UC-NRLF .E. TON.UC01 r Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by THOMAS BULFINCH, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. ELECTROTYPED AT THE BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY H. o. HOUGHTON. PREFACE. THE work entitled " The Age of Fable " was an at- tempt to convey so much knowledge of the gods and goddesses, heroes and heroines, of antiquity, as a well- educated gentleman or lady of the present day has occa- sion for; and to do it in such a way as not to encroach upon the time wanted for graver studies. For this pur- pose, the fables of mythology were told in the form of entertaining stories, which young people, and others who need this species of information, were invited to read for amusement, not as a study, or a task. To each of the stories one or more quotations from the poets of our own language were appended, alluding to the story, or using it as an illustration. These citations were calcu- lated to call the reader's attention to the leading facts of the story, and, being in the form of poetry, were the better adapted to fix themselves in the memory. But they were necessarily brief, and others equally apt and attractive were omitted for want of room. This volume presents these poetical citations and il- lustrations, increased in number and in length. Such a collection, it is thought, may be useful in recalling to memory the contents of the former volume, and in test- ing for each reader the extent of his or her acquirements in. mythologic lore. If in any one of these three hun- M189454 VI PREFACE. dred selections an allusion should occur which is not understood, an explanation will be found by turning to the name of the hero or heroine in the Index to the Age of Fable, and reading the story over again, which it is hoped will not be an irksome task. A poet has told us, " A thing of beauty is a joy for- ever." Abundant proof of the truth of this remark will be found in these pages. Let us take but one in- stance. The poet (Ovid) who first told of the abduc- tion of Proserpine, added, in a single line, that the loss of the flowers which she had been gathering increased her grief. This incident, so simple and natural, has so impressed itself on the imagination of succeeding poets and artists, that it has ever since been an unfailing accompaniment of the story, whether told by pencil, pen, or plastic art ; and allusions to it will be found of frequent recurrence in all literature. Specimens of these may be seen at page 67, which might have been multiplied indefinitely, had our space permitted. This book is intended to be read in connection with the former volume of the same author, the Age of Fable. But it may be read independently by those who have already some acquaintance with mythology, or, in place thereof, with such help as the conversation of a parent or elder brother or sister may supply. It is hoped that the collection of so many gems of fancy from the whole range of British and American poets will afford gratification, as well as instruction, to the reader. The Grecian mythology is so intimately connected with the works of the greatest poets, that it will continue to be interest- ing as long as classical poetry exists, and must form an indis- pensable part of the education of the man of literature, and of the gentleman. BURKE. INDEX. ACHILLES 181 Ac-is 117 Actaeon 40 Admetus 34 Adonis 22 ^Eneas 184 ^Eolus 176 JEson 146 Ajax 154 Alcestis 54 Amazons 200 Amphion 194 Araphitrite 6 Apollo 31 Arachne 19 Arethusa 68 Argonauts 145 Argus 25 Ariadne 110 Arion 193 Aristaeus 187 Atalanta 110 Avatar 233 B. Bacchus 61 Baldur 241 Bards 247 Basilisk 225 Baucis 129 Bellerophon 121 Brahma 233 Cadmus 116 Calypso 164 Castor and Pollux .... 74 Cephalus 40 Ceres 63 Circe 163 Cleopatra's Barge .... 28 Clyt'i-e 128 Creusa 183 Cupid 23 Cybele 14 Cyclops 50, 171 D. Danae 69 Daedalus 117 Daphne 33 Diana 35 Dido 183 Dodona 215 Druids 245 E. Echo 105 Egeria 77 (Till INDEX. Egyptian Deities 212 Elysium 185 Endymion 41 Erebus 13 Eurydice 189 F. Fates 8 Favonius 79 Flora .79 Furies 12 G. Galatea 118 Ganymede 50 Glaucus 132 Golden Age 105 Graces 29 H. Halcyon . . . . 134 Hebe 58 Helen 150 Hercules 50 Hero and Leander .... 137 Hesperides 54 Hippomenes 110 Hyacinthus 34 Hylas 55 J. Janus 84 Jason 145 Juno 17 Jupiter 4 L. Labyrinth Ill Laocoon 159 Laoxiamia 153 Latona 30 Loke 235 Lotus-eaters 161 M. Mars 15 Medea 146 Medusa 71 Memnon 156 Mercury 57 Mermaid 170 Minerva 17 Morpheus ...... . . . 136 N. Naiads 76 Narcissus 105 Nemesis 9 Neptune 5 Niobe 48 I. Icarus 117 lona 249 Iphigenia 152 Iris 30, 58 O. CEnone 147 Olympus 3 Oracles .213 Orestes 9 INDEX. IX Orion 46 Orpheus 189 P. Pactolus 108 Palinurus 160 Pallas 18 Pan 80 Pandora 103 Paris 147 Parnassus 202 Pegasus ......... 122 Pelion 202 Penelope 181 Perseus 71 Phaeton 131 Philemon 129 Philoctetes 156 Phoenix . . 223 Pluto 8 Polyphemus 171 Pomona 80 Priam 160 Prometheus 102 Proserpine 67 Proteus 188 Protesilaus . . . . '. . .153 Psyche 112 Pygmies . . 126 Pygmalion 133 Pyramus 127 Pythagoras 197 R. Rumor 87 Runic rhyme 244 S. Sabrina 188 Salamander 224 Sappho 141 Satyrs 229 Scylla 104 Sibyl 185 Sirens 164 Sphinx 207 Styx 13 Swan, Music of the . . . .220 Syrinx 89 Sysiphus 10 T. Tantalus 10 Tartarus 10 Telemachus 165 Thisbe 127 Theseus 109 Thetis 75 Thor 235 Triton 2 Troy 160 U. Ulysses 165 V. Valkyrior 243 Venus 20 Vertumnus 80 Vulcan. . . 49 Z. Zcphyrus 79 THE LEGENDS OF CLASSICAL MYTHOLOGY. O ! YE delicious fables, where the wave And woods were peopled, and the air, with things So lovely ! why, ah ! why has science grave Scattered afar your sweet imaginings ? Why seared the delicate flowers that genius gave, And dashed the diamond drops from fancy's wings ? No more by well or bubbling fountain clear, The Naiad dries her tresses in the sun ; No longer may we in the branches hear The Dryad talk, nor see the Oread run Along the mountains ; nor the Nereid steer Her way among the waves when day is done. Alas ! the spirit languishes, and lies At mercy of life's dull realities. 2 r f ' POETRY OF'lliE' AGE OF FABLE. SONNET. THE world is too much with us ; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers j Little we see in Nature that is ours ; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon ! This sea that bares her bosom to the moon, The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now, like sleeping flowers, For this, for every thing, we are out of tune ; It moves us not. Great God ! I'd rather be A pagan suckled in a creed outworn ; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn ; Have sight of Proteus coming from the sea ; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. WORDSWORTH. THE PERMANENCY OF MYTHOLOGICAL ASSOCIATIONS. THE intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The Power, the Beauty, and the Majesty, That had their haunts in dale or piny mountain, Or forest, by slow stream, or pebbly spring, POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 3 Or chasms and watery depths ; all these have van- ished ; They live no longer in the faith of reason. But still the heart doth need a language ; still Doth the old instinct bring back the old names ; Spirits or gods that used to share this earth With man, as with their friend ; and at this day Tis Jupiter who brings whatever is great, And Venus who brings every thing that's fair. COLEEIDOB. OLYMPUS; THE RESIDENCE OF THE GODS. So saying, Minerva, goddess azure-eyed, Rose to Olympus, the reputed seat Eternal of the gods, which never storms Disturb, rains drench, or snow invades ; but calm The expanse, and cloudless, shines with purest day. There the inhabitants divine rejoice Forever. COMTEK'S HOMER. 4 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. THE INFANT JUPITER NURSED BY THE NYMPH NEDA AND HER ATTENDANTS, AND SUCKLED BY A GOAT. IN years and wisdom, of the nymphs who nursed The infant Thunderer, Neda was the first ; With tender care, amid the azure flood, She plunged the new-born babe, and bathed the god ; Then wrapped the mighty child in purple bands, And gave the treasure to her sister's hands. Proudly the nymph the glorious charge received, In joyful arms the infant Thunderer heaved ; With graceful care, and art well understood, She rocked the golden cradle of the god. On his ambrosial lips the goat distilled Her milky store, and fed the heavenly child ; The duteous bee produced her honeyed spoil, And for the god pursued her flowery toil. CALLIMACHUS. JUPITER. HE spoke, and awful bends his sable brows, Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod, The stamp of fate and sanction of the god. High heaven with reverence the dread signal took, And all Olympus to the centre shook. POPE'S HOMER. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 5 ANOTHER VERSION OF THE SAME PASSAGE. HE spoke and bowed his forehead, knitted stern With darkening brows ; the agitated locks, Dropping ambrosia, round the immortal head Of Heaven's king shook, and rocked the Olympian hill. ELTON - THE EAGLE OF JUPITER SOOTHED BY CELESTIAL MUSIC. O, SOVEREIGN of the willing soul, Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, Enchanting shell ! the sullen Cares And frantic Passions hear thy soft control. Perching on the sceptred hand Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feathered king. With ruffled plumes and flagging wing, Quenched in dark clouds of slumber lie The terrors of his beak, and lightnings of his eye. GRAY. NEPTUNE. THE sea-born Neptune there was pictured, In his divine resemblance, wondrous like : 1* 6 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. His face was rugged, and his hoary head Dropped with brackish dew, his three forked pike He sternly shook, and therewith fierce did strike The raging billows, that on every side They trembling stood, and made a long, broad dike, That his swift chariot might have passage wide, Which four great sea horses did draw, in team- ways tied. His sea horses did seem to snort amain, And from their nostrils blow the briny stream, That made the sparkling waves to smoke again, And flame with gold ; but the white, foamy cream Did shine with silver, and shoot forth its beam. SPENSER. AMPHITRITE. O'ER the green waves which gently bend and > swell, Fair Amphitrite steers her silver shell ; Her playful dolphins stretch the silken rein, Hear her sweet voice, and glide along the main. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 7 As round the wide, meandering coasts she moves, By gushing rills, rude cliffs, and nodding groves, Each by her pine, the wood-nymphs wave their locks, And blue-eyed Naiads peep amid the rocks. A SUMMER SUNSET. Low walks the sun, and broadens by degrees, Just o'er the verge of day. The shifting clouds Assembled gay, a richly gorgeous train, In all their pomp attend his setting throne. Air, earth, and ocean smile immense. And now, As if his weary chariot sought the bowers Of Amphitrite, and her tending nymphs (So Grecian fable sung), he dips his orb ; Now half immersed, and now a golden curve, Gives one bright glance, then total disappears. THOMSON. A CHARACTER. His nature is too noble for the world ; He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Nor Jove for his power to thunder. SHAKESPEARE. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. PLUTO. PLUTO, the grisly god, who never spares, Who feels no mercy, and who hears no prayers, Lives dark and dreadful in hell's deep abodes, And mortals hate him as the worst of gods. POPE'S HOMER. THE PAROLE, OR FATES. NEAR Jove's high throne see the dread Sisters stand ; The distaff streams from Clotho's withered hand. With light and shade co-mixed, concord and strife, Artful she weaves the mingled thread of life. Hour after hour the growing line extends, The cradle and the coffin bound its ends j While the dread Lachesis, with skilful pains, Twines the slight cord which fluttering life sustains ; And Atropos lifts high the shears which sever That slender thread, and cuts its course forever. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. THE THREAD OF LIFE. FAME is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise, (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights and live laborious days ; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears And clips the well-spun life. MILTON. NEMESIS. O THOU who never yet of human wrong Left the unbalanced scale, great Nemesis ! Thou who didst call the Furies from the abyss, And round Orestes bade them howl and hiss, For that unnatural retribution, just, Had it but been from hands less near, in this, Thy former realm, I call thee from the dust ! 10 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. TARTARUS. THE PUNISHMENT OF SISYPHUS. WITH many a weary step, and many a groan, Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone ; The huge round stone, returning with a bound, Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground. POPE'S HOMEE. THE PUNISHMENT OF TANTALUS. HERE Tantalus tormented bends to drink, While from his lips the refluent waters shrink. " Quench me, ye cool, transparent rills ! " he cries, Opes his parched mouth, and rolls his hollow eyes ; In vain : the stream alone his bosom laves, And thirst consumes him 'mid surrounding waves. DARWIN. THE PUNISHMENT OF SALMONEUS. TO AN IMITATOR. BE cautious, mortal, whom you imitate, And, wise, remember vain Salmoneus' fate. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 11 Through Grecian cities he, through Elis, drove, And, flashing torches, deemed himself a Jove. Madman ! to think for thunder thus to pass His chariot rattling o'er a bridge of brass. Wrathful at this, from deep surrounding gloom, The Olympian monarch seized the forky doom ; (No firebrand that, emitting smoky light, But with impatient vengeance fiercely bright,) He seized, and hurled it on the thundering elf, Who straight vile ashes fell, his thunders and himself. THOMSON. SUFFERINGS OF THE INFERNAL REGIONS ALLAYED BY THE POWER OF MUSIC. WHEN through all the infernal bounds Which flaming Phlegethon surrounds, Love strong as death the poet led To the pale regions of the dead, What sounds were heard, What scenes appeared O'er all the dreary coasts ! Dreadful gleams, Dismal screams, 12 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Fires that glow, Shrieks of woe, Sullen moans, Hollow groans, And cries of tortured ghosts ! But hark ! he strikes the golden lyre : And see ! the tortured ghosts respire ; See shadowy forms advance ! Thy stone, O Sisyphus, stands still, Ixion rests upon his wheel, And the pale spectres dance. The Furies sink upon their iron beds, While snakes uncurled hang listening round their heads. POPE. THE FURIES, ALECTO, TISIPHONE, AND MEG^ERA. THREE dreadful sisters, down whose temples rolled Their hair of snakes, in many a hissing fold ; As scattering horror o'er the dreary land, Near to the lofty gates of hell they stand. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 13 THE RIVERS OF EREBUS. ABHORRED Styx, the flood of deadly hate, Sad Acheron, of sorrow black and deep ; Cocytus, named of lamentation loud Heard on the rueful stream ; fierce Phlegethon, Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage ; Far off from these a slow and silent stream, Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks Forthwith his former state and being forgets, Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain. MILTON. THE FIELD OF ENNA. NOT that fair field Of Enna, where Proserpine gathering flowers, Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy Dis Was gathered, which cost Ceres all that pain To seek her through the world, . . . . . . might with this paradise Of Eden strive. MILTON. 14 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. ON A DANCE OF LOVES. PAINTED BY ALBANO. 'Tis for the theft of Enna's flower from earth These urchins celebrate their dance of mirth, Round the green tree, like fays upon a heath ; Those that are nearest linked in order bright, Cheek after cheek, like rosebuds in a wreath ; And those more distant showing from beneath The others' wings their little eyes of light ; While, see ! among the clouds, their eldest brother, But just flown up, tells with a smile of bliss, This prank of Pluto to his charmed mother, Who turns to greet the tidings with a kiss. MOORE. CYBELE. FROM forth a rugged arch, in the dusk below, Came mother Cybele ! alone, alone, In sombre chariot ; dark foldings thrown About her majesty, and front death pale, With turrets crowned. Four maned lions hale The sluggish wheels ; solemn their toothed maws, Their surly eyes brow-hidden, heavy paws POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 15 Uplifted drowsily, and nervy tails Cowering their tawny brushes. Silent sails The shadowy queen athwart, and faints away In another gloomy arch. MIGHT she the wise Latona be, Or the towered Cybele, Mother of a hundred gods ? Juno dares not give her odds. MILTON. VENICE COMPARED TO CYBELE. SHE looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers, At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers. BYKON. tan** MARS. WHEN some wild storm with sudden gust invades The ancient forests' deep and lofty shades, The bursting whirlwinds tear their rapid course, The shattered oaks crash, and, with echoes hoarse, 16 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. The mountains groan ; while, whirling on the blast, The thickening leaves a gloomy darkness cast. Such was the tumult in the blest abodes, When Mars, high towering o'er the rival gods, Stepped forth; stern sparkles from his eye-balls glanced ; And now, before the throne of Jove advanced, O'er his left shoulder his broad shield he throws, And lifts his helm above his dreadful brows. Bold and enraged he stands, and frowning round, Strikes his tall spear-staff on the sounding ground. Heaven trembled, and the light turned pale. MlCKLE. IN glittering arms and splendor dressed, High he rears his crimson crest ; Far around, the rocky shore Echoes to the battle's roar ; Where his glowing eyeballs turn, Flaunting banners round him burn ; Where he points his purple spear, Ruin, flight, and death are there. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 17 JUNO. THE white-armed Juno there enthroned was seen, Sovereign of heaven, and Jove's imperious queen. In vain all beauty's gifts her charms supply, Flush in her cheek and sparkle in her eye ; Vain o'er her brow her amber locks which flow, Or wave luxuriant o'er her bosom's snow ; For pale distrust, and scorn, and secret care, And jealous hate, and rage suppressed, were there. Still near his queen her watchful peacock spreads His thousand eyes, his circling lustre sheds ; Where'er she bends the living radiance burns, And floats majestic as the goddess turns. LOPE DE VEGA. MINERVA. O'ER all her form a martial grace appears, A shining helmet decks her flowing hairs ; Her thoughtful breast her well-poised shield defends, And her bare arm a glittering spear extends. HOMER. 18 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. MINERVA AND NEPTUNE. MINERVA graceful waves her steel-clad hand, And bids the olive's silvery boughs expand ; The ocean god, beholding, envious frowned, And with his trident struck the opening ground ; As yet entangled in the earth appears The warrior-horse : his ample chest he rears ; His wide red nostrils smoke, his eyeballs glare ; And his fore hoofs, high pawing, strike the air. * THE BIRTH OF PALLAS. CAN tyrants but by tyrants conquered be, And Freedom find no champion and no child, Such as Columbia saw arise, when she Sprang forth a Pallas, armed and un defiled ? Or must such minds be nourished in the wild, Deep in the unpruned forest, 'midst the roar Of cataracts, where nursing Nature smiled On infant Washington ? Has earth no more Such seeds within her breast, or Europe no such shore ? T, POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 19 ARACHNE. AMONGST these leaves she made a Butterfly, With excellent device and wondrous sleight, Fluttering among the olives wantonly, That seemed to live, so like it was in sight ; The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie, The silken down with which his back is dight, His broad outstretched horns, his hairy thighs, His glorious colors, and his glistening eyes.* Which when Arachne saw, as overlaid And mastered with workmanship so rare, She stood astonied long, ne aught gainsaid ; And with fast fixed eyes on her did stare, And by her silence, sign of one dismayed, The victory did yield her as her share : Yet did she inly fret and felly burn, And all her blood to poisonous rancor turn. SPENSEB. * Sir James Mackintosh says of this, " Do you think that even a Chinese could paint the gay colors of a butterfly with more minute exactness than the following lines ' The velvet nap, &c.'?" Life, Vol. ii. 246. 20 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. UPON A LADY'S EMBROIDERY. ARACHNE once, as poets tell, A goddess at her art defied, And soon the daring mortal fell The hapless victim of her pride. O, then beware Arachne's fate ; Be prudent, Chloe, and submit, For you'll most surely meet her hate, Who rival both her art and wit. GARRICK. VENUS, OR DIONE. THE young Dione, nursed beneath the waves, And rocked by Nereids in their coral caves, Charmed the blue sisterhood with playful wiles, Lisped her sweet tones, and tried her tender smiles ; Then on her beryl throne, by Tritons borne, Bright rose the goddess, like the star of morn, When with soft fires the milky dawn he leads, And wakes to light and love the laughing meads. The immortal form enamoured Nature hailed, And beauty blazed, to heaven and earth revealed. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 21 THE VENUS DE' MEDICI. So stands the statue that enchants the world ; So bending tries to veil the matchless boast, The mingled beauties of exulting Greece. THE SAME. THERE too the goddess lovos in stone, and fills The air around with beauty ; we inhale Th' ambrosial aspect, which, beheld, instils Part of its immortality ; the veil Of heaven is half undrawn ; within the pale We stand, and in that form and face behold What mind can make, when Nature's self would fail; And to the fond idolaters of old Envy the innate flash which such a soul could mould. BYRON. BLOOD, pulse, and breast confirm the Dardan shep- herd's prize. BYRON. 22 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. ADONIS. STRETCHED on the ground the wounded lover lies ; Weep, queen of beauty ! for he bleeds he dies ! Why didst thou, venturous, the wild chase explore, From his dark den to rouse the shaggy boar ? Adonis hears not : life's last drops fall slow, In streams of purple, down those limbs of snow ; From his pale cheek the fading roses fly, And dewy mists obscure that radiant eye. Kiss, kiss those fading lips ere chilled in death ; With soothing fondness stay the fleeting breath. 'Tis vain ! ah ! give thy soothing fondness o'er ; Adonis feels thy warm caress no more. His faithful dogs bewail their master slain, And mourning wood nymphs pour the plaintive strain. Haste ! fill with flowers, with rosy wreaths, his bed ; Strew the fresh flowers o'er loved Adonis dead ; Round his pale corpse each breathing perfume strew; Let weeping myrtles pour their balmy dew, While Venus grieves, and Cupids round deplore, And mourn her beauty and her love, no more. BlON. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 23 BEDS of hyacinth and roses, Where young Adonis oft reposes, Waxing well of his deep wound In slumber soft, and on the ground Sadly sits th' Assyrian queen, &c. MILTON. WEEPING FOR ADONIS. [Adonis was the name of a river in Syria, on the banks of which the death of the favorite of Venus was annually commemorated. Milton alludes to this mourn- ing for Adonis, whom he calls by the Syrian appella- tion Thammuz.] WHOSE annual wound in Lebanon allured The Syrian damsels to lament his fate, In amorous ditties, all a summer's day ; While smooth Adonis from his native rock Ran purple to the sea, supposed with blood Of Thammuz yearly wounded. P. L. BOOK I. 447. CUPID. AND by his mother stood an infant Love, With wings unfledged ; his eyes were banded o'er, 24 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. His hand a bow, his back a quiver bore, Supplied with arrows keen, a deadly store. CUPID RIDING ON A LION. FROM AN ANCIENT GEM. PLAYFUL Love, on Ida's flowery sides, With ribbon rein the half-tamed lion guides ; Pleased on his brindled back the lyre he rings, And shakes delicious music from the strings ; Slow as the pausing monarch stalks along, Sheathes his retractile claws, and drinks the song, Soft nymphs on timid step the triumph view, And gazing fawns with beating hoofs pursue. CUPID AN ARCHER. THAT very time I saw, Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all armed ; a certain aim he took At a fair vestal throned by the west,* And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow, * The allusion is to Queen Elizabeth. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE 25 As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts ; But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Quenched in the chaste beams of the watery moon ; And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy free. SHAKESPEARE. ARGUS AND CUPID. NOT Argus with his hundred eyes shall find Where Cupid goes, though he, poor guide, is blind. PRIOR. CUPID CARRYING PROVISIONS. FROM A GEM. THERE was once a gentle time Whenne the worlde was in its prime, And everye day was holydaye, And everye monthe was lovelie Maye ; Cupide thenne hadde but to goe Withe his purple winges and bowe, And in blossomede vale and grove Everie shepherde knelt to love. 3 26 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Then a rosie, demplede cheeke, And a blue eye, fonde and meeke, And a ringlette-wreathenne browe, Like hyacinthes on a bedde of snowe, And a lowe voice silverre-sweete, From a lippe without deceite, Onlie those the heartes coulde move Of the simple swaines to love. But thatte time is gone and paste ; Canne the summerre alwaies laste ? And the swaines are wiser growne, And the harte is turnede to stone, And the maidenne's rose maye witherre ; Cupide's fledde, no manne knowes whitherre. But another Cupide's come, With a browe of care and gloome, Fixede upon the earthlie molde, Thinkinge of the sullene golde ; In his hande the bowe no more, At his backe the householde store That the bridalle colde muste buye, Uselesse now the smile and sighe. But he weares the pinion stille, Flyinge at the sighte of ille. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 27 Oh for the olde true-love time Whenne the worlde was in its prime ! CROLY. mi" LOVE. LOVE, first learned in a lady's eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain ; But with the motion of all elements, Courses as swift as thought in every power, And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices. It adds a precious seeing to the eye ; A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind ; A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, When the suspicious head of theft is stopped ; Love's feeling is more soft and sensible Than are the tender horns of cockled snails ; Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste ; For valor is not Love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides ? Subtle as Sphinx ; as sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair ; And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. SHAKESPEARE, L. L. L. iv. 3. 28 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. CLEOPATRA'S BARGE. THE barge she sat in, like a burnished throne, Burned on the water ; the poop was beaten gold ; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were lovesick with them ; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggared all description ; she did lie In her pavilion, (cloth of gold of tissue,) O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see The fancy outwork nature ; on each side her Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With diverse-colored fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, And what they undid did. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereids, So many mermaids, tended her in the eyes, And made their bends adornings ; at the helm A seeming mermaid steers ; the silken tackle Swells with the touches of those flower-soft hands, That yarely * frame the office. From the barge * Yarely, skilfully. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 29 A strange, invisible perfume hits the sense Of the adjacent wharfs. SHAKESPEARE. THE GRACES. THESE three on men all gracious gifts bestow Which deck the body or adorn the mind, To make them lovely or well-favored show ; As comely carriage, entertainment kind, Sweet semblance, friendly offices that bind, And all the complements of courtesy ; They teach us how to each degree and kind We should ourselves demean, to low, to high, To friends, to foes j which skill men call civility. SPENSER. THE CESTUS OF VENUS. THAT girdle gave the virtue of chaste love And wifehood true to all that did it bear ; And whosoever contrary doth prove Might not the same about her middle wear, But it would loose, or else asunder tear. SPENSER. 30 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. IRIS THE RAINBOW. As when the daughter of Thaumantes * fair Hath in a watery cloud displayed wide Her goodly bow, which paints the liquid air, That all men wonder at her color's pride, All suddenly, ere one can look aside, The glorious picture vanisheth away, Ne any token doth thereof abide. SPENSER. LATONA AND THE RUSTICS. I DID but prompt the age to quit their clogs By the known laws of ancient liberty, When straight a barbarous noise environs me Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs. As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs Railed at Latona's twin-born progeny, Which after held the sun and moon in fee. MILTON. * Iris, the daughter of Thaumas. The poet has added a syl- lable to the name, either accidentally or intentionally. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 31 APOLLO, PHCEBUS. To thee, great Phoebus, various arts belong To wing the dart, and guide the poet's song ; The enlightened prophet feels thy flames divine, And all the dark events to come are thine. By Phoebus taught, the sage prolongs our breath, And in its flight suspends the dart of death. ATTRIBUTES OF APOLLO. Music exalts each joy, allays each grief, Expels diseases, softens every pain ; And hence the wise of ancient days adored One power of physic, melody, and song. ARMSTRONG. *%* APOLLO AND PYTHON. HEARD ye the arrow hurtle in the sky ? Heard ye the dragon-monsters' deathful cry ? In settled majesty of calm disdain, Proud of his might, yet scornful of the slain, The heavenly archer stands, no human birth, No perishable denizen of earth ; 32 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Youth blooms immortal in his beardless face ; A god in strength, with more than godlike grace ; See, all divine, no struggling muscle glows, Through heaving vein no mantling life blood flows, But, animate with deity alone, In deathless glory lives the breathing stone. MlLMAN. THE BELVEDERE APOLLO. THE lord of the unerring bow, The god of life, and poetry, and light, The Sun, in human limbs arrayed, and brow All radiant from his triumph in the fight. The shaft has just been shot ; the arrow bright With an immortal's vengeance ; in his eye And nostril, beautiful disdain, and might, And majesty flash their full lightnings by, Developing in that one glance the Deity. BYRON. BYRON AND THE REVIEWERS. THE herded wolves, bold only to pursue ; The obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead ; POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 33 The vultures, to the conqueror's banner true, Who feed where Desolation first has fed, And whose wings rain contagion ; how they fled, When like Apollo, from his golden bow, The Pythian of the age one arrow sped, And smiled ! The spoilers tempt no second blow ; They fawn on the proud feet that spurn them as they go. SHELLEY. tact" THE STORY OF APOLLO AND DAPHNE APPLIED. THYRSIS, a youth of the inspired train, Fair Sacharissa loved, but loved in vain. Like Phoebus sung the no less amorous boy ; Like Daphne she, as lovely and as coy. With numbers he the flying nymph pursues, With numbers such as Phoebus' self might use. But all in vain. With his harmonious lay Unmoved, the nymph could not incline to stay. Yet what he sung in his immortal strain, Though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain. All but the nymph that should redress his wrong Attend his passion, and approve his song. 34 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Like Phoebus, thus acquiring unsought praise, He caught at love, and filled his arms with bays. WALLER. HYACINTHUS. OR they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intent On either side, pitying the sad death Of Hyacinthus, when the cruel breath Of Zephyr slew him ; Zephyr penitent, Who now, ere Phoebus mounts the firmament, Fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain. KEATS. [An allusion to Hyacinthus will also be recognized in Milton's Lycidas.] LIKE to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe. THE SHEPHERD OF KING ADMETUS. MEN called him but a shiftless youth, In whom no good they saw, And yet unwittingly, in truth, They made his careless words their law. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 35 And day by day more holy grew Each spot where he had trod, Till after-poets only knew Their first-born brother was a god. LOWELL. DIANA. THE graceful goddess was arrayed in green ; About her feet were little beagles seen, That watched with upturned eyes the motions of their queen. Her legs were buskined, and the left before, In act to shoot ; a silver bow she bore, And at her back a painted quiver wore, Supplied with arrows keen, a deadly store ; A silver crescent on her forehead shone. DRYDEN. HYMN TO CYNTHIA. QUEEN and huntress ! chaste and fair ! Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep. 36 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess, excellently bright ! Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy crystal shining quiver, Give unto the flying hart Space to breathe, how short soever ; Bless us with thy wished-for light, Goddess, excellently bright! Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose j Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to bless when day doth close ; Thou, that makest a day of night, Goddess, excellently bright ! BEN JONSON. tan** CHASTITY. THE noble sister of Publicola, The moon of Rome ; chaste as the icicle That's curded by the frost from purest snow And hangs on Dian's temple. SHAKESPEARE. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 37 DIANA, THE GODDESS OF CHASTITY. SHALL I call Antiquity from the old schools of Greece To testify the arms of Chastity ? Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow, Fair silver-shafted queen, forever chaste, Wherewith she tamed the brinded lioness, And spotted mountain pard, but set at nought The frivolous bow of Cupid ; gods and men Feared her stern frown, and she was queen of the Woods. MILTON. THE WORSHIP OF DIAN. QUEEN of the tumbling floods ! 0, lend thine ear To us, who seek and praise thee here. Fright not the halcyon* from her watery nest, While on the scarcely-moving waves she sits Listening, sore distressed, Lest that the winds, in sullen fits, Should come, and lift the curling seas on high. * See the story of the Halcyon, " Age of Fable," page ICO. 4 38 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. On thy white altar we Lavish, in fond idolatry, Herbs and rich flowers, such as the summer uses ; Some that in wheaten fields Lift their red bells amidst the golden grain ; Some that the moist earth yields, Beneath the shadows of those pine trees high, Which, branching, shield the far Thessalian plains From the fierce anger of Apollo's eye ; And some that Delphic swains Pluck by the silver springs of Castaly. Now, and forever, hail, great Dian ! thou, Before whose moony brow The rolling planets die, or lose their fires, And all the bravery of heaven retires. There Saturn dimly turns within his ring, And Jove looks pale upon his burning throne ; There the great hunter-king, Orion, mourns with watery glare The tarnished lustre of his blazing zone ; Thou only through the blue and starry air, In unabated beauty rid'st along, Companioned by our song. BARRY CORNWALL. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 39 DIANA, HECATE OR THE MOON. How like a queen comes forth the lonely moon, From the slow-opening curtains of the clouds, Walking in beauty to her midnight throne ! The stars are veiled in light ; the ocean floods And the ten thousand streams; the boundless woods ; The trackless wilderness ; the mountain's brow, Where winter o'er eternal snow-drifts broods ; All height, depth, wildness, grandeur, gloom, below, Touched by thy smile, lone moon, in one wide splendor glow. CROLY. THE MOON. THE sleeping kine, Couched in thy brightness, dream of fields divine. Innumerable mountains rise, and rise, Ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes ; And yet thy benediction passeth not One obscure hiding place, one little spot Where pleasure may be sent ; the nested wren Has thy fair face within its tranquil ken ; &c. &c. KEATS. 40 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. ACTION. 'MlDST others of less note came one frail form, A phantom among men ; companionless As the last cloud of an expiring storm, Whose thunder is its knell ; he, as I guess f Had gazed on Nature's naked loveliness, Actaeon-like ; and now he fled astray With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness ; And his own Thoughts, along that rugged way, Pursued like raging hounds their father and their CEPHALXJS AND PROCRIS. A HUNTER once in a grove reclined, To shun the noon's bright eye, And oft he wooed the wandering wind To cool his brow with its sigh. While mute lay even the wild bee's hum, Nor breath could stir the aspen's hair, His song was still, " Sweet Air, O come ! " While Echo answered, " Come, sweet Air ! " POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 41 DIANA AND ENDYMION. QUEEN of the wide air, thou most lovely queen Of all the brightness that mine eyes have seen ! As thou exceedest all things in thy shine, So every tale does this sweet tale of thine. KEATS. 4? POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. ENDYMION. HE stood, Fine as those shapely spirits, heaven-descended, Hermes or young Apollo, or whom she, The moon-lit Dian, on the Latmian hill, When all the woods and all the winds were still, Kissed with the kiss of immortality. BARRY CORNWALL. ISC!" A SPOT FOR LOVERS. I PRAY thee stay ! Where hast thou been ? Or whither goest thou ? Here be woods as green As any ; air likewise as fresh and sweet As where smooth Zephyrus plays on the fleet Face of the curled streams, with flowers as many As the young spring gives, and as choice as any ; Choose where thou wilt, whilst I sit by and sing, Or gather rushes to make many a ring For thy long fingers ; tell thee tales of love, How the pale Phoebe, hunting in a grove, First saw the boy Endymion, from whose eyes She took eternal fire that never dies ; How she conveyed him softly, in a sleep, His temples bound with poppy, to the steep POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 43 Head of old Latmos, where she stoops each night, Gilding the mountain with her brother's light, To kiss her sweetest. FLETCHER'S FAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS. NIGHT THOUGHTS. THESE thoughts, O Night, are thine ; From thee they came like lovers' secret sighs, When others slept. So Cynthia, poets feign, In shadows veiled, soft, sliding from her sphere, Her shepherd cheered, of her enamoured less Than I of thee. YOUNG. ENDYMION. SUGGESTED BY A PAINTING BY LUCA GIORDANO. GIORDANO, verily thy pencil's skill Hath here portrayed, with Nature's happiest grace, The fair Endymion couched on Latmos hill ; And Dian gazing on the shepherd's face In rapture, yet suspending her embrace, As not unconscious with what power the thrill Of her most timid touch his sleep would chase, 44 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. And, with his sleep, that beauty calm and still. O may this work have found its last retreat Here in a mountain bard's secure abode ! One to whom, yet a school boy, Cynthia showed A face of love which he in love would greet, Fixed by her smile upon some rocky seat, Or lured along where greenwood paths he trod. WORDSWORTH. ENBYMION. THE rising moon has hid the stars ; Her level rays, like golden bars, Lie on the landscape green, With shadows bright between. And silver-white the river gleams, As if Diana, in her dreams, Had dropped her silver bow Upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this, She woke Endymion with a kiss, When, sleeping in the grove, He dreamed not of her love. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 45 Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought, Love gives itself, but is not bought ; Nor voice nor sound betrays Its deep, impassioned gaze. It comes the beautiful, the free, The crown of all humanity In silence and alone To seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep Are life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, And kisses the closed eyes Of him who slumbering lies. O weary hearts ! O slumbering eyes ! O drooping souls, whose destinies Are fraught with fear and pain, Ye shall be loved again ! No one is so accursed by fate, No one so utterly desolate, But some heart, though unknown, Responds unto his own ; Responds, as if with unseen wings, An angel touched its quivering strings ; 46 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. And whispers, in its song, " Where hast thou staid so long ? " LONGFELLOW. THE OCCULTATION OF ORION. [Orion is represented, on the celestial globe, robed in a lion's skin, and wielding a club. The poet describes the effect of the rising moon upon the stars of the constellation, which, one by one, were quenched in its light.] SIEIUS was rising in the east ; And slow ascending, one by one, The kindling constellations shone. Begirt with many a blazing star, Stood the great giant Algebar, Orion, hunter of the beast ! His sword hung gleaming by his side, And, on his arm, the lion's hide Scattered across the midnight air, The golden radiance of its hair. The moon was pallid, but not faint ; And beautiful as some fair saint, Serenely moving on her way In hours of trial and dismay. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 47 As if she heard the voice of God, Unharmed with naked feet she trod Upon the hot and burning stars, As on the glowing coals and bars That were to prove her strength, and try Her holiness and her purity. Thus moving on, with silent pace, And triumph in her sweet, pale face, She reached the station of Orion. Aghast he stood in strange alarm ! And suddenly from his outstretched arm Down fell the red skin of the lion Into the river at his feet. His mighty club no longer beat The forehead of the bull j but he Reeled as of yore beside the sea, When blinded by (Enopion He sought the blacksmith at his forge, And climbing up the mountain gorge, Fixed his blank eyes upon the sun. Then, through the silence overhead, An angel with a trumpet said, " Forevermore, forevermore, The reign of violence is o'er," 43 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. And, like an instrument that flings Its music on another's strings, The trumpet of the angel cast Upon the heavenly lyre its blast, And on from sphere to sphere the words Reechoed down the burning chords, " Forevermore, forevermore, The reign of violence is o'er." LONGFELLOW. ROME COMPARED TO NIOBE. THE Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless in her voiceless woe ; An empty urn within her withered hands, Whose holy dust was scattered long ago ; The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now : The very sepulchres lie tenantless Of their heroic dwellers ; dost thou flow, Old Tiber ! through a marble wilderness ? Rise with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 49 ON A STATUE OF NIOBE. To stone the gods have changed her, but in vain ; The sculptor's art has made her breathe again. VULCAN, OR MULCIBER. NOR was his name unheard or unadored In ancient Greece ; and in Ausonian land 5 50 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Men called him Mulciber ; and how he fell From heaven they fabled, thrown by angry Jove Sheer o'er the crystal battlements ; from morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, A summer's day ; and with the setting sun Dropped from the zenith like a falling star On Lemnos, the jEgean isle. MlLTOX. THE CYCLOPES. THE giant brethren, arrogant of heart, Who forged the lightning shaft, and gave to Jove His thunder, they were like unto the gods, Save that a single ball of sight was fixed In their mid-forehead. Cyclops was their name, From that round eyeball in their brow infixed ; And strength, and force, and manual craft was theirs. ELTON'S HESIOD. HERCULES AND THE SERPENTS. How early has young Chromius begun The race of virtue, and how swiftly run, And borne the noble prize away, While other youths yet at the barrier stay ! POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 51 None but Alcides e'er set earlier forth than he. The big-limbed babe in his huge cradle lay, Too weighty to be rocked by nurse's hands, Wrapped in purple swaddling bands, When, lo, by jealous Juno's fierce commands, Two dreadful serpents come, Rolling and hissing loud into the room. To the bold babe they trace their hidden way ; Forth from their flaming eyes dread lightnings went ; Their gaping mouths did forked tongues like thun- derbolts present. Some of th' amazed women dropped down dead With fear, some wildly fled About the room, some into corners crept, Where silently they shook and wept. All naked from the bed the passionate mother leaped, To save or perish with her child. She trembled and she cried; the mighty infant smiled. The mighty infant seemed well pleased At his gay, gilded foes ; And as their spotted necks up to the cradle rose, With his young warlike hands on both he seized. In vain they raged, in vain they hissed, 2 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. In vain their armed tails they twist, And angry circles cast about ; Black blood, and fiery breath, and poisonous soul, he squeezes out PINDAR, BY COWLEY. HERCULES. THE mighty Hercules, o'er many a clime Waved his vast mace in virtue's cause sublime. Unmeasured strength, with early art combined, Awed, served, protected, and amazed mankind. DARWIN. DEEP degraded to a coward's slave, Endless contests bore Alcides brave, Through the thorny path of suffering led ; Slew the Hydra, crushed the lion's might, Threw himself, to bring his friend to light, Living, in the skiff that bears the dead. All the torments, every toil of earth, Juno's hatred on him could impose, Well he bore them, from his fated birth, To life's grandly mournful close. Till the god, the earthly part forsaken, Prom the man in flames asunder taken, POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 53 Drank the heavenly ether's purer breath, Joyous in the new, unwonted lightness, Soared he upwards to celestial brightness, Earth's dark, heavy burden lost in death. High Olympus gives harmonious greeting To the hall where reigns his sire adored ; Youth's bright goddess, with a blush at meeting, Gives the nectar to her lord. SCHILLER, BY S. G. BULFINCH. [Alluding to the efforts of the confederated powers to put down the French revolution.] MEANTIME the invaders fared as they deserved. The Herculean Commonwealth put forth her arms And throttled with an infant godhead's might The snakes about her cradle. WORDSWORTH. [Alluding to the proscriptions and massacres which accompanied that event.] THEY who with clumsy desperation brought A river of blood, and preached that nothing else Could cleanse the Augean stable, by the might Of their own helper have been swept away. WORDSWORTH. 54 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. ALCESTIS. METHOUGHT I saw my late espoused saint Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave, Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint. MILTON. THE PILLARS OF HERCULES. LAST with wide arms the solid earth he tears, Piles rock on rock, on mountain mountain rears : Heaves up huge Abyla on Afric's sand, Crowns with high Calpe Europe's salient strand, Crests with opposing towers the splendid scene, And pours from urns immense the sea between. DAEWIN. !%* THE GARDENS OF THE HESPERIDES, WATCHED BY A DRAGON. So, borne on brazen talons, watched of old The sleepless dragon o'er his fruits of gold ; Bright beamed his scales, his eyeballs blazed with ire, And his wide nostrils breathed enchanted fire. DARWIN. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 55 BEAUTY, like the fair Hesperian tree, Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard Of dragon-watch with unenchanted eye, To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit From the rash hand of bold incontinence. MILTON. !%* HYLAS. HYLAS, the daintie boy, that was so dear To great Alcides, that whenas he died, He wailed, woman-like, with many a tear, And every wood and every valley wide He filled with Hylas' name ; the nymphs too " Hylas " cried. SPENSEB. WHEN Hylas was sent with his urn to the fount, Through fields full of light, and with heart full of play, Light rambled the boy over meadow and mount, And neglected his task for the flowers in the way. Thus many, like me, who in youth should have tasted The fountain that runs by Philosophy's shrine, 56 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted, And left their light urns all as empty as mine. MOORE. GANYMEDE. SWIFT from the chase Jove's towering eagle bears, On golden wings, the Phrygian to the stars ; Still, as he rises in the ethereal height, His native mountains lessen to his sight ; While all his sad companions upward gaze, Fixed on the glorious scene in wild amaze. His favorite hound entranced his master views, With timid howl and anxious eye pursues ; The rest, low cowering, frightened as he flies, Run to the shade, and bark against the skies. THERE, too, flushed Ganymede, his rosy thigh Half buried in the eagle's down, Sole as a flying star shot through the sky Above the pillared town. Pour forth heaven's wine, Idaean Ganymede, And let it fill the Daedal cups like fire. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 57 MERCURY. ON his blooming face Youth smiles celestial with each opening grace. Despatched by Jove, he mounts the winged winds, Fast to his feet the golden pinions binds, That high through fields of air his flight sustain, O'er the wide earth, and o'er the boundless main. He grasps the wand * that causeth sleep to fly, Or in soft slumbers seals the wakeful eye. A PORTRAIT. SEE what a grace was seated on this brow Hyperion's curls ; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars to threaten and command ; A station like the herald Mercury, New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill ; A combination and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man. SHAKESPEARE. * The caduceus. 58 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. IRIS. HAIL, many-colored messenger, that ne'er Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter ; Who, with thy saffron wings, upon the flowers Diifusest honey dews, refreshing showers ; And with each end of thy bright bow dost crown The tufted meadows, and the unshrubbed down. Rich scarf to the proud earth ! SHAKESPEARE. !%*" HEBE. WHERE high Olympus' shining gates unfold, And gods, with Jove, rest on their thrones of gold, Immortal Hebe, fresh with bloom divine, The golden goblet crowns with purple wine. MERCURY AND CUPID. IN sullen humor, one day, Jove, Sent Hermes down to Ida's grove, Commanding Cupid to deliver His store of darts, his total quiver, POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 59 That Hermes should the weapons break, Or throw them into Lethe's lake. Hermes, you know, must do his errand; He found his man, produced his warrant ; " Cupid ! your darts, this very hour : There's no contending against power." " Come, kinsman," said the little god, " Put off your wings, lay by your rod ; Retire with me to yonder bower, And rest yourself for half an hour. Tis far indeed from hence to heaven, And you fly fast, and 'tis^but seven ; We'll take one cooling cup of nectar, And drink to this immortal Hector. " He break my darts, and hurt my power ! He, Leda's swan, and Danae's shower ! Go, bid him his wife's tongue restrain, And mind his thunder and his rain. My darts ! O, certainly, I'll give them ; From Chloe's eyes he shall receive them, And one, the best in all my quiver, Twang ! through his very heart deliver. 60 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. He then shall pine, and sigh, and rave, And what a bustle we shall have ! Neptune must straight be sent to sea, And Flora summoned twice a day ; One must find shells, the other flowers, For cooling grots and fragrant bowers ; That Chloe may be served in state, The Hours must at her toilet wait, While all the reasoning fools below Wonder their watches go too slow. Lybs * must fly south, and Eurus * east, For jewels for her hair and breast ; No matter though their cruel haste Sink cities, and laj forests waste ; No matter, though this fleet be lost, Or that lie wind-bound on the coast. What whispering in my mother's ear ! What care that Juno should not hear ! What work among you scholar gods ! Phoebus must write him amorous odes, And thou, poor cousin, must compose His letters in submissive prose ; While haughty Chloe, to sustain The honors of my mystic reign, * The west and east winds. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 61 Shall all his gifts and vows disdain, And laugh at your old sovereign's pain." " Dear coz ! " says Hermes in a fright, " Pray keep your dangerous darts ! good night ! " BACCHUS. BACCHUS, that first from out the purple grape Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine. FIERCE panthers, that did once the desert awe, With tame, submissive necks his chariot draw, While Bacchanals' and Satyrs' jolly crew Make up the cavalcade. Silenus, too, With staggering strut, scarce sits his slow-paced beast, Reels in the rear, with fumes of wine oppressed, While youths' and damsels' undistinguished cries, And music's louder concert, rend the skies. OVID. 6 62 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. THE INFANT BACCHUS RIDING ON A PANTHER. FROM A GEM. BOY of beauty rare ! With thy lips in roses dyed, And that harmless, infant air, Why upon the panther ride, Boy of beauty rare ? Sweet one ! is't to tell That within thy cup is woe ; That the victim of thy spell Passion's fiery speed shall know ? Thou'rt an oracle ! CROLY. THE TRIUMPH OF BACCHUS. FAUNS with youthful Bacchus follow ; Ivy crowns that brow supernal As the forehead of Apollo, And possessing youth eternal. Round about him fair Bacchantes, Bearing cymbals, flutes, and thyrses POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 63 Wild from Naxian groves, or Zante's Vineyards, sing delirious verses. LONGFELLOW. tttl" CERES. THE harvest-goddess Ceres next is seen, In bloom majestic, and in port a queen ; Fair is her brow as mountain snow fresh driven, And her blue eyes reflect the azure heaven ; Poppies and field-flower buds her robe adorn, Her long, fair hair is crowned with yellow corn, A wreath of ripened wheat one hand retains, The right aloft a burning torch sustains. FROM THE SPANISH. THE BOY CHANGED TO AN EFT, OR SMALL LIZARD. THROUGH the wide earth, and o'er the boundless main, Her daughter mournful Ceres seeks in vain ; Thirsty at last by long fatigue she grows, But meets no spring, no rivulet near her flows ; 64 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Then looking round, a lowly cot she spies Smoking among the trees, and thither hies. The goddess knocking at the humble door, 'Twas opened by a woman old and poor, Who, when she begged for water, gave her ale, Brewed long, but well preserved from being stale. The goddess drank ; a clownish boy was by, Who saw the liquor with a grudging eye, And grinning said, " She's greedy more than dry." Ceres, offended at his rude grimace, Flung what she had not drunk into his face. The sprinklings speckle where they hit the skin, And a long tail does from his body spin. His arms are turned to legs ; and, lest his size Should make him dangerous, and he should rise Against mankind, diminishes his frame ; Less than a lizard, but in shape the same. Amazed, the crone the wondrous sight beheld, And wept, and would have touched her altered child ; But her approach th' affrighted reptile shuns, And fast into the nearest crevice runs. OVID, BY DRYDEN. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 65 THE GIFT OF CORN. IN the shyest mountain cleft Held the Troglodyte * abode, Waste and bare the plains were left, Where the roving Nomad * trode. With the arrow, with the bow, Ranged the hunter through the land ; Woe betide the stranger, woe ! Cast upon the luckless strand. On the search for her lost daughter, To these coasts, so rude and drear, Ceres' wandering steps had brought her ; Ah, no fertile fields appear ! To detain her footsteps there No built roof its welcome rears 5 No proud temples' columns fair Tell that man the gods reveres. No sweet fruits of harvest reach For her use their holy food ; Human bones all ghastly bleach On the altar's pillar rude. * Troglodytes, dwellers in caves ; Nomads, wandering tribes. 6 * 66 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. And where'er her steps she turns, She but sees a fallen fate, And her generous spirit burns, Sorrowing over man's lost state. Then she softly bursts the cloud That detained her from their sight, And at once, 'mid that wild crowd, Stands revealed, a form of light ! And she takes the spear-staffs weight From the hunter's rugged hand ; With its point of deadly fate Furrows she the yielding sand ; Plucks from out her bearded crown One small grain of hidden might, Sinks it in its small trench down, And it swells and shoots to light, And with green blade instantly Does the ground its breadth adorn, And as far as eye can see Waves like golden boughs the corn. Smiling, blesses she the earth, The first-gathered sheaf she binds, POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 67 Plants the fieldstone for a hearth ; Man in man a brother finds. SCHILLER, BY FROTHINGHAM. PROSERPINE. SPRING FLOWERS. O PROSERPINA, For the flowers now that frighted thou lett'st fall FronvDis's wagon ! daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty ; violets, dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength ; bold oxlips, and The crown imperial ; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one. SHAKESPEARE. FORGIVE, if somewhile I forget, In woe to come, the present bliss j As frighted Proserpine let fall Her flowers at the sight of Dis. HOOD. 68 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. PLUTO AND PROSERPINE. BY the river browsed a single steed, Sable as one of that poetic pair, On the fair plain of Enna, in the yoke Of Pluto, when Proserpina let fall From her soft lap her flowers, and mourned their loss, Lavish, nor for herself reserved her tears. ARETHUSA. O MY beloved, how divinely sweet Is the pure joy when kindred spirits meet ! Like him, the river god, whose waters flow, With love their only light, through caves below, Wafting in triumph all the flowery braids And festal rings with which Olympic maids Have decked his current, as an offering meet To lay at Arethusa's shining feet. Think, when he meets at last his fountain bride, What perfect love must thrill the blended tide ! Each lost in each, till mingling into one, Their lot the same for shadow or for sun, A type of true love, to the deep they run. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 69 THE LAMENTATION OF DANAE.* THE night winds howled the billows dashed Against the tossing chest ,* As Danae to her broken heart Her slumbering infant pressed. " My little child," in tears she said, " To wake and weep is mine ; But thou canst sleep, thou dost not know Thy mother's lot and thine. " The moon is up ; the moonbeams smile They tremble on the main ; But dark, within my floating cell, To me they smile in vain. " Thy folded mantle wraps thee warm, Thy clustering locks are dry, Thou dost not hear the shrieking gust, Nor breakers booming high. " As o'er thy sweet, unconscious face A mournful watch I keep, * See Age of Fable, p. 275. 70 POETRY QF THE AGE OF FABLE. I think, didst thou but know thy fate, How thou wouldst also weep. " Yet, dear one, sleep ; and sleep, ye winds, That vex the restless brine ; When shall these eyes, my babe, be sealed As peacefully as thine ? " SlMONIDES, BY BRYANT. CASSIOPEIA. ODE TO MELANCHOLY. GODDESS, sage and holy, Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And, therefore, to our weaker view O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue, Black, but such as in esteem Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, Or that starred ^Ethiop queen that strove To set her beauty's praise above The sea nymphs, and their powers offended. MILTON. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 71 PERSEUS. As 'mid the fabled Libyan bridal stood Perseus in stern tranquillity of wrath, Half stood, half floated on his ankle plumes Out-swelling, while the bright face on his shield Looked into stone the raging fray ; so rose, But with no magic arms, wearing alone Th* appalling and control of his firm look, The Briton Samor ; at his rising awe Went abroad, and the riotous hall was mute. MlLMAN. IXI* MEDUSA. MINERVA'S JEGIS. WHAT was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield That wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin, Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone, But rigid looks of chaste austerity, And noble grace that dashed brute violence With sudden adoration and blank awe ! MILTON. 72 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. THE EFFECT OF FROST UPON THE WATERS. Now blows the surly North, and chills throughout The stiffening regions, while by stronger charms Than Circe e'er or fell Medea brewed, Each brook that wont to prattle to its banks Lies all bestilled and wedged betwixt its banks, Nor moves the withered reeds. * * * The surges baited by the fierce North-east, Tossing with fretful spleen their angry heads, E'en in the foam of all their madness struck To monumental ice. * * # * # Such execution, So stern, so sudden, wrought the grisly aspect Of terrible Medusa, When wandering through the woods she turned to stone Their savage tenants ; just as the foaming Lion Sprang furious on his prey, her speedier power Outran his haste, And fixed in that fierce attitude he stands Like Rage in marble ! ARMSTRONG. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 73 PHOSPHORUS, THE MORNING STAR. (Phosphorus speaks.) To rest ! to rest ! the herald of the day, Bright Phosphorus, commands you hence, away ! The moon is pale and spent ; and winged night, Makes headlong haste to fly the morning light, Who now is risen from her blushing wars, And with her rosy hand puts out the stars, Of which myself, the last, her harbinger, Do stay to warn you that you not defer Your parting hence. O, yet how early ! and before her time The envious morning up doth climb, As if she loved not bed. "What haste the jealous sun doth make His fiery horses up to take, And once more show his head Lest, dazzled with the brightness of this night, The world should wish it last, and never miss his light BEN JONSON. 74 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. CASTOR AND POLLUX, AS THEY APPEARED AT THE BATTLE OF LAKE REGILLUS. So like they were, no mortal Might one from other know ; White as snow their armor was, Their steeds were white as snow. Never on earthly anvil Did such rare armor gleam, And never did such gallant steeds Drink of an earthly stream. * * Back comes the chief in triumph, Who in the hour of fight Hath seen the great Twin Brethren In harness on his right. Safe comes the ship to haven, Through billows and through gales, If once the great Twin Brethren Sit shining on the sails. MACAULAY. WHEN Winter dips his pinion in the seas, And sailors shudder as the chilling gale POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 75 Makes its wild music through the Cyckdes, What eyes are fixed upon the cloudy veil, Twin warriors ! to behold your sapphire mail, Shooting its splendors through the rifted sky ! What joyous hymns your stars of beauty hail ! For then the tempests to their caverns fly, And on the pebbled shore the yellow surges die. CBOLY. THE WATER DEITIES. SABRINA fair, Listen and appear to us, In name of great Oceanus ; By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace, And Tethys' grave, majestic pace, By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look, And the Carpathian wizard's hook,* By scaly Triton's winding shell, And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell, By Leucothea's lovely hands, And her son who rules the strands, By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet, And the songs of Sirens sweet ; " &c. MILTON. * Proteus. 76 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. THE NAIADS. O COME, ye Naiads ! to the fountains lead ! Propitious maids ! the task remains to sing Your gifts, (so PaBon, so the powers of Health Command,) to praise your crystal element. O comfortable streams ! with eager lips And trembling hands the languid thirsty quaff New life in you ; fresh vigor fills their veins. No warmer cups the rural ages knew, None warmer sought the sires of humankind ; Happy in temperate peace their equal days Felt not the alternate fits of feverish mirth And sick dejection ; still serene and pleased, Blessed with divine immunity from ills, Long centuries they lived ; their only fete Was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death. ARMSTRONG. You nymphs called Naiads, of the wandering brooks, With your sedged crowns, and ever harmless looks, Leave your crisped channels, and on this green land Answer your summons. SHAKESPEARE. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 77 EGERIA. EGERIA ! sweet creation of some heart Which found no mortal resting place so fair As thine ideal breast ; whatever thou art Or wert, a young Aurora of the air, The nympholepsy * of some fond despair ; Or, it might be, a beauty of the earth, Who found a more than common votary there, Too much adoring ; whatsoe'er thy birth, Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth. The mosses of thy fountain still are sprinkled With thine Elysian water drops ; the face Of thy cave-guarded spring, with years unwrinkled, Reflects the meek-eyed genius of the place, Whose green, wild margin now no more erase Art's works ; nor must the delicate waters sleep, Prisoned in marble ; bubbling from the base Of the cleft statue, with a gentle leap The rill runs o'er, and round, fern, flowers, and ivy creep. * Nympholepsy, tlie being possessed, or inspired, by a nymph. 7* 78 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Here didst thou dwell, in this enchanted cover, Egeria ! thy all-heavenly bosom beating For the iar footsteps of thy mortal lover ; The purple midnight veiled that mystic meeting With her most starry canopy, and seating Thyself by thine adorer, what befell ? This cave was surely shaped out for the greeting Of an enamoured goddess, and the cell Haunted by holy Love, the earliest oracle. BYBOK. !*! EGERIA'S GROTTO. Lo ! where darkness seems to guard the mouth Of yon wild cave, whose jagged brows are fringed With flaccid thread of ivy, in the still And sultry air depending motionless, Yet cool the space within, and not uncheered By stealthy influx of the timid day Mingling with night, such twilight to compose As Numa loved ; when, in the Egerian grot, From the sage nymph appearing at his wish, He gained whatever a regal mind might ask ; Or need, of counsel breathed though lips divine. WORDSWORTH. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 79 NUMA AND EGERIA. HOLDING one hand against his ear, To list a footfall ere he saw The wood nymph, staid the Tuscan king to hear Of wisdom and of law. TENNYSON. tail" ZEPHYRUS AND FLORA. HE on his side Leaning half raised, with looks of cordial love, Hung over her enamoured, and beheld Beauty which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces ; then, with voice Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, Her hand soft touching, whispered thus : " Awake ! My fairest, my espoused, my latest found, Heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight." MILTON. FAVONIUS. YE delicate ! who nothing can support, (Yourselves most insupportable,) for whom The winter rose must blow, and silky soft Favonius breathe still sc.^.er, or be chid. 80 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. POMONA. PHILLIPS, Pomona's bard, the second thou "Who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfettered verse, "With British freedom, sing the British song. THOMSONS BEAR me, Pomona, to thy citron groves, To where the lemon and the piercing lime, "With the deep orange, glowing through the green, Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclined Beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes, Fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit. THOMSON. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 81 POMONA loves the orchard, And Liber loves the vine, And Pales loves the straw-built shed Warm with the breath of kine ; And Venus loves the whisper Of plighted youth and maid, In April's ivory moonlight, Beneath the chestnut shade. MACAULAY. THE ISLE OF LOVE. As now triumphant to their native shore, Through the wide deep, the joyful navy bore, Before the fleet, to catch the heroes' view, A floating isle the fair enchantress threw. Soon as the floating verdure caught their sight, She fixed, unmoved, the island of delight. So when, in childbirth of her Jove-sprung load, The sylvan goddess and the bowyer god, In friendly pity of Latona's woes, Amid the waves the Deliari isle arose. And now led smoothly o'er the furrowed tide, Right to the Isle of Love the vessels glide. 82 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. The bay they enter, where, on every hand, Around them clasps the flower-enamelled land. ***** A thousand boughs aloft to heaven display Their fragrant apples shining to the day ; The orange here perfumes the buxom air, And boasts the golden hue of Daphne's hair ; Near to the ground each spreading bough descends, Beneath her yellow load the citron bends ; Between the clustering leaves of lucid green, The apple's ripe vermilion blush is seen. For here each gift Pomona's hand bestows In cultured garden, free, uncultured grows, The flavor sweeter, and the hue more fair, Than e'er was fostered by the hand of care. The cherry here in shining crimson glows, And, stained with lovers' blood, in pendent rows, The bending boughs the mulberries o'erload ; The bending boughs, caressed by Zephyr, nod. Wild forest trees the mountain's sides arrayed With curling foliage and romantic shade. Here spreads the poplar, to Alcides dear, And dear to Phoebus, ever verdant here, The laurel joins the bowers forever green, The myrtle bowers beloved by beauty's queen. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 83 To Jove the oak his wide-spread branches rears, And high to heaven the fragrant cedar bears. Where through the glades appear the caverned rocks, The lofty pine tree waves her sable locks. Sacred to Cybele, the whispering pine Loves the wild grottoes where the white cliffs shine. Here towers the cypress, preacher to the wise ; Lessening from earth her spiral honors rise, Till, as a spear-point reared, the topmost spray Points to the Eden of eternal day. A thousand flowers of gold, of white, and red, Far o'er the shadowy vale their carpets spread, Of fairer tapestry, and of richer bloom, Than ever glowed in Persia's boasted loom. Here, o'er the watery mirror's lucid bed, Narcissus, self-enamoured, hangs the head. And here, bedewed with love's celestial tears, The woe-marked flower of slain Adonis rears Its purple head, prophetic of the reign When lost Adonis shall revive again. The hyacinth bewrays the doleful Ai, And calls the tribute of Apollo's sigh ; Still on its bloom the mournful flower retains The lovely blue that dyed the stripling's veins. CAMOENS, BY MICKLE. 84 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. JANUS. Now, by two-headed Janus, Nature hath formed strange fellows in her time ; Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, And laugh, like parrots, at a bagpiper ; And other of such vinegar aspect, That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor sware the jest be laughable. SHAKESPEARE. THE GODDESS FORTUNE, OCCASION, OR OPPORTUNITY. INSCRIPTION ON THE BASE OF A STATUE AT FLORENCE. " AH ! what art thou, of more than mortal birth, Whom heaven adorns with beauty's brightest beam? On wings of wind why spura'st thou thus the earth ? " " Known but to few, Occasion is my name. No rest I find, for underneath my feet The eternal circle rolls that speeds my way. And these my glittering pinions I display, That from the dazzling sight thine eyes may turn away. In full luxuriance o'er my angel face Float my thick tresses, free and unconfined, POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 85 That through their veil my features few may trace ; But not one lock adorns my head behind ; Once passed, forever gone ! no mortal might May bid the ceaseless wheel revolve again." " And who is she attendant on thy flight ? " " Repentance : if thou grasp at me in vain, Then must thou in thine arms her loathed weight sustain. And now, while, heedless of the truths I sing, Vain thoughts and fond desires thy time employ, Ah, seest thou not, on soft and silken wing, The form that smiled so fair, has glided by ? " MACHIAVELLI, BY ROSCOE. ENVY. [The following is Ovid's description of Envy. Minerva, on a certain occasion, condescended to employ the fiend, and paid a visit to her cave.] HID in a valley deep is Envy's cave, Impervious to the sunshine and the air ; Gloomy, and full of noisome cold ; wherein Fire never glows, and darkness always broods. Hither when came the goddess, warrior-maid, She stood without, (she could not enter in,) 8 5b POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. And smote upon the doorposts with her spear. The doors unfolded, and she saw within The monster at her meal of viper's flesh, The food best suited to recruit her powers. The goddess turned away her eyes ; the fiend Rose from the clammy ground and left her meal Half eaten, and with sluggish pace advanced. When she beheld the goddess bright in arms And beautiful, she heaved a bitter sigh. Paleness was o'er her lace, her form was thin, Livid her teeth, her bosom full of gall, And adder's poison lurked beneath her tongue. She never looks straight forward, never smiles, Except perchance at sight of human woe ; She never sleeps ; care keeps her still awake, And pining at the most unwelcome sight Of human joys : rebuking and rebuked, She is herself her own fit punishment. FAME.* No evil spirit flies so fast as Fame ; She thrives by motion, strengthening as she goes ; Kept down at first by fear, soon larger grown, * In the sense of Rumor. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 87 She walks the earth, her forehead in the clouds. Earth, angry with the gods, produced her last, Fit sister of the rebel Titan brood ; A monster fleet of foot, and fleet of wing, Terrific, vast. Beneath her wings concealed, Eyes, numerous as feathers, stud her breast, With ears as many, and as many tongues. By night 'twixt heaven and earth the monster flies, Screeching in darkness, sleepless, vigilant ; By day, like watchman on a tower, she sits On humble roofs, or battlemented walls, And agitates with terror mighty towns. Loquacious of the evil and the false, As willingly as herald of the true. VIRGIL. RUMOR, [As described by Shakespeare, may be taken as a companion- piece to Virgil's Fame.] OPEN your ears ! for which of you will stop The sense of hearing when loud Rumor speaks ? I from the orient to the drooping west, Making the wind my posthorse, still unfold The acts commenced on this ball of earth. 88 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. I speak of peace when covert enmity Under the smile of safety wounds the world. And who but Rumor, who but only I Make fearful musters and prepared defence, Whilst the big year, swollen with some other grief, Seems to portend the speedy birth of war, And no such matter ? HENRY IV. 2D PART. INTRODUCTION. THE SEASONS. THE seasons alter ; hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose ; And on old Hyems' chin, and icy crown, An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mockery, set ; the spring, the summer, The chiding autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries ; and the 'mazed world By their increase now knows not which is which. SHAKESPEARE. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 89 SONG TO PAN. SING his praises that doth keep Our flocks from harm, Pan, the father of our sheep ; And, arm in arm, Tread we softly in a round, While the hollow, neighboring ground Fills the music with her sound. Pan, O great god Pan, to thee Thus do we sing ; Thou that keep'st us chaste and free As the young spring ; Ever be thy honor spoke, From that place the morn is broke, To that place day doth unyoke ! FLETCHER. PAN INVOKED FOR HELP AGAINST OUTRAGE. PAN, for her dear sake * Who loves the rivers' brinks, and still doth shake * Syrinx. See " Age of Fable," page 48. 8* 90 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. In cold remembrance of thy quick pursuit, Let me be made a reed, and ever mute, Nod to the water's fall, whilst every blast Sings through my slender leaves that I was chaste. FLETCHER. THE GOLDEN AGE. UNIVERSAL Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal spring. MILTON. EVE'S BOWER. IN shadier bower, More sacred or sequestered, though but feigned, Pan or Sylvanus never slept, nor nymph Nor Faunus haunted. Here in close recess With flowers, garlands, and sweet-smelling herbs, Espoused Eve decked first her nuptial bed, And heavenly quires the hymenaean sung. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 91 THE DEITIES DETHRONED. THE lonely mountains o'er, And the resounding shore, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament ; From haunted spring and dale, Edged with poplar pale, The parting genius is with sighing sent ; With flower-enwoven tresses torn, The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn. MILTOK. THE DEAD PAN. [These lines are founded on an early Christian tradition that at the moment of the crucifixion, a deep groan, heard through all the isles of Greece, told that the great Pan was dead, and all the royalty of Olympus dethroned.] GODS of Hellas, gods of Hellas, Can ye listen in your silence ? Can your mystic voices tell us Where ye hide ? In floating islands, With a wind that evermore Keeps you out of sight of shore ? Pan, Pan is dead. 92 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Gods of Hellas, gods of Hellas, Said the old Hellenic tongue, Said the hero-oaths, as well as Poets' songs the sweetest sung, Have ye grown deaf in a day ? Can ye speak not, yea or nay, Since Pan is dead ? Do ye leave your rivers flowing All alone, O Naiades, While your drenched locks dry slow in This cold feeble sun and breeze ? Not a word the Naiads say, Though the rivers run for aye ; For Pan is dead. From the gloaming of the oak wood, ye Dryads, could ye flee ? At the rushing thunderstroke would No sob tremble through the tree ?. Not a word the Dryads say, Though the forests wave for aye ; For Pan is dead. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 93 Have ye left the mountain places, Oreads wild, for other tryst ? Shall we see no sudden faces Strike a glory through the mist ? Not a sound the silence thrills Of the everlasting hills. Pan, Pan is dead. Jove ! that right hand is unloaded, Whence the thunder did prevail ; While, in idiocy of godhead, Thou art staring the stars pale ! And thine eagle, blind and old, Roughs his feathers in the cold. Pan, Pan is dead. Where, O Juno, is the glory Of thy regal look and tread ? Will they lay, forevermore, thee On thy dim, straight, golden bed ? Will thy queendom all lie hid Meekly under either lid ? Pan, Pan is dead. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Ha, Apollo ! Floats his golden Hair all mist-like where he stands ; While the Muses hang enfolding Knee and foot with faint wild hands ? 'Neath the clanging of thy bow Niobe looked lost as thou ! Pan, Pan is dead. Shall the casque with its brown iron Pallas' broad blue eyes eclipse, And no hero take inspiring From the god-Greek of her lips ? 'Neath her olive dost thou sit, Mars, the mighty, cursing it ? Pan, Pan is dead. Bacchus, Bacchus ! on the panther He swoons, bound with his own vines ! And his Moenads slowly saunter, Head aside, among the pines, While they murmur dreamingly, " Evohe ah evohe ! " Ah, Pan is dead. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 95 Neptune lies beside the trident, Dead and senseless as a stone ; And old Pluto, deaf and silent, Is cast out into the sun. Ceres smileth stern thereat, " We all now are desolate. Now Pan is dead." Aphrodite ! dead and driven As thy native foam thou art, With the cestus long done heaving On the white calm of thy heart ! Ai Adonis ! At that shriek, Not a tear runs down her cheek. Pan, Pan is dead. And the Loves we used to know from One another, middled lie, Frore as taken in a snow storm, Close beside her tenderly, As if each had weakly tried Once to kiss her as he died. Pan, Pan is dead. 96 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. What, and Hermes ! Time inthralleth All thy cunning, Hermes, thus, And the ivy blindly crawleth Round thy brave caduceus ! Hast thou no new message for us, Full of thunder and Jove-glories ? Nay, Pan is dead. Crowned Cybele's great turret Rocks and crumbles on her head ; Roar the lions of her chariot Toward the wilderness, unfed : Scornful children are not mute, " Mother, mother, walk afoot, Since Pan is dead." In the fiery-hearted centre Of the solemn universe, Ancient Vesta, who could enter To consume thee with this curse ? Drop thy gray chin on thy knee, O thou palsied mystery ! For Pan is dead. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 97 Gods ! \ve vainly do adjure you, Ye return nor voice nor sign : Not a votary could secure you Even a grave for your divine Not a grave, to show thereby, Here these gray old gods do lie ! Pan, Pan is dead. Even that Greece who took your wages, Calls the obolus outworn ; And the hoarse, deep-throated ages Laugh your godships unto scorn ; And the poets do disclaim you, Or grow colder if they name you ; And Pan is dead. Gods bereaved, gods belated, With your purples rent asunder ! Gods discrowned and desecrated, Disinherited of thunder! Now the goats may climb and crop The soft grass on Ida's top, Now Pan is dead. 9 98 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE, Calm at eve the bark went onward, When a cry more loud than wind, Hose up, deepened, and swept sunward, From the piled Dark behind ; And the sun shrank and grew pale Breathed against by the great wail, Pan, Pan is dead. And the rowers from the benches Fell, each shuddering, on his face ; While departing influences Struck a cold back through the place ; And the shadow of the ship Reeled along the passive deep. Pan, Pan is dead. And that dismal cry rose slowly, And sank slowly through the air ; Full of spirits' melancholy And eternity's despair ! And they heard the words it said, Pan is dead, great Pan is dead. Pan, Pan is dead. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 99 Twas the hour when one in Sion Hung for love's sake on a cross ; When his brow was chill with dying, And his soul was faint with loss ; When his priestly blood dropped downward And his kingly eyes looked throneward, Then, Pan was dead. By the love He stood alone in, His sole Godhead stood complete ; And the false gods fell down moaning, Each from off his golden seat. All the false gods with a cry Rendered up their deity. Pan, Pan was dead. Wailing wide across the islands, They rent, vest-like, their Divine ! And a darkness and a silence Quenched the light of every shrine ; And Dodona's oak swang lonely Henceforth to the tempest only. Pan, Pan was dead. 100 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Pythia staggered, feeling o'er her Her lost god's forsaking look ! Straight her eyeballs filled with horror, And her crispy fillets shook ; And her lips gasped through their foam For a word that did not come. Pan, Pan was dead. O ye vain false gods of Hellas, Ye are silent evermore ! And I dash down this old chalice Whence libations ran of yore. See ! the wine crawls in the dust Wormlike, as your glories must ! Since Pan is dead. Get to dust, as common mortals, By a common doom and track ! Let no Schiller * from the portals Of that Hades call you back, Or instruct us to weep all At your antique funeral. Pan, Pan is dead. * These lines were occasioned by a poem of Schiller's, ex- pressing regret for the overthrow of the beautiful mythology of the ancients. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 101 By your beauty which confesses Some chief Beauty conquering you, By our grand heroic guesses, Through your falsehood at the True, We will weep not ! earth shall roll Heir to each god's aureole ; And Pan is dead. Earth outgrows the mythic fancies Sung beside her in her youth; And those debonnaire romances Sound but dull beside the truth. Phoebus' chariot course is run ! Look up, poets, to the sun ! Pan, Pan is dead. What is true and just and honest, What is lovely, what is pure ; All of praise that hath admonished, All of virtue, shall endure ; These are themes for poets' uses, Stirring nobler than the Muses, Ere Pan was dead. 9* 102 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. O brave poets, keep back nothing ; Nor mix falsehood with the whole ! Look up Godward ! speak the truth in Worthy song from earnest soul. Hold, in high poetic duty, Truest truth, the fairest beauty ! Pan, Pan is dead. PROMETHEUS. TITAN ! to whose immortal eyes The sufferings of mortality, Seen in their sad reality, Were not as things that gods despise ; What was thy pity's recompense ? A silent suffering, and intense ; The rock, the vulture, and the chain ; All that the proud can feel of pain ; The agony they do not show ; The suffocating sense of woe. Thy godlike crime was to be kind ; To render with thy precepts less The sum of human wretchedness, POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 103 And strengthen man with his own mind. And, baffled as thou wert from high, Still, in thy patient energy, In the endurance and repulse Of thine impenetrable spirit, Which earth and heaven could not convulse, A mighty lesson we inherit. BYRON. FROM THE ODE TO NAPOLEON. LIKE the thief of fire from heaven Wilt thou withstand the shock, And share with him, the unforgiven, His vulture and his rock ? BYBON. USES" PANDORA. EVE COMPARED TO PANDORA. MORE lovely than Pandora, whom the gods Endowed with all their gifts ; and O, too like In sad event, when, to the unwiser son Of Japhet brought by Hermes, she insnared Mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged On him who had stole Jove's authentic fire. MILTON. 104 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. HOPE. PRIMEVAL Hope, the Aonian Muses say, When man and nature mourned their first decay ; When every form of death, and every woe, Shot from malignant stars to earth below ; When Murder bared his arm, and rampant War Yoked the red dragons of his iron car ; When Peace and Mercy, banished from the plain, Sprung on the viewless winds to heaven again ; All, all forsook the friendless, guilty mind, But Hope, the charmer, lingered still behind. ASTR^EA. Now when the world with sin 'gan to abound, Astrsea, loathing longer here to space, 'Mongst wicked men, in whom no truth she found, "Returned to heaven, whence she derived her race ; Where she hath now an everlasting place, 'Mongst those twelve Signs, which nightly we do see The heaven's bright-shining baldric * to enchase, And is the Virgin, sixth in her degree, And next herself her righteous balance hanging be. SPENSER. * Baldric, belt, girdle, the Zodiac. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 105 THE RETURN OF THE GOLDEN AGE. ALL crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail, Returning Justice lift aloft her scale, Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend, And white-robed Innocence from heaven descend. POPE. YEA, Truth and Justice then Will down return to men, Orbed in a rainbow, and, like glories wearing, Mercy will sit between, Throned in celestial sheen, With radiant feet the tissued clouds down-steering, And Heaven, as at some festival, Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall. MILTON. ECHO AND NARCISSUS. SONG. SWEET Echo, sweetest nymph, that hVst unseen Within thy aery shell, By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroidered vale, Where the love-lorn nightingale 106 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well ; Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair That likest thy Narcissus are ? O, if thou have Hid them in some flowery cave, Tell me but where, Sweet queen of parley, daughter of the sphere, So mayst thou be translated to the skies, And give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies. [Milton has imitated the story of Narcissus in the account which he makes Eve give of the first sight of herself, reflected in the fountain.] THAT day I oft remember when from sleep I first awaked, and found myself reposed Under a shade on flowers, much wondering where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issued from a cave, and spread Into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved, Pure as the expanse of heaven ; I thither went With unexperienced thought, and laid me down On the green bank, to look into the clear Smooth lake that to me seemed another sky. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 107 As I bent down to look, just opposite A shape within the watery gleam appeared, Bending to look on me. I started back ; It started back : but pleased I soon returned ; Pleased it returned as soon with answering looks Of sympathy and love. There had I fixed Mine eyes till now, and pined with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warned me : " What thou seest, What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself ; " &c. NARCISSUS. [The author, Thomas Blacklock, was blind from the age of six months, in consequence of small pox. Yet he paints flowers with artist-like precision.] LET long-lived pansies here their scents bestow, The violet languish, and the roses glow ; In yellow glory let the crocus shine, Narcissus here his lovesick head recline ; Here hyacinths in purple sweetness rise, And tulips tinged with beauty's fairest dyes. 108 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. TO A MIRROR. FROM GARCILASO DE LA VEGA. SINCE still my passion-pleading strains Have failed her heart to move, Show, mirror, to that lovely maid, The charms that make me love. Reflect on her the thrilling beam Of magic from her eye ; So, like Narcissus, she shall gaze, And, self-enamoured, die. PACTOLUS. AND round about the same her yellow hair, Having through stirring loosed their wonted band, Like to a golden border did appear, Framed in goldsmith's forge with cunning hand. Yet goldsmiths' cunning could not understand To frame such subtle wire, so shiny clear ; For it did glisten like the golden sand, The which Pactolus, with his waters sheer, Throws forth upon the rivage round about him near. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 109 ON THE STATUE OF THESEUS IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM. AY, this is he, A proud and mighty spirit ; how fine his form Gigantic ! moulded like the race that strove To take Jove's heaven by storm, and scare him from Olympus. There he sits, a demi-god, Stern as when he of yore forsook the maid Who doting saved him from the Cretan toil, Where he had slain the Minotaur. Alas ! Fond Ariadne, thee did he desert, And heartless left thee on the Naxos shore To languish. This is he who dared to roam The world infernal, and on Pluto's queen, Ceres' own lost Proserpina, did lay His hand ; thence was he prisoned in the vaults Beneath, till freed by Hercules. Methinks (So perfect is the Phidian stone) his sire, The sea god Neptune, hath in anger stopped.. The current of life, and with his trident touch Hath struck him into marble. BARRY CORNWALL. 10 110 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. ATALANTA. EVEN here, in this region of wonders, I find That light-footed Fancy leaves Truth far behind ; Or, at least, like Hippomenes, turns her astray By the golden illusions he flings in her way. MOORE ARIADNE. As dash the waves on Naxos' rocky strand, Her flushed cheek pressed upon her snowy hand, Fair Ariadne sits, upturns her eyes, Upbraids her Theseus, and invokes the skies. For him she breathes the silent sigh forlorn, Each setting day, and weeps each rising morn. " Bright stars ! that light yon blue, ethereal plain, Or bathe your shining tresses in the main ; Pale moon ! that silverest o'er night's sable brow, Ye heard, ye listened to his love-breathed vow. Ye shadowy rocks, dark caves, and sounding shore, Ye echoed sweet the tender words he swore ; O winds ! O waves ! his light-winged bark detain, And give my Theseus to my arms again." CATULLUS. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Ill ARIADNE'S CROWN. LOOK how the crown which Ariadne wore Upon her ivory forehead that same day That Theseus her unto his bridal bore, When the bold Centaurs made that bloody fray With the fierce Lapiths which did them dismay, Being now placed in the firmament, Through the bright heaven doth her beams display, And is unto the stars an ornament, Which round about her move in order excellent. THE LABYRINTH. SUFFOLK, stay ; Thou mayst not wander in that Labyrinth ; There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk. SHAKESPEARE. 112 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. PSYCHE BEFORE HER REVERSE. FROM " LOVE'S MISTRESS," A PLAY OF HEYWOOD, A CONTEMPORARY OF SHAKESPEARE. ADMETUS, the father of Psyche. ASTIOCHE. and PETR^A. her sisters. Admetus. WELCOME to both in one ! O, can you tell What fate your sister hath ? POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 113 Sisters. Psyche is well. Admetus. So, among mortals, it is often said, Children and friends are well when they are dead. Astioche. But Psyche lives, and on her breath attend Delights that far surmount all earthly joy 5 Music, sweet voices, and ambrosian fare ; Winds, and the light-winged creatures of the air. Clear channelled rivers, springs, and flowery meads Are proud when Psyche wantons on their streams, When Psyche on their rich embroidery treads, When Psyche gilds their crystal with her beams. We have but seen our sister, and, behold ! She sends us with our laps full brimmed with gold. tact" CUPID AND PSYCHE. THEY wove bright fables in the days of old, When reason borrowed fancy's painted wings ; When truth's clear river flowed o'er sands of gold, And told in song its high and mystic things ! 10* 114 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. And such the sweet and solemn tale of her, The pilgrim heart, to whom a dream was given That led her through the world, Love's worship- per, To seek on earth for him whose home was heaven ! In the full city, by the haunted fount, Through the dim grotto's tracery of spars, 'Mid the pine temples, on the moon-lit mount, Where silence sits to listen to the stars ; In the deep glade where dwells the brooding dove, The painted valley, and the scented air, She heard far echoes of the voice of Love, And found his footsteps' traces every where. But never more they met ! since doubts and fears, Those phantom shapes that haunt and blight the earth, Had come 'twixt her, a child of sin and tears, And that bright spirit of immortal birth ; Until her pining soul and weeping eyes Had learned to seek him only in the skies ; Till wings unto the weary heart were given, And she became Love's angel bride in heaven ! T. K. HARVEY. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 115 CUPID AND PSYCHE. CELESTIAL Cupid, her famed son, advanced, Holds his dear Psyche sweet entranced, After her wandering labors long, Till free consent the gods among Make her his eternal bride ; And from her fan' unspotted side Two blissful twins are to be born, Youth and Joy ; so Jove hath sworn. MILTON. O LATEST born and loveliest vision far Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy ! Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire-regioned star, Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky ; Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none, Nor altar heaped with flowers, Nor virgin choir to make delicious moan Upon the midnight hours ; No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet, From chain-swung censer teeming ; No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat Of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming. KEATS. 116 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. THE FANCY BALL. NOT in dark disguise to-night Hath our young heroine veiled her light ; For see, she walks the earth, Love's own, His wedded bride, by holiest vow Pledged in Olympus, and made known To mortals by the type which now Hangs glittering on her snowy brow, That butterfly, mysterious trinket, Which means the soul, (though few would think it,) And sparkling thus on brow so white Tells us we've Psyche here to-night. MOORE. CADMUS, THE INVENTOR OF LETTERS. You have the letters Cadmus gave, Think you he meant them for a slave ? BYRON. - - 4 3 i CAUMUS CHANGED INTO A SERPENT. PLEASING was his shape, And lovely : never since of serpent kind POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 117 Lovelier ; not those that in Illyria changed Hermione and Cadmus, nor the god In Epidaurus. MILTOIT. DAEDALUS AND ICARUS. WITH melting wax and loosened strings Sank hapless Icarus on unfaithful wings ; Headlong he rushed through the affrighted air, With limbs distorted and dishevelled hair ; His scattered plumage danced upon the wave, And sorrowing Nereids decked his watery grave ; O'er his pale corse their pearly sea-flowers shed, And strewed with crimson moss his marble bed ; Struck in their coral towers the passing bell, And wide in ocean tolled his echoing knell. DARWIN. THE SHEPHERD ACIS INVITES THE SEA NYMPH GALATEA. COME, Galatea ! leave the rolling seas ; Can rugged rocks and heaving surges please ? Come, taste the pleasures of our sylvan bowers, Our balmy-breathing gales and fragrant flowers. 118 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. See how our plains rejoice on every side, How crystal streams through blooming valleys glide; O'er the cool grot the whitening poplars bend, And clasping vines their grateful umbrage lend. Come, beauteous nymph ! forsake the briny wave ; Loud on the beach let the wild billows rave. VIRGIL, BY BEATTIE. GALATEA RELATES THE DEATH OF ACIS. HIGH on a rock 'gainst which the wild waves beat, The giant Cyclops chose his lonely seat. A hundred reeds of a prodigious growth Scarce made a pipe for his capacious mouth, Which when he gave it breath, the rocks around, And watery plains, the dreadful noise resound. I heard the ruffian giant rudely blow, As with my Acis blest I sat below. A hollow cave our close retreat we made, Which safe concealed us in its ample shade ; And thus he sang : " O Galatea fair, More white than snow, more sweet than lilies are, More playful than a kid, more smooth thy skin Than fairest shells that on these shores are seen; POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 119 Come to my palace in the rock ; 'tis made By Nature's hand, a spacious, pleasing shade ; My garden filled with fruits you may behold, And grapes in clusters, imitating gold ; Some blushing bunches of a purple hue ; And these and those are all reserved for you. Red strawberries in shades expecting stand, Proud to be gathered by so fair a hand. Nor chestnuts shall be wanting to your food, Nor garden fruits, nor apples of the wood. The laden boughs for you alone shall bear, And yours shall be the produce of the year. " The flocks you see are all my own, beside The rest that woods and winding valleys hide ; New milk, in nut brown bowls, shall be your fare, And dainty cheese, which we from cream prepare ; All sorts of venison, and of birds the best, A pair of turtles taken from the nest. I walked the mountains, and two fawns I found, Whose mother left them on the naked ground ; So like that no distinction could be seen, So pretty, they are presents for a queen. And they shall be. I took them both away, And keep to be companions of your play." 120 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Thus far unseen, I heard, when, fatal chance ! His looks directing with a sudden glance, Acis and I were to his sight betrayed, Where, nought suspecting, we securely staid. From his huge mouth a bellowing cry he cast : " I see, I see ! but this shall be your last." Affrighted with his monstrous voice I fled, And in the neighboring ocean plunged my head. Poor Acis followed me, and, " Help ! " he cried, " Help ! Galatea, help ! my parent gods, I die ; O, take me to your deep abodes." The Cyclops followed ; but he sent before A monstrous stone, which from the rock he tore ; Crushed by the weight, and whelmed beneath the stone, The mighty fragment was enough alone To kill my Acis. Twas too late to save ; But what the Fates allowed to give, I gave. Changed to a stream, he rolls along the plains, "With sparkling waters, and his name retains. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 121 BELLEROPHON. DESCEND from heaven, Urania, by that name If rightly thou art called, whose voice divine Following, above the Olympian hill I soar, Above the flight of Pegasean wing. Upled by thee, Into the heaven of heavens I have presumed, An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air, (Thy tempering ;) with like safety guided down Return me to my native element ; Lest from this flying steed unreined, (as once Bellerophon, though from a lower sphere,) Dismounted on the Aleian field I fall, Erroneous there to wander and forlorn. MILTON. 'IK!" BELLEROPHON'S LETTERS. HE whose blind thought futurity denies, Unconscious bears, Bellerophon, like thee His own indictment ; he condemns himself. Who reads his bosom reads immortal life, Or Nature there, imposing on her sons, Has written fables ; man was made a lie. YOUNG. 122 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. TO A FRIEND. FROM the dark chambers of dejection freed, Spurning the unprofitable yoke of care, Rise, Gillies, rise ; the gales of youth shall bear Thy genius forward like a winged steed. Though bold Bellerophon (so Jove decreed In wrath) fell headlong from the fields of air, Yet a rich guerdon waits on minds that dare, If aught be in them of immortal seed, And reason govern that audacious flight "Which heavenward they direct. Then droop not thou, Erroneously renewing a sad vow In the low dell 'mid Roslin's faded grove. A cheerful life is what the Muses love, A soaring spirit is their prime delight. WORDSWORTH. PEGASUS IN POUND. ONCE into a quiet village, Without haste and without heed, In the golden prime of morning, Strayed the poet's winged steed. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 123 It was autumn, and incessant Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves, And like living coals the apples Burned among the withering leaves. Loud the clamorous bell was ringing From its belfry gaunt and grim ; Twas the daily call to labor, Not a triumph meant for him. Not the less he saw the landscape, In its gleaming vapor veiled ; Not the less he breathed the odors That the dying leaves exhaled. Thus upon the village common, By the school boys he was found ; And the wise men, in their wisdom, Put him straightway into pound. Then the sombre village crier, Kinging loud his brazen bell, Wandered down the street, proclaiming There was an estray to sell. 124 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. And the curious country people, Rich and poor, and young and old, Came in haste to see this wondrous Winged steed, with mane of gold. Thus the day passed, and the evening Fell with vapors cold and dim ; But it brought no food nor shelter, Brought no straw nor stall for him. Patiently, and still expectant, Looked he through the wooden bars, Saw the moon rise o'er the landscape, Saw the tranquil, patient stars, Till, at length, the bell at midnight Sounded from its dark abode, And from out a neighboring farm yard Loud the cock Alectryon crowed. Then with nostrils wide distended, Breaking from his iron chain, And unfolding far his pinions, To those stars he soared again. LONGFELLOW. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 125 IMAGINATION. O FOR that winged steed, Bellerophon ! That Pallas gave thee in her infinite grace And love for innocence, when thou didst face The treble-shaped Chimera. But he's gone That struck the sparkling stream from Helicon ; And never hath one risen in his place Stamped with the endowments of that mighty race. Yet wherefore grieve I, seeing how easily The plumed spirit may its journey take Through yon blue regions of the middle air, And note all things below that own a grace, Mountain, and cataract, and silent lake, And wander in the fields of poesy, Where avarice never comes, and seldom care. BARRY CORNWALL. PEGASUS. I SAW young Harry, with his beaver on, His cuishes on his thighs, gallantly armed, Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropped down from the clouds, 11* 126 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship. SHAKE SPEARE. THE PYGMIES. LIKE that Pygmaean race Beyond the Indian mount, or fairy elves Whose midnight revels by a forest side, Or fountain, some belated peasant sees, (Or dreams he sees,) while overhead the moon Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth Wheels her pale course ; they, on their mirth and dance Intent, with jocund music charm his ear. At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds. THE GRIFFIN, OR GRYPHON. As when a Gryphon through the wilderness, With winged course, o'er hill and moory dale, Pursues the Arimaspian who by stealth Hath from his wakeful custody purloined His guarded gold, &c. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 127 PYRAMUS AND THISBE. THE moon shines bright ; in such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make no noise, in such a night, Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew, And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, And ran dismayed away. SHAKESPEARE. DAVY'S SAFETY LAMP. O FOR that Lamp's metallic gauze, That curtain of protecting wire, Which Davy delicately draws Around illicit, dangerous fire ! The wall he sets 'twixt Flame and Air, (Like that which barred young Thisbe's bliss,) Through whose small holes this dangerous pair May see each other, but not kiss. MOORE. 128 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. CLYTIE. LOOK upon that flower ! It is the symbol of unhappy love ; 'Tis sacred to the slighted Clytie. See how it turns its bosom to the sun, And when dark clouds conceal it, or when night Is on the sky, mark how it folds its leaves, And droops its head, and weeps sweet tears of dew, - The constant sunflower. L. E. LANDOIT. IX!' THE SAME. I WILL not have the mad Clytie, Whose head is turned by the sun ; The tulip is a courtly quean, Whom therefore I will shun ; The cowslip is a country wench, The violet is a nun ; But I will woo the dainty rose, The queen of every one. HOOD. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 129 THE SUNFLOWER. THE heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close, As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets The same look that she turned when he rose. MOOEE. SXi" BAUCIS AND PHILEMON. THE OLD FABLE MODERNIZED. THEY scarce had spoke, when, fair and soft, The roof began to mount aloft ; Aloft rose every beam and rafter ; The heavy wall climbed slowly after. The chimney widened and grew higher, Became a steeple with a spire. The kettle to the top was hoist, And there stood fastened to a joist, But with the upside down, to show Its inclination for below ; In vain, for a superior force, Applied at bottom, stops its course ; Doomed ever in suspense to dwell, . Tis now no kettle, but a bell. 130 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. A wooden jack, which had almost Lost by disuse the art to roast, A sudden alteration feels, Increased by new intestine wheels ; And, what exalts the wonder more, The number made the motion slower ; The flier, though 't had leaden feet, Turned round so quick you scarce could see't ; But slackened by some secret power, Now hardly moves an inch an hour. The jack and chimney, near allied, Had never left each other's side : The chimney to a steeple grown, The jack would not be left alone ; But up against the steeple reared, Became a clock, and still adhered ; And still its love to household cares By a shrill voice at noon declares, "Warning the cook-maid not to burn That roast meat which it cannot turn. The groaning chair began to crawl, Like a huge snail, along the wall ; There stuck aloft in public view, And, with small change, a pulpit grew. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 131 A bedstead of the antique mode, Compact of timber many a load, Such as our ancestors did use, Was metamorphosed into pews, Which still their ancient nature keep By lodging folks disposed to sleep. SWIFT. PHAETON. As when the palsied universe aghast Lay * * * mute and still, When drove, so poets sing, the Sun-born youth Devious through heaven's affrighted signs his sire's Ill-granted chariot. Him the Thunderer hurled From th' empyrean headlong to the gulf Of the half-parched Eridanus, where weep Even now the sister trees their amber tears O'er Phaeton untimely dead. MlLMAlf. THE SUN'S PALACE PORCH. I HAVE sinuous shells of pearly hue Within, and things that lustre have imbibed 132 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. In the sun's palace porch, where, when unyoked, His chariot wheel stands midway in the wave. Shake one and it awakens ; then apply Its polished lip to your attentive ear, And it remembers its august abodes, And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there. LANDOK. IMPATIENCE. GALLOP apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus' mansion ; such a wagoner As Phaeton would whip you to the west, And bring in cloudy night immediately. SHAKESPEABE. GLAUCUS, CHANGED INTO A SEA GOD. I PLUNGED for life or death. To interknit One's senses with so dense a breathing stuff Might seem a work of pain ; so not enough Can I admire how crystal-smooth it felt, And buoyant round my limbs. At first I dwelt POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 133 Whole days and days in sheer astonishment, Forgetful utterly of self-intent, Moving but with the mighty ebb and flow. Then, like a new-fledged bird that first doth show His spreaded feathers to the morrow chill, I tried in fear the pinions of my will. 'Twas freedom ! and at once I visited The ceaseless wonders of this ocean bed ; &c. KEATS. PYGMALION. As once with prayers in passion flowing, Pygmalion embraced the stone, Till, from the frozen marble glowing, The light of feeling o'er him shone, So did I clasp with young devotion Bright nature to a poet's heart, Till breath and warmth and vital motion Seemed through the statue form to dart. And then, in all my ardor sharing, The silent form expression found ; Returned my kiss of youthful daring, And understood my heart's quick sound. 12 134 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Then lived for me the bright creation ; The silver rill with song was rife ; The trees, the roses shared sensation, An echo of my boundless life. 8. G. BULFINCH. THE HALCYON. SLEEP is a god too proud to wait in palaces, And yet so humble too as not to scorn The meanest country cottages ; His poppy grows among the corn. The Halcyon, Sleep, will never build his nest In any stormy breast ; 'Tis not enough that he does find Clouds and darkness in the mind ; Darkness but half his work will do ; Tis not enough ; he must find quiet too. COWLEY. *%* SLEEP. O MAGIC sleep ! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hushed and smooth. KEATS. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 135 CHRISTMAS EVE. Bur peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of light His reign of peace upon the earth began ; The winds, with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kist, Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. MILTON. A FLOATING CORPSE. As shaken on his restless pillow, His head heaves with the heaving billow, That hand, whose motion is not life, Yet feebly seems to menace strife, Flung by the tossing tide on high, Then levelled with the wave 136 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. THE HOUSE OF SLEEP. HE making speedy way through 'spersed air, And through the world of waters, wide and deep, To Morpheus' house doth hastily repair. Amid the bowels of the earth full steep, And low, where dawning day doth never peep, His dwelling is ; there Thetis his wet bed Doth ever wash, and Cynthia still doth steep In silver dew his ever-drooping head, Whiles sad Night over him her mantle black doth spread. Whose double gates he findeth locked fast, The one, fair framed of burnished ivory, The other, all with silver overcast ; And wakeful dogs before them far do lie, Watching to banish Care, their enemy, Who oft is wont to trouble gentle Sleep. By them the sprite doth pass in quietly, And unto Morpheus comes, whom drowned deep In drowsy fits he finds ; of nothing he takes keep. And more to lull him in his slumber soft, A trickling stream, from high rock tumbling down, POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 137 And ever drizzling rain upon the loft, Mixed with a murmuring wind, much like the soune Of swarming bees, did cast him in a swoon. No other noise, nor peoples' troublous cries, As still are wont t' annoy the walled town, Might there be heard ; but careless Quiet lies Wrapped in eternal silence, far from enemies. SPENSEB. HERO AND LEANDER. THUS passed the summer shadows in delight ; Leander came as surely as the night, And when the morning woke upon the sea, It saw him not, for back at home was he. Sometimes, when it blew fresh, the struggling flare Seemed out ; but then he knew his Hero's care, And that she only walled it with her cloak ; Brighter again from out the dark it broke. Sometimes the night was almost clear as day, Wanting no torch ; and then, with easy play, He dipped along, beneath the silver moon, Placidly hearkening to the water's tune. 12 < 138 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. But autumn now was over, and the crane Began to clang against the coming rain. Hero looked out and trembling augured ill, The darkness held its breath so very still. But yet she hoped he might arrive before The storm began, or not be far from shore ; And crying, as she stretched forth in the air, " Bless him," she turned, and said a fearful prayer, And mounted to the tower, and shook the torch's flare. But he, Leander, almost half across, Threw his blithe locks behind him with a toss, And hailed the light victoriously, secure Of clasping his kind love, so sweet and sure ; When suddenly a blast, as if in wrath, Sheer from the hills came headlong on his path, Then started off, and driving round the sea, Dashed up the panting waters, roaringly. The youth at once was thrust beneath the main, With blinded eyes, but quickly rose again, And with a smile at heart, and stouter pride, Surmounted like a god the rearing tide. But driven about at last, and drenched the while, The noble boy loses that inward smile ; POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 139 For now, from one black atmosphere, the rain Sweeps into stubborn mixture with the main ; And the brute wind, unmuffling all its roar, Storms ; and the light, gone out, is seen no more. Then dreadful thoughts of death, of waves heaped on him, And friends, and parting daylight rush upon him. He thinks of prayers to Neptune and his daughters, And Venus, Hero's queen, sprung from the waters ; And then of Hero only, how she fares, And what she'll feel when the blank morn appears ; And at that thought he stiffens once again His limbs, and pants, and strains, and climbs, in vain. Fierce draughts he swallows of the wilful wave, His tossing hands are lax, his blind look grave, Till the poor youth (and yet no coward he) Spoke once her name, and yielding wearily, Wept in the middle of the scornful sea. I need not tell how Hero, when her light Would burn no longer, passed that dreadful night ; How she exclaimed, and wept, and could not sit One instant in one place, nor how she lit 140 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. The torch a hundred times, and when she found 'Twas all in vain, her gentle head turned round Almost with rage ; and in her fond despair, She tried to call him through the deafening air. ? But when he came not, when from hour to hour, He came not, though the storm had spent its power, And when the casement, at the dawn of light, Began to show a square of ghastly white, She went up to the tower, and straining out To search the seas, downwards, and round about, She saw at last, she saw her lord indeed, Floating, and washed about, like a vile weed ; On which such strength of passion and dismay Seized her, and such an impotence to stay, That from the turret, like a stricken dove, With fluttering arms she leaped, and joined her drowned love. LEIGH HUNT. CXI*' HERO AND LEANDER. THE winds are high on Helle's wave, As on that night of stormiest water, When Love, who sent, forgot to save The young, the beautiful, the brave, The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 141 O, when alone along the sky The turret torch was blazing high, Though rising gale, and breaking foam, And shrieking sea birds warned him home, And clouds aloft and tides below, With signs and sounds forbade to go, He could not see, he would not hear Or sound or sight foreboding fear. His eye but saw that light of love, The only star it hailed above ; His ear but rang with Hero's song, " Ye waves, divide not lovers long." That tale is old, but love anew May nerve young hearts to prove as true. SAPPHO. CHILDE HAROLD sailed, and passed the barren spot, Where sad Penelope o'erlooked the wave, And onward viewed the mount, not yet forgot, The lover's refuge and the Lesbian's grave. Dark Sappho ! could not verse immortal save That breast imbued with such immortal fire ? BYRON. 142 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. THE GRECIAN MAIDENS REMEMBER SAPPHO. WHEN evening came, around the well They sate, beneath the rising moon, And some, with voice of awe could tell Of midnight fays and nymphs who dwell In holy fountains ; some would tune Their lutes to sounds of softest close, To tell of Sappho's love and woes. Among these maidens there was one Who to Leucadia late had been, Had stood beneath the evening sun On its white, towering cliffs, and seen The very spot where Sappho sung Her swanlike music, ere she sprung (Still holding in that fearful leap By her loved lyre) into the deep ; And dying quenched the fatal fire, At once, of both her heart and lyre. Mutely they listened all ; and well Did the young travelled maiden tell Of the dread height to which that steep Beetles above the eddying deep ; POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 143 Of the lone sea birds, wheeling round The dizzy edge with mournful sound 5 And of the scented lilies, (some Of whose white flowers, the damsel said, Herself had gathered, and brought home In memory of the minstrel maid,) Still blooming on that fearful place. MOORE. iSC!" SAPPHO. FROM A GEM. LOOK on this brow ! The laurel wreath Beamed on it like a wreath of fire ; For passion gave the living breath That shook the chords of Sappho's lyre. Look on this brow ! The lowest slave, The veriest wretch of want and care, Might shudder at the lot that gave Her genius, glory, and despair. For from these lips were uttered sighs That, more than fever, scorched the frame ; And tears were rained from these bright eyes, That from the heart, like life-blood, came. 144 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. She loved, she felt the lightning gleam That keenest strikes the loftiest mind, Life quenched in one ecstatic dream, The world a waste, before, behind. And she had hope the treacherous hope, The last, deep poison of the bowl, That makes us drain it, drop by drop, Nor lose one misery of soul. Then all gave way mind, passion, pride ; She cast one weeping glance above, Then buried in her bed, the tide, The whole concentred strife of love. CBOLY. tail" SPECIMEN OF SAPPHO'S POETRY. THE ROSE. DID Jove a queen of flowers decree, The rose the queen of flowers should be. Of flowers the eye ; of plants the gem ; The meadow's blush ; earth's diadem ; Glory of colors on the gaze Lightening in its beauty's blaze ; POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 145 It breathes of love ; it blooms the guest Of Venus' ever-fragrant breast ; In gaudy pomp its petals spread ; Light foliage trembles round its head ; With vermeil blossoms fresh and fair It laughs to the voluptuous air. ELTON'S SPECIMENS. THE ARGONAUTIC EXPEDITION. FROM every region of ^Egea's shore The brave assembled ; those illustrious twins Castor and Pollux ; Orpheus, tuneful bard ; Zetes and Calais, as the wind in speed ; Strong Hercules, and many a chief renowned. On deep lolcos' sandy shore they thronged, Gleaming in armor, ardent of exploits ; And soon, the laurel cord and the huge stone Uplifting to the deck, unmoored the bark j Whose keel, of wondrous length, the skilful hand Of Argus fashioned for the proud attempt ; And in the extended keel a lofty mast Upraised, and sails full swelling to the chiefs Unwonted objects. Now first, now they learned Their bolder steerage over ocean wave, 13 146 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Led by the golden stars, as Chiron's art Had marked the sphere celestial ; &c. THE SAME. So when the first bold vessel dared the seas, High on the stern the Thracian raised his strain, "While Argo saw her kindred trees Descend from Pelion to the main. Transported demigods stood round, And men grew heroes at the sound. POPE. JESON RESTORED TO YOUTH BY MEDEA. ON the loud shore a magic pile she raised, The caldron bubbled, and the fagots blazed ; Pleased on the boiling wave old ^Eson swims, And feels fresh vigor stretch his swelling limbs ; The meagre paleness from his features fled, His tingling cheeks assume a glowing red, Through his thrilled nerves forgotten ardors dart, And warmer life-blood circles round his heart ; With softer fires his kindling eyeballs glow, And darker tresses wanton round his brow. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 147 THE CONTEST OF THE GODDESSES. [The nymph (Enone, the wife of Paris, describes the scene, of which she was a concealed witness.] IT was the deep midnoon ; one silvery cloud Had lost his way between the piny sides Of this long glen. Then to the bower they came, Naked they came, to that smooth swarded bower, And at their feet the crocus brake like fire, Violet, amaracus, and asphodel, Lotos, and lilies ; and a wind arose, And overhead the wandering ivy and vine, This way and that, in many a wild festoon, Ran liot, garlanding the gnarled boughs With bunch and berry and flower through and through. On the tree tops a crested peacock lit, And o'er him flowed a golden cloud, and leaned Upon him, slowly dropping fragrant dew. Then first I heard the voice of her, to whom, Coming through heaven, with one mind the gods Rise up for reverence. She to Paris made Proffer of royal power, ample rule Unquestioned, overflowing revenue 148 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Wherewith to embellish state, " from many a vale And river-sundered champaign, clothed with corn, Or labored mines, undrainable of ore. Honor," she said, " and homage, tax and toll, From many an inland town and haven large, Mast-thronged, beneath her shadowing citadel, In glassy bays, among her tallest towers." She ceased, and Paris held the costly fruit Out at arm's length, so much the thought of power Flattered his spirit; but Pallas, where she stood Somewhat apart, her clear and bared limbs O'erthwarted with the brazen-headed spear, Upon her pearly shoulder leaning cold, The while, above, her full and earnest eye Over her snow-cold breast and angry cheek Kept watch, waiting decision, made reply : " Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control, These three alone lead life to sovereign power. Yet not for power, (power of herself Would come uncalled for,) but to live by law, Acting the law we live by without fear ; And because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence." Again she said, " I woo thee not with gifts. Sequel of guerdon could not alter one POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 149 To fairer. Judge thou me by what I am, So shalt thou find me fairest." Here she ceased ; And Paris pondered, and I cried, " O Paris, Give it to Pallas ! " but he heard me not, Or hearing would not hear me, woe is me ! Idalian Aphrodite, beautiful, Fresh as the foam, new bathed in Paphian wells, With rosy slender fingers backward drew From her warm brows and bosom her deep hair Ambrosial, golden round her lucid throat And shoulder ; from the violets her light foot Shone rosy white, and o'er her rounded form Between the shadows of the vine bunches Floated the glowing sunlights, as she moved. She with a subtle smile in her mild eyes, The herald of her triumph, drawing nigh, Half whispered in his ear, " I promise thee The fairest and most loving wife in Greece." She spoke and laughed ; I shut my sight for fear ; But when I looked, Paris had raised his arm, And I beheld great Here's angry eyes, As she withdrew into the golden cloud. TENNYSON. 13* 150 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. HELEN. HELEN AND THE TROJAN SAGES. O'ER-MANTLED with a snowy veil Helen went forth, and as she went let fall A tender tear. There sat the Trojan leaders on the tower, Who, soon as Helen on the steps they saw, In accents quick, but whispered, thus remarked : " Trojans and Grecians wage, with fair excuse, Long war for so much beauty. O, how like In feature to the goddesses above ! Pernicious loveliness ! Ah ! hence, away, Resistless as thou art, and all divine, Nor leave a curse to us and to our sons." COWPER'S HOMER. [Helen thus speaks of Hector's deportment to her.] " IF some proud brother eyed me with disdain, Or scornful sister, with her sweeping train, Thy gentle accents softened all my pain ; Nor was it e'er my fate from thee to find A deed ungentle, or a word unkind. POPE'S HOMER. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 151 NEPENTHE. NOT that Nepenthes, which the wife of Thone In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena, Is of such power to stir up joy as this, To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst. MILTON. IKI" A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN. HELEN AND IPHIGENIA. METHOUGHT that I had wandered far In an old wood ; fresh washed in coolest dew, The maiden splendors of the morning star Shook in the steadfast blue. At length I saw a lady within call, Stiller than chiselled marble, standing there ; A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, And most divinely fair. Her loveliness with shame and with surprise Froze my swift speech ; she turning on my face The star-like sorrows of immortal eyes, Spoke slowly in her place. 152 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. " I had great beauty ; ask not thou my name ; No one can be more wise than destiny. Many drew swords and died. Where'er I came I brought calamity." " No marvel, sovereign lady ! in fair field Myself for such a face had boldly died," I answered free, and turning I appealed To one that stood beside. IPHIGENIA. BUT she, with sick and scornful looks averse, To her full height her stately stature draws. " My youth," she said, " was blasted with a curse ; This woman was the cause. " I was cut off from hope in that sad place, Which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears ; My father held his hand upon his face ; I, blinded by my tears, "Still strove to speak; my voice was thick with sighs, As in a dream. Dimly I could descry POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 153 The stern black-bearded kings with wolfish eyes, Waiting to see me die. " The tall masts wavered as they lay afloat, The temples and the people and the shore ; The bright death quivered at the victim's throat, Touched, and I knew no more." TENNYSON. LAODAMIA AND PROTESILAUS. [Protesilaus relates to Laodamia the story of his fate.] " THE wished-for wind was given ; I then revolved The oracle, upon the silent sea , And, if no worthier led the way, resolved That of a thousand vessels mine should be The foremost prow in pressing to the strand, Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand. " Yet bitter, ofttimes bitter was the pang When of thy loss I thought, beloved wife ! On thee too fondly did my memory hang, And on the joys we shared in mortal life, The paths which we had trod, these fountains, flowers ; My new planned cities and unfinished towers. 154 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. " But should suspense permit the foe to cry * Behold they tremble ! haughty their array, Yet of their number no one dares to die ? ' In soul I swept the indignity away : Old frailties then recurred ; but lofty thought In act imbodied my deliverance wrought." * * * * * Upon the side Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained) A knot of spiry trees for ages grew From out the tomb of him for whom she died ; And ever when such stature they had gained That Ilium's walls were subject to their view, The trees' tall summits withered at the sight, A constant interchange of growth and blight ! "WOBDSWOBTH. THE PRAYER OF AJAX. FATHER of heaven and earth ! deliver thou Achaia's host from darkness ; clear the sides ; Give day ; and, since thy sovereign will is such, Destruction with it ; but, O, give us day. COWPEB'S HOMES. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 155 ANOTHER VERSION OF THE SAME. LORD of earth and air ! O king !. O father ! hear my humble prayer ! Dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore ; Give me to see, and Ajax asks no more ; If Greece must perish we thy will obey, But let us perish in the face of day. POPE'S HOMER. AJAX. THE prayer of Ajax was for light ; Through all that dark and desperate fight, The blackness of the noonday night, He asked but the return of sight, To see his foeman's face. Let our unceasing, earnest prayer Be, too, for light, for strength to bear Our portion of the weight of care, That crushes into dumb despair One half the human race. LONGFELLOW. 156 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. PHILOCTETES. WHEN Philoctetes, in the Lemnian isle, Like a form sculptured on a monument, Lay couched, on him or his dread bow unbent Some wild bird oft might settle, and beguile The rigid features of a transient smile, Disperse the tear, or to the sigh give vent, Slackening the pains of ruthless banishment From his loved home, and from heroic toil. And trust that spiritual creatures round us move, Griefs to allay which reason cannot heal ; Yea, veriest reptiles have sufficed to prove To fettered wretchedness, that no Bastile Is deep enough to exclude the light of love, Though man for brother man has ceased to feel. WORDSWORTH. *%!" MEMNON. So to the sacred sun in Memnon's fane Spontaneous concords choired the matin strain ; Touched by his orient beam responsive rings The living lyre and vibrates all its strings ; POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 157 Accordant aisles the tender tones prolong, And holy echoes swell the adoring song. THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. WITH what attractive charms this goodly frame Of Nature touches the consenting hearts Of mortal men ! and what the pleasing stores Which beauteous imitation thence derives To deck the poet's or the painter's toil, My verse unfolds. * * * But not alike to every mortal eye In this great scene unveiled. For since the claims Of social life to different labors urge The active powers of man, with wise intent The hand of Nature on peculiar minds Imprints a different bias, and to each Decrees its province in the common toil. For as old Memnon's image, long renowned By fabling Nilus, to the quivering touch Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive string Consenting, sounded through the warbling air 14 158 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Unbidden strains, even so did Nature's hand To certain species of external things Attune the finer organs of the mind. INFLUENCES OF SPRING. LESSONS sweet of spring returning, Welcome to the thoughtful heart ! May I call ye sense or learning, Instinct pure, or heaven-taught art ? Be your title what it may, Sweet and lengthening April day, While with you the soul is free, Ranging wild o'er hill and lea. Soft as Memnon's harp at morning, To the inward eye devout, Touched by light with heavenly warning, Your transporting chords ring out. Every leaf in every nook, Every wave in every brook, Chanting with a solemn voice, 'Minds us of our better choice. KEBLE. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 159 LAOCOON. Now turning to the Vatican, go see Laocob'n's torture dignifying pain ; A father's love and mortal's agony With an immortal's patience blending ; vain The struggle ! vain against the coiling strain And gripe and deepening of the dragon's grasp The old man's clinch ! the long-envenomed chain Rivets the living links ; the enormous asp Enforces pang on pang and stifles gasp on gasp. BYRON. I 3fr*~ DESCRIPTION OF A CITY SHOWER. BOXED in a chair the beau impatient sits, While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits, And ever and anon with frightful din The leather sounds ; he trembles from within. So when Troy chairmen bore the wooden steed Pregnant with Greeks impatient to be freed, (Those bully Greeks, who, as the moderns do, Instead of paying chairmen, run them through,) Laocobn struck the outside with a spear, And each imprisoned champion quaked with fear. SWIFT. 160 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. PALINURUS. O THINK how, to his latest day, When death just hovering claimed his prey, With Palinure's unaltered mood, Firm at his dangerous post he stood,* Each call for needful rest repelled, With dying hand the rudder held, Till in his fall, with fateful sway, The steerage of the realm gave way. W. SCOTT. TROY. THE winds are high, and Helle's tide Kolls darkly heaving to the main, And night's descending shadows hide That field with blood bedewed in vain, The desert of old Priam's pride, The tombs, sole relics of his reign All, save immortal dreams, that could beguile The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle. BYRON. * The poet speaks of the prime minister William Pitt. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 161 THE LOTUS EATERS. How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream With half-shut eyes ever to seem Falling asleep in a half dream ! To dream, and dream, like yonder amber light, Which will not leave the myrrh bush on the height ; To hear each other's whispered speech ; Eating the Lotos, day by day, To watch the crisping ripples on the beach, And tender curving lines of creamy spray ; To lend our hearts and spirits wholly To the influence of mild-minded melancholy ; To muse and brood and live again in memory, With those old faces of our infancy Heaped over with a mound of grass, Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass. The Lotus blooms below the flowery peak ; The Lotus blows by every winding creek ; All day the wind breathes low, with mellower tone; Through ever}* hollow cave and alley lone, 14* 162 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotus dust is blown. We have had enough of action and of motion we, Rolled to starboard, rolled to larboard, when the surge was seething free, Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam fountains in the sea. Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind, In the hollow Lotus land to live and lie reclined On the hills like gods together,,careless of mankind ; For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurled Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleam- ing world. Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil ; the shore Than labor in the deep mid ocean, wind and wave and oar ; O, rest ye, brother mariners ; we will not wander more. TENNYSON. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 163 CIRCE. WHO knows not Circe, The daughter of the Sun, whose charmed cup Whoever tasted lost his upright shape, And downward fell into a grovelling swine ? MILTON. A VICTIM OF CIRCE'S ART. [A monarch in the guise of an elephant, implores her com- passion.] I SUE not for my happy crown again ; I sue not for my phalanx on the plain ; I sue not for my lone, my widowed wife ; I sue not for my ruddy drops of life, My children fair, my lovely girls and boys ; I will forget them ; I will pass these joys, Ask nought so heavenward ; so too too high ; Only I pray, as fairest boon, to die ; To be delivered from this cumbrous flesh, From this gross, detestable, filthy mesh, And merely given to the cold, bleak air. Have mercy, goddess ! Circe, feel my prayer ! KEATS. 164 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. CIRCE, THE SIRENS, SCYLLA, AND CHARYBDIS. I HAVE often heard My mother Circe and the Sirens three, Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades, Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs, Who as they sung would take the prisoned soul And lap it in Elysium. Scylla wept, And chid her barking waves into attention, And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause. MILTON. "I8EI" CALYPSO'S GROT. A GARDEN vine, luxuriant on all sides, Mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung Profuse ; four fountains of serenest lymph, Their sinuous course pursuing side by side, Strayed all around, and every where appeared Meadows of softest verdure, purpled o'er With violets ; it was a scene to fill A god from heaven with wonder and delight. COWPER'S HOMER. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 16o TELEMACHUS AND MENTOR. BUT not in silence pass Calypso's isles, The sister tenants of the middle deep ; There for the weary still a haven smiles, Though the fair goddess long has ceased to weep, And o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep For him who dared prefer a mortal bride. Here too his boy essayed the dreadful leap, Stern Mentor urged from high to yonder tide ; While thus of both bereft the nymph queen doubly sighed. ULYSSES AND THE SIREN. Siren. COME, worthy Greek, Ulysses, come, Possess these shores with me ; The winds and seas are troublesome, And here we may be free. Here may we sit, and view their toil That travail in the deep, Enjoy the day in mirth the while, And spend the night in sleep. 166 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Ulysses. Fair nymph, if fame or honor were To be attained with ease, Then would I come and rest with thee, And leave such toils as these : But here it dwells, and here must I With danger seek it forth ; To spend the time luxuriously Becomes not men of worth. Siren. Ulysses, O, be not deceived With that unreal name ; This honor is a thing conceived, And rests on others' fame ; Begotten only to molest Our peace, and to beguile The best thing of our life, our rest, And give us up to toil. Ulysses. Delicious nymph, suppose there were No honor, nor report, Yet manliness would scorn to wear The time in idle sport ; POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 167 For toil doth give a better touch To make us feel our joy ; And ease finds tediousness, as much As labor yields annoy. Siren. Then pleasure likewise seems the shore Whereto tends all your toil ; Which you forego to make it more, And perish oft the while. Who may disport them diversely Find never tedious day ; And ease may have variety, As well as action may. Ulysses. But natures of the noblest frame These toils and dangers please ; And they take comfort in the same, As much as you in ease, And wit! the thought of actions past Are recreated still ; When pleasure leaves a touch at last To show that it was ill. Siren. That doth opinion only cause That's out of custom bred ; 168 * POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Which makes us many other laws Than ever nature did. , No widows wail for our delights, Our sports are without blood ; The world we see by warlike wights Receives more hurt than good. Ulysses. But yet the state of things require These motions of unrest ; And these great spirits of high desire Seem born to turn them best ; To purge the mischiefs that increase And all good order mar j For oft we see a wicked peace To be well changed for war. Siren* Well, well, Ulysses, then I see I shall not have thee here ; And therefore I will come to thee, And take my fortune there. * The meaning of this verse seems to be that he who will not yield to false pleasure shall win the true pleasure. The au- thor of these verses was Samuel Daniel, a contemporary of Spen- ser. The lines have something of the roughness characteristic of the old poets, yet less than was usual at his day. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 169 I must be won that cannot win, Yet lost were I not won ; For beauty hath created been T' undo or be undone. INVOCATION. BY Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet, And the songs of Sirens sweet ; By dead Parthenope's dear tomb, And fair Ligea's golden comb, Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks Sleeking her soft alluring locks ; &c. COMUS. THE SIRENS IN THE SKIES. [Later writers represent the Sirens as presiding over the mu- sic of the spheres. In Milton's Arcades they soothe the Fates with their song.] IN the deep of night, when drowsiness Hath locked up mortal sense, then listen I To the celestial Sirens' harmony, 15 170 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. That sit upon the nine infolded spheres, And sing to those that hold the vital shears, And turn the adamantine spindle round, On which the fate of gods and men is wound. MILTON. THE MERMAID. O'ER her fair brow her pearly comb unfurls Her amber locks, and parts the waving curls ; Each tangled braid with glistening teeth unbinds, And with the floating treasure musks the winds. Thrilled by her dulcet accents as she sings, The rippling wave in widening circles rings. " O haste ! " she carols, " o'er the glassy sea, Visit the billows' sea-green depths with me ; Behold what treasures dwell beneath the waves, Dim seen, pale glistening through their shadowy caves ; Where lurk the pearls, where coral sea-flowers grow, And all the wonders of the world below." APOLLONIUS RHODIUS. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 171 SCENE FROM THE CYCLOPS, A SATIRIC DRAMA, TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF EURIPIDES. Persons. The CYCLOPS, ULYSSES, CHORUS. Cyclops. AH, me ! indeed, what woe has fallen upon me ! But wretched nothings ! think ye not to flee 172 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Out of this rock ; I, standing at the outlet, Will bar the way, and catch you as you pass, Chorus. "What are you roaring out, Cyclops ? Cyclops. I perish ! Chorus. What ! did you fall into the fire when drunk ? Cyclops. Twas Nobody destroyed me. Chorus. Why, then no one Can be to blame. Cyclops. I say 'twas Nobody Who blinded me. Chorus. Why, then you are not blind. Cyclops. I wish you were as blind as I am. Chorus. Nay, It cannot be that no one made you blind. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 173 Cyclops. You jeer me ; where, I ask, is Nobody? Chorus. Nowhere, O Cyclops ! Cyclops. It was that stranger ruined me ; the wretch First gave me wine, and then burned out my eye ; ,For wine is strong, and hard to struggle with. Have they escaped, or are they still within ? Chorus. They stand under the darkness of the rock And cling to it. Cyclops. At my right hand, or left ? Chorus. Close on your right. Cyclops. Where? Chorus. Near the rock itself. You have them. Cyclops. O, misfortune on misfortune ! I've cracked my skull. 15* 174 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Chorus. Now they escape you there. Cyclops. Not there, although you say so. Cliorus. Not on that side. Cyclops. Where then ? Chorus. They creep about you on your left. Cyclops. Ah ! I am mocked ! They jeer me in my ills. Chorus. Not there ! he is a little there beyond you. Cyclops. Detested wretch ! where are you ? Ulysses. Far from you, I keep with care this body of Ulysses. Cyclops. What do you say ? you proffer a new name. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 175 Ulysses. My father named me so, and I have taken A full revenge for your unnatural feast. I should have done ill to have burned down Troy, And not revenged the murder of my comrades. Cyclops. Ai, ai ! the ancient oracle is accomplished ; . It said that I should have my eyesight blinded By one coming from Troy ; yet it foretold That you should pay the penalty for this, By wandering long over the homeless sea. Ulysses. I bid thee weep ; consider what I say, I go towards the shore to drive my ship To mine own land, o'er the Sicilian wave. Cyclops, Not so, if whelming you with this huge stone I can crush you and all your men together ; I will descend upon the shore, though blind, Groping my way adown the steep ravine. Chorus. And we, the shipmates of Ulysses now, Will serve our Bacchus all our happy lives. SHELLEY. 176 POETHY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. AEOLUS. THEE, son of Jove, whose sceptre was confessed Where fair ^Eolia springs from Tethys' breast ; Thence on Olympus, 'mid celestials placed, God of the winds, and ^Ether's boundless waste, Thee I invoke ! O, puff my bold design, Prompt the bright thought, and swell the harmo- nious line. But while I count thy gifts, be mine to shun The deprecated prize Ulysses won ; Who, sailing homeward from thy breezy shore, The prisoned winds in skins of parchment bore. Speeds the fleet bark, till o'er the billowy green The azure heights of Ithaca are seen ; But while, with favoring gales, her way she wins, His curious comrades ope the mystic skins ; When lo ! the rescued winds, with boisterous sweep, Roar to the clouds, and lash the rocking deep ; Heaves the smote vessel in the howling blast, Splits the stretched sail, and cracks the tottering mast. Launched on a plank the buoyant hero rides Where ebon Afric stems the sable tides, POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 177 While his ducked comrades o'er the ocean fly, And sleep not in the whole skins they untie. REJECTED ADDRESSES. tttl" ULYSSES AND HIS DOG. ULYSSES RECOGNIZED BY HIS DOG ARGUS. Now to the gate as near Ulysses drew, Argus, the dog, his ancient master knew ; He, not unconscious of the voice and tread, Lifts to the sound his ear, and rears his head. Bred by Ulysses, nourished at his board, But ah ! not fated long to please his lord ; To him his swiftness and his strength were vain ; The voice of glory called him o'er the main. Till then, in every sylvan chase renowned, With Argus ! Argus ! rung the woods around ; With him the youths pursued the goat or fawn, Or traced the mazy leveret o'er the lawn. Now left to man's ingratitude he lay, Unhoused, neglected, on the public way. He knew his lord ; he knew, and strove to meet ; In vain he strove to crawl and kiss his feet ; 178 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Yet, all he could, his tail, his ears, his eyes, Salute his master, and confess his joys. Soft pity touched the mighty master's soul, And down his cheek a tear unbidden stole ; Stole unperceived ; he turned his head and dried The drop humane ; then thus impassioned cried. " What noble beast in this abandoned state Lies here, all helpless, at Ulysses' gate ? His bulk and beauty speak no vulgar praise ; If as he seems he was in better days, Some care his age deserves ; or was he prized For worthless beauty, therefore now despised ? " Not Argus so," Euma3us thus rejoined, " But served a master of a nobler kind, Who never, never shall behold him more, Long, long since perished on a distant shore ! Ah, had you seen him vigorous, bold, and young, Swift as a stag, and as a lion strong ! Him no fell savage on the plain withstood ; None 'scaped him, bosomed in the gloomy wood. His eye how piercing, and his scent how true, To wind the vapor in the tainted dew ! Such when Ulysses left his native coast ; Now years unnerve him, and his lord is lost. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 179 The women keep the generous creature bare ; A sleek and idle race is all their care ; The master gone, the servants what restrains ? Or dwells humanity where riot reigns ? Heaven fixed it certain that whatever day Makes man a slave, takes half his worth away." This said, the honest herdsman strode before ; The musing monarch lingered at the door ; The dog, whom fate had granted to behold His lord when twenty tedious years had rolled, Takes a last look, and having seen him, dies. So closed forever faithful Argus' eyes. POPE'S HOMEE. . - e Q* f . - "*"' C"SS~S "" ULYSSES IMPATIENT OF REST. IT little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. I cannot rest from travel ; I will drink Life to the lees ; all times I have enjoyed Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those 180 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. That loved me, and alone ; on shore, and when Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades Vexed the dim sea ; I am become a name ; For, always roaming with a hungry heart, Much have I seen and known ; cities of men, And manners, climates, councils, governments ; Myself not least, but honored of them all ; And drunk delight of glory with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre, and the isle ; Well loved of me, discerning to fulfil This labor, by slow prudence to make mild A rugged people, and through soft degrees Subdue them to the useful and the good. Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere Of common duties, decent not to fail Li offices of tenderness, and pay Meet adoration to my household gods, When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 181 The sounding furrows ; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down ; It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles whom we knew. Though much is taken, much abides, and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are ; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. TENNYSON. PENELOPE BBISEIS. TWICE ten long years Penelope was wooed, Yet chaste remained, by countless lovers sued ; With fictious woof her wedlock could delay, And rent by night the threads she wove by day ; Hopeless Ulysses to behold again, Yet tarrying saw her youthful beauties wane. Briseis' arms the dead Achilles pressed ; With frantic hand she smote her snowy breast, 16 182 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. V Mourning her bleeding lord ; and, though a slave, "Washed his stained corse in Simois* shallower wave ; Soiled her fair locks ; and in her slender hold Culled from the pile those bones of giant mould. PROPERTIUS, BY ELTON. ON FLAXMAN'S STATUE OF PENELOPE. THE suitors sinned, but with a fair excuse, Whom all this elegance might well seduce ; Nor can our censure on the husband fall, Who for a wife so lovely slew them all. COWPER. AJAX AND CAMILLA. WHEN Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labors and the words move slow. Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn or skims along the main. POPE. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. CREUSA. So when JSneas through the flames of Troy Bore his pale sire, and led his lovely boy, With loitering step the fair Creusa staid, And death involved her in eternal shade. DAEWIN, DIDO. UNHAPPY, Dido, was thy fate In first and second married state ! One husband caused thy flight by dying, Thy death the other caused by flying. 184 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. AENEAS AND ANCHISES. I WAS born free as Caesar ; so were you ; We both have fed as well ; and we can both Endure the winter's cold as well as he. For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with his shores, Caesar said to me, " Dar'st thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood And swim to yonder point ? Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, And bade him follow. So indeed he did. The torrent roared, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy. But ere we could arrive the point proposed, Caesar cried, " Help me, Cassius, or I sink." Then, as JSneas, our great ancestor, Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulders The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber Did I the tired Caesar ; and this man Is now become a god ; and Cassius is A wretched creature, and must bend his body If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. SB AXES PEAKS. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 185 THE SIBYL. WORLDLY WISDOM. IF future fate she plans, 'tis all in leaves, Like Sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss ; At the first blast it vanishes in air. ***** As worldly schemes resemble Sibyl's leaves, The good man's days to Sibyl's books compare, The price still rising as in number less. YOUNG. ELYSIUM. FAIR wert thou, in the dreams Of elder time, thou land of glorious flowers, And summer winds, and low-toned silvery streams, Dim with the shadows of thy laurel bowers, Where, as they passed, bright hours Left no faint sense of parting, such as clings To earthly love, and joy in loveliest things ! Fair wert thou, with the light Of thy blue hills and sleepy waters, cast From purple skies ne'er deepening into night, Yet soft, as if each moment were their last 16* 186 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Of glory, fading fast Along the mountains ! but thy golden day Was not as those that warn us of decay. And ever, through thy shades, A swell of deep ^Eolian sound went by, From fountain voices in their secret glades, And low reed-whispers, making sweet reply To summer's breezy sigh ! And young leaves trembling to the wind's light breath, "Which ne'er had touched them with a hue of death ! MRS. HEMANS. THE FORTUNATE ISLES. WHATEVER of true life there was in thee,* Leaps in our age's veins ; ***** Here, 'mid the bleak waves of our strife and care, Float the green " Fortunate Isles," Where all thy hero spirits dwell and share Our martyrdoms and toils. The present moves attended With all of brave and excellent and fair That made the old time splendid. LOWELL. * The Past. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 187 LIKE those Hesperian gardens famed of old, Fortunate fields and groves and flowery vales, Thrice happy isles. MILTON. !*! THE HYPERBOREANS. SONG OF A HYPERBOREAN. I COME from a land in the sun-bright deep, Where golden gardens glow, Where the winds of the north, becalmed in sleep, Their conch shells never blow. MOORE. ARIST^EUS. THE EMPRESS'S PALACE OF ICE. LESS worthy of applause, though more admired Because a novelty, the work of man, Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ, Thy most magnificent and mighty freak, The wonder of the north. No forest fell When thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores T' enrich thy walls ; but thou didst hew the floods, And make thy marble of the glassy wave. 188 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. In such a palace Aristseus found Cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale Of his lost bees to her maternal ear. SABRINA. THE RIVER GODDESS AT HOME. SABRINA fair ! Listen where thou art sitting Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair ; Listen for dear honor's sake, Goddess of the silver lake ! Listen and save. MILTON. PROTEUS. [On account of the versatility of his talent, Byron compares Voltaire to Proteus.] HE was all fire and fickleness ; a child, Most mutable in wishes, but in mind POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 189 A wit as various, gay, grave, sage, or wild, Historian, bard, philosopher, combined ; He multiplied- himself among mankind, The Proteus of their talents ; but his own Breathed most in ridicule, which, as the wind, Blew where it listed, laying all things prone, Now to overthrow a fool, and now to shake a throne. BYEON. ORPHEUS. THE LOSS OF EURYDICE. BUT soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes ; Again she falls, again she dies, she dies ! How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move ? No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love. Now under hanging mountains, Beside the falls of fountains, Or where Hebrus wanders, Rolling in meanders, All alone, He makes his moan, And calls her ghost, Forever, ever, ever lost ! Now with furies surrounded, Despairing, confounded, 190 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. He trembles, he glows, Amidst Rhodope's snows. See, wild as the winds o'er the desert he flies ; Hark ! Haemus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries. Ah, see, he dies ! Yet even in death Eurydice he sung, Eurydice still trembled on his tongue ; Eurydice the woods Eurydice the floods Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung. POPE. THE GRAVE OF ORPHEUS. THEN on his ear what sounds Of harmony arose ! Far music and the distance-mellowed song From bowers of merriment; The waterfall remote ; The murmuring of the leafy groves ; The single nightingale Perched in the rosier by, so richly toned, That never from that most melodious bird, Singing a love song to his brooding mate, Did Thracian shepherd by the grave POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 191 Of Orpheus hear a sweeter melody, Though there the spirit of the sepulchre All his own power infuse, to swell The incense that he loves. SOUTHEY. ORPHEUS AND MUS^EUS. TIME is not blind, yet he who spares Pyramid pointing to the stars, Hath preyed with ruthless appetite On all that marked the primal flight Of the poetic ecstasy Into the land of mystery. No tongue is able to rehearse One measure, Orpheus, of thy verse ! Musaeus, stationed with his lyre, Supreme among the Elysian choir, Is for the dwellers upon earth Mute as a lark ere morning's birth. WORDSWORTH. 192 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. MUSJ5US. BUT O, sad virgin, that thy power Might raise Musgeus from his bower, Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made hell grant what love did seek ! MILTON. ORPHEUS. JESSICA. * I'M never merry when I hear sweet music. LORENZO. The reason is, your spirits are attentive ; For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhand led colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood ; If they perchance but hear a trumpet sound, Or any air of music touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze, By the sweet power of music. Therefore the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods ; POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 193 Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But music for a time doth change its nature." SHAKESPEARE. IX!" ARION. To comfort you with chance, Assure yourself, after our ship did split, When you, and that poor number saved with you, Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, Most provident in peril, bind himself (Courage and hope both teaching him the practice) To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea, Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves, So long as I could see. SHAKESPEARE. THE SAME. THEN was there heard a most celestial sound Of dainty music which did next ensue, And, on the floating waters as enthroned, Arion with his harp unto him drew The ears and hearts of all that goodly crew ; 17 194 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. As when of old the dolphin which him bore Through the JEgean Seas from pirates' view, Stood still, by him astonished at his lore, And all the raging seas for joy forgot to roar. SPENSER. THE SAME. THE moon is up ; by Heaven, a lovely eve ! Long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand ; Now lads on shore may sigh and maids believe ; Such be our fate when we return to land ! Meantime some rude Arion's restless hand Wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love ; A circle there of merry listeners stand, Or to some well-known measure featly move, Thoughtless, as if on shore they still were free to rove. BYKOX. AMPHION. ON WIT, OR TALENT. TELL me, O teU, what kind of thing is wit, Thou, who master art of it ? POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 195 Tis not a tale, 'tis not a jest, Admired with laughter at a feast ; Nor florid talk, which can that title gain ; The proofs of wit forever must remain. 'Tis not to force some lifeless verses meet, With their five gouty feet. All, every where, like man's, must be the soul, And reason the inferior powers control. Such were the numbers which could call The stones into the Theban wall. Such miracles are ceased ; and now we see No towns or houses raised by poetry. COWLEY. ON THE POWER OF SOUND. BLEST be the song that brightens The blind man's gloom, exalts the veteran's mirth ; Unscorned the peasant's whistling breath, that lightens His duteous toil of furrowing the green earth. For the tired slave, Song lifts the languid oar, And bids it aptly fall, with chime That beautifies the fairest shore, And mitigates the harshest clime. 196 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Yon pilgrims see, in lagging file They move ; but soon th' appointed way A choral Ave Marie shall beguile, And to their hope the distant shrine Glisten with a livelier ray. Nor friendless he, the prisoner of the mine, Who from the well-spring of his own clear breast Can draw, and sing his griefs to rest. The gift to King Amphion, That walled a city with its melody, Was for belief no dream ; thy skill, Arion, Could humanize the creatures of the sea, Where men were monsters. A last grace he craves, Leave for one chant ; the dulcet sound Steals from the deck o'er willing waves, And listening dolphins gather round. Self-cast, as with a desperate course, 'Mid that strange audience, he bestrides A proud one, docile as a managed horse ; And singing, while the accordant hand Sweeps his harp, the Master rides ; So shall he touch at length a friendly strand, And he, with his preserver, shine star-bright, In memory, through silent night. WORDSWORTH. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 197 VERSE sweetens toil, how rude soe'er the sound ; See at her task the village maiden sings, Nor, as she turns her busy wheel around, Revolves the sad vicissitude of things.* PYTHAGORAS. THOU almost mak'st me waver in my faith, To hold opinion with Pythagoras, That souls of animals infuse themselves Into the trunks of men ; thy currish spirit Governed a wolf, who, hanged for human slaughter, Infused his soul in thee ; for thy desires Are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous. SHAKESPEARE. HARMONY. FROM harmony, from heavenly harmony This everlasting frame began ; From harmony to harmony * These lines, whose author is unknown, were pronounced by Dr. Johnson the finest in the language. 17* 198 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Through all the compass of the notes it ran, The diapason closing full in Man. DKTDEN. THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES. LOOK, Jessica, see how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patens of bright gold ! There's not the smallest orb that thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim ! Such harmony is in immortal souls ! But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. SHAKESPEARE. THE SAME. RING out, ye crystal spheres ! Once bless our human ears ; (If ye have power to charm our senses so ;) And let your silver chime Move in melodious time, And let the base of Heaven's deep organ blow ; POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 199 And with your ninefold harmony Make up full concert with th' angelic symphony. MILTON. THE LYRE INVENTED BY PYTHAGORAS. As great Pythagoras of yore, Standing beside the blacksmith's door, And hearing the hammers as they smote The anvils with a different note, Stole from the varying tones that hung Vibrant on every iron tongue, The secret of the sounding wire, And formed the seven-chorded lyre. LONGFELLOTV. SYBARIS. TO THE DANDELION. NOT in mid June the golden-cuirassed bee Feels a more summer-like, warm ravishment In the white lily's breezy tent, (His conquered Sybaris,) than I when first From the dark green thy yellow circles burst. LOWELL. 200 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. THE AMAZONS. ROUND their bright queen, Hippolyte the fair, In beauty beaming from her steel-clad car, Move the triumphant Amazonian train, In bright array exulting o'er the plain. Proudly they march, and clash their painted arms ; The forest echoes with their proud alarms ; With female shouts they shake the sounding field, And fierce they poise the spear, and grasp the moony shield. THALESTRIS. THE brave Thalestris shook her plumy crest, And bound in rigid mail her youthful breast, Poised her long lance amid the fields of war, And steered with graceful ease her iron car. Beauteous in vain ; for her no lover wove The bridal chaplet, or the wreaths of love ; Dearer to her the paths of fierce renown, The warrior's blood-stained shield, the victor's lau- relled crown. APOLLONIUS RHODIUS. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 201 ON A GEM REPRESENTING A WOMAN CONTEMPLATING A HOUSE- HOLD GOD. DOMESTIC love ! not in proud palace halls Is often seen thy beauty to abide ; Thy dwelling is in lowly cottage walls, That in the thickets of the woodbine hide ; With hum of bees around, and from the side Of woody hills some little bubbling spring Shining along through banks with harebells dyed ; And many a bird to warble on the wing, When Morn her saffron robe o'er heaven and earth doth fling. O love of loves ! to thy white hand is given Of earthly happiness the golden key ! Thine are the joyous hours of winter's even, When the babes cling around their father's knee; And thine the voice that on the midnight sea Melts the rude mariner with thoughts of home, Peopling the gloom with all he longs to see. Spirit ! I've built a shrine ; and thou hast come, And on the altar closed, forever closed, thy plume ! CROLY. 202 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. PELION AND OSSA. OLYMPUS AND PARNASSUS. PELION and Ossa flourish side by side, Together in immortal books enrolled ; His ancient dower Olympus hath not sold ; And that inspiring hill, which " did divide Into two ample horns his forehead wide," Shines in poetic radiance as of old ; While not an English mountain we behold By the celestial Muses glorified. Yet round our sea-girt shore they rise in crowds. What was the great Parnassus' self to thee, Mount Skiddaw ? In his natural sovereignty Our British hill is nobler far ; he shrouds His double front among Atlantic clouds, And pours forth streams more sweet than Castaly. WORDSWORTH. CROWNED AND BURIED. ON THE RESTORATION OF THE REMAINS OF NAPOLEON TO THE FRENCH PEOPLE. NAPOLEON ! 'twas a high name lifted high ! It met at last God's thunder sent to clear POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 203 Our compassing and covering atmosphere, And open a clear sight, beyond the sky, Of supreme empire ; this of earth was done, And kings crept out again to feel the sun. A deep gloom centred in the deep repose, The nations stood up mute to count their dead, And he who owned the name which vibrated Through silence, trusting to his noblest foes, When earth was all too gray for chivalry, Died of their mercies, 'mid the desert sea. England ! it was not well, it was not well, Nor tuneful with thy lofty-chanted part Among the Oceanides, that heart To bind and bare, and vex with vulture fell. I would, my noble England, men might seek All crimson stains upon thy breast not cheek. And since it was done, in sepulchral dust We fain would pay back something of our debt To France, if not to honor, and forget How through much fear we falsified the trust Of a fallen foe and exile. We return Orestes to Electra .... in his urn. Napoleon ! he hath come again ; borne home Upon the popular ebbing heart, a sea 204 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Which gathers its own wrecks perpetually, Majestically moaning. Give him room ! Room for the dead in Paris ! welcome solemn, And grave deep, 'neath the cannon-moulded column. There weapon spent and warrior spent may rest From roar of fields ; provided Jupiter Dare trust Saturnus to lie down so near His bolts ! And this he may ; for dispossessed Of any godship 'lies the godlike arm, The goat Jove sucked as likely to do harm. I think this nation's tears, poured thus together, Nobler than shouts : I think this funeral Grander than crownings, though a pope bless all ; I think this grave stronger than thrones. But whether The crowned Napoleon, or the buried clay Be better, I discern not, angels may. MBS. BKOWNING. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 205 WINE OF CYPRUS. IF old Bacchus were the speaker He would tell you with a sigh, Of the Cyprus in this beaker, I am sipping like a fly, Like a fly or gnat on Ida, At the hour of goblet-pledge, By Queen Juno brushed aside, a Full white arm-sweep from the edge. Sooth, the drinking should be ampler, When the drink is so divine ; And some deep-mouthed Greek exemplar Would become your Cyprian wine ! Cyclops' mouth might plunge aright in, While his one eye over-leered, Nor too large were mouth of Titan, Drinking rivers down his beard. Pan might dip his head so deep in, That his ears alone pricked out ; Fauns around him, pressing, leaping, Each one pointing to his throat ; While the Naiads, like Bacchantes, Wild, with urns thrown out to waste, 18 206 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Cry, " O Earth, that thou wouldst grant us Springs to keep of such a taste ! " Go ! let others praise the Chian ! This is soft as Muses' string, This is tawny as Rhea's lion, This is rapid as its spring ; Bright as Paphia's eyes e'er met us, Light as ever trod her feet, And the brown bees of Hymettus Made their honey not so sweet. MRS. BROWNING. THE REGENERATION OF GREECE. THE world's great age begins anew, The golden years return, The earth doth, like a snake, renew Her winter weeds outworn. A brighter Hellas rears its mountains From waves serener far ; A new Peneus rolls its fountains Against the morning star. Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep Young Cyclads, on a sunnier deep ; A loftier Argo cleaves the main, Fraught with a later prize ; POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 207 Another Orpheus sings again, And loves, and weeps, and dies. A new Ulysses leaves once more Calypso for his native shore. O, write no more the tale of Troy, If earth death's scroll must be ! Nor mix with Laian rage the joy Which dawns upon the free. Although a subtler Sphinx renew Riddles of death Thebes never knew, Another Athens shall arise And to remoter time Bequeath, like sunset to the skies, The splendor of its prime ; And leave, if nought so bright may live, All earth can take, or heaven can give. SHELLEY. A POET'S WISHES. Now give me but a cot that's good, In some great town's neighborhood ; A garden where the winds may play From the blue hills far away, And wanton with such trees as bear 208 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Their loads of green through all the year, Laurel and dusky juniper ; So may some friends, whose social talk I love, there take their evening walk And spend a frequent holiday. And may I own a quiet room, Where the morning sun may come, Stored with books of poesy, Tale, science, old morality, Fable, and divine history, Ranged in separate cases round, Each with living marble crowned. Here should Apollo stand, and there Isis, with her sweeping hair ; Here Phidian Jove, or the face of thought Of Pallas, or Laocoon, Or Adrian's boy Antinoiis, Or the winged Mercurius, Or some that fresh research hath brought From the land Italian. And one I'd have whose heaving breast Should rock me nightly to my rest, By holy chains bound fast to me, Faster by Love's sweet sorcery. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 209 I would not have my beauty as Juno or Paphian Venus was, Or Dian, with her crested moon, (Else, haply, she might change as soon,) Or Portia, that high Roman dame, Or she who set the world on flame, Spartan Helen, who did leave Her husband king to grieve, And fled with Priam's shepherd boy, And caused the mighty tale of Troy. She should be a woman who, (Graceful without much endeavor,) Could praise or excuse all I do, And love me ever. I'd have her thoughts fair, and her skin White as the white soul within ; And her fringed eyes of darkest blue, Which the great soul looketh through, Like heaven's own gates cerulean ; And these I'd gaze and gaze upon, As did of old Pygmalion. BARRY CORNWALL. 18* 210 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. INSECT TRANSFORMATIONS. WHO that beholds the summer's glittering swarms, Ten thousand, thousand gayly-gilded forms, In volant dance of mixed rotation play, Bask in the beam, and beautify the day, Would think those airy wantons, so adorn,* Were late his fixed antipathy and scorn, Prone to the dust, or reptile through the mire, And ever thence unlikely to aspire ? No fictions here to willing fraud invite, Led by the marvellous, absurd delight ; No Golden Ass, no tale Arabians frame, Nor flitting forms of Naso's magic strain ; Deucalion's progeny of native stone, Or armies from Cadmean harvests grown, With many a wanton and fantastic dream, The laurel, mulberry, and bashful stream ; Arachne shrunk beneath Tritonia's rage, Tithonus changed and garrulous with age. Not such mutations deck the chaster song, Adorned with nature and with truth made strong ; * Adorn, in the sense of adorned^ is out of use, but is still found in our dictionaries. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 211 No debt to fable or to fancy due, And only wondrous facts revealed to view. HENRY BROOKE. SONG. SCORN OF LOVE ADMONISHED. HEAR, ye ladies that despise What the mighty Love has done ; Fear examples, and be wise : Fair Callisto was a nun ; * Leda, sailing on the stream To deceive the hopes of man, Love accounting but a dream, Doted on a silver swan ; Danae, in a brazen tower, Where no love was, loved a shower. Hear, ye ladies that are coy, What the mighty Love can do ; Fear the fierceness of the boy ; The chaste Moon he makes to woo j * That is, a follower of Diana. 212 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Vesta, kindling holy fires, Circled round about with spies, Never dreaming loose desires, Doting at the altar dies. Ilion in a short hour higher He can build, and once more fire. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. THE EGYPTIAN DEITIES. THE brutish gods of Nile as fast, Isis, and Horus, and the dog Anubis, haste. Nor is Osiris seen In Memphian grove or green, Trampling the unshowered * grass with lowings loud ; Nor can he be at rest Within his sacred chest ; Nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud. In vain with timbreled anthems dark The sabled-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipped ark. * There being no rain in Egypt, the grass is " unshowered," and the country depends for its fertility upon the overflowings of the Nile. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 213 HORUS OR HARPOCRATES. THYSELF shall, under some rosy bower, Sit mute, with thy finger on thy lip ; Like him, the boy, who, born among The flowers that on the Nile stream blush, Sits ever thus, his only song To earth and heaven, " Hush all, hush ! MOORE. THE PRIESTESS OF APOLLO DELIVERING THE ORACLE AT DELPHI. WHILE duteous priests the gorgeous shrine sur- round, Cinctured with ephods and with garlands crowned, Contending hosts and trembling nations wait The firm, immutable decrees of fate. Through the deep twilight of her sacred groves, With frantic step the Pythian priestess moves ; Full of the god, her laboring bosom sighs, Foam on her lips and fury in her eyes. Strong writhe her limbs; her wild, dishevelled hair Starts from her laurel wreath and swims in air. 214 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. She speaks in thunder from her golden throne, With words unwilled, and wisdom not her own. The oracle has spoken ! senseless, prone, Faint sinks the priestess on the altar stone. O'er her flushed cheek her snowy veil she*" throws, And shrouds with trembling hands her throbbing brows. Her bosom heaves with soft, relieving sighs, And' woman's healing tears returning fill her eyes. ORACLES. THE oracles are dumb ; No voice or hideous hum Rings through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell. MILTON. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 215 THE ORACLE OF DODONA. O, WHERE, Dodona ! is thine aged grove, Prophetic fount, and oracle divine ? What valley echoed the response of Jove ? What trace remaineth of the Thunderer's shrine ? All, all forgotten, and shall man repine That his frail bonds to fleeting life are broke ? Cease, fool ! the fate of gods may well be thine ; Wouldst thou survive the marble or the oak, When nations, tongues, and worlds must sink be- neath the stroke. BYBON. THE SAME. AND I will work in prose and rhyme, And praise thee more in both, Than bard has honored beech or lime, Or that Thessalian growth In which the swarthy ringdove sat And mystic sentence spoke ; &c. TENNYSOK. 216 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. ADDRESSED TO YARDLEY OAK. O, COULDST thou speak, As in Dodona once thy kindred trees Oracular, I would not curious ask The future, best unknown, but at thy mouth, Inquisitive, the less ambiguous past. COWPEB. POETS OF MYTHOLOGY. HOMER. SEVEN wealthy towns contend for Homer dead, Through which the living Homer begged his bread. ON MILTON. THREE poets in three different ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. The first in loftiness of soul surpassed, The next in majesty, in both the last. The force of nature could no further go ; To make a third she joined the other two. DRYDEN. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 217 THE THREE GREAT EPIC POETS. AGES elapsed ere Homer's lamp appeared, And ages ere the Mantuan swan was heard. To carry nature lengths unknown before, To give a Milton birth, asked ages more. Thus Genius rose and set at ordered times, And shot a dayspring into distant climes, Ennobling every region that he chose ; He sunk in Greece, in Italy he rose, And, tedious years of Gothic darkness passed, Emerged, all splendor, in our isle at last. Thus lovely Halcyons dive into the main, Then show far off their shining plumes again. COWPER. OVID. AND now I close my work, which not the ire Of Jove, nor tooth of time, nor sword, nor fire Shall bring to nought. Come when it will, that day Which o'er the body, not the mind, has sway, And snatch the remnant of my life away, My better part above the stars shall soar, And my renown endure forevermore. 19 218 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. "Where'er the Roman arms and arts shall spread, There by the people shall my book be read ; And, if aught true in poet's visions be, My name and fame have immortality. OVID. OVID, IN EXILE AT PONTUS, TO HIS WIFE. Now the swan's plumes are o'er my temples shed, And age my sable hair has silvery spread. Unnerved my shattered frame and feeble knees, The sports that pleased in youth no longer please ; If sudden seen, thou wouldst not know me now ; Such ruin stamps its pressure on my brow. Time, I confess, has worn his traces here, Yet symbols of an anxious mind appear. If by my woes my years should measured be, Sure Pylian Nestor were but young to me. Successive griefs liave worn my manhood's prime, And turned me gray and old before my time. Ease nourishes the body and the mind, And both have with immoderate labors pined. What fame of old the son of uEson bore, Who passed adventurous to this Pontic shore ! POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 219 Yet with far lighter toil he hither came, Or truth must sink beneath a mighty name. He sought these barbarous climes by Pelias sent, Who scarcely ruled Thessalia's continent ; Me Caesar's anger blasts, whom earth obeys From the sun's rising to his setting rays. Graecia's first worthies to his bark were joined, But Ovid came deserted by mankind ; In solid galley Jason ploughed the wave, In a frail bark did I the ocean brave ; No Tiphys steered, no wise Agenor's son Pointed what course to ply, what rocks to shun : Him royal Juno and Minerva led ; No deities there were to shield my head. OVID, BY ELTON. THE POET IN THE CLOUDS. O ! IT is pleasant, with a heart at ease, Just after sunset, or by moonlight skies, To make the shifting clouds be what you please ; Or let the easily-persuaded eyes Own each quaint likeness issuing from the mould Of a friend's fancy ; or with head bent low, 220 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. And cheek aslant, see rivers flow of gold Twixt crimson banks ; and then, a traveller, go From mount to mount of Cloudland, gorgeous land ! Or, listening to the tide, with closed sight, Be that blind bard, who on the Chian strand, By those deep sounds possessed, with inward light Beheld the Iliad and the Odyssey Rise to the swelling of the voiceful sea. COLERIDGE. THE SWAN. [The swan was the favorite bird of Apollo; the reason for which is not very apparent. It was perhaps on account of its pure white hue that it attained that honor. This connection with the god of music gained those birds the credit of musical powers which they do not possess ; for the swan has no note. They were said to sing most sweetly just before their death. Shakespeare alludes to this.] LET music sound while he doth make his choice, Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, Fading in music. MERCHANT OF VENICE, I AM the cygnet to this pale, faint swan Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death. KING JOHN, v. 7. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 221 THE DYING SWAN. THE wild swan's death hymn took the soul Of that waste place with joy Hidden in sorrow j at first to the ear The warble was low, and full, and clear ; And floating about the under sky, Prevailing in weakness, the coronach stole Sometimes afar and sometimes anear ; But anon her awful, jubilant voice, With a music strange and manifold, Flowed forth on a carol free and bold ; As when a mighty people rejoice With shawms, and with cymbals, and harps of gold ; And the tumult of their acclaim is rolled Through the open gates of the city afar, To the shepherd who watcheth the evening star. And the creeping mosses and clambering weeds, And the willow branches, hoar and dank, And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds, And the wave-worn horns of the echoing bank, And the silvery marish flowers that throng The desolate creeks and pools among, Were flooded over with eddying song. TENNYSOJT. 19* 222 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. THE SWAN, A CONSTELLATION. UPON that famous river's farther shore There stood a snowy Swan, of heavenly hue And gentle kind, as ever fowl afore ; A fairer one in all the goodly crew Of white Strymonian brood might no man view ; There he most sweetly sang the prophecy Of his own death in doleful elegy. At last, when all his mourning melody He ended had, that both the shores resounded, Feeling the fit that him forewarned to die, With lofty flight above the earth he bounded, And out of sight to highest heaven mounted, Where now he is become an heavenly sign. There now the joy is his ; here sorrow mine. SPENSER. THE MUSIC OF THE SWAN. I HEARD (alas ! 'twas only in a dream ) Strains which, as sage Antiquity believed, By waking ears have sometimes been received, Wafted adown the wind from lake or stream ; A most melodious requiem, a supreme POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 223 And perfect harmony of notes, achieved By a fair Swan, on drowsy billows heaved, O'er which her pinions shed a silver gleam. For is she not the votary of Apollo ? And knows she not, singing as he inspires, That bliss awaits her which the ungeniil hollow Of the dull earth partakes not, nor desires ? Mount, tuneful bird, and join the immortal choirs ! She soared, and I awoke, struggling in vain to follow. WORDSWORTH. THE PHCENIX. So when the new-born Phoenix first is seen, Her feathered subjects all adore their queen, And while she makes her progress through the East, From every grove her numerous train's increased ; Each poet of the air her glory sings, And round him the pleased audience clap their 224 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. THE ANGEL DESCENDING. DOWN thither, prone in flight, He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky Sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing, Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan Winnows the buxom air ; till within soar Of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems A Phoenix, gazed by all ; as that sole bird, When, to enshrine his relics in the sun's Bright temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies. MILTON. !%* THE SALAMANDER. AN undevout astronomer is mad ! * O, what a genius must inform the skies ! And is Lorenzo's salamander heart Cold and untouched amid these sacred fires ? YOUNG. tan** THE COCKATRICE. THIS will so fright them both that they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices. SHAKESPEARE. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 225 THE BASILISK. WHAT though the Moor the basilisk hath slain, And pinned him lifeless to the sandy plain ; Up through the spear the subtile venom flies, The hand imbibes it, and the victor dies. LUCAN. THE SAME. WHAT though Cimmerian anarchs dare blaspheme Freedom and thee ? a new Actaeon's error Shall theirs have been, devoured by their own hounds ! Be thou like the imperial basilisk, Killing thy foe with unapparent wounds ! Gaze on oppression, till at that dread risk, Aghast she pass from the earth's disk. Fear not, but gaze, for freemen mightier grow, And slaves more feeble, gazing on their foe. SHELLEY. 226 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FAELE. THE PERSIAN WORSHIP. THE Persian, zealous to reject Altar and image, and th' inclusive walls And roofs of temples built by human hands, The loftiest heights ascending, from their tops, With myrtle-wreathed tiara on his brows, Presented sacrifice to moon and stars, And to the winds and mother elements, And the whole circle of the heavens, for him A sensitive existence and a God. WORDSWORTH. THE SAME. NOT vainly did the early Persian make His altar the high places and the peak Of estrth o'er-gazing mountains, and thus take A fit and unwalled temple, there to seek The Spirit, in whose honor shrines are weak, Upreared of human hands. Come and compare Columns and idol-dwellings, Goth or Greek, With Nature's realms of worship, earth, and air, Nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 227 THE FIRE WORSHIPPERS. YES ! I am of that impious race, Those slaves of fire, that morn and even Hail their Creator's dwelling-place Among the living lights of heaven ; Yes ! I am of that outcast crew, To Iran and to vengeance true, Who curse the hour your Arabs came To desecrate our shrines of flame, And swear before God's burning eye, To break our country's chains or die. MOOEB. THE DOUBLE SUN. [The poet, comparing Nature and Art, as sources of the beau- tiful, likens them to the double appearance of the sun distract- ing his Persian worshipper.] THUS beauty's palm Betwixt them wavering hangs ; applauding love Doubts where to choose ; and mortal man aspires To tempt creative praise. As when a cloud Of gathering hail, with limpid crusts of ice Enclosed, and obvious to the beaming Sun, 228 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Collects his large effulgence, straight the heavens With equal flames present on either hand The radiant visage ; Persia stands at gaze, Appalled ; and on the brink of Ganges doubts The snowy-vested seer, in Mithra's * name, To which the fragrance of the south shall burn, To which his warbled orisons ascend. AKENSIDK. !*! THE ORIGIN OF MYTHOLOGY. IN that fair clime the lonely herdsman, stretched On the soft grass through half a summer's day, With music lulled his indolent repose ; And, in some fit of weariness, if he, When his own breath was silent, chanced to hear A distant strain far sweeter than the sounds Which his poor skill could make, his fancy fetched Even from the blazing chariot of the Sun A beardless youth who touched a golden lute, And filled the illumined groves with ravishment. The mighty hunter, lifting up his eyes Toward the crescent Moon, with grateful heart Called on the lovely wanderer who bestowed * Mithra, the god of the sun. among the Persians. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 229 That timely light to share his joyous sport ; And hence a beaming goddess with her nymphs Across the lawn and through the darksome grove (Not unaccompanied with tuneful notes By echo multiplied from rock or cave) Swept in the storm of chase, as moon and stars Glance rapidly along the clouded heaven When winds are blowing strong. The traveller slaked His thirst from rill or gushing fount, and thanked The Naiad. Sunbeams upon distant hills, Gliding apace with shadows in their train, Might, with small help from fancy, be transformed Into fleet Oreads sporting visibly. The Zephyrs, fanning, as they passed, their wings, Lacked not for love fair objects whom they wooed With gentle whisper. Withered boughs grotesque, Stripped of their leaves and twigs by hoary age, From depth of shaggy covert peeping forth In the low vale, or on steep mountain side, And sometimes intermixed with stirring horns Of the live deer, or goat's depending beard, These were the lurking Satyrs, a wild brood Of gamesome deities ; or Pan himself, The simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god. WORDSWORTH. 20 230 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. THE ORIGIN OF FABLE. WHAT has made the sage or poet write But the fair paradise of Nature's light ? In the calm grandeur of a sober line, We see the waving of the mountain pine ; And when a tale is beautifully staid, We feel the safety of a hawthorn glade. When it is moving on luxurious wings, The soul is lost in pleasant smotherings ; Fair dewy roses brush against our faces, And flowering laurels spring from diamond vases. Overhead we see the jasmine and sweetbrier, And bloomy grapes, laughing from green attire ; While at our feet the voice of crystal bubbles Charms us at once away from all our troubles ; So that we feel uplifted from the world, Walking upon the white clouds, wreathed and curled. So felt he who first told how Psyche went On the smooth wind to realms of wonderment ; What Psyche felt, and Love, when their full lips First touched ; what amorous and fondling nips They gave each other's cheeks ; with all their sighs, And how they kissed each other's tremulous eyes ; The silver lamp, the ravishment, the wonder, The darkness, loneliness, the fearful thunder ; POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 231 Their woes gone by, and both to heaven upflown, To bow for gratitude before Jove's throne. So did he feel who pulled the boughs aside^ That we might look into a forest wide, Telling us how fair trembling Syrinx fled Arcadian Pan, with such a fearful dread. Poor nymph poor Pan how he did weep to find Nought but a lovely sighing of the wind Along the reedy stream ; a half-heard strain, Full of sweet desolation, balmy pain. What first inspired a bard of old to sing Narcissus pining o'er th' untainted spring ? In some delicious ramble, he had found A little space, with boughs all woven round, And in the midst of all a clearer pool Than e'er reflected, in its pleasant cool, The blue sky, here and there serenely peeping Through tendril wreaths fantastically creeping. And on the bank a lonely flower he spied, A meek and forlorn flower, with nought of pride, Drooping its beauty o'er the watery clearness, To woo its own sad image into nearness. Deaf to light Zephyrus, it would not move, But still would seem to droop, to pine, to love ; 232 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. So while the poet stood in this sweet spot, Some fainter gleamings o'er his fancy shot ; Nor was it long ere he had told the tale Of youi% Narcissus, and sad Echo's hale. Where had he been from whose warm head outflew That sweetest of all songs, that ever-new, That aye-refreshing, pure deliciousness, Coming ever to bless The wanderer by moonlight, to him bringing Shapes from the invisible world, unearthly singing From out the middle air, from flowery nests, And from the pillowy silkiness that rests Full in the speculation of the stars ? Ah ! surely he had burst our mortal bars ; Into some wondrous region he had gone To search for thee, divine Endymion ! He was a poet, sure a lover too, Who stood on Latmos' top, what time there blew Soft breezes from the myrtle vale below ; And brought, in faintness solemn, sweet and slow, A hymn from Dian's temple ; while, upswelling, The incense went to her own starry dwelling. But, though her face was clear as infant's eyes, Though she stood smiling o'er the sacrifice, POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 233 The poet wept at her so piteous fate, Wept that such beauty should be desolate \ So, in fine wrath, some golden sounds he won, And gave meek Cynthia her Endymion. KEATS. THE TENTH AVATAR. [It is recorded in the Hindoo mythology that the deity Brania has descended nine times upon the world, in various forms, and that he is yet to appear a tenth time, in the figure of a warrior, upon a white horse, to cut off all incorrigible offenders. Cain- deo is the god of Love, in the mythology of the Hindoos, and Ganesa and Seriswattee correspond to the pagan deities Janus and Minerva.] NINE times have Brama's wheels of lightning hurled His awful presence o'er th' alarmed world j Nine times hath Guilt, through all his giant frame, Convulsive trembled as the Mighty came ; Nine times hath suffering Mercy spared in vain, But heaven shall burst her starry gates again ! He comes ! dread Brama shakes the sunless sky With murmuring wrath, and thunders from on high ! Wide waves his flickering sword, his bright arms glow Like summer suns, and light the world below. 20* 234 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Earth and her trembling isles in Ocean's bed Are shook, and Nature rocks beneath his tread. To pour redress on India's injured realm, Th' oppressor to dethrone, the proud to whelm, To chase destruction from her plundered shore, With arts and arms that triumphed once before, The tenth Avatar comes ! at Heaven's command Shall Seriswattee wave her hallowed wand, And Camdeo bright and Ganesa sublime Shall bless with joy their own propitious clime! Come, Heavenly Powers ! primeval peace restore ! Love, Mercy, Wisdom, rule forevermore ! THE MOON, A TABLET. SWEET Moon ! if, like Crotona's sage, By any spell my hand could dare To make thy disk its ample page, And write my thoughts, my wishes there, How many a friend, whose careless eye Now wanders o'er that starry sky, Should smile upon thy orb to meet The recollection kind and sweet, And all my heart and soul would send To many a dear-loved, distant friend ! POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 235 THE RECOVERY OF THOR'S HAMMER. WROTH waxed Thor, when his sleep was flown, And he found his trusty hammer gone ; He smote his brow, his beard he shook, The son of earth 'gan round him look ; And this the first word that he spoke : " Now listen what I tell thee, Loke ; Which neither on earth below is known, Nor in heaven above : my hammer's gone." 236 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Their way to Freyia's bower they took, And this the first word that he spoke : " Thou, Freyia, must lend a winged robe, To seek my hammer round the globe." Freyia. " That shouldst thou have though 'twere of gold, And that, though 'twere of silver, hold." Away flew Loke ; the winged robe sounds, And soon he has reached the Jotunheim bounds. High on a mound in haughty state Thrym, the king of the Thursi, sat ; For his dogs he was twisting collars of gold, And trimming the manes of his coursers bold. Thrym. " How fare the Asi ? the Alfi * how ? Why roam'st thou alone to Jotunheim now ? " Loke. " 111 fare the Asi, the Alfi mourn ; Thor's hammer from him thou hast torn." Thrym. ' I have the Thunderer's hammer bound Fathoms eight beneath the ground ; * Asi and Alfi, gods of different dignities. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 237 With it shall no one homeward tread, Till he bring me Freyia to share my bed." Away flew Loke ; the winged robe sounds, And soon he has reached the Asgard bounds. At Midgard Thor met crafty Loke, And this the first word that he spoke : " Have you your errand and labor done ? Tell from aloft the course you run." Loke. " My labor is past, mine errand I bring ; Thrym has thy hammer, the giant king $ With it shall no one homeward tread, Till he bear him Freyia to share his bed." Their way to lovely Freyia they took, And this the first word that he spoke : " Now, Freyia, busk as a blooming bride ; Together we must to Jotunheim ride." Wroth waxed Freyia with ireful look ; All Asgard's hall with wonder shook ; Her great bright necklace started wide : " Well may ye call me a wanton bride, If I with thee to Jotunheim ride." 238 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. The Asi did all to council crowd, The Asinise * all talked fast and loud ; This they debated, and this they sought, How the hammer of Thor should home be brought. Up then and spoke Heimdallar free, Like the Vani wise was he : " Now busk we Thor as a bride so fair ; Let him that great bright necklace wear ; Round him let ring the spousal keys, And a maiden kirtle hang to his knees, And on his bosom jewels rare ; And high and quaintly braid his hair." Wroth waxed Thor with godlike pride : " Well may the Asi me deride, If I let me be dight as a blooming bride." Then up spoke Loke, Laufeyia's son : " Now hush thee, Thor ; this must be done ; The giants will straight in Asgard reign If thou thy hammer dost not regain." Then busked they Thor as a bride so fair, And the great bright necklace gave him to wear ; Round him let ring the spousal keys, And a maiden kirtle hang to his knees, * Goddesses. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 239 And on his bosom jewels rare ; And high and quaintly braided his hair. Up then arose the crafty Loke, Laufeyia's son, and thus he spoke : " A "servant I thy steps will tend ; Together we must to Jotunheim wend." Now home the goats together hie ; Yoked to the axle they swiftly fly. The mountains shook, the earth burned red, As Odin's son to Jotunheim sped. Then Thrym, the king of the Thursi, said, '* Giants, stand up ; let the seats be spread ; They bring Freyia, Niorder's daughter, down To share my bed, from Noatun." With horns all gilt, each coal-black beast Is led to deck the giants' feast. Betimes at evening they approached, And the mantling ale the giants broached. The new-come maiden ate alone Eight salmons, and an ox full grown, And all the cates on which women feed, And drank three firkins of sparkling mead. Then Thrym, the king of the Thursi, said, " Where have ye beheld such a hungry maid ? Ne'er saw I a bride so keenly feed, Nor drink so deep of the sparkling mead." 240 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Then forward leaned the crafty Loke, And thus the giant he bespoke : " Nought has she eaten for eight long nights ; So did she long for the nuptial rites." He stooped beneath her veil to kiss, But he started the length of the hall, I wis : " Why are the looks of Freyia so dire ? It seems as her eyeballs glistened with fire." Then forward leaned the crafty Loke, And thus the giant he bespoke : " Nought has she slept for eight long nights j So did she long for the nuptial rites." Then in the giant's sister came, Who dared a bridal gift to claim : " Those rings of gold from thee I crave, If thou wilt all my fondness have, All my love and fondness have." Then Thrym, the king of the Thursi, said, " Bear in the hammer to plight the maid ; Upon her lap the bruiser lay, And firmly plight our hands and fay." The Thunderer's soul smiled in his breast, When the hammer hard on his lap was placed. Thrym first, the king of the Thursi, he slew, And slaughtered all the giant crew. POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 241 He slew that giant's sister old, Who prayed for bridal gifts so bold ; Instead of money and rings, I wot, The hammer's bruises were her lot. Thus Odin's son his hammer got. HEEBEBT. THE DEATH OF BALDUR. I HEARD a voice that cried, "Baldur the Beautiful Is dead, is dead ! " And through the misty air Passed like the mournful cry Of sunward sailing cranes. I saw the pallid corpse Of the dead sun Borne through the northern sky Blasts from NifFelheim Lifted the sheeted mists Around him as he passed. And the voice forever cried, " Baldur the Beautiful Is dead, is dead ! " 21 242 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. And died away, Through the dreamy night, In accents of despair. Baldur the Beautiful, God of the summer sun, Fairest of all the gods ! Light from his forehead beamed, Runes were upon his tongue, As on the warrior's sword. All things in earth and air Bound were by magic spell Never to do him harm ; Even the plants and stones ; All save the mistletoe, The sacred mistletoe ! Hoeder, the blind old god, Whose feet are shod with silence, Pierced through that gentle breast With his sharp spear, by fraud Made of the mistletoe, Th' accursed mistletoe ! They laid him in his ship, With horse and harness, POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 243 As on a funeral pyre. Odin placed A ring upon his finger, And whispered in his ear. They launched the burning ship ! It floated far away Over the misty sea, Till like the sun it seemed, Sinking beneath the waves. Baldur returned no more ! LONGFELLOTT. THE VALKYEIOR, OR CHOOSERS OF THE SLAIN. WEAVE the crimson web of war ; Let us go, and let us fly Where our friends the conflict share, Where they triumph, where they die. We the reins to slaughter give, Ours to kill, and ours to spare. GRAY. 244 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. THE RUNIC RHYME. UPKOSE the king of men with speed, And saddled straight his coal-black steed ; Down the yawning steep he rode, That leads to Hela's dread abode, Till full before his fearless eyes The portals nine of hell arise. Facing to the northern clime, Thrice he traced the Kunic rhyme, Thrice pronounced, in accents dread, The thrilling verse that wakes the dead, Till from out the hollow ground Slowly breathed a sullen sound. GRAY. !%* THE AURORA BOREALIS. TlS midnight, but a rich unnatural dawn Sheets the fixed arctic heaven ; forth springs an arch O'erspanning with a crystal pathway pure The starry sky, as though for gods to march, With show of heavenly warfare daunting earth, To that wild revel of the northern clouds, That now with broad and bannery light distinct, POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 245 Stream in their restless wavings to and fro, While the sea-billows gleam them mellower back ; Anon like slender lances bright upstart, And clash and cross with hurtle and with flash, Tilting their airy tournament. MlLMAN. THE DRUIDS. To a hope Not less ambitious once, among the wilds Of Sarum's plain, my youthful spirit was raised. There, as I ranged at will the pastoral downs, Time with his retinue of ages fled Backwards, nor checked his flight until I saw Our dim ancestral Past in vision clear ; Saw multitudes of men, and, here and there, A single Briton clothed in wolf-skin vest, With shield and stone-axe, stride across the wold. I called on Darkness, but before the word Was uttered, midnight darkness seemed to take All objects from my sight ; and lo, again The Desert visible by dismal flames ! It is the sacrificial altar, fed With living men, how deep the groans ! the voice 21* 246 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Of those that crowd the giant wicker thrills The monumental hillocks, and the pomp Is for both worlds, the living and the dead. At other moments, (for through that wide waste Three summer days I roamed,) where'er the plain Was figured o'er with circles, lines, or mounds, That yet survive, a work, as some divine, Shaped by the Druids, so to represent Their knowledge of the heavens, and image forth The constellations, gently was I charmed Into a waking dream, a reverie That with believing eyes, where'er I turned, Beheld long-bearded teachers, with white hands Uplifted, pointing to the starry sky, Alternately, and plain below, while breath Of music swayed their motions, and the waste Rejoiced with them and me in those sweet sounds. WORDSWOETH. THE CULDEES. THE pure Culdees Were Albyn's earliest priests of God, Ere yet an island of her seas By foot of Saxon monk was trod, POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 247 Long ere her churchmen by bigotry Were barred from holy wedlock's tie. 'Twas then that Aodh, famed afar, In lona preached the word with power, And Reullura, beauty's star, Was the partner of his bower. THE MEETING OF THE BARDS. WHERE met our Bards of old ? the glorious throng, They of the mountain and the battle song ? They met, O, not in kingly hall or bower, But where wild Nature girt herself with power ; They met where streams flashed bright from rocky caves, They met where woods made moan o'er warriors' graves, And where the torrent's rainbow spray was cast, And where dark lakes were heaving to the blast, Amidst th' eternal cliffs, whose strength defied The crested Roman in his hour of pride ; And where the Carnedd,* on its lonely hill, Bore silent record of the mighty still ; * Carnedd, a barrow or cairn. 248 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. And where the Druid's ancient Cromlech frowned, And the oaks breathed mysterious murmurs round, There thronged the inspired of yore ! on plain or height, In the sun's face, beneath the eye of light, And baring unto heaven each noble head, Stood in the circle where none else might tread. MRS. HEMANS. THE BELTANE FIRES. LIGHT the hills ! till heaven is glowing As with some red meteor's rays ! Winds of night, though rudely blowing, Shall but fan the beacon blaze. Light the hills ! till flames are streaming From old Snowdon's sovereign steep, To the waves round Mona gleaming, Where the Eoman tracked the deep. Thus our sires, the fearless hearted, Many a solemn vigil kept, When, in ages long departed, O'er the noble dead they wept. In the winds we hear their voices : " Sons ! though yours a brighter lot, POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. 249 When the mountain land rejoices Be her mighty unforgot." MBS. HEMANS. ST. SENANUS AND THE LADY. O, HASTE and leave this sacred isle, Unholy bark, ere morning smile ; For on thy deck, though dark it be, A female form I see ; And I have sworn this sainted sod Shall ne'er by woman's foot be trod. MOORE. IONA. NATURE herself, it seemed, would raise A minster to her Maker's praise ! Not for a meaner use ascend Her columns, or her arches bend ; Nor of a theme less solemn tells That mighty surge that ebbs and swells, And still, between each awful pause, From the high vault an answer draws, 250 POETRY OF THE AGE OF FABLE. Li varied tone, prolonged and high, That mocks the organ's melody ; Nor doth its entrance front in vain To old lona's holy fane, That Nature's voice might seem to say, " Well hast thou done, frail child of clay ! Thy humble powers that stately shrine Tasked high and hard but witness mine ! " SCOTT. ISSH- FANCY. THE more I've viewed this world, the more I've found That, filled as 'tis with scenes and creatures rare, Fancy commands, within her own bright round, A world of scenes and creatures far more fair. Nor is it that her power can call up there A single charm that's not from nature won, No more than rainbows, in their pride, can wear A single tint unborrowed from the sun ; But 'tis the mental medium it shines through That lends to beauty all its charms and hue ; As the same light, that o'er the level lake One dull monotony of lustre flings, Will, entering in the rounded raindrop, make Colors as gay as those on angels' wings. MOORE. LIST OF AUTHORS. AKENSIDE. APOLLONIUS RHODIUS. ARMSTRONG. BARRY CORNWALL. BEATTIE. BEAUMONT & FLETCHER. BLACKLOCK. BROOKE, HENRY. BROWNING, MRS. BRYANT. BULFINCH, S. G. BYRON. CALLIMACHUS. CAMOENS. CAMPBELL. CATULLUS. COLERIDGE. COWLEY. COWPER. CROLY. DARWIN. DRYDEN. DYER. ELTON. FLETCHER. FROTHINGHAM. GARCILASO DE LA VEGA. GARRICK. GRAY. HARVEY, T. K. HEMANS, MRS. HERBERT. HEYWOOD. HOMER. HOOD. HUNT, LEIGH. JONSON, BEN. KEATS. KEBLE. LANDON, L. E. LANDOR. LONGFELLOW. LOWELL. LOPE DE VEGA. LUCAN. MACAULAY. MACHIAVELLI. MICKLE. MlLMAN. MILTON. MOORE. OVID. POPE. PRIOR. PROPERTIUS. REJECTED ADDRESSES. ROWE. SCHILLER. SCOTT. SHAKESPEARE. SHELLEY. SOUTHEY. SPENSER. SWIFT. TENNYSON. THOMSON. VIRGIL. WALLER. WORDSWORTH. YOUNG. THE PARLOR GARDENER. A TREATISE ON THE HOUSE CULTURE OP ORNAMENTAL PLANTS. Translated from the French, and adapted to American use. BY CORNELIA J. RANDOLPH, OF VIRGINIA. WITH ELEVEN ILLUSTRATIVE CUTS. Price 75 cents. THE ART OF SKETCHING PROM NATURE. TWENTY-SEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS. Said to be the best elementary work on Drawing extant. Price 40 cents. ART RECREATIONS. A COMPLETE, ILLUSTRATED, AND EASY GUIDE Pencil Drawing, Crayon Drawing and Painting, Water- Color Painting, Oil Painting, Painters' Photographs in Water and Oil, Grecian Painting, Oriental Painting, Antique Painting, and in fact all known varieties of Drawing and Painting. Also, Leather Work, Moss Work, Feather Work, Wax Work, Cone Work, Shell Work, &c. 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