life's sweet music while the day endures." 
 And Phyllis said no more, but hid her face 
 Amid the fragrant lilacs, lest he see 
 The sorrow that lay mirror'd in her eyes. 
 From where they stood they saw the surging 
 
 sea, 
 All silv'ry now and gleaming. On its breast 
 The Zephyrs danced to melodies unheard 
 Of mortals* ears, but wildly sweet enough 
 To make the pale gods listen. And anon 
 From fields near-by a lark soar'd up and up 
 In measured flights with ever beating wing, 
 And trill'd its benediction o'er a world 
 Superlatively peaceful. Side by side 
 They linger'd, speaking seldom, while the sun 
 Follow'd the lark up, up, and ever up 
 The blue serene; for all that ever was 
 And all that is, however glorious, 
 Must follow Song and him who dares to fling 
 His broken notes among the gleaming stars. 
 
 [34] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 AND when Lycurgus heard his guest would 
 go 
 That very eve, he press'd him not to stay. 
 " I came," said Demophoon, " one night to rest 
 Beneath thy roof ; the days have come and gone, 
 And still I linger. Athens calls to me, 
 And I must hence to tell her of the war. 
 Again I feel, as when on yonder ship 
 I braved the tempest, eager and alert 
 To face the gods and learn the destiny 
 That's written for the morrow. In the hold 
 The slaves have grown rebellious, and would 
 
 break 
 The rusted chains that clank beneath their feet. 
 This mom they slew the wretch who flings them 
 
 food, 
 And broke his bones among them. I have sworn 
 To set them free when once their task is done, 
 And blame not their impatience. Thou art still 
 Most kind to me, Lycurgus ; Thrace shall be 
 Remember'd in my daily sacrifice ; 
 But I a warrior am, with work to do, 
 And dawn must find me 'compass'd by the sea." 
 " Thou takest friendship with thee," said the 
 
 king, 
 " Than which the gods can grant no finer thing ; 
 My days are almost done. Upon my cheeks, 
 As though it blew from icy solitudes, 
 [35] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 The breeze is chill already ; and the while 
 
 I saw thee with the maiden, I did dream 
 
 That thou and she — Ah, well! the gods know 
 
 best, 
 And Athens calls thee. Go for thy reward." 
 But while he spoke the other raised his hand 
 As if in protestation. " King," said he, 
 " The empty plaudits of the gaping crowd 
 To thee and me are nothing. Work is all, 
 And faith of men. And I am one whose days 
 Are spent with men since boyhood. Thus I 
 
 know 
 Friendship, and faith, and honor; but of love 
 I know not yet, nor know I that I care. 
 The while a voice is ringing in my ear 
 I listen and am happy ; but at last, 
 When once the voice is silent, I forget. 
 It was not thus in battle. Even now 
 I dream of shouts and clanging brass on brass. 
 And thudding rocks by groaning engines hurPd 
 Against the buttress'd walls of smoking Troy. 
 Therefore I go to Athens. There I feel 
 Man among men ; there men ask naught of me 
 Except to lead them bravely in the fight 
 And rule with even justice. Women's whims 
 Make strong men weak. I was not made for 
 
 chains. 
 Nor would I barter freedom for a kiss." 
 [36] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 And old Lycurgus answer'd not a word, 
 For well he knew youth's folly ; well he knew 
 That men must stand upon the brink of death 
 To learn of life, and love ; must first be old 
 To know youth's value and a woman's worth. 
 *' A fair wind feed thy brightly-painted sails 
 And blow thee safely home," he said at last. 
 " And if thou e'er hast need to call a friend, 
 Forget not old Lycurgus. Very soon 
 His place shall be among the kings that fell 
 On Ilium's plain ; his voice shall silenced be. 
 Or sigh as sighs the breeze among the reeds 
 That nod above the melancholy sea. 
 But while his eyes find pleasure in the sun. 
 And he is fit for council or for war, 
 Thy friend he is, and offers thee his love 
 As here his hand ; then, take it, and — farewell ! " 
 And Demophoon bent low, and saw him pass. 
 Attended, from the chamber, as a king 
 Whom all men honor passes. But his back 
 Was bow'd as with much sorrow, and his eyes 
 That once had braved the lightning of the 
 
 gods 
 Were troubled now and fix'd upon the ground. 
 And all in vain his Syrian slave essay'd 
 To hearten him with soothing melodies 
 Won from a golden harp ; rememb'ring now 
 The dream of gentle Phyllis, and the grief 
 [37] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 That soon would make its home within her 
 
 heart, 
 His own was heavy, for he loved her well. 
 And when the slave had left him, and he sat 
 Alone beneath the purple canopy 
 Above his throne, he mock'd his empty lot. 
 For well he knew the lowly peasant knows 
 The joys to kings forbidden ; and the herd, 
 His labors done, beside his hearth can see 
 A daughter's eyes grow soft above her babe. 
 
 UT Phyllis gave no sign when Demo- 
 
 phoon 
 
 Had left her in the gardens. They had 
 met 
 Beside the fountains where he first beheld 
 The tinted loveliness of rounded cheek 
 Remember'd of young Naxos, when his eyes 
 No more might see the sentried walls of Troy. 
 And though as yet he had not said a word 
 To tell her of his going, she had seen 
 That very morn the sailors on the ship 
 Run here and there, while Halmus scann'd the 
 
 sky 
 Or watch'd the palace ; and the eager slaves, 
 Hearing the noise of feet upon the deck, 
 [38] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 Had sung the while they waited in the hold 
 The praise of Athens and of Demophoon. 
 And though the ship was far away from her 
 She heard the song, and hearing, hoped no more. 
 Then turn'd she to her slaves and bade them 
 
 bring 
 From carven chests of camphor-wood and fir 
 A purple robe that hid without restraint 
 Her body's beauty ; and her hair they loosed 
 Until it fell below an ample waist 
 Spann'd by a silver girdle. To her feet 
 They bound her scented sandals, with their 
 
 thongs 
 White as her arching insteps, and as soft ; 
 Then gave they her a disc of polish'd steel 
 With rubied handle, and therein she saw, 
 As in a pool the wan moon's loveliness. 
 Her own pale face, and knew how fair she was. 
 " Thou smellest of the lilac," said the slave 
 She favor'd most. " The fragrance of thy hair 
 Would make a god desirous. On thy brow 
 The Dawn's white fingers linger, but thy mouth 
 Is crimson like the tempting mouth of Love." 
 But Phyllis gazed upon the gleaming disc 
 And answer'd not. " Thy silken lashes droop 
 Like curtains o'er thy melancholy eyes. 
 And rest on cheeks of marble. Yesterday 
 As crimson they as this red rose I place 
 
 [39] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Above thy heart ; but now the palest bud 
 That mourns a bright, inconstant butterfly 
 More hopeful is than thou. So fair thou art, 
 Sweet child of Her ! I would thou wert not 
 
 sad." 
 " The very gods must suffer, why not we.^^ " 
 The maiden answer'd, speaking to herself 
 The while her eyes dream'd seaward. 
 " Free are the Winds to go where e'er they will. 
 Yet listen in the silences of night 
 And thou shalt hear them moaning ; and the hills 
 That love th' impulsive Dawn, whose iv'ry feet 
 'Light on their brows and then as swiftly pass, 
 Grow silent as the dusk descends on them. 
 Hushing the fragrant valleys. In the skies 
 Embolden'd stars step forth and disappear, 
 Their song unfinish'd ere the morning comes. 
 This rose has known a sorrow, and its scent 
 Is but a protest, could we understand, 
 Sigh'd to the gods whose ears are ever closed. 
 And thou and I, who serve a while or sigh 
 Amid the frenzied tumult known as life, 
 Are less than they — than wind, or hill, or star. 
 Less than the rose whose fragrance fills the air 
 The while it passes ; yet we deem us free ! " 
 
 [40] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 AND speaking thus she pass'd with that one 
 slave 
 Down the wide marble stairway, till she came 
 To where the fountains play'd, while up and 
 
 down 
 Her peacocks strutted, scornful of the skies 
 And all the garden's beauties. And before 
 The startled birds walk'd haughtily away, 
 Revealing thus her presence, Demophoon 
 Was seen of her as thoughtfully he paced 
 Her fancied path. Then slipp'd the slave away, 
 And Phyllis call'd him in a voice so low 
 He heard her not until she call'd again ; 
 And then he saw her. And without a word 
 He went to where she linger'd, watching him, 
 And bent above the fragrance of her hand. 
 And when he spoke his voice was as the voice 
 Of one who feels each minute is his last, 
 And fain would tell in swift, impetuous speech 
 A life-time's story. " Princess, I must go 
 Because my people call me. I am one 
 Whose life is theirs, is Athens'. Hapless he 
 Who rules to serve. The peasant or the slave 
 Laughs at the stars ; he builds his thatched hut 
 Beside a brook, and, with his wife and babes. 
 Moves evenly through life. Watch'd by the 
 
 gods, 
 Imprison'd in their guarded palaces, 
 [41] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 With all men's burdens on their bending backs 
 Kings stagger to their end. From dawn till 
 
 dusk 
 Cold eyes take note of them, and colder hands 
 Belie the red within a courtier's lips. 
 Led men may flock together ; but apart 
 Kings walk, and poets, crown'd in loneliness." 
 But Phyllis shook her head when he was done. 
 " I only know thou goest," she replied : 
 " And though thy lot is by the gods decreed 
 I would that I might change it to thy wish. 
 In other days, when other breezes blow 
 Soft fragrances about thee, think of one 
 To whom thou wert, and ever art, not king. 
 But Demophoon of Athens. Think of me. 
 When hush'd are all the brassy calls to war 
 That make thy spirit straighten, as a maid 
 Like other maids, most wistful, though her 
 
 place 
 And circumstance must make her seeming cold. 
 And though my burden other be than thine, 
 I shall not murmur, lest the gods deride 
 A grief no god can ease or understand." 
 And Demophoon was troubled, and his eyes 
 Roved to the sea, whereon his eager ship 
 Strain'd at its chain, as though it fain would 
 
 seek 
 The deeper waters ere the darkness fell. 
 [42] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 For while they spoke, with eyes that look'd 
 
 away 
 Lest each might gaze too long, and so be lost, 
 The sun had sunk behind the Thracian hills. 
 And all the sea was purple. And the fields 
 Yellow with corn or green with long, lush grass 
 Lay strangely silent ; for they knew that now 
 The gentle Evening soon would pass that way 
 And lay cool hands upon them ; and the Night 
 Would watch them when they slumber'd, while 
 
 they dream'd. 
 And while the sun sank lower, darker grew 
 The distant skies, and darker still the waves ; 
 And all the ships, whose snowy sails were fill'd 
 By truant winds, now seem'd like skimming gulls 
 That rose and fell, and wheel'd and veer'd again 
 And made the port or disappear'd to sea. 
 And when the dusk had hid the tell-tale blush 
 That warm'd her cheek, the maiden turn'd to 
 
 him, 
 Unfearing now her love might be betray'd. 
 And bade him lead her once where wound the 
 
 paths 
 Amid her fragrant sisters. " See ! " she said ; 
 " Each gentle bloom has closed its pretty eyes 
 In slumber ere thou goest. When they wake, 
 The winds will tell the roses thou art gone, 
 And they shall laugh no longer. Ere the sound 
 [43] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Of morning's trumpets shocks the sleeping sea, 
 The tears shall lie upon their crimson cheeks ; 
 And though the glory shall seem dear to them, 
 They still shall mourn for thee, for Demophoon. 
 And while I pass, their eager thorns will strive 
 To hold me prisoner, who let thee go 
 Who loved them once and touch'd them ten- 
 derly." 
 But Demophoon made merry. " Nay," he said ; 
 " When once thy roses see thy perfect face 
 Above their own, they will not think of me. 
 But here I vow, by yon transcendent star 
 So constant and so perfect, here I vow 
 To tread again these fragrant paths of thine 
 Before thy roses vanish, ere they go 
 Where thou and I must meet when all is done." 
 " Men vow so lightly ; but the stars have heard," 
 The maiden whisper'd. " If thou comest not 
 The reddest rose shall droop before its time ; 
 And Avhen thou standest in the fields of peace 
 Where silence is, and Proserpine holds sway. 
 The ghosts shall scorn thee, and shall turn aside 
 To leave thee lonely, thinking of thy vow." 
 
 AND thus they linger'd while the stars came 
 out 
 And heaven seem'd all a-fire. And now the sea, 
 Restless and phosphorescent, like the flood 
 [44] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 That seethes around the making of a world, 
 Flung on the shore vast waves that flared and 
 
 flamed 
 And thunder'd once and were forever still. 
 " I vow to pluck thy roses ere they fade," 
 Said Demophoon, the while he look'd away ; 
 " And if I come not, be thou sure I sleep 
 Beyond the sound of voices. But, behold ! " — 
 He cried, as rent all suddenly the dai'k 
 A ruddy flame that vanished like a ghost — 
 " Yon signal bids me hasten. Halmus says, 
 In that red speech, the tide would bear us home 
 To Athens, and our duty. Fare thee well. 
 My gentle Phyllis. May the deathless gods 
 And brightest Fortune guard thee ; may the love 
 Of those thou lovest circle thee about 
 Like this sweet scent of lilac and of rose. 
 And evermore be sure of Demophoon, 
 Who bends before thy goodness, and would bear 
 No fonder recollection through his life 
 Than this chaste kiss he places on thy hand." 
 And while she trembled, and with startled eyes 
 Gazed at the dark about her, he was gone — 
 While yet she heard the echo of his voice. 
 While yet her hand was hot beneath his kiss. 
 
 [45] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 SO still she stood, the night-moths fear'd 
 her not, 
 But sought, and left, their fragrant petal-loves ; 
 As moths and men, since erst the world began. 
 Have loved a while and flutter'd to the dusk. 
 And, one by one, behind the shelt'ring hills 
 The stars crept ever westward, where the sun 
 Had bid them follow, laughing at their love. 
 And luring them with brightest glances on. 
 And very soon the wearied slave stepp'd forth 
 From out the shadows where she long had hid. 
 And kiss'd her sandal'd feet, and kiss'd again. 
 But Phyllis said no word. Her gaze was fix'd 
 Upon the far horizon, faintly seen 
 As one long line that sunder'd her from him 
 Whose face was as a dream-face ; still she heard 
 His voice, his laugh, above the sobbing sea 
 That never sings at twilight or at dawn. 
 But whispers then its hopeless litany. 
 And when the last bright orb had left the skies. 
 And here and there a first faint flush appear'd 
 To hint the coming Dawn, from where she stood 
 Beneath the lilacs Phyllis held her arms 
 Outstretch'd to Athens. For, with light, she 
 
 saw 
 Her fond illusion shatter'd, and the sea 
 Now grey and all deserted ; and the ship 
 That held her love had pass'd for evermore. 
 
 [46] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 BUT, one by one, the roses red and pale. 
 Like thoughtless maids that love and are 
 undone, 
 Bestow'd their subtle sweetness on the air ; 
 And, one by one, they droop'd their heads in 
 
 shame 
 Till all their velvet beauty lay a-waste 
 And all their fragrance was a thing forgot. 
 And other roses bloom'd, and went the way 
 Of all things fair ; and soon the lilacs' scent 
 Seem'd fainter than a half-remember'd dream. 
 And still the sun shone, and the Winds' soft 
 
 laugh 
 Was heard at dawn while all the hills were wet 
 And stars were faintly gleaming. For the gods 
 Take little note of things that seem to us 
 Of vast concern. Our griefs and our delights 
 Are naught to them, who watch in marbled calm 
 From golden heights and barriers of peace 
 The fretful world. The things inanimate 
 To our dull comprehension, things that were 
 Before we had our being — these they love ; 
 For trees are gentle and the stars are true, 
 And oh ! the perfect sympathy of hills ! 
 Yet gods may err. For truer than the stars 
 The maid whose eyes look out upon the world 
 In ever-growing wonder. In her heart 
 Compassion dwells, and longing ; and a trust 
 
 [47] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 That makes the warp'd thing perfect, keeps her 
 
 kind. 
 All's white within her, and a glory swathes, 
 Protectingly, her being. Thus she lives 
 In palaces of crystal ; thus she hears 
 Insistent voices, faint yet ever near. 
 That sing their songs of promise. And, at last, 
 When all the glinting structure falls to earth, 
 And thunders wake her latent womanhood, 
 She rises, splendid ; and nor Time nor Death 
 Can take from her the mem'ry of the past. 
 But, day by day, pale Phyllis watch'd the sea, 
 And paler grew ere sundown. Day by day. 
 She stood where once the fragrant lilacs 
 
 bloom'd. 
 And watch'd the line that parted her from him 
 Who vow'd to cull her roses ere they fell. 
 But well ye know the value of a vow 
 Made on a summer's eve, when all the air 
 Is warm with subtle fragrance, and the maid 
 Is fairer than a lily. Men have told 
 A moon-awaken'd passion, and forgot 
 Their frenzy long ere morning sober'd them. 
 There's not a wind that cools a fever'd mouth 
 More fickle than a lover, whom the dusk 
 Makes half-desirous, as the bee is made 
 Desirous of the bud at set of sun. 
 But Phyllis hoped, and, hoping, was as one 
 [48] 
 
PHYLLIS AND DEMOPHOON 
 
 That sees the thing she longs for to her hand, 
 Forgetting all is shadow. Still she dream'd 
 Her sighs could reach to Athens, and her 
 
 prayers 
 Be heard above the noisy praise of men. 
 And, day by day, she watch'd the white-wing'd 
 
 ships 
 Creep slowly up from Carthage or from Tyre, 
 And heard the clanking menace of the chains 
 While on their oars the slaves pull'd wearily ; 
 But never came the ship she knew so well. 
 And nevermore to her came Demophoon. 
 And, day by day, she paled, until at last 
 She watch'd for him no longer, being one 
 With all fair things whose little hour is done ; 
 That question not, nor wonder ; being one 
 With utter'd song, with roses and with dreams. 
 And all the sweet, slain weeds along the shore. 
 
 [49] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 ESIDE a pool, a willow's width across, 
 Amid the forest's lush serenity 
 Old Pan lay sleeping. At his side his 
 pipes, 
 Dreaming, perhaps, of melodies unborn, 
 Lay idle, too ; and all the air was soft 
 With drowsy harmonies and song subdued. 
 No noise of beasts, or forest revelry 
 Disturb'd the sleeper ; in the boughs the birds 
 Perch'd lazily and silent, and the Winds 
 Had put aside their harps, and slumber'd, too. 
 For Phoebus now had reach'd that highest place 
 Whence curves the azure downward, and the 
 
 while 
 His smoking steeds raced homeward, on the earth 
 Turn'd his bright gaze and scorch'd it with his 
 
 pride. 
 
 [53] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 From where he kept his gleaming chariot 
 Upon its destined path, the glory stream'd 
 O'er plain and hill ; it fill'd the lowly vale 
 And bathed the rugged mountains. But the 
 
 woods 
 Absorb'd the sunshine as they might the rain ; 
 And though each aisle soon quiver'd with the 
 
 light 
 Ask'd more and more, and were not satisfied. 
 It seem'd as though in fields Olympian 
 The gods were met, and there had garner'd it — • 
 This golden sunshine. And the while they sang 
 They look'd with love upon the gleaming world, 
 And, laughing loud, upheld their shining hands 
 And pour'd the glinting treasure on the air. 
 It sifted down past isolated suns. 
 Past all the flaming galaxies of stars 
 And whirling constellations, till it touch'd 
 Earth's airy veil, and then diffused itself 
 Through all the order'd channels of the world. 
 It swathed the bronzen beeches ; and the blooms 
 That spent their days unnoticed in the grass 
 Or hid beneath the needles of the pine. 
 Were warm'd in their seclusion by the glow 
 And bless'd as were the cedars and the fir. 
 Unfearful of the hunter's barbed dart 
 The pretty deer had sought the welcome shade 
 And lay a-drowse, or raised their antler'd heads 
 [54] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 Whene'er a bird, or brown and shy-eyed hare, 
 Disturb'd the silence and affrighted them. 
 Thus Peace, the gentle priestess of the noon, 
 Moved slowly through the forest, in her arms 
 Wild roses, newly gather'd ; and the air 
 Was odorous and heavy with the hum 
 Of vagrant insects and the scent of pines. 
 But Pan slept on, unmindful of the bird 
 That twitter'd on his bosom, or the hare 
 That leap'd across his haunches. Did he dream 
 Of dances held at moonlight, where the woods 
 With softest grass were ever carpeted? 
 Or did he hear the subtle harmonies 
 Beyond man's hearing — plaints of falling leaves, 
 The soil songs and the choruses of winds ? 
 Ah, ask me not ; for I can only tell 
 The tales I hear, and more I do not know. 
 
 AND when the steeds that coursed the arch'd 
 serene 
 Had toil'd perhaps an hour, there came that 
 
 way 
 From out the odor'd shade beneath the trees 
 A nymph a-tiptoe. Glancing everywhere 
 She braved the open, but with hand at ear 
 Was wakeful ever for the faintest sound. 
 Seldom to-day is seen such loveliness 
 As hers, that flower'd amid those silent woods 
 [55] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Along with virgin lilies. In the night 
 The pine's sweet fragrance and the smell of fern 
 And wild, wet roses made her slumber deep ; 
 But long before the squirrels were awake 
 The forest heard her laughter and her song. 
 So slight she was, the daisies minded not 
 Her loit'ring foot, but each, when she had pass'd 
 Sprung laughing up, with eyes inquisitive. 
 And spied upon her beauty. White as milk 
 Her limbs and body ; but her cheeks were touch'd 
 With faintest pink, as where the sun has warm'd 
 The tempting peach's downy excellence. 
 Her eyes were blue as was the pool that noon ; 
 Her lips were scarlet, and were curved beneath 
 A saucy nose that match'd a thoughtless brow. 
 But all the white and dawn-faint pink of her 
 Was made more perfect by her matchless hair, 
 Whose wondrous red enhalo'd like a flame 
 The face that smiled beneath it, or was sad. 
 And soon from where she stood upon a mound 
 She saw the god asleep within the shade. 
 And fear'd to wake him; but the butterfly 
 Made no more noise than she, and so she pass'd 
 All unobserved to where the lazy pool 
 Allured the gleams of Phoebus. Then she bound 
 Her flaming hair in coils about her head. 
 And, lightly poised upon a balanced stone. 
 She watch'd her beauty in the moveless flood — 
 
 [56] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 The perfect neck well-set above a breast 
 Where babes might some day nestle, rounded 
 
 hips 
 And modest knees, and small arch'd feet of her. 
 And when she saw how well the white of her 
 Was mirror'd there, and all her loveliness 
 Lay clear beneath, she smiled, and, kneeling 
 
 down, 
 Look'd closer at the face that seem'd to wear 
 A sunset all about it ; but the skies 
 No bluer than her eyes were, and her lips 
 More scarlet seem'd than seeds of pomegranate. 
 And when she thus had seen how fair she was. 
 And noted well her ankles and her wrists 
 And all the lily loveliness between, 
 She stood erect and with protecting arms 
 Flash'd headlong in the water. There she swam, 
 Or floated idly as may float the leaf 
 Which summer winds with hapless piloting 
 Blow here and there across such tiny seas. 
 But soon she wearied of her aimless sport 
 And sought the reed-fringed edges of the pool, 
 And there sat down, and let the breezes dry 
 Her fragrant hair. And soon her glances roved 
 To where old Pan still dream'd, if know ye 
 
 would. 
 Of fickle gods aflame for willing maids. 
 And shepherds won by wooing goddesses. 
 [57] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 And while she gazed, there stole across her mind 
 The tale a nymph had told her on a night 
 When, all alone, in silv'ry bliss enswathed, 
 The peace had led to maiden confidence. 
 *' Pan's love art thou now Niphe is no more," 
 The nymph had said. " His eyes have follow'd 
 
 thee 
 By day and night, although thou knowest not 
 His wayward wooing." Now reminded of 
 The idle tale, she laugh'd, yet gazed the more ; 
 And wonder'd why the stars so constant are 
 While lovers vow, grow cold, and then — forget ! 
 Then stepp'd she softly o'er the yielding grass 
 And lay beside him, and her breath disturb'd 
 The curls upon his temples, and he moved. 
 And, moving, sigh'd her name. Then Pitys 
 
 smiled 
 And pluck'd a long-stemm'd clover, and there- 
 with 
 She touch'd the god's red nostrils, touch'd again 
 Until he dream'd no longer, but beheld. 
 While slowly Sleep released him from his spell, 
 The gleaming nymph beside him, laughing still. 
 " Awake, old Pan ! " she cried, and pull'd his 
 
 beard. 
 Then let him kiss the hand that tortured him; 
 " Awake ! The Day is hasting to its close. 
 Thou knowest well how soon the hopeless Eve 
 [58] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 Pursues, with lighted lamps, the flying sun 
 When once he hurries downward to the west 
 Where gentle Peace awaits him. Thou as well 
 Art older now and sadder than this mom ; 
 And yet thou sleepest, and thy pipes no more 
 Allure my sisters from the beeches' shade." 
 Then on her head the grey god laid his hand 
 As on a thoughtless blossom ; from his eyes 
 The mirth had now departed, and he gazed 
 A little while so steadily at her 
 That she at once was silenced. " Old am I," 
 He said at last, the while he stroked her hair; 
 " And sadden'd, too ; who have beheld these trees 
 Shoot starward from their cradles in the soil. 
 I piped their birth-song, and I danced the 
 
 while 
 Thy father woo'd thy mother long before. 
 Older am I than forests, little maid. 
 And I am far more weary than the hills." 
 " Then take thy pipes and drive thy care away 
 With wild, insistent music," she replied ; 
 " These many days thou hast not play'd for 
 
 us. 
 Though oft where grow the swaying reeds I 
 
 hide 
 And watch thee brood, aloof from merriment. 
 Thy pipes are ever idle ; on thy face 
 The shadows linger, and thou laughest not 
 
 [59] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 As was thy wont when fondest Niphe came 
 From out the woods and charm'd thy gloom 
 
 away. 
 Then be not sad, good Pan. I would that I 
 Might make thee smile ; play once for me, and 
 
 thou 
 Perchance shalt all thy weariness forget." 
 Then gave she him the reedy instrument, 
 But Idss'd it ere he placed it to his lips. 
 And then he blew a plaintive melody 
 As none may hear who lived not in the days 
 Of dream and of desire ; so sweet an air 
 As made the breezes envious, and the trees 
 Sway their lithe arms in utter ecstasy. 
 And Pitys lay, the while the old god play'd, 
 With chin in palm, and beat upon the grass 
 Her tiny toes to suit the music's time, 
 Biting the while the long, sweet clover stalk 
 As fragrant as her maiden innocence. 
 But now Pan's mood was changing, and he 
 
 play'd 
 A sadder air, an air of falling leaves 
 And chilly dusks, and skies that threaten men 
 Despite their dumb submission to the Fates. 
 It seem'd to Pitys that before her eyes 
 Pass'd Autumn in her robes of violet 
 And noiseless sandals. Whisp'ring to the world 
 The Hymn of Preparation, on the trees 
 [60] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 She laid her hands and bless'd them, shriving 
 
 them 
 For wanton wooings with the winds of spring, 
 Preparing them for sleep. Upon the hills 
 She also linger'd, and the upland blooms 
 Beheld the holy beauty of her face 
 And closed their eyes to other loveliness. 
 And then he play'd a dirge funereal, 
 A hymn of Night and cloud-enshrouded stars, 
 Of stilly heights and forests fast asleep 
 Beneath the snows of winter. From afar 
 The music came, and vanish'd like the shades 
 Of mighty trees when hidden is the moon. 
 And then it seem'd to Pitys, watching him 
 With parted lips, that Pan grew glad again. 
 For now he blew a wild, unearthly strain, 
 A strain of wind and clouds that ever changed 
 In skies of gold and azure ; in her ears 
 The cymbals sounded of the clashing seas 
 When Neptune sits in splendor, or from out 
 The depths the Queen arises, she who is 
 The world's one love, white Venus, the Desired. 
 Then wilder grew the music, till it seem'd 
 Before her eyes night's stars were all a-whirl 
 And all the sky was flaming. And at last 
 With one long note that swell'd and died 
 
 away 
 And swell'd again, and stopp'd most suddenly, 
 [61] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Pan ceased, and laugh'd; then laid his pipes 
 
 aside 
 And Silence breathed her peace about the twain. 
 
 WHERE are je gone, sweet melodies of old. 
 That charm'd the ears of pensive maiden- 
 hood 
 And made the wood nymphs listen ? On the hills 
 Th' illusive wind still trails its winged feet, 
 And Beauty haunts the forests ; but no more 
 In shaded glen or where the hills arise 
 Are heard the pipes of satyrs, or the songs 
 That woke the woods when pale Diana pass'd. 
 Above our heads the blessed lark still sings, 
 And vanishes in music ; and the while 
 We wait in breathless wonder its return 
 We think of ye, the first sweet melodies 
 That broke the glen's cool silence, and regret 
 The subtle music we have never heard. 
 Ye are no more. Perhaps in other days 
 When dreams return to soothe the weary world 
 And teach its foolish children to enjoy. 
 The uplands shall be waken'd in the dawn 
 By Pan's clear flute ; the shaded dells may know 
 The song of wide-eyed faun. And though no 
 
 more 
 The joy of morn or dusk shall come to us, 
 And though we hope no longer, nor may yearn, 
 [62] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 The far, faint echoes of the happy strain 
 Shall fill the air, and bless us, in our sleep. 
 
 THEN Pitys rose, and stroked the god's 
 rough cheeks. 
 " Thou pipest well, indeed, old Pan," she said ; 
 " The air still trembles with thy melodies. 
 And, hark ! A thrush has caught that last, 
 
 sweet note 
 And sings thee back thy music; and the Winds 
 Have laid their fitful fingers to their harps 
 To play when once the trilling voice is still. 
 So oft I've heard thee wake the sleepy woods 
 At twilight when the stars grow languorous 
 And only shepherds listen ! But thy pipes 
 Are sweet with subtle sadness. Never now 
 Thou pipest of the morning, or delight, 
 Of loves of laughing roses. Sad art thou, 
 O gentle Pan, despite thy fadeless crown, 
 Despite thy gift of music. Tell me why.'' " 
 Then lean'd the nymph against the grey old god 
 And tenderly caress'd him, as against 
 A crumbling wall the honeysuckle leans. 
 Fearless and very fragrant. From the sky 
 The pawing steeds and flaming chariot 
 Of silver-sandal'd Phoebus now were gone, 
 Resting in coral caverns by the sea 
 Until the call of Morning; and the light 
 
 [63] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 That linger'd on the mountains, and upon 
 The voiceless woods fell still and solemnly, 
 Was subtly soft, as is the touch of one 
 That loves with holy passion. Then again. 
 As though no ear might hear her save her own. 
 Spoke gentle Pitys, and her face was turn'd 
 To where the first star glitter'd in the sky. 
 " O Hesperus, thou that risest o'er the hills 
 Like silver'd priest from hidden lands of dream. 
 Bearing the solemn peace of sapphire seas 
 And gentle drowsiness in either hand. 
 Heed thou the praise that rises from my heart, 
 Hear thou the hymn that must be sweet to thee. 
 Behind thee treads the Evening, shadow-eyed. 
 Whom now we welcome. Thou her herald art, 
 Because thou art most fair, most pure, and 
 
 young. 
 The little birds cease singing when they see 
 Thy first faint gleam ; they tell the breathless 
 
 deer 
 Thou shinest in the sky, where reigns the moon. 
 And Dian hunts no long,er. Now no more 
 Her maidens roam the forest. Day is done. 
 The altar smoke is rising; in the fields 
 The cattle are at rest. Look down on us, 
 O Hesperus, gentle Even's eremite. 
 The while thou movest onward; dart thy rays 
 On Pan's grey head and mine, until the moon 
 [64] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 Bathes us in soft effulgence. And at last, 
 When come thou art to where the pale gods sit 
 Beyond the noise of mortals, speak of us 
 As loving them, as two that fain would kneel 
 In amber twilight near them, and at peace." 
 The while she pray'd, the grey god took his 
 
 pipes 
 And play'd again, a soft, illusive air 
 Such as suggests the wild wind in the wheat. 
 Or rain on shallow waters. And the moon, 
 Still large and golden, on the god's curl'd locks 
 Stream'd silently and softly. But the hair 
 Of her that look'd with wide, unseeing eyes 
 Upon the deep'ning shadows, smoulder'd now, 
 As though far down amid its scented dusk 
 A flame were hidden, and from time to time 
 Lit all the depths of wavy wondrousness 
 That shaded well a brow so chastely white. 
 
 |?H0 that has heard, on such a summer's 
 f night. 
 
 From out the utter silences arise 
 The restless wind, but wonders if its sigh 
 May stir a nymph's hot pulses.'' Who that sees 
 The shadows sway to fairy melody. 
 But wonders where the player with his flute.'' 
 [65] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Who has not seen the uncomplaining trees 
 Move in their dreams, or watch'd the ghostly 
 
 dance 
 Of yellow'd leaves, nor felt that other eyes 
 Beheld with his the ancient mystery? 
 Who has not felt, when all the woods are still. 
 Upon a cheek grown pale beneath the moon 
 The stir of half-heard sighs, or ghostly breaths 
 That hint a presence hid amid the fern? 
 For though no more we dream the dreams of 
 
 old, 
 Or hear the olden voices, in our midst 
 The gods still linger. As of yore they watch 
 From viewless thrones amid the amethyst 
 Night follow Day, and all the incidents 
 That seem to us important — birth and death, 
 And love that makes us restless as the sea ; 
 And when the blue serenity is won 
 By monstrous storm, and heaven's wide arch is 
 
 split 
 By horrid flame, they ride the purple clouds 
 And thunder their derision to the stars. 
 We see them not ; and yet the same gods tread 
 The forest's needled grasses ; they abide 
 In silent places where the bee lies faint 
 Above the ravish'd clover; and the while 
 The shadows glide beneath the silver'd trees. 
 And Night bends low above the sleeping world, 
 [66] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 They seek the haunts that still are dear to them 
 And tell the tales our ears no more may hear. 
 The gods are with us still; and Loveliness, 
 Whose name is Change, although we know it not. 
 As once she pass'd while yet the world was 
 
 young 
 From place to place moves ever silently. 
 That men may see the glory of her face 
 And strive for higher things. Upon the hills 
 She walks at dawn ; the sunset is a smile 
 Upon her solemn features ; and the hush 
 Of heavy noon, when all the pools are still, 
 Tells of the peace that ever circles her. 
 
 THEN Pitys took from where they idle lay 
 The silent pipes. " The moon has made 
 me dream. 
 Old Pan," she said. " Blow now that I may see 
 The phantom things that come when music calls 
 On velvet nights, pale things that softly flit 
 Within the shadow when the dawn appears." 
 And onc» again the grey god play'd for her 
 A wild, low strain ; a strain that seem'd to melt, 
 Enamor'd, in the fragrance of the dusk. 
 And she who lay and listen'd at his feet, 
 With chin in palms and elbows in the grass. 
 Was still and silent like a marbled thing 
 That wonders in the moonlight. And the while 
 
 [67] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 The mellow notes rose upward to the stars, 
 She watch'd the god, and in his slanted eyes 
 Saw that which drew her to him. Then she 
 
 rose 
 From out her bed of clover ; and she stood 
 With one white arm about him, cheek to cheek, 
 While he blew gently on his magic pipes. 
 But blew no more when once she lean'd too far 
 And placed her lips near his. For now he 
 
 turn'd 
 And clasp'd the nymph, who fain had drawn 
 
 away 
 Had he not held her firmly. Then he spoke, 
 As spoke the gods when maids were yet to win 
 By love and wooing; and his voice was soft 
 As skies are soft when twilight yields to night: 
 " Now art thou caught, bright nymph. Yet, 
 
 fear me not. 
 Despite my rugged wooing. Safe art thou 
 In these huge arms as when thou swingest high 
 Above the earth thou lovest. Never yet 
 Has Pan despoiled the charm of maidenhood 
 Or made a nymph unhappy ; never yet 
 Have list'ning fauns fled frighten'd when his 
 
 pipes 
 Made music in the forests." But the child 
 From his embrace essay'd to free herself 
 And smote him — ah ! how lightly — on his cheek. 
 [68] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 " Dear Pan ! " she pleaded, " let me go, good 
 
 Pan! 
 I fear thee not ; for good thou art and kind. 
 But stern is white Diana. She may step 
 From out the gloom and see me. Let me go ! " 
 But Pan held fast tlie nymph, and heeded not. 
 " I love thee, maid," he whisper'd in her ear ; 
 " I love thee, Pitys ; I, who older am 
 Than forest Titans, love thee, with thy hair 
 Ruddy as primal fire. I have beheld 
 The northern maidens whiter than the moon, 
 And sloe-eyed beauties tann'd by wind and sun ; 
 And I have seen the face of Her whose gaze 
 Would blind thy gentle vision ; but, like thee 
 No maid have I in all my wand'rings known." 
 And she, well knowing that to plead were vain, 
 Caress'd his cheek, but teased him with her 
 
 speech : 
 *' And I, old Pan, am younger than the fir 
 That grows by yonder pool. When I was born 
 The fir was half its height, and sixteen years 
 I watch its aspiration to the stars. 
 Good Pan, dear Pan, thou must not hold me 
 
 thus. 
 I fear the white Diana ! There may be 
 In yonder copse, a satyr who will tell 
 His fellows of thy wooing and my shame. 
 Then kiss me once, nay, kiss me many times 
 
 [69] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 If kiss thou wilt ; but let me go, good Pan, 
 Before the nymphs behold and laugh at me." 
 But Pan held fast the maid in his embrace. 
 " Love asks for more than kisses," he replied ; 
 " And thee I love, sweet Pitys. Mock me not, 
 Whose years are more, a thousand-fold, than 
 
 thine ; 
 For so much more I love, and so much more 
 Can love than one whose years, like thine, are 
 
 few." 
 Thus spoke he, and was silent, holding still 
 The partly willing maid. No satyr yet 
 Had woo'd and won her from her couch of fern 
 Where sway'd the solemn shadows, or had made 
 Her pulses beat the faster with a song 
 That quaver'd in the moonlight and was gone. 
 And yet in dreams this thing had come to her, 
 And Eros, golden-quiver'd, in her heart 
 Had shot his first, swift arrow. But the one 
 Whose face illumed the vast domain of Night 
 And paled the silver splendor of the stars. 
 Was one whose eyes beheld the doors of Life 
 With eager expectation, one who smiled 
 At Death itself when Glory's trumpets call'd. 
 And him the nymph remember'd ; for the heart 
 Of youth seeks youth, and lips that kiss and 
 
 cling 
 Despite the warning thunder of the gods 
 [70] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 To youth alone, that heeds nor gods nor man, 
 Will make surrender as the dusk descends. 
 " So often thou hast loved," she said at last. 
 When warm she felt his breath upon her cheek, 
 " That thou thyself deceivest, gentle Pan. 
 No goddess I to win thee with a charm 
 Beyond maid's comprehension. Thou hast 
 
 piped 
 In stilly woods beside the knees of Her 
 Whom men and gods call fairest ; thou hast seen 
 Diana's beauties, and the Dawn has heard 
 Thy fond farewells, thy promises and sighs. 
 To more fair maids than I have ever known. 
 And Echo says thy promises are vain ; 
 For, once, she was thy darling, but no more 
 Thou wooest her, or with thy mellow flute 
 Dost drive the swaying shadows from her eyes. 
 And Niphe, too, who died, so sing the birds. 
 Because thou wouldst not wed, but only love. 
 Thou lovest but this ruddy hair of mine, 
 These rounded arms far whiter than the milk 
 Of mountain goats ; my lips, my eyes, my 
 
 throat — 
 Thou lovest these, but me thou lovest not. 
 O fickle Pan ! I beg thee let me go 
 That I may seek my bed amid the fern." 
 But Pan knew well that women, to be won, 
 Must be besieged, and so held fast to her 
 [71] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 And pleaded further, " Thee alone I love," 
 He said with lips that warm'd her crimson ear; 
 ** With others I have dallied when the woods 
 Were hot at noon ; and I have play'd to them 
 And said, perhaps, I loved them. But the gods 
 Take small account of whisper'd promises 
 Or vows of ardent lovers. Thou alone 
 Art she to whom the very stars would lean 
 To see perfection ; and to thee I make 
 The vows that shall be lasting. Think no more 
 Of Echo or of Niphe. Nymphs they were 
 That pleased my idle moments, made me pipe 
 And kiss'd, perhaps, to hear me pipe again. 
 These many years I play the marriage songs 
 For gods and men. Who thinks that Pan may 
 
 love ? 
 Who thinks that he may shun the solitude 
 Of these our woods, and wish that at his side 
 A maid might linger whom he calls his own ? 
 But now I scent the even-tide of life. 
 And know that I must soon lay pipes aside 
 And lay me in the shadows. Therefore now, 
 With yet some little glow about my head. 
 With dreams still mine, and music and desire, 
 I fain would win thee, that as dusk descends 
 Upon thy head and mine we both may tread 
 The downward path together. Here I swear 
 I love thee, gentle Pitys. By the dusk 
 [72] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 And by the clouds I swear it ; by the trees 
 And tiny blooms that dream amid the peace 
 Of these my forests. If thou wilt I'll swear 
 By thine own beauty, by the hair that bums 
 With all a sunset's glow above thy brows." 
 But Pitys laugh'd. " Such things must pass," 
 
 she said ; 
 " The dusk is naught to swear by, nor the cloud ; 
 The clouds are fickle, and the dusk is gone 
 The while we whisper; and the blooms that 
 
 dream 
 Amid this peace await a tardy bee 
 To profit by their fond inconstancy. 
 And though my hair be ruddier than flame, 
 A year may see it greyer than the sky 
 Ere heaven's bright gates are open'd. And, 
 
 methinks. 
 The time has been when Dian's golden locks 
 Seem'd fair to thee, and Echo's hair of brown ; 
 And who shall say, now Niphe is no more. 
 And willows mourn above the dust of her, 
 How fair to thee her raven tresses seem'd 
 The while thy lips were hungry for her throat? 
 Thy vows, O Pan, are like the vows of men — 
 Made to be broken and re-vow'd again." 
 " Then swear I by the mountains," Pan replied. 
 " See how they rise in purple majesty 
 To where the stars assemble ! On their crests 
 [73] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 The light falls and the shadow. They behold 
 The storm arise and then outwear itself; 
 They hear the wild Winds threaten, and the sea 
 Proclaim its hopeless fury ; but, despite 
 The world's unrest, and though the gods make 
 
 war 
 Until the air may tremble, evermore 
 The solemn hills are changeless and are calm. 
 To-day we are ; but soon the day must dawn 
 For thee and me — nay, watch me while I speak — 
 When only once our eyes shall see the sun, 
 When only once our lips shall sing its praise. 
 Love's voice must soon be silenced, and his wings 
 Be folded ever ; but the hills shall brood 
 Above the crumbled sepulchres of men 
 And altars raised to long forgotten gods. 
 The hills alone stare scornfully at Time ; 
 By them I swear, O Pitys, whom I love ! " 
 And now the maid, half won, lean'd close to him. 
 " Thy speech is other than the speech of youth, 
 Old Pan," she said. " Thou speakest like a 
 
 god; 
 Like one that knows all mysteries, and is 
 A part of all we worship. Yesternight, 
 While through the boughs the moon's soft 
 
 radiance stream'd, 
 A shepherd knelt beside my fragrant couch 
 And said he loved, and bade me go with him 
 [74] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 To where his dogs bay'd welcome ; but his eyes 
 Were not like thine, that hint of tenderness 
 And dreams untold because no ears invite. 
 And though his lips were crimson, and his voice 
 Was softer than the saddest of the winds. 
 He loved me not. His words were passionate 
 Because his heart was hot, desiring me 
 Who still am young and ruddy ; but his love 
 Had died at dawn had I been kind to him, 
 And evermore had he been cold to me." 
 " But I, O Pitys, who am sad and old. 
 Love now with all the ardor of the sun 
 That sinks in crimson splendor to its death," 
 The god replied. " Too well it knows that soon 
 Night covers all, and that the pride of dawn 
 And youth's wild flush are things that cannot 
 
 last. 
 First love is dream, the second love — desire ; 
 The love that follows is the love that counts. 
 I love thee for thy beauty ; for thyself ; 
 I love thee for thy charm and innocence ; 
 I love thee as I love the daffodil 
 That makes the meadow perfect. Blue thine 
 
 eyes 
 As blue-bells in the morning, and thy mouth 
 More tempting is than all the crimson blooms 
 That scent the woods in summer. Old am I, 
 O gentle Pitys ; but the hearts of them 
 [T5] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 That dream, or know much sorrow, kinder grow 
 As greyer turn the locks once black or gold ; 
 But Youth is selfish, and the stars look down 
 In wonder, and in pity, when it loves." 
 
 AND pleading thus, nor Pan nor Pitys knew 
 That, peeping through the sky's far lat- 
 tices, 
 The stars beheld his wooing. For the blue 
 Had soften'd into purple, and the greys 
 And subtle tints of pearl and lavender 
 Had slowly vanish'd in mysterious hues 
 Suggesting deeps profound. The gold was 
 
 gone. 
 And all the brighter glory ; too, were gone 
 The crimson, grey and wondrous opal tints 
 That come before the twilight ; and the sky 
 Was soft with love, though faintly-crimson'd 
 
 clouds. 
 That yet beheld bright Phoebus and his car 
 Descending seaward, hung above the west 
 Like brooding doves, at peace and motionless. 
 But while one watch'd, the crimson seem'd to 
 
 change 
 To grey and black ; and then the peeping stars 
 Aware their hour was come, stepp'd boldly 
 
 forth 
 To chant amid the ebon solitudes 
 [76] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 The wondrous hymn of Night's ascendancy. 
 Beneath an oak a cricket sang its song. 
 A requiem for the ever-falling leaves 
 That know too well how merciless is Time 
 And how all things are transient. For the 
 
 trees 
 Were hoar with age before our race was young. 
 Were hoar with age while yet the early gods 
 Beheld the earth unpeopled, and evolved 
 From idle dreams the human mystery. 
 And aeons hence, when men and gods are not, 
 And love is Death's most cherish'd memory, 
 The trees shall tell in whispers to the winds 
 Strange verses from the tragedy of life. 
 
 JUT Pitys question'd still, yet evermore 
 Lay nestled on his bosom. " Pan," she 
 said, 
 " I would thou wert a shepherd. He might 
 
 love 
 And weary not of loving; thou art one 
 To whom each face is fairer than the last. 
 Because thou seest many. Who am I, 
 A simple nymph, to hold thee in control 
 When splendors find thee pleasing.'' When afar 
 The forest wantons lead thee, and thy laugh 
 
 [77] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Dispels the solemn shadows, how shall I 
 
 Be happy or contented? I would keep 
 
 The thing I love beside me ; he and I 
 
 Must watch the red and tiny pimpernel 
 
 Foretell the coming humors of the day ; 
 
 Must revel in the sunshine, note the clouds 
 
 And hear the rain's soft whispers hand in hand. 
 
 If once I love, O Pan, I would be loved ; 
 
 Not kiss'd and then forgotten. He must see — 
 
 This one who is, as yet, a thing of mist — 
 
 The ultimate perfection in my face. 
 
 And find what wealth of tenderness abides 
 
 Within my heart, and thus be satisfied. 
 
 I would thou wert a shepherd — one that loves 
 
 The soil and things that vanish. He is kind 
 
 Who knows that all is passing ; night and day 
 
 He stays by her that loves him, tempted not 
 
 By siren voices calling him away 
 
 From where true love sits silent." But the eyes 
 
 Of Pan, that oft would twinkle like the stars 
 
 When fretful clouds are banish'd by the winds, 
 
 Were now so sad that she grew very kind 
 
 And placed her hand across them. " Tell me, 
 
 Pan; 
 What is this love.? " she questioned. " Yester- 
 night, 
 The while the pale moon listen'd, and the motlis 
 Above the jonquils flutter'd, in my ears 
 [78] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 The shepherd whisper'd softly. Young was he, 
 And sad, perhaps, the while I gazed at him. 
 And while he spoke I thought how fair he was. 
 And wish'd that I could love him; for his voice 
 Was sometimes low and sometimes passionate, 
 And his was all the wondrous bloom of youth. 
 But thou art old, and thou art blinded now. 
 All things thou knowest : why Diana grieves, 
 Why shepherds meet white Venus in the woods, 
 Why I grow restless as the dusk descends, 
 And why so pale is fair Endymion. 
 What is this love, O forest melodist.'' 
 Perhaps I love ; perhaps I know it not. 
 Perhaps thy voice, unknown to thee, may be 
 The voice to make me waken from my dreams. 
 Or dream the more." Then Pan removed her 
 
 hand 
 And kiss'd it once. " These things I truly 
 
 know," 
 He answer'd sadly ; " and, if thou wouldst hear. 
 Strange tales of sweet and half-forgotten things, 
 Long nights I might amuse thee ; but of love. 
 Who knows the secret save the Queen thereof. 
 White Aphrodite.'' She alone can tell 
 By what strange alchemy the coldest heart 
 Becomes enamor'd, or the rose-like maid 
 Is drawn to him who loves her. When the gods 
 Bestow their gifts, 'tis best to question not 
 [79] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Lest favors fail ; and he that sings of love, 
 Or tells the world the wondrous ways thereof, 
 Is often one on whom the shadows fell." 
 But Pitjs sigh'd, as if she heard him not 
 And knew not of his presence: " Could I love, 
 Methinks I'd tell the very stars thereof 
 In winged words, and each fond syllable 
 Would make a Zephyr joyous. Could I love 
 The forests would re-echo with my song ; 
 The trivial brook would hear it, and would tell 
 The tale thereof to them that guard the seas." 
 But Pan, the lover, press'd her to his breast. 
 " If love were thine, O Pitys," he replied, 
 " Thine eyes alone the secret might proclaim. 
 But thou wouldst silent be. Though men may 
 
 boast 
 When love is theirs, true maids as stilly are 
 As birds that wait the whispers of the dawn. 
 Love's silence is than speech more eloquent. 
 Thou art not wise, O Pitys ; on thy lips 
 Grief has not laid her finger, and thy heart 
 Is stranger still to doubt and weariness. 
 Thou still art young ; to thee the universe 
 A temple is of ivory and gold 
 Where happy dreams still linger. Long ago. 
 When first I piped upon the slanting hills 
 And wonder'd at my music, I was vain 
 And thought how I for evermore might sing 
 [80] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 While all grew old around me. But the trees 
 Became each season fairer through the years, 
 And naught could change the mountain's love- 
 liness. 
 While I ! On me the shadows now descend, 
 And soon, too soon, my pipes must idle lie. 
 And long ago I dream'd that one like thee 
 With constant eyes and firm untroubled mouth 
 Might be mine own ; that I, as night drew near, 
 Might find one face that ever turn'd to mine 
 Despite the hinting whispers. She and I, 
 So dream'd I then, would hear the dusk's low 
 
 call 
 And morning's trumpets ; and the skies would 
 
 flush 
 The while we kiss'd beneath them and were glad. 
 The woods should hear our laughter, and the 
 
 pools 
 The happy music when my pipes proclaim'd 
 The hour of noon and silence ; she and I 
 Were thus to live until the wind-blown leaves 
 Might hide our marbled bodies from the world. 
 And then in yon illumined drapery 
 That swathes the world that was so very dear, 
 With bright Orion and the Pleiades, 
 And others made immortal, evermore 
 The gods would place us, ever to be seen 
 And ever sung by poets yet unborn. 
 [81] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 A dream it was, O Pitys ; now I know 
 
 The things our fancy paints may seldom be." 
 
 NOW silent were the glades of evergreen, 
 And silent were the lovers. All the air 
 Was subtly fragrant with the languid sighs 
 Of closing roses, thyme and heliotrope. 
 Of violets and jasmin ; from the soil 
 The scent ascended slowly to the gods, 
 Reminding them of how the earth was fair 
 And willing ever to do sacrifice. 
 And they that gazed with unastonish'd eyes 
 Upon their last creation, smiled, and turn'd 
 To other orbs divinely glorious 
 Ablaze amid the sky's blue tapestry. 
 Across the pool, wherein the blinking stars 
 Were faintly mirror'd, bats skimm'd to and fro, 
 And tipp'd the waters with forbidding wing ; 
 Amid the reeds the dull frog slowly croak'd 
 His mournful protest, and through heavy eyes 
 Beheld the shadows deepen. But the birds, 
 That love not night, were dreaming in their 
 
 nests 
 Amid the grass, or where the leafy boughs 
 With gentle lilt responded to the breeze. 
 Beneath the oaks the pretty deer reclined, 
 Unfearful of the Huntress ; for at night 
 Diana's heart is soften'd, and the beasts 
 [82] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 May rest until her horns awaken them. 
 These many years no mortal eye has seen 
 The Pale One and her maidens ; but when falls 
 The Night's soft purple o'er the woods of dream, 
 And glinting stars from airy palaces 
 Peep down in still content upon the world, 
 She seeks the shadow'd places. There she lies 
 On beds of firry fragrance, with her nymphs 
 In rings of tempting loveliness around. 
 And while the silent, lantern-bearing worm, 
 The forest's watchman, in the stilly aisles 
 Keeps lustrous watch, the gliding Hours may 
 
 see 
 The modest beauty with the yellow hair 
 And eyes so chastely azure. Could we hear 
 The moth's low whispers, as with ghostly wing 
 It wakes the honeysuckle, we might learn 
 Where hid she lies. But oh ! our ears are dull'd. 
 And dimm'd the eyes that once fair things 
 
 beheld. 
 All's common now, for shatter'd is the dream 
 That made life perfect when the air was fill'd 
 With splendid presences, and constant song 
 Fell from the heights about the heads of men. 
 Trees are but trees, despite the mute appeal 
 Of lissome arms that sway and lean to us ; 
 The brook no longer calls us, and the wind 
 The while it chants primeval symphonies 
 [83] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Or wild, weird songs of forest tragedy 
 
 Is but the wind ; the baser things allure — 
 
 The things that are ignoble, like ourselves. 
 
 In other days a wiser race shall note 
 
 The things we thought unworthy ; men shall 
 
 hear 
 The forest voices and the sea's lament, 
 The thoughts the meadows utter while the stars 
 Smile down in benediction, or the rain — 
 The loving rain — composes hymns of peace 
 Alike for them that toil or are at rest. 
 
 THEN spoke grey Pan again, while Pitys 
 lean'd 
 Still closer to his bosom. " Overhead 
 The stars are all a-tremble, and my heart 
 Beats in my bosom like a captured bird. 
 Sweeter to me the fragrance of thy hair 
 Than all the wood's fair blossoms ; pale thy 
 
 cheeks. 
 But Love's red rose still lingers on thy mouth. 
 And in thine eyes is longing. Dost thou hear 
 The gods' faint whispers as they linger near, 
 Unseen of thee, and tell of other loves. 
 And lips that now are silent as the dust? 
 Too well they know how little time we have 
 For dreams and idle plannings ; therefore they 
 Would bid thee turn those crimson lips to mine ; 
 [84] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 Would bid thee gaze forever in the eyes 
 
 That bend o'er thine. Now speak, while yet the 
 
 moon 
 Has turn'd her envious glances from thy face. 
 I love thee, Pitys. Say thou lovest me ! " 
 But saying naught, she placed beneath his own 
 Her lips, and kiss'd him. And her eyes were 
 
 soft 
 As round his neck she placed a scented arm 
 And drew his grey head downward. " Pan," 
 
 said she, 
 So softly that the fond god scarcely heard, 
 " I know not why, and yet I worship thee. 
 These many months within this heart of mine 
 A secret love has had its hiding-place. 
 And thou art he who is my one desire. 
 Thou art my adoration. Night by night 
 I dream'd I saw thee piping, heard thy song. 
 Or watch'd thee woo a nymph whose wanton eye 
 Allured thine own. Then woke I, and was glad 
 To find I had been dreaming. Or, perhaps, 
 I saw thee charm Diana with thy pipe. 
 And win her with thy stories of the gods 
 Enslaved by mortal beauty. Then, dear Pan, 
 I hated her, and knew how much I loved. 
 And oft I fled to where the solitude 
 Assuaged my wounded spirit, but thine eyes 
 Pursued me there, thy music still I heard — 
 [85] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Thy voice, thy mocking laughter. And there 
 
 stray'd, 
 One golden dawn while yet the morning star 
 Beheld me idly bathing in a pool, 
 A witless shepherd to the water's edge 
 Who fain had woo'd me, but I fled from him 
 And left him there lamenting. And again 
 He traced my tell-tale footprints in the grass, 
 And woo'd me in the shadow. Fair was he ; 
 For youth's bright glory crown'd his pallid 
 
 brow, 
 And all the time he stammer'd of his love 
 It seem'd a harp was playing. Thee I loved, 
 O dear, grey Pan ; and now he tells the stars 
 In broken speech that maids are never kind." 
 Then ceased the nymph ; and now the heavy 
 
 moth 
 Was strangely audible, as on its way 
 To hidden feasts it vanish'd through the glade 
 Unconscious of the lovers or their bliss. 
 And though the night now compass'd them 
 
 about 
 Pan found her eyes and kiss'd them. " Let the 
 
 past 
 Be evermore forgotten," he replied ; 
 " Love comes but once ; love me, and thou shalt 
 
 learn 
 They love the best that know how all must pass. 
 [86] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 This night beholds my wooing, when the dawn 
 Shall cast its gold upon thee, birds shall sing 
 The anthem of our nuptials. All the nymphs 
 That guard our scented forests shall appear 
 To bring thee to the altar, and the noon 
 Shall see thee mine forever, O my love. 
 Bid Phoebus haste and drive these shadows 
 
 hence. 
 That thou and I, with vine-leaves garlanded, 
 Soon meet again where stands the ivied stone 
 To say the vows and pour the sacred wine. 
 Now go thou back to where thy bed of fern 
 Awaits thy maiden beauty. On thine eyes 
 Pale Dian pour her blessings ; be thy dreams 
 Of grey old Pan who loves thee. Thou and I 
 Shall have long nights for whispers ; days for 
 
 deeds 
 And lazy noons for music and for song. 
 But e'er thou goest I will play for thee 
 The Song of Peace, that on thy lidded eyes 
 Soft Sleep may lay the magic of his hands 
 And steep thee in enchantment." Slowly then 
 Their arms were loosen'd ; and the while she 
 
 stood 
 Beside her lover, to his lips he placed 
 The magic reed and woke it with his breath. 
 But gently now he blew, as though afraid 
 The sleeping fauns might waken, or from out 
 
 [87] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 The forest's gloom wan phantom things ap- 
 pear — 
 Harpies and Furies and unhappy ghosts. 
 For now the moon's pale face was almost hid 
 By veils of cloud, and faint, quick puffs of wind 
 Betoken'd storm. Had they but thought of it ; 
 Had they but known ! But Pan play'd ever on 
 With half-closed eyes, as though oblivious 
 To aught except the liquid melody 
 To which the trees were swaying. At his side 
 Stood gentle Pitys, dreaming of the dawn 
 And golden days to follow. Pan she saw. 
 And nothing else ; and though Endymion, 
 Or fair Adonis with his burnish'd hair 
 And eyes wherein night's wondrous softness lay, 
 Had tried to win her glances, she had turn'd 
 Her eyes to him, her lover. Old and grey. 
 She loved him, deem'd him perfect. In her 
 
 heart 
 His face alone was treasured ; in her ears 
 His voice would ring forever. Thus it is, 
 And thus it was, and thus it e'er shall be 
 When hearts of maids are conquer'd; men may 
 
 love. 
 But constancy is woman's, and the star's. 
 And still Pan play'd, and still the graceful trees 
 Bent low their swaying branches. And at last, 
 When all his love seem'd utter'd in a note 
 [88] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 That soar'd away upon the rising wind, 
 Unknown to him, pale Pitys touch'd his hair 
 And slipp'd away ; and when, his playing done. 
 The grey god turn'd to where the nymph had 
 
 stood, 
 The gloom return'd his whisper, and his sigh. 
 
 jUT never yet, since Earth's fair daugh- 
 ters lured 
 
 'The love of gods or shepherds, was a 
 maid. 
 So fair as she, whose eyes had fail'd to light 
 A passion in another. Rivalry 
 Love's pastime is, though rival lovers hate 
 And kingdoms totter while a woman smiles. 
 Who wooes, and fears no rival, never loves. 
 The noble stag is jealous of his kind; 
 The plumaged bird must win its chosen mate 
 From gaily vested suitors ; and the woods 
 Could tell of flowers that have their tragedies, 
 And insect rivalry; And long before 
 The gaze of Pan fell full on Pitys' face 
 A god had seen and loved her, one whose ways 
 Lay between earth and heaven, wild Boreas, 
 Roughest of Winds, and fear'd from Pole to 
 Pole. 
 
 [89] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Once only had he seen her, as she swung 
 In merry mood amid an alder's boughs ; 
 But, seeing her, he loved her, and forthwith 
 Woo'd her with all the passion of a god 
 And simulated ardour. In the night 
 He came as comes the Zephyr, and his song 
 *Was softer than the murmur of a harp 
 Touch'd by a Dream's white fingers ; in the 
 
 dawn 
 His voice was like a trumpet ; but at noon 
 The saddest flute was harsher than his voice, 
 And then he thought to win her. But in vain 
 This god had woo'd ; in vain he sang to her 
 The splendors of the heavens and surging seas, 
 Or told her of the mysteries of stars. 
 " If thou wilt love me I can bear thee hence 
 To where the gods are," he had said to her. 
 " Zeus shalt thou see, the Father ; thou shalt 
 
 hear 
 The voice of him whose thunder is the fear 
 Of hoary Neptune in his coral caves. 
 And I will show thee Juno, at whose knee 
 The silent Fates are seated. Thou shalt learn 
 The last decrees that shape the ways of men, 
 And bind the gods themselves. And if thou 
 
 wilt 
 I'll bear thee up to where white Venus sits 
 Upon her throne of ivory and gold 
 
 [90] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 With soft, grey doves about her. Fair is she 
 
 Beyond thy compreheasion, fairer far 
 
 Than rosy dawns in lands of utter calm, 
 
 Fairer than snow, or than the far-flung spray. 
 
 All this is mine to show thee ; if thou wilt 
 
 I'll bear thee hence to where the lions toss 
 
 Their yellow manes in Libyan solitudes. 
 
 No eyes have seen, save mine, the icy posts 
 
 Beyond the frozen borders of the world; 
 
 But thou shalt see the ice-wrack, hear the grind 
 
 Of floe on floe, and ride unharm'd above 
 
 The wastes of desolation and of snow. 
 
 I'll bear thee forth, safe couch'd between my 
 
 wings, 
 From star to star ; bright Sirius shall tell 
 The untold story of unnumber'd worlds ; 
 Or thou shalt see huge constellations hurl'd 
 From heaven's high paths. From heights 
 
 Olympian 
 I'll take thee, while strange music fills thine ears, 
 To Proserpine's dim gardens ; thou shalt see 
 Splendors and ghostly horrors. Thou and I 
 Can leave all worlds behind us if thou wilt, 
 And dwell apart where gods alone may come. 
 Give me thy love ! The forest shall be thine. 
 Sky, sun and moon, the everlasting stars. 
 And all the Winds shall hail thee as their 
 
 queen 
 
 I " 
 
 [91] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 But Pitys pass'd her tresses through her hands 
 And s-hook her head. " Such things are naught 
 
 to me," 
 She answer'd, and was silent. And the god 
 Had flown away in anger. But again 
 He came, and sought to win her, when the night 
 Lay odorous about her, and her blood 
 Was warm with dreams of things that might 
 
 have been. 
 " Boreas, I, the oldest of the Winds," 
 He whisper'd, and she waken'd. " Never now 
 Sleep draws his velvet poppies o'er mine eyes, 
 O heartless nymph," he cried. " Since first I 
 
 saw 
 Thy ruddy hair ablaze amid the green. 
 And swiftly fleeing body, I have sigh'd 
 Or storm'd to show my passion. Let me share 
 Thy fragrant bed, or I no more shall sleep." 
 But she had mock'd, and said : " I pity thee. 
 But thou art ever restless. Not for thee 
 A bed of fern a laurel bush beside. 
 But such a couch as crimson'd clouds provide 
 Amid the constellations. For thy mate 
 The daughter of a goddess, one that wears 
 Morn's star upon her forehead, and can meet 
 Thy lips with all the ardor of the storm. 
 But I, O Wind, am but a simple nymph. 
 Whose pleasure is to track the brown deer down, 
 [92] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 Or watch the tulips open. I can sing, 
 And weave the scented rushes into wreaths 
 For idle shepherds if they tease me not. 
 I care not much about the whirling stars ; 
 They shine above me and they guide me home — 
 Who seeks to see them closer? I have peep'd 
 At pale Diana as she trod the woods, 
 And once I saw white Venus ; but the gods 
 Might close my eyes if I made brave to see 
 The splendor of Olympus. One there is 
 That somewhere waits thy coming. Pitys is 
 No mate for thee. Then leave me, and forget 
 My body's whiteness and my ruddy hair. 
 My eyes that oft remind thee of the sea ; 
 These things must pass, and love unstable is 
 That's built on body's beauty." And the 
 
 Wind 
 Had sought to frighten Pitys ; he had swept 
 From west and east the slowly-moving clouds, 
 And made all space seem awful ; in the woods 
 Old trees had bow'd before him, and his breath 
 Had bent the tender sapling to the ground. 
 But she had lain secure amid the fern. 
 And thought of Pan. And though the Wind 
 
 had sworn 
 To win her love, and woo'd her day by day, 
 She shook her head and idly pass'd her hair 
 Between her fingers. And the anger'd god 
 [93] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Had come, had gone ; had woo'd and storm'd 
 
 again, 
 As lovers will when maidens prove unkind 
 And life itself is in the one desired. 
 
 FOR many nights the jealous god had 
 watch'd 
 The maiden while she slumber'd ; for the leaves 
 Had whisper'd of a lover, and the stars 
 Had smiled the while he sang her name to 
 
 them. 
 But no one knelt beside her fragrant bed 
 Except the hopeless shepherd ; and the birds, 
 When question'd by his Zephyrs in the dawn, 
 Extoll'd her virtue and her constancy. 
 But still he doubted, for his love was strong; 
 And still he hated, for the leaves had said 
 That she was for another, not for him. 
 And now he knew. For he, the while he roam'd 
 Beneath the sky, enraged, disconsolate 
 And brooding o'er the fickleness of maids, 
 Beheld old Pan asleep beside the oak, 
 Beheld the pool, and her who swam therein 
 Light as the foam, and whiter. He beheld 
 The god awaken'd from his sleep, and heard 
 His music and his wooing. Then he knew 
 Why Pitys scorn'd his passion, why the stars 
 Made mock of him who ever sang her name 
 [94] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 And made the Zephyrs praise her. And the 
 
 while 
 The lovers kiss'd and clung, and kiss'd again 
 And whisper'd to each other, and forgot 
 All time and danger in each other's arms, 
 Boreas cursed her beauty, cursed grey Pan 
 And cursed all things created; then he fled 
 To where the woods were darkest, loneliest, 
 And sought her path and there awaited her. 
 
 BUT, all unconscious, Pitys hurried on 
 Beneath the solemn cypress to the place 
 Where lay her bed of freshly-gather'd fern. 
 All cool and laurel-scented. With the dawn 
 The little birds would sing and waken her 
 And bid her call her sisters. These would come 
 With rosy bodies and alluring hair 
 And eyes a-gleam with mischief. They would 
 
 chant, 
 The while they slowly near'd her, hand in hand, 
 Clothed in their own sufficient loveliness, 
 The songs of Dawn and Bridal ; then would 
 
 weave 
 Sweet grasses in her tresses. And the bed 
 Of fragrant fern where Sleep had watch'd by her 
 Through star-lit nights, would cover'd be with 
 
 sprays 
 Of heliotrope and ivy. Then the nymphs, 
 [95] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 With softer song and movements rythmical, 
 Would lead her slowly upward from the dell 
 Through glinting aisles and glades still wet 
 
 with dew 
 To where old Pan stood waiting. Dreaming 
 
 thus 
 She left the path behind her. Overhead 
 It darker grew and darker, while the air 
 Was hot and heavy, menacingly still.; 
 And while she braved, with beating heart, the 
 
 gloom 
 And things that love the shadow, Boreas 
 With love and fury tearing at his heart 
 And hate of Pan to goad him, in her way 
 Sprang suddenly and stopp'd her. " Now," he 
 
 cried ; 
 " Let Pan delight the shadows with his pipes 
 And mumble love to other nymphs than thee ! 
 By now thou art forgotten ; he has woo'd 
 A thousand unsubstantial images 
 Charm'd from the air by his own melody. 
 But thou to me art still the loveliest ; 
 And though I could have slain him at my will, 
 He lives because I scorn, but fear him not. 
 Mine art thou now. Now kiss me, or this night 
 The lipless ghosts shall gibber in thine ears 
 Their welcome to the lands of Proserpine." 
 But she whom he address'd, with arms on breast 
 
 [96] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 And level brows, unfearing, answer'd him : 
 " O Wind, I love thee not. Another maid 
 May be more kind. Go seek thou in the woods. 
 For nymphs are many, and a maid unloved 
 Will surely answer when thou callest her. 
 I love thee not. Thy face is naught to me ; 
 Thy voice suggests no music, and my pulse 
 Has never quicken'd when thou drewest near. 
 Dawn's flush suggests thee not; the gentle 
 
 Dusk 
 Has never heard the whisper of thy name 
 Tell the far star the yearning of my heart. 
 I love thee not, O Wind. Now let me pass. 
 Or on thy head the wrath of gods descend ! " 
 But he dismay'd the silence of the woods 
 With scornful laughter, long and terrible. 
 " The gods and I are equals," he replied ; 
 " So threaten not. For I am Boreas, 
 Astrseus' son. If angrily I breathe. 
 The forest bends before me. Who art thou 
 To say thou wilt not love me.'' With the wings 
 That bear me to the presence of the gods 
 I strike but once, and level lies the oak 
 That tower'd to the stars for centuries ; 
 And thou art but a nymph, a butterfly 
 That makes a day seem perfect, and is gone. 
 I constant am. Pan wooes a thousand maids; 
 His love is like his music, born to die." 
 
 [97] 
 
IDYLLS OP GREECE 
 
 " Thou, constant ! " Pitys answer'd. " In the 
 
 dawn 
 Thou blowest here ; at noon thou blowest there ; 
 At night thy place is vacant. Who art thou 
 To call another fickle? In the woods 
 The trees and saplings fear thee ; on the seas 
 Men dread thy changeful temper ; in the skies 
 Diana veils her face for scorn of thee. 
 A nymph am I, no goddess. But my song 
 Has made the linnet listen, and at dusk 
 The squirrel sits, unfearing, in my path, 
 And fauns will lie beside me. Pan has said 
 My voice is sweeter than the sweetest flute 
 That wakes the hills in summer; he has said 
 My lips are softer than the "velvet rose 
 That languishes at even. Pan I love, 
 Because to him I am no butterfly 
 That makes a day seem perfect; thee I hate. 
 Now let me pass before I cry for aid ! " 
 But now he sprang upon her, mad with rage 
 Because she would not heed him. " Once 
 
 again," 
 He mutter'd hoarsely, as he held her fast, 
 " I bid thee love me, leaving hateful Pan. 
 Still young art thou, and life should yet be 
 
 sweet 
 To one whose day is hardly yet begun. 
 Come hence with me ; less old am I than Pan. 
 [98] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 The dawn shall find thee standing by the gates 
 
 Whence issues all the glory ; thou and I 
 
 Will follow splendor on its daily course 
 
 And sleep where hides the sunset, ^ons hence, 
 
 When all is over and our dream is done, 
 
 Of thee and me unhappy men shall sing 
 
 And envy us our kisses." But, again, 
 
 She strove to keep him from her. *' Pan I love," 
 
 She murmur'd faintly; " Pan alone I love; 
 
 And lacking Pan I will most gladly die." 
 
 " Then look thy last on life," the god replied. 
 
 " Behold the stars, the gently-swaying trees. 
 
 The little blooms that dream beneath thy feet. 
 
 For, if thou wilt not kiss me as I ask. 
 
 Be sure these trees no more shall greet thine 
 
 eyes 
 When morning gilds the heavens. Eterne the 
 
 night 
 In Proserpine's dim gardens. Kiss thou me ; 
 And say that me thou lovest." And again 
 She call'd on Pan, till all the sleeping woods 
 Were almost waken'd; and the while she cried. 
 The hateful god press'd tight his iron hand 
 Upon the crimson bow that was her mouth. 
 And held it there until she strove no more. 
 And hating still, he hurl'd the tender corse 
 Against a rock, and left it. Then the trees 
 Sway'd tenderly above her, and the stars 
 
 [99] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Look'd down in utter pity from the skies 
 
 At her whose dream was over. From the dusk 
 
 A glow-worm came to light her ghost's slow steps, 
 
 Down to the voiceless waters. For the trees 
 
 Are quick with feeling in the greater things 
 
 Like love and death ; there is no sympathy 
 
 More touching than the sympathy of stars 
 
 That watch yet cannot help us ; and the midge 
 
 That drones its thin lament in human ears 
 
 Reminds us of its wing'd relationship. 
 
 In bye-gone years these things were understood, 
 
 In bye-gone years, when man was innocent, 
 
 He stood a little closer to the gods 
 
 And, knowing less, was wiser then than now. 
 
 YE would not bid me tell how Morning came 
 In cool grey robes along that flower-strewn 
 path 
 And closed those eyes forever? Let them gaze, 
 A little while upon the holy Night, 
 Upon the gentle brotherhood of trees, 
 Cowl'd moths and things of silence. In the 
 
 woods 
 Let Pan be ever waiting with his pipes 
 Unconscious of the slaying of his love. 
 In lands of dream wild ivy ever clings 
 About uncrumbling altars ; in the glades 
 The shy deer slumber, and the heliotrope 
 [100] 
 
PAN AND PITYS 
 
 Shall scent the dusk forever. Bide we there 
 Along with shadow lest too soon we break 
 The fond illusion. Pan shall pipe for us 
 The tunes he play'd for Pitys ; he shall watch 
 With slanting eyes the golden forest aisles 
 And turn his ear to catch the first faint song 
 That tells his darling's coming through the 
 
 woods. 
 A little while and we might even see 
 The Zephyrs lift the poplars' silver'd leaves 
 To hide her virgin beauty from the sun ; 
 But now she lies in silent wistfulness, 
 A thing to dream of, pale and consecrate, 
 Amid the shadows, till the moon steps forth 
 To kiss her once. Ah, let us leave her thus 
 Amid the silent pity of the trees 
 Until for us she is a memory 
 Of something dear; of something that is sweet 
 As half-remember'd music, or the sound 
 Of cherish'd voices, still'd, but unforgot. 
 Regret is vain ; all things must have an end. 
 Or soon or late the laughter dies away, 
 And man and maid are gather'd to the dusk 
 Where nothing is but breathless quietude. 
 Let Pan be waiting; things that might have 
 
 been 
 Enslave our fancy — for the dream is all! 
 
 [101] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 ^HAT is the thing most prized?" I 
 ask'd the Night, 
 
 The while along the highways of the 
 skies 
 The early stars lit dreamily their lamps 
 Amid the pregnant silence. All alone 
 I lay and mused of bye-gone tragedies, 
 Of loves and ardent lovers ; and the hills 
 Loom'd faintly in the distance. Not a breeze 
 Assail'd the holy stillness ; not a bird 
 Beat wing against the unillumined air 
 Or thrill'd the pensive shadows. Then from out 
 The scented dusk, wherein unseen of us 
 She hides and sees through eyes compassionate 
 The sleep that ends the iron toil of men, 
 Night whisper'd : " Youth ; and then the dreams 
 thereof." 
 
 [ 105 ] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 ONCE on a time, in days when men still trod 
 Earth's paths in breathless wonder, and the 
 
 world 
 Roll'd all a-glister through the firmament 
 Where sat the gods and praised its loveliness, 
 Amid the solemn woods of Attica 
 A wearied nymph lay sleeping in the shade. 
 For now it was the moment when the sun 
 Stood highest in the azure, and his rays 
 Pour'd hotly like a stream of molten gold 
 On woods and hills alike, on plains and sea. 
 The weighty cedars and the fragrant pines. 
 The copper-color'd beeches and the oaks. 
 And all the lesser trees were motionless 
 In this one moment. Often they had sway'd 
 Their arms in wild abandon, when the wind 
 Set all the woods a-dancing to the hymns 
 That made the satyrs joyous. Now they 
 
 dream'd 
 Amid the peace, the sunshine ; for the trees 
 Remember much of forest tragedy 
 And wondrous forest doings. They have heard 
 The rain songs and the wind songs ; they have 
 
 seen 
 Their sisters slain by unrelenting storms, 
 Or slaughter'd by the woodmen. Therefore 
 
 they. 
 Whose fragrant hearts are soft with sympathy, 
 [106] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 Whose whisp'ring leaves would tell us of their 
 
 love, 
 Can dream their dreams in noons of sultriness 
 Or when the gloom of winter wraps them round. 
 Within the glade, where now the sleeping maid 
 Lay still, as if enchanted, nothing proved 
 That this was not an unsubstantial dream 
 Created but to vanish. Nothing stirr'd, 
 Or broke the utter silence. In the dawn 
 The birds had sung wild anthems ; then appear'd 
 The gaudy host of wing'd ambassadors 
 To courts of voiceless beauty, and the bee 
 That sips and sings and leaves its love forlorn. 
 And soon would come the undecided moth 
 That loves the dusk ; then owls, whose hoots 
 
 foretell 
 The shuffling Midnight, cowl'd and passionless. 
 But now the sunlight stream'd upon a glade 
 Of quietude unbroken ; by the pools 
 The dragon-flies were gather'd, and the fields 
 Had lured the bee and thoughtless butterfly 
 With clover feasts and fragrant eglantine. 
 And soon there came from out the needled aisles 
 Another nymph a-tiptoe, hesitant, 
 With bended arm and finger on her lip, 
 And head inclined to catch the faintest sound. 
 About her form a wealth of glinting hair 
 Fell veil-like, all a-shimmer ; for the sun 
 
 [ 107] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Delights in adding glory to the things 
 Already fair and golden, as the moon 
 Gives her chaste kisses to the things of night. 
 Beloved was she of both, of sun and moon ; 
 For she, in such a ring of laughing girls 
 As, holding hands, step lightly round and round 
 On flower-embroider'd meadows, had been call'd 
 The loveliest, and worn upon her brows 
 A crown of woven daisies. Softly now, 
 From tree to tree and berried bush to bush, 
 She glided like a shadow ; and at last, 
 While yet the sun was high above the glade 
 And everywhere was silence, in the shade 
 Beneath the beech beheld the sleeping nymph. 
 Then stood she still. But she that slept awoke 
 Despite the other's caution. Sitting up, 
 She saw her laughing sister. " Come," she 
 
 cried, 
 *' My fond and teasing Thya ! In my dreams 
 I saw thee steal a-tiptoe through the woods. 
 And wonder'd if to wake and hide from thee. 
 Or linger here, would please thy mood the most. 
 For though thou treadest lightly, like a Wind 
 Above the graves of Autumn's gather'd leaves, 
 I heard thy step, and woke to welcome thee 
 And bid thee tell what thou hast heard or seen." 
 Then Thya cross'd to where her sister lay. 
 And knelt beside her. On her maidenhood 
 [108] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 The sun had smiled but sixteen happy years, 
 
 While happiness abode within her eyes 
 
 And made their blue delicious. She had bound 
 
 Around her brows a creeper, scarlet-leaved. 
 
 That lost itself amid her yellow hair 
 
 Like crimson poppies in a field of com; 
 
 And all the gentle loveliness of her 
 
 Was sweet and fragrant like the woods at dawn. 
 
 " I know by now each hiding place of thine, 
 
 Beloved Praxis," she replied at last. 
 
 When, kneeling in the shadow, she essay'd 
 
 To fan away her sister's drowsiness. 
 
 " I know the little hollow where the fern 
 
 Conceals the startled rabbit ; I have seen 
 
 The stalwart bough that bears thy added weight 
 
 With all its ruddy apples ; and the pool 
 
 With all the oaks around it, whereto comes 
 
 At night the pale Narcissus, loveliest 
 
 And loneliest of youths. Each haunt of thine 
 
 I know by now, dear Praxis ; but to-day 
 
 I found thee not in haunts of other times — 
 
 The reason give, or I will fan no more ! " 
 
 But Praxis grasp'd her sister's slender arm 
 
 And drew her to her bosom. " Ask the wind," 
 
 She answer'd softly as she kiss'd the child, 
 
 " Why west it blows to-day, when yester-eve 
 
 It bore its fragrant greeting to the east. 
 
 The drift that flutters idly down the breeze 
 
 [109] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Goes here or there ; and I, to this cool spot 
 Was led bj Chance, who led thee here to me. 
 But tell me now the gossip of the woods ; 
 What nymph has left the spotless sisterhood 
 Of pitiless Diana? Who is she 
 That's woo'd of Pan now Pitys is no more? 
 What hast thou learnt of insect and of bird, 
 And snow-poll'd dandelion? Little ears 
 Have heard the strangest secrets ; Praxis waits, 
 Who oft rewards thy stories with a kiss." 
 
 THEN Thya told the pleasant chronicle 
 Of woodland doings ; of the doe that 
 mourn'd 
 Diana's morning victim ; of the dove 
 Discover'd as she sat upon her nest 
 Unmindful of the peeper. Then she told 
 How, ere the morn was golden, there had come 
 To where she slept a shepherd, who had woo'd 
 With all a shepherd's passion. " But," said 
 
 she, 
 " I told him, gentle Praxis, of the bee 
 That loves and wooes the clover, and is gone; 
 And then I fled, and he, pursuing me, 
 Fell headlong in a pool, whereat I laugh'd. 
 And then I met Dictynna, who, they say. 
 Would disobey Diana, following 
 A wild-eyed wooer ; but she fears the Queen, 
 
 [ 110 ] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 And meets her lover when the thrush is still. 
 And her I fain had question'd, had I dared, 
 What is this love that makes men's voices soft, 
 And maids to blush like poppies. Knowest thou, 
 
 dark-eyed Praxis ? " But the elder nymph 
 Was playing now with Thya's golden hair, 
 And shook her head demurely. " Naught I 
 
 know," 
 She answer'd softly, " save thy words are like 
 The brook's sweet babble. Therefore tell me 
 
 more." 
 
 BUT Thya paused before she told again 
 The things that seem'd to her of conse- 
 quence. 
 *' This love," she said, " I would I knew of it ; 
 For I am weary of the butterfly, 
 And weary of the squirrel. Ere I sleep 
 
 1 hear the breezes whisper of delight 
 Unknown to maids like me; and when the moon 
 In yonder skies lies palely indolent, 
 
 With stars about her, on my leafy bed 
 She seems to gaze in pity. All alone 
 I watch the shadows swaying in the gloom, 
 And no one bids me wake to greet the dawn." 
 " Thou sleepest well, my Thya," Praxis said, 
 And stroked her sister's tresses. " Thank the 
 gods 
 
 [111] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 That dreams are thy companions. They that 
 
 love 
 Too often fear the coming of the morn, 
 And watch the sunset with an aching heart. 
 To thee the gods are gentle. Thou art yet 
 The one the winds love; and the horned moon, 
 Who numbers thee among the things of pearl, 
 Beholds thy virgin beauty with delight. 
 The hills are thine, the valley ; thou canst go 
 Where'er thy wild feet lead thee. Free art 
 
 thou. 
 Because thou lovest not, and art not loved ; 
 And being free art happy as the cloud 
 That roams among the palaces of gods." 
 But Thya shook her head. " Thou knowest 
 
 not, 
 O gentle Praxis of the shadow'd eyes. 
 My wants and all my yearnings. Therefore I 
 Will ask thee no more questions, but will tell 
 How Pan appear'd and drove us twain apart. 
 Around his head were grape and ivy leaves ; 
 His mouth and beard were winey ; and his face 
 Was redder than the sunset. Like a goat 
 He danced before Dictynna, seeming grave 
 The while he balanced on his cloven hoofs ; 
 And then would laugh, when, tripp'd by tangled 
 
 roots, 
 He sprawl'd in drunken ease upon the grass. 
 [112] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 But when he rose his mood again had changed, 
 And me he caught and kiss'd upon the mouth ; 
 And fain had kiss'd again, but from his arms 
 I slipp'd and fled, and found Dictynna gone. 
 Then roam'd I through the slowly-warming 
 
 woods ; 
 For now the sun was high, and through the 
 
 aisles 
 His golden glances darted ; and the nymphs 
 Had sought, like thee, a shady resting place. 
 But when at last I near'd thy favor'd pool 
 That smiles amid its nodding daffodils, 
 I heard the sound of weeping. From a bush 
 Of crimson rhododendron, bosom-high, 
 Dark-leaf'd and like a thicket, then I peer'd 
 And saw — whom guessest thou.'' Dictynna.'* 
 
 Nay, 
 Sweet Echo ! And — I wish'd myself away. 
 For, after thee, dear sister. Echo is 
 The one I think I most would like to be. 
 I often play that I have dove-grey eyes 
 And hair like hers, so silken, and as brown 
 As polish'd chestnuts. Once she smiled at me; 
 And ever since I watch her from afar. 
 As from afar a star that loves the moon 
 May watch a thing so perfect, and be glad. 
 They say she loves. They say these many 
 
 months 
 
 [113] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 She shuns the sound of laughter, and alone 
 
 Roams here and there among the silent trees, 
 
 But never tells her secret. Fain had I 
 
 Crept close and said : ' Sweet Echo, it is I, 
 
 Thy friend, the little Thya. Tell to me 
 
 The cause of all thy sorrow. Grief that's told 
 
 Is grief divided, and the lighter made.' 
 
 Perhaps Diana could have solaced her. 
 
 Or thou, dear Praxis ; but my years are few. 
 
 And I might wound while meaning to be kind. 
 
 And so I blew a kiss to where she lay. 
 
 And crept away as softly as I came. 
 
 Now all the woods seem sadder than at dawn. 
 
 And I am most unhappy." Then no more 
 
 She spoke, but laid her gold-encircled head 
 
 Upon her sister's bosom. Thus at last 
 
 The busy brook that gossips through the woods 
 
 And patient meads is silenced ; finding peace 
 
 When gather'd to the comprehending sea 
 
 Or to the sky's unmarr'd serenity. 
 
 BUT now the sun beheld his rested love 
 With sidelong glances, and the woods again 
 Became a temple, where the gather'd birds — 
 The thrush, the wren, the linnet, and the dove — 
 Piped softer songs than human melodist 
 E'er chanted in the sunshine ; and afar 
 The risen lark above the scented fields 
 [114] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 Trill'd silv'ry benediction. Then were heard 
 The distant horns that told the wide-eyed deer 
 Diana had awaken'd, and would soon 
 With hounds and laughing maidens give them 
 
 chase. 
 And now the nymphs made ready to depart. 
 " I tend Diana till the moon steps forth," 
 Said Praxis to her sister. " Go thou now, 
 My little Thya, and forget thy care 
 Amid the forest's beauty. Weave for me 
 A wreath of wild, sweet roses, and to-night 
 I'll wear it while I tell thee of the sea, 
 Where mermen dwell in caves of gleaming pearl. 
 Now smilest thou already ! With a kiss 
 I send thee forth, my sister. Hear the horns 
 Wind louder now and nearer! I must haste 
 And meet the forest's Mistress ; but To-night 
 Will come at last, an^ thou shalt kiss me back 
 And tell me of my promise ! Thus I press 
 My little Thya, who the gentlest is 
 Of all the gentle nymphs in Attica." 
 
 J^^^UT Echo still sat weeping by the pool, 
 H^amDisconsolate and hopeless. Far apart 
 '^^^''"^From all her laughing sisters she re- 
 
 main'd. 
 As though an outcast, lovely yet despised. 
 [115] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 For many years the clear-voiced leader she 
 Of nymphs whose singing usher'd in the Day 
 Or told the Night's advancemwit. She had 
 
 sung, 
 To please great Zeus, of things the wood-folk do 
 When silly shepherds woo them. Fairest she 
 Of all fair nymphs ; but now, how sad the lot 
 Of her whom he had f avor'd, and had loved ! 
 That self-same morn, while yet the dew lay cool 
 Upon the ferns' chaste beauty, she had spied 
 Immortal Zeus asleep beside a nymph, 
 Their arms enmesh'd together. On his breast 
 Her face lay hid, and all the white of her 
 Was veil'd beneath his purple. Thus they slept, 
 Yet sigh'd and call'd each other to return 
 From lands of sleep, to whisper and to kiss 
 And tell their dreams together while they might. 
 For ye that love know well how pitiless 
 Is Time, how unrelenting. While ye rest 
 'Twixt kiss and kiss, and while with heavy lids 
 Ye wait endearment's coining of the word 
 That proves undying passion, Time moves on. 
 And nevermore are ye what once ye were. 
 To-day is yours ; the night is yours in part — 
 Sleep envies ye your kisses and your sighs. 
 To-morrow? Ah ! What word, excepting Death, 
 So sad is as To-morrow? Say it not. 
 Who counts upon To-morrow grasps the wind. 
 
 [116] 
 
' PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 AND while they slept, and while their lips 
 still moved 
 Above the words their ears no more might hear, 
 Pale Echo watch'd the twain, and ask'd herself 
 Who she might be that from Olympus drew 
 The gods' dread king, and charm'd him with a 
 
 kiss. 
 Then stepp'd she close to where they sighing 
 
 lay, 
 And lightly, as the wind may lift a leaf 
 That hides the gauzy insect from the sun, 
 She raised the purple mantle ; and the face 
 That rested there so fair was, yet so sad, 
 She drew away ashamed, yet envious. 
 And while the nymphs were group'd around the 
 
 pool 
 Wherein they bathed each morning, she had 
 
 told 
 This secret thing, and all the nymphs had 
 
 laugh'd 
 Until on high Olympus Juno heard 
 Above the breathless silence of the dawn. 
 And, bending, she had listen'd. One by one 
 The nymphs re-told the story, till her brow 
 Was anger-lined and awful ; then she bade 
 The thunders roar her coming, and the while 
 The bright air quiver'd and the birds forsook 
 Their nests in utter terror, she appear'd 
 
 [in] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Amid the nymphs and stared them cold as stone. 
 And one by one they drew themselves away 
 From hapless Echo, who was kneeling now 
 With cover'd face among the daffodils. 
 Then Juno spoke, the cold and pitiless, 
 Unloved of Zeus and fear'd of all the gods 
 On bright Olympus ; and her voice was like 
 The wind that drives with angry hiss the spray 
 From seas of writhing turmoil. " Thou hast 
 
 seen 
 The hateful thing, the deed of shame," she 
 
 said, 
 And stretch'd her hand above pale Echo's head ; 
 " And, minding not mine honor, thou hast told 
 Winds, trees and birds, and mocking nymphs 
 
 thereof, 
 That they who sit by mighty Zeus may laugh, 
 And men deride the weakness of a god. 
 This having seen and evermore forgot 
 I might have made thee goddess, lifted thee 
 To sit with us in splendor ; now thou art 
 Abhorr'd of me, and loved no more of Zeus. 
 Wherefore I raise my hands above thy head 
 And take from thee sweet speech, sweet speech 
 
 that is 
 Illusive Music's sister. Nevermore 
 Thy tongue shall trill the love-song; nevermore 
 Thy lips shall form the unforgotten words 
 [118] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 Of whisper'd love at twilight. Shouldst thou 
 
 wed, 
 Thy babe shall miss an answer to its coo, 
 Nor shalt thou ever croon its slumber song. 
 But lest with utter silence there should come 
 Forgetfulness of sorrow, thou shalt be 
 A mirror for men's voices, casting back 
 The pleasant sound although thyself unseen. 
 Now go thou forth, false Echo. Till the winds 
 And singing sea be silenced, and the stars 
 No longer burn above thee, wander thou. 
 That men may learn the enmity of gods 
 To them that dare reveal their mysteries." 
 Thus spoke the anger'd goddess. And the 
 
 clouds 
 Descended slowly till they cover'd her 
 And hid her from the glances of the nymphs ; 
 Then rose she up in silence, solemnly, 
 Above the laurels, pines, and pass'd away 
 Amid the blue to brood upon her throne 
 And shun the eyes of them that mock'd at her. 
 Then, one by one, the nymphs forsook the pool 
 And left among the flowers that pitied her 
 The silent Echo ; saying naught they tum'd. 
 And saying naught they slowly disappear'd, 
 As turn the favor'd from the downcast thing 
 And shun the hopeless and unfortunate. 
 
 [119] 
 
roYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 THUS Thya found her, and had left her 
 there, 
 Alone, with sorrow for companionship. 
 But while she wept, she dream'd that one would 
 
 come 
 To comfort her when once the nymphs had told 
 The woods of her misfortune. In her heart 
 Hope linger'd still — fond Hope, that ever bides 
 Though Night dismays the troubled soul of 
 
 men ; 
 And so she dream'd, and dreaming seem'd to feel 
 Compassion's fingers laid upon her brows. 
 For many months the hapless nymph had loved 
 The shy Narcissus, and had follow'd him 
 On tangled paths where'er his footsteps led ; 
 But ever had the youth eluded her. 
 Or treated her advances with disdain. 
 For though all nymphs had ever dream'd of him, 
 And Venus, the Immortal, call'd him fair, 
 Narcissus eyed them coldly, finding not 
 In aught that sigh'd and whisper'd when he 
 
 pass'd 
 The charm that binds a lover to his maid. 
 Some said he woo'd a nymph who loved him not, 
 And others call'd him enemy to love ; 
 And said that he, on noons of lassitude, 
 Would sit beside some sky-reflecting pool 
 To watch his own fair features. This he did ; 
 [ 120] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 But saw the while the beauty of the sky ; 
 Or thought of one, a sister, who was dead. 
 Or fleeting clouds above him ; asking them 
 Why he was fetter'd while the bird was free. 
 And why the gods had fashion'd him at all. 
 And while the nymphs had slowly drawn away 
 Beguiled, perhaps, by shepherds or a god, 
 Two loved the youth most fondly ; Echo, one. 
 And — Praxis, though none knew it, leastwise she 
 Whose love must now be evermore untold. 
 And Echo now felt sure that to his eyes 
 Would well the tears of pity when he saw 
 Her adoration, now made doubly mute. 
 But naught she knew of youth, the pitiless, 
 And naught of love ; for love is like the rain 
 That comes unbidden from the grieving skies 
 When earth is parch'd and weary. On the weed 
 It falls, as on the rose ; and nourishes 
 The meadow and the wilderness alike. 
 But who has bade it fall to suit his whim. 
 And who has made Love minister to him ? 
 So Echo sigh'd, and waited by the pool. 
 Por well she knew that he whom she desired 
 Would come that way to rest a while and dream, 
 And bathe his body's beauty. In the woods 
 No spot there was so shelter'd ; none so dear 
 To stricken stag, that drank, the while it gazed 
 Upon its soft, reflected counterfeit, 
 
 [m] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 And wonder'd, ere it crept away to death, 
 How aught could wound a thing so innocent. 
 There came as well the wide-eyed, anxious doe 
 Beside its faun, alert to ev'ry sound 
 That hinted danger ; and the startled hare 
 There quench'd its thirst and vanish'd like a 
 
 monk 
 Amid the cloistral silence of the trees. 
 
 AND while amid the upright daffodils 
 And scented dusk pale Echo stood and 
 dream'd. 
 From out the forest's darkness he appear'd — 
 The weary-eyed Narcissus. White his limbs 
 As coldest coral that in sunless caves 
 Lies hid beneath the blossoms of the sea. 
 About his brows was bound an ivy wreath, 
 Whose clinging leaves confined such ebon locks 
 As Sleep may shake above a drowsy child 
 The while he wooes it to untroubled dreams. 
 And suddenly she saw him, and arose 
 And stood abash'd before him. Ere he came 
 She told herself that she, with outstretch'd arms, 
 Would face him kneeling; that her eyes might 
 
 plead 
 The while her lips were silent ; now, dismay'd. 
 She stood before him like a dazzled moth 
 Before a sudden glory. And the thought 
 [122] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 Of utter dumbness made her weep again 
 And hide her face behind her trembling hands. 
 But he that stood and watch'd her, like a god 
 In wondrous calm and beauty, knew too well 
 Who thus had hid her features. " Thou," he 
 
 cried, 
 " Art she on whom the steadfast stars shall gaze 
 In soft compassion. Echo is thy name ; 
 Thy fault, the telling of the loves of Zeus ; 
 And she who hates thee Juno is, who sits 
 Beside him on Olympus. Even now 
 The nymphs have told thy sorrow, and the trees 
 Are bow'd above the soil for love of thee. 
 Echo art thou, of whom strange men shall sing 
 When we have pass'd to where the shadows bide 
 And Love itself is voiceless." Slowly then 
 She bared her face's beauty, and outheld 
 Her arms to him whose voice was as the wind 
 On morns of blue and silver. Silent now 
 She stood before him, and the gods were touch'd 
 To see the mute appeal upon her lips 
 And all the unvoiced yearning of her arms. 
 But he whom she would win was silent, too. 
 He came no nearer ; and, although his eyes 
 Were moist with pity, yet he loved her not. 
 And answer'd not, until from out the glow 
 A pigeon flutter'd, and upon the snow 
 Of Echo's shoulder found a resting place. 
 [ 123] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 " Our Venus loves thee, Echo," he began ; 
 " Despite thy fault, the Queen is merciful 
 And braves the wrath of Juno and of Zeus. 
 She sends thee now her gentle messenger 
 To bid thee hope. Who knows but one may 
 come 
 
 To ask thy love " But suddenly she turn'd, 
 
 And with a sigh as awful as a stab, 
 
 So sharp, so short it was, she turn'd and fled, 
 
 And left Narcissus standing there, amazed. 
 
 AND well she knew that day was done for 
 her; 
 That nevermore the glances of the sun 
 Might warm her cheeks, or Zephyrs in the mom 
 Be wanton with her tresses. Never once 
 She linger'd 'neath the beeches, or essay'd 
 To hear pursuing foot-falls through the fern; 
 But sped, by shaded paths unfrequented. 
 Beyond the borderline of Attica, 
 To other woods wherein no memories 
 Might make the day more tragic than the night. 
 And there grew old. And shepherds told the 
 
 tale 
 How oft they saw, the while their woolly flocks 
 Were grazing near the woodlands, one who 
 
 seem'd 
 Less nymph than fleeing spirit. Never yet 
 [124] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 Was satyr seen beside her. All alone, 
 
 Save for the fauns that sometimes follow'd her, 
 
 She came and went, but often gazed at them 
 
 With eyes that seem'd unutterably sad. 
 
 And this the shepherds noted ; that when came 
 
 To these same woods Diana and her maids. 
 
 Or wand'ring Pan behind his fitful pipes. 
 
 The nymph was seen no longer. Where she hid 
 
 No shepherd knew ; and one who watch'd the 
 
 woods 
 From noon until the hopeless moon appear'd, 
 And through the dark until Morn's crimson 
 
 torch 
 Enflamed the East, had seen no sign of her. 
 But when no more the silv'ry voices broke 
 The forest's soft solemnity, again 
 The simple shepherds, as they watch'd their 
 
 sheep. 
 Beheld afar the ever-silent nymph. 
 And once, when somewhat nearer she had come 
 To where they idled, one arose and sang 
 A song that throbb'd with passion, such a song 
 As sing the swains when love is yet to win 
 And skies are bright with splendid presences. 
 And lo ! before the tear-compelling sound 
 Had left the lips of him that utter'd it, 
 And while the glow still burn'd upon his face, 
 A voice was heard in answer, like a sigh 
 [ 125] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Of troubled winds, when down the aisles of Time 
 Love's song reminds of things that might have 
 
 been. 
 And they that heard were startled; and again 
 When one had shock'd the fragrant silences 
 With one clear call of wonder, she replied 
 With faint precision. Then the shepherds knew 
 That this was Echo, whom the gods made mute 
 Till human voice might rouse her. And again 
 On nights of peace, or when their hearts were 
 
 fill'd 
 With all the golden joyousness of morn, 
 They call'd her as the shepherd calls to-day. 
 And, wooingly, she answer'd from afar. 
 For though the gods be obdurate and stern, 
 And merciless to them that anger them. 
 Compassion warms the hearts of humble men ; 
 Their pity proves the virtue of the poor. 
 
 B 
 
 OW light was slowly waning in the west. 
 And Evening, in her robes of lavender, 
 ^One star upon her brow, stepp'd from 
 the skies 
 And laid upon the forests and the hills 
 Cool hands of benediction. One by one 
 The cowslips closed, as if afraid to see 
 [126] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 Night's sombre tragedies ; and soon the woods 
 Were still and silent save when through the dusk 
 The ebon bat skimm'd swiftly, or the dove 
 Coo'd from its high and leafy hermitage. 
 Beneath the trees the deer had laid them down, 
 Their shy calls answer'd by their constant mates. 
 Scarce seen upon the needles of the pines 
 They rested now, and gazed with lustrous eyes 
 Of soft content upon the purpling glades ; 
 Or sometimes moved to where the cooler fern 
 Was soft and fragrant, and awaited there 
 Night with her silver mirror, and the stars. 
 It was the hour of peace. Along the hills 
 The sombre shades advanced, dislodging thence 
 The glow that linger'd on the stony crests 
 Like love upon the foreheads of the old; 
 But o'er the lowly meadows, where the stream 
 Murmur'd its song and hurried to the sea. 
 The fleecy mist was falling like a veil 
 To hide each petal'd beauty till the dawn. 
 And over all the gods sat silently. 
 Watching the world through heavy eyes of 
 
 dream. 
 Magnificently solemn. They beheld 
 Forest and field and gently rising hill. 
 Joying therein in ways unknown to us 
 Who find more beauty in a painted face 
 Than in the wholesome features of the world. 
 
 [127] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 And as they gazed, Apollo play'd for them 
 Hymns of the dusk, low-noted vagaries 
 Suggesting peace and quiet. On his knee 
 He knelt by her whose glances swell the seeds 
 And tint the blossoms, Ceres, she whom men 
 Have call'd the fair Earth Mother; and her 
 
 eyes 
 Were softer than his music, soft as is 
 The mother's gaze when first she sees her babe 
 With wonder yet about it. Now she saw 
 The patient cattle in the drowsy fields, 
 The sheep within the sheepfold, and the hut 
 Wherein the happy shepherd and his mate 
 Whisper'd above the embers. Woods and plains 
 And mountains lay beneath her; and the while 
 Apollo touch'd his vibrant instrument 
 And, one by one, allured the modest stars 
 From where they waited whisp'ring, she beheld 
 The gentle-eyed and velvet-sandal'd Dusk 
 Enswathe the world in her benign caress. 
 
 THE little Thya was no sooner hid 
 When from the shadow of the ancient beech 
 Praxis arose, now rested and alert. 
 And left the glade wherein now softly gleam'd 
 The setting sun. As pass before our eyes 
 Our noiseless dreams and leave no mark behind 
 Of fleeing feet, so pass'd she through the aisks, 
 [128] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 Light as a moth. Rememb'ring now where 
 
 stood 
 An ancient altar, grey and ivy-deck'd, 
 Where men to Venus sacrifices made, 
 She hasten'd there, and, kneeling, laid thereon 
 A tress of hair that gleam'd like fine-spun gold 
 Touch'd by Apollo's fingers. " Take," cried 
 
 she. 
 And slowly lifted to the heights serene 
 Her arms' appealing, column'd loveliness, 
 " O take, bright Goddess, what I prize the most. 
 And grant me love ! Each night I dream of 
 
 one 
 Whose beauty is my anguish ; and at dawn 
 Aurora's glow reminds me of his hair. 
 Throughout the day his face upon the air 
 In softest tints is painted, and at night 
 It trembles through the darkness like a flame. 
 These many months I tread, disconsolate, 
 The paths whereon I once danced joyously, 
 Heedless the while of Eros ; now no more 
 The winds suggest the melodies of Spring 
 Or set my pulses throbbing. All alone 
 I wander in my whiteness, and my sighs 
 Have won compassion from the mocking fauns 
 And made the iris watch me as I pass." 
 Then paused she, and, where trembled still the 
 
 tress 
 
 [129] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Of sever'd hair, all golden, placed her hands ; 
 Then upward gazed, and listen'd. But the air 
 Hung silently about her. If she heard, 
 The Goddess made no answer; sent no sign 
 By dove or winged Zephyr down the blue 
 To her that knelt in maiden wistfulness 
 And waited, watch'd and wonder'd. And again 
 The golden peace was shatter'd by her voice. 
 And once again the beeches heard her sigh- 
 But now it seem'd she murmur'd to herself 
 And not to Venus ; and her eyes no more 
 Sought the bright blue above her, but beheld 
 The paler beauties starr'd upon the soil, 
 And there found comfort. " Fair, so fair is he," 
 She said to them, and sigh'd ; then spoke again ; 
 " For he is one on whom the Morning's glow 
 Descended at his birth, and made his face 
 Bright with a golden promise. With the things 
 Of dream his beauty changes ; for he is 
 No splendid god that sits unheeding Time 
 Above the world in glinting solitudes, 
 But mortal, and the envied thing of Death. 
 Therefore is he the fairer ; therefore he, 
 With shadow'd eyes expectant of a grief, 
 And conscious of the hopelessness of life, 
 Is sad as ye, sweet flowers, that must depart 
 So soon, so soon, from all ye make so fair. 
 Often, alone, I see him stray away 
 
 [ 130 ] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 Where only shadows linger, where the pine 
 Is still and uncomplaining ; on his brow 
 Is Grief enthroned, and Melancholy lays 
 Her heavy hand upon his joyless lips. 
 A sister once could lead his careless steps 
 To where the sunbeams beckon'd; but herself 
 Now dwells among the shadows, and her feet 
 Are placed to greyer ways than we may know. 
 And now he shuns all sweet companionship 
 Of nymphs and fauns, and shepherds idle-eyed; 
 He wanders lonely as a homeless Wind 
 From glade to glade and pool to dreamy pool, 
 And asks of no one comfort, seeks not love." 
 And then bethought the nymph again of Her 
 To whom all lovers pray, whose rosy ears 
 Have heard all joy and all unhappiness 
 Since first she made Love's mystery her own. 
 And once again she raised white arms to her. 
 " O Venus, crown'd and radiant, look thou down 
 On one who is most desolate," she cried ; 
 " All that is mine is given me by thee — 
 Passion and youth and passing loveliness ; 
 Yet love's withheld, and lacking love I fain 
 Would give thee back thy gifts, and gladly 
 
 die. 
 I love Narcissus ! But he looks at me 
 As though I were a lily, cool'd by dews. 
 And all unconscious of the bee's intent. 
 [131] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 But thou hast loved ! About thee arms have 
 
 twined 
 And crush'd thee with a pain that seem'd most 
 
 sweet ; 
 Above thine own have smiled a lover's lips 
 That droop'd with thine ; thy throat has felt the 
 
 kiss 
 That trembled through thy being like the glow 
 That wakes the trees in wooing days of Spring. 
 Now help thou me, white Wonder of the Waves, 
 Venus, whom gods delight in ! Hear a nymph 
 Who loves thee well ; who dreams as thou hast 
 
 dream'd ; 
 Who yearns for one most hopeless, one who is 
 Illusive as the shadow on a pool. 
 Oh, give to me Narcissus, whom I love ! 
 Then, till I wander downward to the dark. 
 Where in the end all fairest things abide. 
 Whence Love is banish'd, and desire thereof. 
 By morn and night my praise shall rise to thee 
 Reminding thee of joys that were thine own." 
 
 BUT though she waited till the ringdove 
 coo'd 
 Its single note serene, thus heralding 
 The dusk's advance, the Goddess gave no sign 
 That she had heard ; no music fill'd the air 
 With soft insistence and a hint of love, 
 [132] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 As when low horns are tremulously blown 
 From hidden heights above white seas of mist. 
 Then Praxis knelt no longer, but arose 
 Like one on whom a world weighs heavily 
 And stumbled through the forest. On and on 
 She went unseeing, and unseen of aught 
 Except the wakeful beeches. For the nymphs 
 Were gather'd now where curl'd the heavy fern, 
 In hiding from the satyrs ; and the birds 
 Gave little heed to things that were of earth. 
 From glade to glade she pass'd, from dell to dell. 
 Wishing the Night were come, that smiling 
 
 Sleep 
 Might touch her with his wand. For Sleep was 
 
 then, 
 As even now, benign and merciful ; 
 Hushing the sigh upon the griever's lips 
 And splendoring the dark with wondrous 
 
 dreams. 
 Thus, unawares, she wander'd to the pool 
 Where linger'd yet Narcissus ; and before 
 Her gleaming feet could haste her through the 
 
 gloom 
 She look'd and saw him, saw how sad he was, 
 And, loving him, was drawn to where he sigh'd. 
 And ere he knew it, she had knelt by him 
 Amid the whisp'ring sedges. And because 
 Her face was pale as Sorrow's, and as still, 
 [ 133] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Narcissus fear'd her not, but laid his hand 
 
 Most lightly on her hair and spoke to her. 
 
 " Who, save myself, thus loves the haunted dusk, 
 
 And walks in utter loneliness ? " he ask'd. 
 
 " A nymph thou art, and one that should be hid 
 
 Beside thy sisters ere the shadows fill 
 
 The darksome woods ; ere Night, with heavy lids, 
 
 Seeks bright Apollo's footsteps. None may see 
 
 Such mysteries, and flourish ; even now 
 
 The modest blooms have closed their pretty 
 
 eyes. 
 And in their nests morn's trilling choristers 
 Hide heads beneath the shelter of their wings. 
 Upon the grass Night's tears already fall, 
 Aad soon she will be with us ; who art thou 
 So white and fair, and yet so unafraid .? " 
 Then answer'd him the nymph, and look'd away 
 To where the waters darken'd : " Praxis, I, 
 Whose love, though true, is most unfortunate ; 
 Therefore I wander through the woods at dusk. 
 Nor fear the Night, whose eyes have seen much 
 
 grief ; 
 Whose melancholy lips have never told 
 Her secret sorrow or her cherish'd dream." 
 " Thou art too young to tell of hopeless love," 
 Narcissus answer'd. " Thou art beautiful, 
 And who would turn from beauty save the blind.'* 
 Thy silken hair is like a golden net 
 [134] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 To tangle hearts, and he that scorns to-day 
 May beg to-morrow mercy at thy hands. 
 And if not he, another; for the world 
 Is warm with lovers as the sky with stars." 
 But Praxis sigh'd. " I love the sun," she 
 
 said ; 
 " And while the stars be many, he is one." 
 " And who is he whose eyes alone can light 
 Thy destined path ? " the youth ask'd tenderly. 
 And press'd her pale face upward with his hand. 
 " Is he a god grown weary of the heights, 
 And charm'd by Earth's eterne impermanence? 
 A satyr .f* Or a shepherd with his pipes 
 And heritage of consecrated dreams .'' 
 Or lovest thou a shadow, a desire, 
 A thing of heart's own making, such as lures 
 Too oft the fancy of a simple maid? " 
 And while his eyes sought hers, and while his 
 
 hand 
 Still touch'd her throat's warm whiteness, she 
 
 replied. 
 As one may speak who stands before a shrine: 
 *' Thou askest, who my love art. Thou art he," 
 
 THEN look'd the nymph away, and paler 
 grew 
 Her cheeks erst red as roses ; for the hand 
 That almost touch'd her bosom ere she spoke 
 [135] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Was now withdrawn, and chiller seem'd the 
 
 glade 
 Than Melancholy's sunken, shadow'd lair. 
 And while her gaze was fix'd upon the pool 
 Narcissus watch'd the glow that was her hair ; 
 And when he spoke his voice was like the voice 
 Of one long dead, most sorrowful, yet sweet 
 With memories of unforgotten joys. 
 " Nay, nay ! " he said, " Oh ! tell me not thou 
 
 lov'st ; 
 For love and I are strangers. Thou art young ; 
 And hid within the darkness there is one 
 With whom the heights of glory thou shalt tread 
 When Destiny so wills it, not before. 
 First love is often dream love ; thou shalt wake. 
 When steps this other from the mists of dawn 
 To bid thee follow where the trumpets call, 
 And place thy hand in his hand, unafraid. 
 For me the shadow, and for thee the light. 
 For I am one whose fate it is to be 
 Enroll'd among the lonely, with the cloud. 
 The mist and wand'ring planet. I have sought 
 This thing call'd love, O Praxis ; but for me 
 Another fate was long ago decreed. 
 No answ'ring flash awaits the tender glance 
 Of eyes that dream in mine ; upon my lips 
 No lips may dwell, or kiss be chastely placed. 
 How oft I see the shepherd striding home, 
 
 [136] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 His love beside him ; in his arms he holds 
 The boy that seems more god-like than the best 
 That sits on high Olympus ; but for me 
 The dream is done, and evermore I hide 
 Where stilly pools reflect the leafy peace." 
 " Then life is over," wearily she said ; 
 " So oft I saw thee in the hush of dawn 
 Beside thy lovely sister. On thy breast 
 Her head reclined, and thus ye watch'd the glow 
 Suffuse the skies above ye. From afar, 
 Above the deeper music of the woods, 
 I heard thy voice when, singing in the dusk. 
 Ye wander'd home. Ah, thou wert happy then, 
 But ne'er have I known laughter or delight." 
 " And now," Narcissus answer'd, " thou and I 
 Are one in sorrow. For the maiden sleeps 
 In yonder grove, where never now a bird 
 Shall trill its song above the asphodel 
 And make her spirit listen ; she is one 
 With silent ghosts in shadow'd underlands, 
 Nor e'er may see the pleasant sun again." 
 He paused, and she beside him said no word. 
 But watch'd the pool with dimm'd, unseeing 
 
 eyes, 
 Forgetful not of hope that once was hers 
 And now was hers no longer. Thus at last 
 Are cherish'd things remember'd ; thus at last, 
 When all is lost, all over, and the scheme 
 [137] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 We dream'd of most is shatter'd, from the Past 
 Old hopes creep forth, old vows, and memories 
 Of sighs that stab like daggers to the soul. 
 
 WHEN Praxis spoke, her sorrow seem'd 
 forgot. 
 For even then, in days of wonderment. 
 And dream and love, and sweet desire thereof, 
 Life's burdens lay on women heaviest. 
 And women smiled despite a breaking heart. 
 " In yonder gardens she will wait," she said, 
 " For thee, O pale Narcissus, There is peace 
 Where now she is, in solemn lands of mist 
 Among grey ghosts whose lips no favors ask. 
 Things fair are made more beautiful by Death, 
 And now with gentle Proserpine she rests. 
 To whom, perhaps, she sings of golden dawns 
 And even's hush'd and unforgotten joys. 
 The wind's caress, the rain's insistent plea. 
 The tree's abandon'd dancing — these to her 
 Were things to find delight in ; now she tells 
 The Queen whose eyes are greyer than her world 
 Her innocent and cherish'd memories. 
 And thou and I, Narcissus, shall behold. 
 Or soon or late, the loveliness again 
 That smiled upon earth's beauty. She shall be 
 Thy sister still; but I — Ah, lest I go 
 To that dim place where now she waits for thee 
 [ 138] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 Ere thou art call'd, I beg thee kiss me once, 
 That there may be from thee to her a gift 
 To make her eyes flame welcome, even there." 
 Then, bending down, he kiss'd her, as the moon 
 May lay its cold and passionless caress 
 Upon the thing that loves it ; and the while 
 He look'd away to think what words might 
 
 soothe 
 The maiden's grief, and make her brave again, 
 The woods had won her with their lure of peace. 
 
 ^^^^OW Night, for one swift second, wav'- 
 
 ||Kiy||Mring stood 
 
 •^^^^ Above the peaceful forest, looking down 
 With eyes of still compassion on the world, 
 Most beautiful in slumber. Fain had she 
 Bade Time delay her eastward hurrying 
 That men might dream the longer, live the while 
 In bliss most sweet because most innocent; 
 And tread the ways whereon no shadow falls 
 To hint the dread To-morrow. But, alas. 
 Time drives the Night before him ; and the Day 
 Obeys the silent order of his eyes. 
 As must the frailest leaf that curls and falls, 
 And ever mourns a perish'd loveliness. 
 One second thus she linger'd, knowing well 
 [139] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 How idle is a sorrow unassuaged, 
 How very bitter, yet how very sweet. 
 And while the pool grew bright with many stars 
 Narcissus crouch'd beside it. Did he think 
 Of Echo, or of Praxis.? On his heart 
 One face alone was graven, one that paled 
 All gather'd beauties in the underworld, 
 And made the sapless blossoms of the gloom 
 Seem sad and wither'd things. And, gazing 
 
 now 
 Upon the listless waters, motionless 
 As lies an idle mirror, and as cold. 
 He saw therein, beneath his own, a face 
 So like to hers that he all else forgot : 
 " O voiceless now forever ! " he exclaim'd, 
 And yearn'd above the vision ; " Thou whom 
 
 Death 
 Beheld amid the clover and the corn 
 And envied Day his fleeting right in thee ! 
 Chill seem the woods without thee. Oh! that 
 
 thou 
 Couldst step with eyes of question from the 
 
 dusk, 
 As steps the flaming tulip from the earth 
 Ere Spring's wann kisses wake the sleeping 
 
 trees ! 
 For now that thou art gather'd to the dark 
 I think of thee as of the hidden seed 
 [ 140 ] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 That soon shall burst and climb to where the 
 
 air 
 Awaits its fragrance. But the earth's a tomb 
 For thee and thine, O sister ; and thy face 
 That glimmers here would fade were mine to 
 
 turn 
 To where the far stars flicker. Thou art one 
 With all the grieving ghosts of yesterday, 
 And one with whispers and with memories ; 
 And though my tears should overflood this pool, 
 And heaven's high vault be music'd with my 
 
 sighs. 
 Not one might dew thy cheek's wan loveliness, 
 Not one could tell thy spirit of my love. 
 Yet even there, where sun nor moon may shine, 
 And Silence stills the echoes of the stars, 
 I am of thee remember'd ; even there 
 Thou standest by the uneventful sea 
 Dreaming of other waters, and of him 
 Who bade thee hear the wondrous songs of them. 
 How oft we saw the fingers of the Morn 
 Open enamor'd roses, and the Night 
 Lay gentle hands upon them till they closed ! 
 How oft we two stood breathless, hand in hand, 
 The while above our heads, from heights of blue. 
 The field's impassion'd melodist, the lark. 
 Flung notes of melting sweetness, and was gone. 
 But now no song can charm thee ; thou art one 
 [ 141 ] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Whose day is over, and although I mourn 
 Thou hearest not, who art by Death beguiled." 
 
 HE ceased a while, but gazed with longing 
 eyes 
 Upon the face beneath him. Clearer now 
 The features gleam'd; for now the rounded 
 
 moon 
 Had dimm'd the stars, and fill'd with mystic 
 
 light 
 The void wherein the glinting earth revolved. 
 The soft effulgence swathed the tow'ring crests 
 Of solemn mountains, lit the level fields 
 And made distinct each giant of the woods ; 
 The darkest glades were silver'd, and the pool, 
 By Zephyrs now, and insects, undisturb'd, 
 Was bright and polish'd like a disc of steel. 
 And he that lean'd beyond the water's edge 
 And view'd therein his sad and perfect face, 
 Seem'd hewn from whitest marble ; motionless 
 As stone itself, and just as passionless. 
 And yet a thing to rouse the love of gods 
 The while his limbs in Melancholy's line 
 Show'd softly in the moonlight, and his head 
 Droop'd like a Woe above the silent flood. 
 But even now the three dread ministrants 
 Of Death's decrees, the ever-whisp'ring Fates, 
 Greyer than Time and far more pitiless, 
 [142] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 Were watching him, for whom the palHd moon 
 And all the tinted glories of the day 
 Would soon be fainter than a cherish'd dream. 
 He knew it not. But soon there reach'd his ear 
 A bird's shy voice, as though while half awake 
 It chirp'd its dream ; then loud and louder still 
 The notes became, until the shimm'ring air 
 Throbb'd with the song of passion, and the 
 
 Night, 
 Despite its poignant sorrow, seem'd to smile ! 
 Then from the pool Narcissus turn'd his face 
 And saw the moon above. " O thou," he cried, 
 " Who art the wan, white blossom of the skies, 
 Who watchest ever in the odor'd fields 
 Where only gods may linger, and the stars ! 
 Pursuer thou of an illusive dream, 
 Whose doom it is to seek, but never find, 
 The one thou lovest ever. Hear, O hear, 
 The plaint of him whose love is like thine own — 
 As hopeless as the foam of driven seas ! 
 She whom I mourn is hidden from the day ; 
 Upon her breast the world lies heavily, 
 And far from me, and far from loveliness. 
 And song and sunshine and the things of light 
 Her spirit wanders, comfortless and cold. 
 Why went she hence? The daffodils remain ; 
 Yon bird whose voice reminds me of her own 
 Is happy still ; but she is with the ghosts, 
 [ 143] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 With, all the hopeless and unyearning things 
 That crowd the bleak, black realms of bitter 
 
 Death. 
 A little while she might have stay'd with me, 
 Who loved her well. But me she left alone ; 
 Left the bright dawn, the sunset, and the peace 
 That follows Twilight's footsteps. She and I 
 Have watch'd thy face together, hopeless Moon ; 
 Thy beams have lit our wand'rings in the past, 
 And thou hast heard us whisper of our dreams. 
 Ah ! would that she might come to us again, 
 To pity thee, and, with the olden love. 
 Ward from my heart the fell approach of 
 
 gloom." 
 Then ceased he speaking for a little space 
 And eyed again his beauty in the pool. 
 And sigh'd the more. But all unconsciously 
 The bird sang on ; and sang, and sang, and sang 
 Until it seem'd the air could hold no more 
 Of such delicious music. Then the gods, 
 From where they dream'd amid the firmament 
 And knew not yet what clamor'd in the dark. 
 Bent down to note the singer and the song. 
 And saw — Narcissus ! And a Wind arose 
 From where it lay beyond the olived hills, 
 And sped to where he languish'd ; then it touch'd 
 His heavy locks and made him lift anew 
 His lovely head in question. And the gods 
 [ 144] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 Had need of him, and drew the moon away 
 
 And hush'd the bird and left him all alone. 
 
 And when again his eyes beheld the pool 
 
 The face he sought had vanish'd, and his voice 
 
 Above the empty waters was the voice 
 
 Of leaves that know their doom is very near. 
 
 " O thou," he sigh'd, " fond sister and fond 
 
 love, 
 Where thou art gone I soon shall, haply, come ; 
 Our dreams and our desires the heralds are 
 To where our spirits hasten ; and our feet 
 Ascend a little moment, then decline 
 To paths of mist and silence. Nevermore 
 The dawn shall lure me to the quest of gold 
 No hand may sully ; and the Dusk shall lay 
 Its kiss upon the forest, but no more 
 Shall I behold the wonderment thereof. 
 A little while and I shall be with thee. 
 Beyond the constant sorrow of the world 
 And melancholy night. Upon the shores 
 Of yon dim land be thou to beacon me 
 Across the awful river, that thy face 
 May cheer my fearful ghost which Death shall 
 
 shear 
 Of all its body's beauty, and its hope." 
 And then he sought the ever-whisp'ring reeds 
 And fell asleep. But oh ! no dreams illumed 
 His fringed eyes, no fancies fretted him 
 [145] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Or made him sigh in slumber. Well he sleeps 
 Who dreams no more, who nevermore may yearn 
 For that which gods found vain long, long ago. 
 
 AND thus the Dawn beheld him, as she sped 
 In robes of rose and silver o'er the world, 
 Yet fain had linger'd where Narcissus lay 
 So very silent. For the youth was fair 
 As is a shelter'd rosebud, and the wings 
 Of Death had touch'd him very lovingly. 
 To see him now, one had not thought him dead, 
 But sleeping only. On the grass he lay ; 
 His head supported by a marbled arm. 
 His rounded cheek, so waxen, lightly press'd 
 Against a reed imprison'd in his hand. 
 And all around strange blossoms, newly born, 
 Uprear'd their frail and ghostly loveliness 
 And look'd with shy delight upon the world. 
 For these the gifts were of the gracious gods ; 
 Who take our things of beauty, yet bestow. 
 If we but knew, great blessings in their place — 
 Age with its peace for Youth and its desire, 
 Flowers from the dust that seem'd to us so dear. 
 And there, amid the nodding loveliness. 
 These starry blooms that ever hint of rest, 
 Narcissus lay the while the Zephyrs touch'd 
 His tinted lids in pity, ere they fled 
 To sights less sad, although less beautiful, 
 [146] 
 
PRAXIS AND NARCISSUS 
 
 Beyond the distant mountains. Morning came 
 And linger'd, too ; then yielded place to Day, 
 Who stood enwrapt above the wondrous youth. 
 And dried his limbs of Night's uncounted tears 
 And bade the birds lament him. One by one 
 They came and wonder'd, mutely questioning 
 With heads a-slant why he so silent lay ; 
 Then all at once they knew, and soon the woods 
 Were told the secret in divinest song. 
 But naught could break his slumber. Still he 
 
 lay 
 Upon his fragrant pillow, heeding not 
 The Wind, the heaven's mourner, or the kiss 
 Of splendid Phoebus as he bent from out 
 The azure skies, unhalting ; hearing not 
 The sedges' sighing or the cry of stars. 
 All now for him was over ; over now 
 The mad pursuit of things that are of dream, 
 The idle chase of phantoms in the flash 
 'Twixt dark and dark; the impotent desire 
 For all that proves illusive, being won. 
 Amid the ghostly blossoms he reposed. 
 Amid the pale narcissi ; that might see 
 The earth's unconscious beauty, and the hills, 
 The stars that flamed at even ; that could hear. 
 And welcome while they listen'd, while they 
 
 heard. 
 The song of Thya as she near'd the pool. 
 
 [147] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 ^NCE on a time, ah! long ago it was, 
 And faint the wind's voice when it sings 
 thereof, 
 
 There roam'd amid the forest's leafy peace 
 One loved of gods and women. For his hand 
 Could tease such airy music from a lute 
 That Zeus himself had noticed ; and his eyes, 
 Whose fringing lids cast shadows on his cheeks, 
 Allured persuasion and were ever kind, 
 From early youth the lad had stray'd alone. 
 Of solitude enamor'd ; and although 
 The while he smote his uncouth instrument 
 The nymphs would peep at him through bush 
 
 and fern, 
 And wild-eyed Manads long'd to lay their lips 
 Upon his glinting curls, or touch his brow, 
 He scorn'd them all and ever went his way 
 [151] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 No slave but gentle Music's, and her king. 
 With lute in hand he climb'd the tawny hills 
 Or linger'd in the meadows ; and his notes 
 Fill'd the sweet air about him, as the stars 
 Fill the deep sky with throbbing harmonies, 
 And maidens' hearts with strange unquietude. 
 And when he sang, pale Splendor sat by him ; 
 And Glory made more wonderful the eyes 
 That ever look'd with pitiless disdain 
 On fond, dishevell'd loveliness — on nymphs 
 That near'd him when he rested or would dream. 
 But woe to him, however high he stares, 
 Who heeds not Love's advances. Beauty 
 
 scorn'd 
 Joins hands with Hate ; and these same minis- 
 
 trants 
 Of slim Diana's orders, these same maids 
 And these same Maenads on a later day 
 Forgot his wondrous singing and his lute — 
 Remember'd he was Orpheus, wed to dreams, 
 Who scorn'd their proffer'd pity, scorn'd their 
 
 love. 
 Then hai?ed they and slew him ; as the world 
 Still hates the thing above the common plane. 
 And slays the singer for his deathless song. 
 
 [ 152 ] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 AMID the crowding stars the joyless moon 
 Pick'd her slow way on such a breathless 
 
 night 
 As soothes the world in summer. On the hills 
 The yellow corn was silent, for the wind 
 With viewless, teasing fingers touch'd it not, 
 Nor stirr'd the crimson poppies in their sleep. 
 Between the fields an argent river wound 
 Its lazy course and murmur'd peacefully ; 
 The constant willows moum'd along its edge 
 With slanting firs and alders ; on its breast 
 Among the waxen lilies, dusky birds 
 Hid their bright bills and waited for the morn. 
 But stiller was the forest than the field. 
 And stiller than the meadow; for the trees 
 Are solemn warders of the things that sleep 
 Within the womb of earth. All day they wave 
 Their lissome arms above the thing they guard, 
 And bid the sunshine bless it ; but when comes 
 Illusion-loving Night and all her train 
 Of slinking shadows, then the trees are still, 
 And still the world they have the keeping of. 
 But one amid this fragrant stilliness, 
 This holy hush of a maternity 
 Mysterious and eternal, slumber'd not, 
 But, phantom-like, sped lightly through the 
 
 woods. 
 Disconsolate and restless. It was he 
 [153] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Who scorn'd all maidens, Orpheus, weary-eyed, 
 One doom'd to sing and suffer for his song. 
 But now his lute was voiceless ; and the moon, 
 The while it peep'd through leafy lattices 
 And made his pale limbs paler, saw no wreath 
 Of ivy leaves upon his shadow'd brow. 
 Upon his lips no hint of coming song. 
 And while he wander'd on he thus complain'd 
 In tones so gentle that the list'ning trees 
 But faintly heard. " Apollo, music's lord. 
 Bright god of morning, hear, O hear ! " he cried. 
 " There came to me a dream upon a time 
 When I was but a child, and through the years 
 That dream is my desire. For then it seem'd 
 That thou, who in the pensive twilight sing'st 
 In winged words the requiem of Day, 
 My playing heard'st from where thou wanderest 
 Among the constellations. Thou didst hear 
 The songs I sing thee while I face the dawn. 
 And greet thee with such music as my hand 
 May draw from my imperfect instrument. 
 Thine eyes grew soft, O flame-apparel'd god. 
 And far Olympus warm'd beneath thy smile. 
 And then from out the bosom of the sky 
 An eagle downward circled, ring'd me round 
 In balanced flights and ever nearer drew 
 Until it poised and settled at my feet. 
 And lo ! It was from thee a messenger, 
 [ 154] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 And bore upon its wings so rare a lute 
 That when my fingers smote it I seem'd mad. 
 The while I play'd, the trees, like happy girls 
 Sway'd to and fro, and touch'd me lovingly ; 
 The skies seem'd ever softer; and from out 
 The sacred earth sweet flowers, before their 
 
 time, 
 Stepp'd to the dusk with question in their eyes. 
 The very stars were mute ; and oftentimes 
 The winds along the winding lanes of space 
 Lay hush'd and breathless. When afar I 
 
 stray'd 
 To hopeless wastes of ever shifting sand. 
 The beasts crept forth from caverns of despair 
 And lick'd my scented sandals ; and, anon. 
 The rivers roll'd no longer to the sea. 
 But lay like polish'd silver 'neath the moon. 
 But most I joy'd, O Splendor, when at eve 
 The lovers heard my playing; and with eyes 
 That ever gazed on things unseen of me 
 Sat hand in hand, and whisper'd or were still. 
 And when at last the pale moon caution'd them 
 Against the night's advance, they slowly rose 
 And, looking ever backward, pass'd away 
 To dawn and hope, yet not forgetting me. 
 A dream it was ; but since that golden night 
 Whene'er I see the shy nymphs following 
 My music's spell, I think how I might play 
 [155] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Hadst thou been kind and made my wild dream 
 
 true." 
 Complaining thus, he wander'd ever on, 
 Light-footed, heavy-hearted, like a ghost, 
 From moon-lit glades to dells of evergreen 
 Where gloom and shadows linger'd. But the 
 
 god. 
 The flame-faced, bright Apollo, answer'd not. 
 Nor made a sign that he had even heard. 
 
 AND now the stars were slowly vanishing 
 Amid the grey of morning. One by one 
 Along the winding, wind-swept terraces 
 Their lights went out, and then the sky was like 
 A sombre field whence flowers have disappeared. 
 But soon, where seem'd the earth and sky to 
 
 merge. 
 Where grey kiss'd grey in steely solitude. 
 There show'd a blush that slowly crimson turn'd. 
 And then all golden ; and, as with a shout 
 A happy boy may burst upon a glade 
 Where Revery has linger'd, from the East 
 The Day glow'd forth and fill'd all azured space 
 With song and laughter and suggested joy. 
 And while he still bethought him of his dream, 
 And onward strode in silence, Orpheus saw 
 Beside the winding path ahead of him 
 An ancient oak, a tow'ring veteran 
 
 [156] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 Amid the forest's warders. And beneath 
 This hoary tree, this oak whose memories 
 Were countless as the multiplying stars, 
 Stood one, a god, who there awaited him 
 As white and stilly as a thing of stone. 
 But now the golden lances of the sun 
 Had pierced the darkest thicket, and from where 
 The youth stood startled, he became aware 
 Of who this was that waited. " Thou," he 
 
 cried. 
 With eager hand outstretch'd in front of him, 
 " That Hermes art that bearest for the gods 
 Their awful messages, and bringest men 
 Their dread commands. Thy winged shoes I 
 
 see. 
 Still smoking from thy perilous descent. 
 Upon thy brow the majesty abides 
 That proves thee friend of Zeus ; serenity 
 Enswathes thy presence, and thy level gaze 
 Compels my soul's attention. Therefore speak ! " 
 And then from out the shelter of the oak 
 Stepp'd shining Hermes. In his hand he held 
 A lute of carven ivory and gold 
 That glitter'd in the sunshine; and while yet 
 The startled youth beheld him in amaze. 
 And fain had spoken, he whose face was bright 
 From gazing on the countenance of Zeus 
 Commanded silence, and address'd him thus : 
 [157] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 " Apollo greets thee, Orpheus, envied one ; 
 Thou younger brother of the singing winds, 
 And wildly joyous waters! Thee he greets. 
 And bids thee hymn the praises of the gods 
 On this sweet lute, which he, who loves thee well, 
 Has waken'd with his fingers. On thy head, 
 All golden still with sun-delighting curls. 
 His glory has descended ; in thine eyes 
 Abides the peace of yonder sapphire heights 
 When he, the flaming-featured, sits at eve 
 And hymns the downward hasting of the Day. 
 Take, then, his lute, O favor'd melodist, 
 O youth whom men shall envy ages hence. 
 Thou still art young, art happy. Wisdom 
 
 waits 
 To line thy brow ; thy rosy cheeks must pale 
 And sink as Age approaches, and thy heart 
 Must open soon to Sorrow and Regret. 
 But now thou art the favor'd thing of gods, 
 And they would give, to prove to thee their love, 
 The gifts that are to older men denied. 
 The thrush is still thy brother; in the heights 
 The lark's song sounds no clearer than thine 
 
 own ; 
 Thy laughter is more beautiful than prayer. 
 Thy simple joy is holy as the love 
 Within a mother's bosom, and thy smile 
 More wondrous is than sunshine. Take thy lute 
 [158] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 And sing with face uplifted to the stars 
 The song Love whispers in the ear of Death 
 Who stares with chilhng eyes across the Styx. 
 Thus men shall learn the beauty of thy dreams 
 And bless thee as the night descends on them." 
 Then still was he. And when, with downcast 
 
 eyes 
 And hands upraised, the happy-hearted youth 
 Had sunk to earth, his stammer'd gratitude 
 Reach'd Hermes' ears. But he, the Messenger, 
 His task completed, laid Apollo's gift 
 Beside the oak, and suddenly was gone. 
 So pass the gods, and thus they ever come. 
 An instant's flash we see them if we gaze 
 With willing eyes where glints the wand'ring 
 
 beam, 
 Where sighs the wind in caverns by the sea, 
 Or ghostly moonbeams linger in the dell. 
 An instant we behold them, then again 
 The air contains them and we know them not. 
 And when at last the youth upraised his eyes. 
 Half doubting, yet most hopeful, he beheld 
 The precious thing all ready to his hand 
 And ran to seize it. Hermes was forgot ! 
 
 SOFTLY above the world's fresh loveliness 
 The blessed sunshine trembled ; woods and 
 hills 
 
 [159] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 And ever-dreaming valleys felt the kiss 
 That quickens life within them, in the womb 
 Where unborn beauty bides till blossom-time. 
 From dawn till dusk this wondrous blessing falls, 
 This soft annunciation ; and the Night — 
 Majestic, mild, unfathomable Night, 
 Enswathed in peace, and diadem'd with stars — 
 When ended is the wooing of the Day 
 And all the world lies mute with weariness, 
 Strange secrets whispers and sweet promises. 
 But now, as when a golden-visaged god. 
 Peering alone from glinting heights at dawn 
 Beholds with joy a newly-fashion'd sphere, 
 Careless of all around him, Orpheus found 
 Contentment in his wonder-waking lute. 
 For even while he breathed upon the strings, 
 Bending the while above their mystery 
 As bends a mother o'er her first, fair child. 
 They answer'd him with music, sigh'd their love. 
 And thrill'd to tell their passion to the world. 
 'Tis thus the Zephyrs with eternal breath 
 Lure strange harmonics from the silv'ry stars 
 And hidden orbs of heaven, thus they fill 
 The thirsty void with melodies unheard 
 Of all except the dreamer, and the one 
 Who watches from the hill-tops for the dawn. 
 But soon the youth stood solemnly erect. 
 With face upraised and fingers on the lute 
 [160] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 Close-press'd against his shoulder; and his 
 
 mouth 
 Was like a crimson blossom that awaits 
 A secret message from a wand'ring Wind. 
 And while he smiled, and while within his eyes 
 A softness linger'd as in darken'd pools 
 An utter peace is oft made manifest, 
 The Song descended on him, and at last 
 He pluck'd the strings and lured the music 
 
 thence. 
 Above his head, the moon, despite the hour 
 Peep'd through the blue (as e'en to-day she 
 
 peeps 
 But sees no leaf-crown'd, later melodist 
 With glowing face uplifted to her own). 
 For now the air was thrilling; chord on chord 
 By magic fingers drawn from vibrant strings 
 Ascended slowly to the list'ning gods, 
 And bade them bend in breathless tenderness 
 Above their last creation. Once again 
 They dream'd the beauty that was yet unborn — 
 Of constant hills and plains of emerald 
 And joyous forests swaying in the breeze; 
 Again they knew the olden wonderment. 
 Again the olden rapture. For the strains 
 That reach'd their ears awaken'd memories. 
 As even now sweet music wakes in us 
 Forgotten dreams, and frets us with a sense 
 
 [161] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Of faint, far voices, hush'd long years ago. 
 And soon the stately trees began to wave 
 Their graceful arms, gnarl'd oaks and 
 
 cypresses. 
 And mournful cedars whose complaint had been 
 The scorn of winds when Time itself was young. 
 But when the flowers, forgetful of their dreams, 
 Uptum'd their pretty faces, beautiful 
 As gay-apparel'd maids in revery. 
 The winds grew still like children when they 
 
 stand 
 Within the presence of a mystery. 
 But still the heedless player smote his lute ; 
 And when at last he gazed on common things. 
 Grown weary of the splendors of the skies. 
 The forest's beasts were mingled with the kine, 
 While birds had flock'd about him ; then he knew 
 The god, indeed, had granted him his dream, 
 And deem'd himself a rival of the stars. 
 
 OR many days he wander'd joyously 
 > From dawn till dusk along the wind- 
 '^ blown slopes 
 Of yellow'd hills, or where the cooler peace 
 Of silent woods invited. Ever now 
 His lute was his companion, for its voice 
 [162] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 Was sweeter than the voices of the maids 
 That tempted him from fragrant coppices 
 Or hidden pools where only midges stirr'd. 
 And while he play'd another life seem'd his, 
 In other worlds he walk'd, wuth other men ; 
 And heard them tell of silv'ry happenings 
 Where gods alone assembled. Of the nymphs, 
 Who spied his beauty through enamor'd eyes. 
 He had no thought, nor even glanced at them. 
 He heeded not their callings or their sighs, 
 And scorn'd their lures and playful wantonness ; 
 For dreams are Music's silent acolytes. 
 And he who dreams is well accompanied. 
 And yet he was not happy. For it seem'd 
 The very voices heard above the peace 
 Suggested things to Orpheus still unknown — 
 Suggested love, although he knew it not. 
 For ye that wait beside the tideless sea. 
 No more aspiring and desiring naught 
 Save shadow and the silence, know too well 
 How thoughtless youth goes singing to the dark 
 Despite the calling voices and the sighs. 
 Only when all is over, and the sky 
 No more is bright with flaming presences, 
 And air itself is emptied of its song. 
 Comes useless wisdom, follow'd by regret 
 And longing for the thing that once was scorn'd. 
 
 [163] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 BUT one there was in those untroubled woods 
 Whose eyes were grey and restful, while her 
 mouth, 
 Whose crimson lips were strangers to delight, 
 Was sad as with a sorrow pre-conceived. 
 A slim, sweet maid, on whom pale Loveliness 
 Had laid her hand, and with caressive touch 
 Had fashion'd her to be a thing as fair 
 As the white rose that only dreams of death. 
 And yet the maid was fearless, for the swains 
 That follow'd hotly when the nymphs allured 
 Were silent in her presence, deeming her 
 To Beauty consecrate, a child of dreams, 
 Beyond desire, beyond the lips of men. 
 And while she pass'd from sunlight to the shade. 
 From glen to grove where dream'd the cypresses, 
 The gods themselves had eyed her, with her hair 
 Of ruddy brown, a-gleam about her limbs ; 
 And loving well the thing most beautiful 
 Had wish'd that she were gather'd to themselves. 
 But still she lingered on the earth she loved. 
 Not sad, nor wholly joyous; but a maid 
 Who dreamt, perhaps, of others' happiness, 
 And wonder'd when her loneliness might end. 
 This, then, was she, the nymph Eurydice, 
 Whose fate it was to blossom for a day 
 Amid the sunshine and the song of birds, 
 And learn of love ; and while unsatisfied, 
 [164] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 With sadder eyes, and oh ! far sadder mouth, 
 To leave it all ere finish'd was the dream 
 And ere the grey subdued her tresses' sheen. 
 
 ABOVE a fragrant hyacinth she knelt 
 When Orpheus first beheld her. He had 
 
 come 
 Unconsciously upon her, fing'ring thus 
 His wondrous lute until there thrill'd from it 
 A very glow of music ; and his eyes 
 Were fix'd upon the sunset till it seem'd 
 He saw the gods there, and communed with 
 
 them. 
 While yet afar the magic strains she heard 
 And could not move, but still upon her knees 
 Awaited him, the lovely hyacinth 
 Between her fingers, longing to be pluck'd, 
 And sweet, shy wonder mirror'd on her face. 
 And as he near'd, her heart the faster beat, 
 And fain had she arisen. But the spell 
 That binds us yet whene'er the Master plays 
 Now bound her fast ; and shelt'ring modestly 
 Her maiden charms beneath her wondrous hair. 
 She watch'd his slow and harmonied approach. 
 And thought at first it was a god that play'd. 
 For Glory seem'd his presence to enswathe. 
 And glinting locks caress'd a nobler brow 
 Than that of sun-tann'd shepherd, or the king 
 [165] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Whom constant care keeps questioningly pale. 
 
 But more than all she wonder'd at his eyes. 
 
 For his were eyes that calculated not ; 
 
 Unf earing eyes ; such eyes as love the world ; 
 
 The eyes one sees in visions, luminous, 
 
 Yet strangely peaceful. But they saw her not 
 
 Until he stood above her, then at once 
 
 He seem'd to start and waken from his dream. 
 
 Then ceased his wondrous playing. Naught 
 
 was said. 
 But each beheld the other ; and at last 
 With such a movement as a child may make 
 That fears correction from the one belov'd, 
 She raised the hand that held the hyacinth, 
 And slowly he received it. To his lips 
 He press'd the fragrant petals ; then he spoke, 
 And softer was his voice than is the wind 
 That wakes the jasmine blossoms in the dawn: 
 " Art thou not that Eurydice," he ask'd, 
 " Of whom the shepherds speak in wonderment.'^ 
 For I have heard them tell of one like thee 
 With grey and wistful eyes, such eyes as hint 
 Devotion and demure solicitude. 
 This maid, said they, all unattended is 
 By satyr or by shepherd, and alone 
 Discovers each secluded hiding-place 
 Of gentle faun amid the curling fern. 
 This say they not unkindly, but as youths 
 [ 166 ] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 That know thy spirit's beauty, deeming thee 
 
 As much beyond the shelter of their arms 
 
 As the pale beam that shines from Even's star." 
 
 And she, with gaze still fix'd upon his face 
 
 As though it soon might vanish, answer'd: " Yes. 
 
 That maid am I, that frail Eurydice, 
 
 Whose heart is Night's, because the Night alone 
 
 Is kind and gentle and the thing I love. 
 
 Yet sometimes, as the morning call'd thee forth 
 
 To where the hills lay gleaming, I have peer'd 
 
 Through leafy coverts at thy golden face 
 
 And wish'd that I were with thee, with thy lute 
 
 And eyes of hope and promise. I have heard 
 
 Thy strange, wild hymns, and follow'd from 
 
 afar 
 Thy wayward feet until the heights forbade 
 My closer coming. I have heard thee play 
 The songs of dusk, the flower's sweet requiem, 
 And thrilling welcome to the envious stars 
 That hasten'd out with Day's departing glare. 
 And oft at night, when silent were the woods 
 Save for the call of list'ning bird to bird. 
 It seem'd I heard thy music ; but, alas ! 
 The sound was but the echo in my heart 
 Remember'd with the glory of thy face." 
 Then look'd the maid away. The sun had set 
 While yet she spoke, and made the sky ablaze 
 As though a thousand torches had been lit 
 
 [167] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Below the far horizon. Golden clouds 
 
 Lay pinn'd on fields of crimson and of blue, 
 
 Suggesting deep infinitudes of peace 
 
 And argent orbs ; and all so restful was 
 
 One knew the low-brow'd Night was very near. 
 
 THEN he that stood above the silent maid 
 Bent low his head until his gleaming curls 
 Were mingled with the dusk that was her hair. 
 " Then tell me, fair Eurydice," he said, 
 And held against his lips her hyacinth, 
 *' Then tell me if thou knowest me by name 
 Or only by my music? Night and day 
 Pale nymphs have sigh'd behind me, but thy 
 
 face 
 Was not with theirs, else often had I dream'd 
 And smiled in sleep to think thee close to me." 
 And looking still beyond him she replied: 
 " Thou art the dreamer, Orpheus, whom, 'tis 
 
 said, 
 A maid delights not. She that loveth thee 
 Loves hopelessly forever ; she shall be 
 Sad as the joyless willow, and her tears 
 Shall be her only solace, save her sighs." 
 But now he knelt beside her. " Nay," said he, 
 *' Who telleth this of me hath slander'd me. 
 Why turnest thou thy face away from me? 
 If this were true, then shouldst thou pity me, 
 [168] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 Even as maids have wept to hear the tale 
 Of Echo, or the lorn Endymlon. 
 If I am cold when maids advances make, 
 And turn deaf ears to whispers, blame thou 
 
 them, 
 Whose voices sound less wooing than the Song 
 That draws my spirit upward to the gods 
 By its transcendent passion. She whose eyes 
 Would light in me the constant fires of love 
 Must love it, too ; love dawn and its delights. 
 Love day with all its promise. And at last 
 When tasks are done, and drowsy-lidded Night 
 Lays soothing hands upon our guiltless brows, 
 This maid must be my temple, that in her 
 My happy soul may find its promised peace." 
 But naught she said, and still she look'd away 
 To where the sky grew darker. In her ears 
 His voice still linger'd, but her heart was 
 
 sad 
 As the sad star that pales before the moon. 
 As the sad shell with its one memory. 
 Then reach'd the lad for his beloved lute 
 And, kneeling still, essay'd so sweet a strain 
 That ere he knew it she had turn'd to him 
 Her tell-tale eyes, and he was clasping her 
 As lovers clasp when passion masters them. 
 " That one art thou ! " he cried. " Thou art 
 
 the pearl 
 
 [169] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 The gods have dropp'd from heaven, I take 
 
 thee now 
 For ever and for ever. In thy hair 
 The dusk is hiding, but thine eyes betray 
 Their precious secret, O Eurydice ! 
 Now seems it that white filaments of dream 
 Descend about us softly, hiding us 
 In utter pity from the eyes that peer 
 In moody contemplation on the world; 
 And all my vanish'd music, strain by strain 
 Of long-forgotten sweetness, comes again 
 From airy heights, where melody is stored, 
 To bid my heart beat tunefully with thine. 
 Thou knowest that I love thee ; for the soul 
 Can hear the thought unutter'd, as the rose 
 Can see thy beauty when thou touchest it. 
 Answer me not ! Thy silence sacred is, 
 And in those eyes the blessed words I see 
 Thy lips shall tell me later. Only I 
 Must wake this dark with holy promises 
 That Night shall witness. Night, the pitiful. 
 The hopeless and the constant. Night benign." 
 But now she laid her fingers on his lips ; 
 And though she wept, yet smiled she, and her 
 
 cheek 
 Lay warm against his own. And then she spoke. 
 " O first, fond love, O Orpheus, my Belov'd, 
 Thy vows are on thy forehead, in thine eyes, 
 [170] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 Whose light I see the while mine own are closed." 
 And fain had he then spoken, but again 
 She laid her scented fingers on his lips 
 And smiled at him. " Nay, Orpheus, answer 
 
 not," 
 She said, and sigh'd. " Thy silence is more 
 
 dear 
 Than vows to me, who know thou lovest me. 
 Thou knowest now how I have dream'd of thee. 
 And still shall dream, for in her inmost heart 
 A woman dreams forever of her love. 
 Too well I know that thou art Music's slave. 
 And she thy spirit's mistress. When she calls 
 Thou shalt forget the fond Eurydice 
 Who loves thee to adoring. To the gods 
 Thy gaze must be directed, for a god 
 Has chosen thee to fill with melody 
 The crystal sphere that rolls beneath his feet. 
 And even though thou lovest me the while, 
 And though thy kisses sometimes warm my lips, 
 Thou art not mine, my lover! Night and day 
 Thou still shalt sing, shalt follow when the Song 
 Compels thy spirit's service. On thy lips 
 Love trembles, and thy passion ; in my heart 
 My love is mute, for I a woman am. 
 And woman's love is silent. And although 
 I know thou art beyond me, I shall dream 
 And love thy shadow, thankful that the gods, 
 
 [HI] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Who envy men their little happiness, 
 Have let me love and minister to thee. 
 Above our heads they sit and stare at us 
 With bright, cold eyes, for they are merciless 
 And love me little who have loved so well. 
 But though they slay me ere the Night be gone, 
 And I become to thee a memory 
 As pale as this ill-fated hyacinth. 
 Throughout the asons I shall yearn for thee 
 And call to thee, dear Orpheus, whom I love." 
 But now he kiss'd her lips. " Fear not," he 
 
 said; 
 " The gods will grant us years of happiness 
 Because they love my playing. Thou and I 
 Shall yet grow old together, thinking back 
 To this sweet night in silence. From thine eyes 
 I kiss their tears. Thy face is white and wan, 
 But dawn shall find it rosy ! From the skies 
 Stars smile on thee their blessing, and the woods 
 Exhale for thee their fragrant incenses 
 Because, like me, they love thee." Then, the 
 
 while 
 The perfect peace enshrined them, to the Night 
 They told their dreams. Ah ! that was long 
 
 ago. 
 
 [172] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 THE morning saw their nuptials. Nymphs 
 and swains 
 Were brought together by a Triton's horn 
 Blown by a shaggy satyr. From the hills, 
 The dells and solemn forests, they obey'd 
 The festive summons, and their laughter woke 
 The stilly pools before the breezes stirr'd. 
 There came old Pan, his haunches wet with dew. 
 And wishing he were younger ; and the maids 
 Whose hearts had throbb'd when Orpheus gazed 
 
 at them. 
 Now stood on tiptoe by the hoary oaks 
 To watch his nearing with Eurydice. 
 For loved was he by many ; and although 
 His heart was now another's, and that one 
 Had mingled seldom with them, they forgave 
 Because her beauty still'd their enmity. 
 And while the first, faint sunbeams fill'd the 
 
 woods, 
 And little birds uplifted to the sky 
 Their sweet and silv'ry challenge, through the 
 
 trees 
 The golden pair came slowly ; and their eyes 
 Were like the eyes of dreamers, for they saw 
 Such things as ye may see when Love dispels 
 The shadow and the sorrow with its wings. 
 And, hand in hand, before these witnesses 
 Each swore by Zeus and the immortal gods 
 [173] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 To love the other, to be pure and true 
 Until the mists beyond the noiseless Styx 
 Envelop'd them forever. Then with song 
 The happy morn was ended ; and at last, 
 When nymphs and swains had vanish'd in the 
 
 green, 
 And only faintly was their laughter heard, 
 They kiss'd, and by the river broke their fast. 
 
 ^OW fair the earth to them that are in 
 love ; 
 How rare its simplest pleasure ! On the 
 
 hills 
 White splendors ever wander, and the sea 
 Is joyous with a wild, impassion'd song. 
 The humblest blossom, seen through lover's 
 
 eyes. 
 Becomes a wonder, and the glow-worm's lamp 
 A star that flares in rivalry with suns. 
 Who has not seen on iris-dotted heights 
 Young lovers gazing seaward.'' Hand in hand, 
 The gently waving sedges at their feet. 
 They watch the growing glory, hear the hymns 
 Of strong, unfetter'd breezes, and behold 
 The ships go down to distant lands of dream 
 Or rise from isles of fragrance. As they roam 
 [174] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 In Spring's green lanes or Autumn's listless 
 
 woods, 
 Who has not seen them, and beheld the while 
 A glimpse of something holy, something kin 
 To that diviner beauty yet to be? 
 And years ago, in that untroubled Greece 
 Whereof I sing, two lovers hand in hand. 
 Thus trod the heights that smiled above a sea 
 Of sapphire peace and promise ; day by day 
 They heard its song, and, hearing it, forgot 
 Those other voices that are sometimes heard 
 Above the silence — voices passionless, 
 That hint the vain illusion of delight. 
 And one was ever playing on a lute 
 Such music as no later melodist 
 May weave from dreams, but airs as fanciful 
 As breezy whispers In the purpling gums 
 Or rythmic cadences of heaving seas. 
 And she that listen'd.'' Ah! the stars can tell 
 Of few that loved as she loved; for the face 
 That flamed beside her was the face of one 
 Who hears strange singing, and abides beyond 
 The hollow voices and the touch of hands. 
 And while he play'd, she sorrow'd, saying 
 
 naught. 
 Because she loved so truly ; and because 
 The gods decree that she who truly loves 
 Must pay in silence for the dream thereof. 
 [175] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 BUT one hot noon, while Orpheus lay asleep 
 And dreaming where the heavy fern was 
 cool, 
 There slipp'd away the sad Eurydice 
 To wander in the sunshine. Bending down 
 She kiss'd his brow and heard him faintly call 
 Her own dear name, and fain had kiss'd again 
 Had he not turn'd in sleep away from her. 
 Then sigh'd she once and left him, looking back. 
 Ah ! many times, ere he by trees was hid 
 And seen of her no longer. Then again 
 She faced the fields where call'd a happy lark 
 The while it quiver'd upward through the blue. 
 And wand'ring on she told of her distress 
 To crown'd Apollo, lord of light and song; 
 Yet spake most gently, as if loth to break 
 The heavy silence with so sad a tale : 
 " Far-darting god ! " she sigh'd ; " thy gift it is 
 That shares with me the heart of him I love ; 
 To thee he prays the while his fingers draw 
 Impassion'd melody from golden strings — 
 To me he turns when he no more may play, 
 Of me he thinks but when his song is done. 
 Apollo ! bright Apollo ! Unto thee 
 All eyes are turn'd in heaven ; for love of thee 
 Unearthly splendors languish, even she 
 Whose beauty is the marvel of the world. 
 Thou weariest of homage, for thy feet 
 [176] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 Fly ever on, until, all-luminous, 
 Thy backward-blowing tresses pale the stars ; 
 Thy girdle is all ruddy like a flame ; 
 Thy days are mark'd with countless victories, 
 And thou shalt conquer till the end of time. 
 The constant Hours adore thee ; thee adore 
 Bright youths and rosy maidens ; and the sea, 
 The while it sings its everlasting hymn. 
 Yearns for thy smile, and lifts its hands to thee. 
 Wilt thou not, then, this worshiper renounce 
 That I may have him wholly, I, who have 
 No gift except the blessing of his love. 
 No joy except in his companionship.'' " 
 Above her head the lark had disappear'd 
 In faintly echo'd music ; in the fields 
 Stray bees were humming, and a solemn peace 
 Lay softly on the pale anemones 
 That touch'd her feet in pity ; and the while 
 She dried her tears, a little path she spied 
 That led away through yellow, breast-high com, 
 And there she wander 'd. Oh, the woe of it !, 
 Had she but linger'd where the fields were green ; 
 Had she but heard her husband's bitter cry. 
 Who e'en in sleep was troubled ; had she turn'd 
 And sought the solace of the woods again ! 
 For hardly was she hid among the grain 
 Than one uprose before her, one whose face 
 Was red with passion, and his eyes, a-blaze, 
 
 [177] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Glared in their shadow'd caverns, dry with lust. 
 " Speak not ! " he cried. " That Aristaeus I 
 Whose father is Apollo. Thee I loved 
 Ere Cadmus' daughter came to me as spouse, 
 And thee I dream of while, with perish'd charms, 
 She holds me in her prisoning embrace. 
 Thee sought I on the hillside, in the dell 
 Where ferny couches waited ; I have roam'd 
 All Greece to hear thee whisper ; and at last 
 I saw thee with thy lute-enamor'd love 
 Asleep within the forest. Even then 
 I might have slain thy lover ; even then 
 I might have borne thee sorrowing away 
 To where my heights await thee. But my blade 
 Was never rusted by a coward's blood, 
 And still he plays, unheedful of thy charm. 
 This very morn my bees went wand'ring forth 
 From hives of pearl and silver, and the Wind 
 Cried, ' Seek, and find ! ' ; to thee, Eurydice, 
 My steps were led. Now swear I by the Wind 
 To take what gods have given. Fair art thou, 
 And mine this fated hour thou shalt be. 
 Thou knowest all, and my desire of thee. 
 That I may go, submit, and share with me 
 The heavy kisses on thy lord bestow'd." 
 Thus speaking, he approach'd her. But the 
 
 girl, 
 Who all this while had listen'd, loathing him, 
 [178] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 Was girl no longer, but a woman grown, 
 And hated and despised him. " Thou ! " she 
 
 cried, 
 And stood her ground with arms upon her 
 
 breast, 
 " Thou art not man, but reptile ! In my dreams 
 Fierce things I see, rough bears and hungry 
 
 wolves, 
 And evil birds of haggard solitudes. 
 But never face so loathsome as thine own. 
 Nor eyes so awful. Leave me, or I call 
 To him who loves me as the shepherd loves 
 The fleecy lamb that hides beside the ewe." 
 Now Aristasus soften'd. " Nay," he said. 
 And smiled as though his purpose were forgot ; 
 " Too fierce am I for such a maid as thee. 
 My days are spent in hunting; dogs and men 
 My comrades are, and I was made for storm 
 Rather than summer weather, like thy lord. 
 And seeing thee, my passion master'd me 
 Because thou art so perfect. Through thy hair 
 Thy body's whiteness glistens, tempting me 
 Beyond endurance, who am merely man 
 And no far-vision'd singer. But, behold ! 
 Myself I curb, I draw from thee away, 
 As from the altar of the Matchless One 
 Soil'd men withdraw the while they pray to her. 
 Eurydice, I love thee ! By thy hair, 
 
 [179] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Thy heavy, clinging tresses ; by thine eyes, 
 Thy greyer eyes than wings of Paphian doves, 
 I love thee and adore thee ! Come with me ! " 
 But she shrank back. Ah ! would that she had 
 
 call'd, 
 Or that a god had help'd her. But alone 
 A woman fights while Destiny conspires 
 To tear her down ; small wonder that she falls t 
 And he, the foul pursuer, smiled again. 
 With arms outstretch'd. " Thou waverest," he 
 
 cried, 
 " Because my passion warms thee. Come with 
 
 me, 
 And leave thy beardless Orpheus to his dreams. 
 I know strange things to teach thee, mysteries 
 Unknown to one who plays upon a lute 
 While sighs his love beside him. Thou shalt be 
 The envied maid in breezy Attica, 
 And weary of me never. At thy feet 
 Strange skins I'll fling ; thy perfect hands shall 
 
 gleam 
 As gleams the firmament on splendid nights 
 When nightingales are singing. Thou shalt be 
 The mistress of my fabled palaces. 
 And queen of all my gardens. Thou shalt see 
 My golden bees, and they shall follow thee 
 As though thou wert of honey ; night and day 
 My golden bees shall bring strange tales to thee 
 [180] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 Of red, enamor'd blossoms, till thy wrists 
 Grow hot above thy pulses, and thy lips 
 Turn greedily to mine for kiss on kiss. 
 Eurydice ! I love thee ! Come with me 
 And sit beside me while the rosy boys 
 Serve wine from hammer'd goblets, and the 
 
 slaves 
 Drop scented petals on a polish'd floor 
 That else might shame us with our mirror'd love. 
 I love thee. Come ! " But she, who, while he 
 
 spoke. 
 Had stood with heaving bosom and fix'd eye, 
 And heard with growing horror his appeal. 
 Now answer'd bravely : " Beast ! thou worse than 
 
 beast ! 
 The slinking wolf abhors thee, and the air 
 Must be polluted when thou breathest it. 
 By such as thee, the spawn of idle lust, 
 The gods are brought to judgment, and no 
 
 more 
 Men praise them as when first they ruled the 
 
 world. 
 Now smilest thou no more ! But better thus 
 To face me than with honey'd insolence. 
 With talk of love, and bees, and rosy boys, 
 And all the horrors of thy wantonness. 
 O would I were a man ! For, long ere this. 
 Had I borne arms and seen those eyes of thine, 
 [181] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Grey death had been thy portion, and our 
 
 Greece 
 Had been the cleaner for thy taking off. 
 No need to say I loathe thee. Get thee gone ! " 
 And then he sprang upon her. " Fool," he 
 
 cried, 
 " Thy husband slumbers and the com is high ! 
 Call once and thee I strangle. By the gods, 
 I swear to spoil thee as my golden bees 
 Have spoil'd full many a flower; thy crimson 
 
 dreams 
 Shall make each night a torment unto thee ! " 
 And then he strove to fling her in the corn, 
 Yet ever kept one hand upon her mouth 
 Because he fear'd her outcry. To and fro 
 They sway'd in awful silence, and the fight 
 Was very even, for the maid was strong 
 And knew his hand was useless. And at last 
 He tripp'd, and she was fleeing. But alas ! 
 While yet her laughter rippled on the air 
 And all the world look'd beautiful again, 
 A serpent hiss'd and struck her ; and before 
 Her lips could frame the name she loved so well 
 She stagger'd and had fallen. And the Day, 
 When once the storm is over, and the fields 
 Are strewn with broken beauties, sees no face 
 So white as that the ravisher beheld 
 The while he bent above her ere he fled. 
 [182] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 THE sun had set. Sad Winds were wan- 
 d'ring now 
 Upon the distant hillsides, and anon, 
 When the mild azure turn'd to violet 
 They laid soft hands upon the yellow com 
 And bent it softly earthward. From the fields 
 The poppies gazed no longer at the sky 
 But shut their eyes before the stars came forth, 
 And dream'd, perhaps, of one whose voice no 
 
 more 
 Might tell them that she loved them. There 
 
 as well 
 The woodbine and the shy anemones, 
 Pale cowslips and the paler asphodel. 
 The clovers and the yellow buttercups 
 That nod above the daisies, ere they slept 
 Heard the sad Winds go by them in the dusk. 
 Above the stream, where oft Eurydice 
 Had linger'd with her lover, fragrant pines 
 Stood motionless and silent ; but the reeds 
 Were waving gently, and the poplars shook 
 As if they sensed that one, whose voice they 
 
 knew, 
 Beside that stream would sing to them no more. 
 The stream itself moved slower. Here and 
 
 there 
 The waters eddied with a whisper'd sigh, 
 And then flow'd on to hint the tragedy 
 [183] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 To hopeless willows bow'd above the pools 
 Whereon the perfect lilies lay in peace. 
 Then came the stars, serenely one by one 
 The while it slowly darken'd; then at once 
 Ten thousand seem'd to peer upon the world 
 And see the thing so still amid the corn. 
 And while they look'd with pity on the face 
 That stared at theirs so mutely, they began 
 A song so sad it drew the thin, pale moon 
 From out her fleecy covert in the east 
 To ask of them its meaning. And the while 
 She gazed in mute compassion on the fields. 
 There near'd the spot one pale as she that lay 
 And listen'd not — 'twas Orpheus, who aloud 
 Now call'd on her ; and call'd, and call'd, and 
 
 call'd; 
 Whose wild strain'd eyes sought here and 
 
 everywhere 
 But never found his poor Eurydice. 
 And though the Winds still wander'd to and fro 
 And laid their ghostly hands upon his hair, 
 He noted not their presence ; all that night 
 He sought for her, rememb'ring when too late 
 WTiat love had lain behind her lidded eyes 
 And all the hidden sweetness of her soul. 
 
 [184] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 m 
 m 
 
 ND though he wander'd till the year 
 
 was old 
 
 He found her not, and heard no word of 
 
 her 
 From beast or bird. For each, the while he 
 
 play'd 
 Those sad, wild songs of his, was stricken mute 
 And then forgot all else until he pass'd. 
 Above his head the stars might answer not 
 The question of his eyes ; and though the Winds 
 Knew well where she was gather'd, night and 
 
 day 
 Their whispers were unheeded of his ears, 
 And never might he listen. Up and down 
 Fair Greece he wander'd. On the mountain 
 
 crest 
 He sang his grief at dawnburst ; in the dusk 
 He trod the scented valleys ; but at night 
 The silent woods allured him, and he lay 
 And dream'd of her with eyes that would not 
 
 close 
 Until the muffled Midnight bade him sleep. 
 And now he play'd but seldom, for it seem'd 
 The earth was far less perfect than of yore 
 When she was there beside him. She had been 
 His peace, his inspiration, as the maid 
 Best loved is inspiration yet is peace; 
 [185] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 And now it seem'd a shadow took her place 
 
 Reminding him who never might forget 
 
 How fair, how fond that wonder-one had 
 
 been. 
 Through tear-dimm'd eyes he saw her loveliness, 
 Her hair, her eyes and softly-chisell'd arms 
 That ever drew him downward as the dusk 
 About their whispers deepen'd ; on his cheek 
 He felt the touch of kisses, soft and cool 
 As spirit wings, but ever in his heart 
 The ache, the longing, and the loneliness. 
 And soon the corn was garner'd, and the Winds 
 Foretold pale Winter's coming. One by one 
 The things that make the world most beautiful 
 Fell fast asleep ; and erst when laughing Spring 
 Breathed wooingly upon them, and the woods 
 Were quicken'd by the cadences of birds, 
 Bright-plumaged, silver-throated, on the hills 
 He roam'd no more, nor trod the forest paths 
 In search of her, nor call'd to her again. 
 For then he knew the gods had gather'd her 
 Along with other forms of loveliness 
 To that grey land whereto all things must 
 
 come, 
 Where Pluto reigns with hopeless Proserpine 
 And whispering ghosts relate their memories. 
 And knowing this, he was not wholly sad. 
 To feel assured is better than to doubt 
 [ 186 ] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 Where love's concern'd, or things of conse- 
 quence. 
 Who knows, may act ; who doubts must hesitate ; 
 And better far to learn at once the worst 
 Than, fed on fond illusions, to be blown 
 Or here or there, and shatter'd at the last. 
 And knowing now that she he loved was not 
 A thing of earth and sunlight, Orpheus wept, 
 But sought no more ; then knelt, and ask'd the 
 
 gods 
 To grant him god-like courage, god-like speech, 
 And strength to match that deathless love of 
 
 his. 
 Then fared he forth, unflinching, to the place 
 Where yawn'd a portal to the horrid depths 
 That men call hell ; and by his constancy, 
 And by the wondrous magic of his lute 
 Effected there an entrance, braved the Hound 
 And ever-watchful Furies, and at last, 
 When wastes of stony horror lay behind, 
 Erect in Pluto's presence told his tale. 
 
 AND long he argued with impassion'd words 
 Heedless of things that chill'd his very soul. 
 But Pluto frown'd upon him. " Mine she is," 
 He said in short, sharp speech, and merciless. 
 " Love's dream for her is ended. Mine she is, 
 This love of thine, this pale Eurydice, 
 [187] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Who hides I know not where among my shades. 
 Life has been hers. Earth's beauty she has 
 
 seen ; 
 The maid has watch'd the seasons come and go ; 
 Has ponder'd on the mystery of stars. 
 Once only may ye love, and once may die ; 
 Life's sweetness and life's sorrow once may 
 
 know. 
 Thou sayest that she loved thee ; to thy mouth 
 Her lips have clung in passion. She has lived 
 Despite her youth; what more can gods allow .f* 
 Death brings to me my tribute, but alone 
 He leaves this desolation and this gloom — 
 Thou, too, art forfeit ; if thou lingerest here 
 Thou shalt no more earth's loveliness behold. 
 Therefore, begone ! The Furies bide my call ! " 
 But Orpheus knelt before the anger'd one. 
 And pray'd his pity. " O dread King ! " he 
 
 cried, 
 " A year I hoped my love were blossoming 
 Among earth's lesser flowers. O bitter Death, 
 To blow on one so tender ! In the world 
 So many are that lift thin hands to thee. 
 And eyes whence light has vanish'd. These in 
 
 vain 
 Make cry to thee to take them ; these in vain. 
 Hopeless and faint and weary of the day. 
 Desiring naught and dreaming not at all, 
 [ 188 ] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 Wish for the peace from which thou keepest 
 
 them. 
 Thy hand is placed on youth and loveliness. 
 The lily fears thee, and the gleaming star 
 Curves to its end, while yet its soul is bright, 
 Because thy finger beckons. Bitter Death, 
 To slay a flower, or my Eurydice ! 
 But thou, O King, implacable but just. 
 Hast loved, and been enfolden in the arms 
 That made drear hell as beautiful to thee 
 As unto me my earth was with mine own. 
 Delight thou knowest when thy Queen is nigh; 
 And when she leaves thee, as the gods decreed. 
 To bless the fields and lure the tulips forth. 
 Thy heart is heavy and thou smilest not 
 Till she returns with fragrance in her hair 
 And in her eyes delicious memories." 
 
 THE while he spoke there near'd the ebon 
 throne 
 One beautiful as Sorrow, one who moved 
 Like music in that unillumined place 
 And was belov'd. About her solemn brows 
 Her raven hair lay heavy ; but her eyes 
 Were grey with sweet compassion, like the 
 
 skies 
 That watch the earth when winter chastens it. 
 And when behind her silent lord she stood, 
 [189] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 She touch'd his cheek. " WTio, then, is this ? " 
 
 she ask'd, 
 " That smells so warm in desolation's midst? 
 His hair is golden as Sicilian corn, 
 His mouth is like a poppy. In his cheeks. 
 That look so like a child's, so rounded they. 
 The red still lingers, and his eyes betray 
 A hope for something that is not quite lost." 
 But Orpheus cried, ere Pluto yet might speak: 
 " O Queen, frail Queen ! I seek Eurydice, 
 My love, my darling. Death hath conjured her 
 From off the earth, from where the sunshine is. 
 And flowers, and birds, and all the things she 
 
 loved. 
 Here am I come to strive with Death for her. 
 And ask her giving at the hands of him 
 Who is thy lord and arbiter of hell. 
 Plead thou for me, O gentle Proserpine, 
 Dear goddess of the valleys and the fields. 
 Whose veins are warm. By thee the bliss of 
 
 love 
 Is still remember'd, and the pain thereof 
 That makes it sacred as the things of dream. 
 Naught see I here but unimpassion'd eyes ; 
 The air is chill about me, and my words 
 Sound thinner than the voices of the gulls 
 In gloomy caves by unrelenting seas. 
 Plead thou for me that I may lead her hence — 
 [190] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 My love, my darling, my Eurydice — 
 
 To where bright Day awaits us. Hand in hand 
 
 We twain must come so soon, O Proserpine ; 
 
 A little let us whisper, let us dream. 
 
 Here Love is not; his wings have never stirr'd 
 
 This murky gloom, and here his rosy feet 
 
 Have shunn'd the paths worn deep by greedy 
 
 Death. 
 O Proserpine, who sighest and art fair, 
 A little while I ask thee grant to us 
 To dream our dreams, a little while to love 
 And whisper vows together ere we sit 
 Forever in the shadow of thy throne." 
 
 THEN knelt he, and was silent ; but his eyes 
 Were fix'd on her in such intense appeal 
 That hers were lower'd. On his throne her lord 
 Sat heavy and impassive, and the ghosts 
 Encircled them, and sigh'd as sigh the winds 
 Where darkness veils the ice-wrack of the Poles. 
 Then slowly to the heart of Orpheus rose 
 The chill of hopelessness ; but, ere its beat 
 Was menaced by the silence of the twain. 
 He took his lute, and, sighing, play'd to them 
 A sad, soft hymn, love's ultimate lament. 
 And while he play'd, hell's utter awfulness 
 Was unremember'd as the flush of dawn 
 Softens the grey of morning. Near and far 
 
 [191] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 The music trembled. Haggard Ixion 
 
 No longer strain'd his shoulder at the wheel 
 
 No god might move ; the moaning Tantalus 
 
 Forgot his thirst, and with protruding tongue 
 
 Loll'd at his task and dropp'd his hated sieve. 
 
 The crafty Sisyphus beheld his stone 
 
 Go thund'ring ever downward through the 
 
 gloom 
 From where it poised beneath his knotted hands ; 
 Yet stood enwrapt, forgetful of his sweat, 
 And strain'd his ears to hear the melody. 
 And silent ghosts, from whose despairing eyes 
 Sweet Hope had ever vanish'd, look'd again 
 On other ghosts around them ; asking them 
 What god had com€ to their abiding-place 
 To pour so sweet a music on the mists 
 That writhed and swirl'd about them. And 
 
 afar, 
 Where lapp'd the Styx's flood the sedgeless 
 
 shores. 
 Or boom'd in caves where Desolation sat 
 And glared with stony gaze upon the dusk. 
 Stood one who ever waited, one whose eyes 
 Were grey and sad, the maid Eurydice ; 
 Who waited there for one who was to come. 
 Whose heart was ever true to her beloved. 
 And while she dream'd, all suddenly she heard 
 The lute's soft call, and hearing it, was sure 
 [192] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 That he had come. Then tum'd she from the 
 
 flood 
 And pick'd her way across repulsive hell, 
 Her guide the wondrous music, till she saw 
 Her kneeling lover ; and while yet he play'd 
 And gazed upon the face of Proserpine, 
 She knelt beside him, and her heart was glad. 
 And though she made no sign that she was 
 
 there, 
 But knelt with clasped hands and wistful face 
 The while his music warm'd her very soul. 
 He felt her presence, play'd no more, and tum'd 
 And there beheld her. " Thou, Eurydice ! " 
 He cried aloud, forgetting hell the while. 
 And hell's grim ruler and his weeping Queen ; 
 " O grey-eyed love, dear love of mine ! " he cried, 
 Yet deem'd her but an unsubstantial thing 
 And touch'd her not. " O love whom I have 
 
 sought 
 Since that sad night when all grew dark for me. 
 White love of dream ! To thee, whose ears have 
 
 heard 
 My dusk-impassion'd whispers and my vows 
 On scented nights repeated, am I come 
 In murky hell. Fair earth I search'd for thee? 
 And found thee not, nor even sign of thee — 
 What brought thee here, O fond Eurydice.? " 
 And then upon her alabaster foot — 
 [193] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 So white it gleam'd against that cinder'd 
 
 floor — 
 She show'd the serpent's marking ; and again, 
 As now he touch'd all tenderly the wound, 
 The lover cried : " O poor Eurydice ! 
 
 love of mine, my love Eurydice ! " 
 And then all hell was silent, for the ghosts 
 Bemoan'd no more their grey and hopeless fate 
 In presence of a grief so great as this. 
 
 For Orpheus now was kneeling by his love. 
 And on her foot, the poor, white, wounded foot, 
 His tears fell fast, while she upon his hair 
 Had laid the tender blessing of her hands. 
 But Pluto rose, the music's spell on him. 
 His great heart soften'd by these lovers' woes. 
 *' Go hence ! " he cried. " For love of Proser- 
 pine, 
 My spirit's consolation, I forego 
 This once my rights. In time ye both shall 
 
 stand 
 Before my throne. Come then with tearless 
 
 eyes. 
 And thanking me for years of happiness. 
 Day breaks above. On bush and meadow lies 
 The healing dew of heaven ; upon your hearts 
 
 1 lay the blessing of forgetfulness 
 
 Lest future dreams affright ye. Take thy lute, 
 O simple singer with the eyes of dream, 
 [194] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 And lead the way with music. To the light 
 Tread slowly and undoubting. But beware, 
 O thou whose heart is still solicitous, 
 Thou look'st not back to where she follows 
 
 thee 
 
 This love of thine, whose eyes so tender are — 
 Nor wait her answer, till the birds proclaim 
 Hell's mouth is far behind ye. Haste ye hence 
 Before I weaken and demand my toll. 
 And when ye stand together in the light, 
 Forgetful of this darkness, and the wind 
 Intones for ye its welcome, unto her 
 For whom I pardon, gentle Proserpine, 
 Give praise and thanks. Take now thy lute, 
 
 and go ! " 
 
 THEN Orpheus rose, and climb'd unfear- 
 ingly 
 The upward path, and smote his wondrous lute 
 That she might hear, who slowly follow'd him ; 
 While envious ghosts, sweet liberty denied, 
 Above his head moan'd ever, and essay'd 
 To turn him back from where the Day allured. 
 But close behind he heard the limping step 
 Of her he loved and much it hearten'd him; 
 And fain had he beheld her, fain had turn'd, 
 Yet dared not look, so ever cried to her: 
 " Eurydice ! O fond Eurydice ! 
 [ 195] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 Art thou still there, O sweet Eurydice ? " 
 And still he play'd, and still crept on and up, 
 And sang the songs she knew and loved so well ; 
 And still he heard her footfall, faint and soft, 
 And sweeter than the music of the rain ; 
 And still he cried — it seems I hear it now ; 
 That bitter cry of yearning and of love — 
 " Eurydice ! O fond Eurydice ! " 
 But slowly he ascended. Far away 
 The darkness seem'd to tremble ; far away, 
 Yet light was there behind it. One by one 
 The ghosts fell back, until their sighs were faint 
 As the hush'd moan of winds in distant pines. 
 And on and up he stagger'd; on and up 
 Past jagged rocks and awful precipice 
 And ledges that might fall and smother him. 
 And still he cried, O God ! how wearily : 
 " Eurydice ! O fond Eurydice ! " 
 And still, behind, he heard that limping step. 
 The limping step that told him she was near. 
 Creep on, and up. And now her breath he 
 
 heard, 
 And oh! it sounded sweeter than her voice 
 That day her lips had first lain soft on his. 
 And now the air was clearer. Far away 
 He heard the pleasant murmur of the world. 
 The joyous anthem of the splendid Winds 
 That bade him come to lead them as of yore ; 
 [ 196 ] 
 
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 
 
 He saw, he thought, the white hand of the Day 
 Outstretch'd to his to help him ; and his eyes 
 Were strain'd against its welcome, for it 
 
 seem'd 
 All hell would draw him backward to the gloom. 
 And Death had crept between his love and him. 
 And on and up he struggled, playing still 
 And crying ever to that love of his : 
 *' Eurydice ! O fond Eurydice ! 
 Art thou still there, O dear Eurydice? " 
 But now insistent noises fill'd his ears. 
 And grew each moment louder, songs of birds. 
 The pleasant splash of water in a pool; 
 And though he cried no more, and softly play'd, 
 And strain'd to catch the music of her step 
 All silent seem'd behind him. And the while 
 He struggled on, he doubted. Ah! so near 
 The blessed world, those dear and guileless 
 
 birds. 
 That warm, suggested sunlight. Even now 
 He felt the Wind's soft kiss upon his hair. 
 And so — he tum'd! But even while he tum'd 
 With arms so eager, so importunate. 
 He saw his love, his pale Eurydice, 
 Sink downward, ever downward, and become. 
 While yet her eyes were fix'd upon his own 
 And slowly waned the holy light in them, 
 Immerged in chilling shadows. Down she sank, 
 
 [197] 
 
IDYLLS OF GREECE 
 
 And soon was lost forever ; and although 
 
 He call'd and call'd, and pray'd the gods for 
 
 death 
 That he might be forever by her side, 
 The massive rocks with pond'rous movement 
 
 closed 
 And left him there, lamenting, and alone. 
 
 [198] 
 
IDYLLS IN FIRST SERIES 
 
 PROKRIS AND KEPHALOS 
 MELAS AND ANAXE 
 ACIS AND GALATEA 
 (EME AND (BONUS 
 
OCT IS* 11910 
 
One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 
 ua 19 1910 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 liillllliiillllllliillllli 
 
 018 393 930