tfBRARv THROUGH REALMS OF SONG THROUGH REALMS OF SONG BY ISAAC BASSETT CHOATE BOSTON CHAPPLE PUBLISHING COMPANY, LTD. 1914 COPYRIGHT, 1914. BY ISAAC BASSETT CHOATE THE CHAPPLE PRESS BOSTON, MASS., TT.B.A. CONTENTS PAGE THROUGH REALMS OF SONG . 3 BETWEEN THE LINES 4 THE SONNET 5 POESY 6 THE POET 7 THE IDLER 8 TRUTH AND BEAUTT 9 OLD-TIME SONG 10 THE SINGING ROBE 11 CHARMS OF MINSTRELSY 12 POWER OF SONG 13 GIFT OF SONO 14 SONO AND REVERIE 15 THE OVER-SONG 16 ISLES OF SONG 17 SONG, THE PILGRIM 18 THE CHORUS 19 THE CHORAL DANCE 20 THE DANCERS 21 IN THOUGHT 22 NATURE'S THOUGHT 23 ONE LITTLE THOUGHT 24 ON THE INTERVALE 25 AT DAYBREAK 26 IMPRISONMENT 27 SILENCE 28 SILENCE IN Music 29 MAGIC REEDS 30 NATURE'S HARMONIES 31 THE EMPTY SHELL 32 THE DRUID 33 ACROSS THE CENTURIES 34 BELATED HONORS 35 RELEASE 36 IN THE GALLERY . . .37 PAGE NATURE'S SYMPHONIES 38 TRIUMPH OF SONG 39 MINSTRELSY UNHEARD 40 PAN 41 DEATH OF PAN 42 FAUNS 43 THE SILENT MUSE 44 LAVRIGER 45 ANGELS' VISITS 46 AT WHEEL AND LOOM 47 THE SCROLL 48 THE QUIETIST 49 THE MYSTIC 50 SUGGESTION 51 OUR EXEMPTION 52 GIPSIES 53 THE PITY 54 Music UNCONDITIONED 55 SORROW'S SERVICE 56 BY THE STREAM 57 WINGED WORDS 58 INSCRIBED 59 PERSIA'S POET 60 OMAR KHAYYAM 61 THE PAGAN WORLD 62 ON THE SACRED WAY 63 HEAD OF APHRODITE 64 HELLAS 66 ORPHEUS 66 ECRYDICE 67 SONG'S HERITAGE 68 MELPOMENE 69 ATYS 70 NIOBE 71 PSYCHE . . 72 [v PAGE PSYCHE AND PROSERPINA ... 73 PYGMALION 74 ATHENA 75 DIONYSUS 76 THE CARYATIDES 77 PAEAN 78 CYDIPPE'S PRAYER 79 UP PARNASSUS 80 TRAGEDY 81 ENDYMION 82 LETHE 83 NEMESIS 84 HOMER 85 SONG OF LINUS 86 HELEN 87 ON THE WALL 88 ACHILLES AND ATHENA 89 HECTOR'S PARTING 90 ODYSSEUS 91 PENELOPE 92 OFF SIGEUM 93 SAPPHO 94 KLE'IS 95 A FRAGMENT 96 EHINNA 97 AESCHYLUS 98 PROMETHEUS 99 PINDAR 100 AT OLYMPIA 101 SOPHOCLES 102 AT AULIS 103 ANTIGONE 104 ANTIGONE AT COLONUS 105 PHILOCTETES 106 ELECTHA AT HER FATHER'S TOMB 107 EURIPIDES 108 ORESTES IN SANCTUARY 109 ORESTES AT DELPHI 110 ALCESTIS Ill MELEAGER 112 THEOCRITUS . .113 PAGE PASTORALS 114 LUCRETIUS 115 CATULLUS 116 VIRGIL 117 HORACE 118 LALAGE 119 OVID IN EXILE 120 DANTE 121 BEATRICE 122 THE "INFERNO" 123 THE NEW LIFE 124 PETRARCH 125 MICHAEL ANGELO 126 TASSO'S PRISON 127 CIRIACO DI ANCONA 128 CONSTANTINE 129 CAMOENS 130 EL CID 131 LADY ANNE MACHAN 132 THE MINNESINGER 133 GUNLAD'S MEAD 134 THE SKALD 135 FOUNT OF URD 136 IDUNA'S RUNES 137 MINIER'S WELL 138 FRITHIOF'S SAGA 139 GOETHE 140 FAUST 141 SCHILLER , 142 HEINE 143 LA FONTAINE 144 CHATEAUBRIAND 145 BERANGER 146 VICTOR HUGO 147 HEREDIA 148 CARMEN SYLVA 149 TARA 150 STONEHENGE 151 THE ROUND TABLE 152 PASSING OF ARTHUR 153 EXCALIBUR 154 IN AVALON . . .155 [vi] PAGE CHAUCEB 156 CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE . . . 157 SPENSER 158 THE FAERIE QUEEN 159 WOODS OF ARDEN 160 SHAKESPEARE 161 HAMLET 162 BEN JONBON 163 MILTON 164 PARADISE LOST 165 Loss OF EDEN 166 GOLDSMITH 167 THE DESERTED VILLAGE .... 168 BURNS 169 SCOTT 170 LADY OF THE LAKE 171 WORDSWORTH 172 COLERIDGE 173 CRRISTABEL 174 TENNYSON . . . 175 PAQB PALACE or ART 176 BYRON 177 PRISONER OF CHILLON 178 SHELLET 179 ADONAIS 180 KEATS 181 HOOD 182 SONG OF THE SHIRT 183 BRYANT 184 "A FOREST HYMN" 185 EMERSON 186 POE 187 WHITTIER 188 "SNOW-BOUND" 189 LONGFELLOW 190 AD MAGISTBEM 191 HIAWATHA 192 PRISCILLA. 193 AT THB HALTING PLACE 194 AD LECTOREM . . . 195 [vii] THROUGH REALMS OF SONG THROUGH REALMS OF SONG W E twain have ventured on a journey long, Myself and idle Fancy neither wise Into a land o'erspread by morning skies, A land but little known unto the throng ; Thither alone have we two hied along The quiet path, invisible, that lies Close by those streams that border Paradise Fair path that led us on through realms of song. And now, returning thence, our fingers hold Stray leaves picked up along our lonely ways, Our ears are filled with music we have heard. Perchance these crumpled, faded leaves, unrolled, May show faint tracings to another's gaze Some half -remembered, half -forgotten word. [3 BETWEEN THE LINES I WONDER if at any time there will A reader come to turn these pages so That he may take the pains to con and know What sentiments of kindly Nature fill These limping lines, and having, too, the skill To read between them all that lies below Their even surface, in whose mirror show Only the pictures traced by senseless quill. And then meseems it as in prison cold One looks through slit in stone, through iron rods, He sees how fair and warm the summer shines ; And so, perchance, some reader may behold How fair a fancy 'tis that smiles, and nods, And beckons to him here between the lines. 4] THE SONNET 1 HE royal oak, alone, without a peer, Stands in the midst of subjects that surround . In close array, with deference profound, In sovereignty it brooks no rival near, But growing yet more sturdy year by year, Firm planted and deep rooted in the ground, With majesty of strength and beauty crowned, Unchallenged holds its gracious presence here. The sonnet has a province all its own, Maintains no retinue of courtiers nigh, Keeps in domain of letters honored place ; To every cultured language is it known For feelings that are deep, thoughts that are high, Yielding a form of stateliness and grace. [5] POESY JVlEN have in all times had their sacred shrine On lofty hill, a space of holy ground, Some spot with awful reverence compassed round, Within the silence of o'ershadowing pine; There have they sacrificed to powers divine, The flaming altar with their gifts have crowned And then have blaze of burning incense drowned In copious libations poured of wine. But Poesy, companion close of Art, Has ever dwelt within the vale below, Beside the waters of clear flowing springs ; There with her sister Graces lives apart, With soothing voice she charms a world of woe And to the heart of man she sweetly sings. THE POET 11 E touched a chord that had been slumbering long, He waked an echo from its dreamless sleep And gave to an ungracious world to keep The sweet enchantment of his idle song. His life was lost amid the busy throng Whose hearts and souls are all intent to reap Full profit of their toiling, on the deep As on the stable land their lives belong. And yet the poet played his humble part, Gave to the gainful task a keener zest, Fed lamps that in life's sanctuary burn; He found the highest motive in his art, Strove with all effort to attain the best, Nor asked he any guerdon in return. 7] THE IDLER x\ CARELESS saunterer, he meditates, While strolling idly crowded streets along With pace unmeasured, measure of a song Which to the praise of Love he dedicates; And as to his impassioned thought he mates Words that shall do its tenderness no wrong, The poet soon is lost amid the throng That hurries on and for him never waits. But when the day is ended with its care, With all its tasks that have been worried through, Its hours been bartered for a meager pay, Perchance some tired soul will be aware There was a pensive man whom no one knew, Yet kinsman of them all, in town today. [8] TRUTH AND BEAUTY /TL REALM of mystery to all beside Those who have been endowed with vision clear, With quick and keen perception of the seer, Who finds that truth and beauty are allied, That, each to other faithful, they abide; And those who have the finely practised ear In Nature's voice a harmony will hear Which to our duller senses is denied. That mystery avails to lure the bold Adventurer beyond the hither shore In search of what to him is fresh and new ; A bright mirage it is with charm to hold In spell of deep enchantment ; evermore He dwells with what is beautiful and true. [9] OLD-TIME SONG A YOUNG voice goes on singing all day long Light airs melodious in this crowded street, Amid loud roar of traffic, tramp of feet, Mad rush and medley of fast-hurrying throng ; A young voice singing ever clear and strong In tones of innocence divinely sweet Is heard in measured music to repeat Unstudied cadences of old-time song. Is it that feelings are no longer stirred, That memories are not wakened by the voice Which over all this din and tumult rings? Are those rich melodies no longer heard That once moved souls to sorrow and rejoice, To be uplifted as on angel wings? 10 THE SINGING ROBE W HO wears a singing robe is richly dight," Its loosened folds in rhythmic measure flow Adown his form his graceful figure show In happy blending of the dark and light, The silk in purple with the ermine white, That drape in harmonies the pain and woe With joy of triumph over fallen foe; The sweet succession of life's day and night. He need not wear the heavy crown of kings Nor need he yet a royal scepter bear To prove he is the sovereign of mind ; The potent spirit of the song he sings Makes conquest of the human heart, and there Is poet hailed as noblest of mankind. 11 CHARM OF MINSTRELSY 1 HE pagan gods are dead, Pan last of all To leave the shepherds and their shepherding On slopes enclosing the Pierian spring, Muse-haunted, whose clear waters in their fall Within the woods wake echoes musical That to the ears of later singers bring Harmonious numbers of what hymns they sing When would they celebrate Pan's festival. Yes, Pan is dead, his altar fires are cold, All withered are the garlands that were hung Around those altars at an earlier day; But yet the charms of minstrelsy still hold Their magic spell in what today is sung, The world delights in some sweet pastoral lay. 12] POWER OF SONG A LITTLE hand, that of a little maid Just starting on her pilgrimages here And of the future having yet no fear, Confidingly in my rough palm was laid While down the narrow grass-grown lane we strayed To where the mountain-shadowed brooks appear Running with currents musically clear As when in childhood on their banks I played. One hand was soft with finger-tips of rose, The other, wrinkled parchment written plain With record of the years marked deep and strong ; But yet the little hand led where it chose, And at what pace it chose, adown the lane; Such also is the magic power of song. [13] GIFT OF SONG 11 EA YEN'S almoner, most gracious to bestow Upon our world the gift of genial light, Who ranged the ridges of Cyllene's height, Equipped with quiver and with shining bow, And foaming wild boar close pursuing, so With fleet Diana of the moonlit night Shot his keen arrows of unerring flight And laid the frightened, panting quarry low. The loud, sharp twanging of the vibrant string Rang with a rhythmic sweetness to his ear, He listened to the cadenced tremor long ; Then did he teach the golden lyre to sing What were the gods Olympian glad to hear, He led the Muses in their rapturous song. 14 SONG AND REVERIE 1 HE winds are vocal on this summer's day, Are tuneful as they come between the hills, And, keeping pace with idly lapsing rills, They make a drowsy music on their way, For they have found thin reeds on which to lay Their lips in a warm glowing kiss that thrills Fond heart of Nature wakes the love that fills A universe as idle as are they. So are revived faint passions of the past, And sweetest memories come back anew When storied fields of thought and purpose vast With Song and Reverie are wandered through, Back to that eastern gateway where at last A glimpse of Eden flashes into view. 15] THE OVER-SONG W E deem it must be somewhat loud and strong, Some swift, onrushing organ-peal of sound, Or mighty voice from silences profound That unto unfrequented shores belong, Some cry of terror from the stricken throng Whom Fate has in extremest peril bound And with unspoken horror hemmed around ; We deem that this is Nature's over-song. But if we listen when the waves are still, When soundly sleeping lies the tired shore, When chambers of the shell hushed murmurs fill, A half-forgotten measure pondered o'er, Then laughing waters of a tinkling rill Sweet music of that over-song will pour. 16 ISLES OF SONG 1 HEY lie in quiet off our morning shore, But rarely seen just glimmering through the haze That haunts our coast on all these summer days, And hangs, a misty shroud, these waters o'er Those Isles of Song round which strong currents pour, Round which the idle ocean fondly plays, On their warm shelving sands a warm lip lays Breathing of peacefulness forevermore. Perhaps the vision of those isles is dim To those who look for them at night and morn, And indistinct at best their forms appear, But their lone site is fully known to him Who hears far over empty seas forlorn Their music sounding ever to his ear. 17 SONG, THE PILGRIM Vv HITHER, dear Heart of Song, wouldst hold thy way? Over a boundless and uncharted deep, Or over rugged mountains high and steep Wouldst thou for us the trails and courses lay? How hast thou shown a smiling face and gay Lightheartedness, though needing rest and sleep, Hast spoken cheerful words while others weep, And tried to make of life a holiday! And Song has traversed more than all the earth, Has never had a chance to rest his feet Till Pity's self was haply moved to tears; Yet through it all has kept a voice of mirth, A cheerful tone with which our hearts to greet, A youth unfading through fast aging years. 18 THE [CHORUS I E sweet- voiced singers of the earlier time That was of Poesy the Golden Age When Genius set upon the Athenian stage, Of thought most clear, of language most sublime, Harmonious with the laws of rhythm and rhyme, Its masterpieces of instruction sage, How Fate and human Destiny engage To prosecute forever Guilt and Crime ; Ye choral singers singing through the years, Ay, through the centuries unto this day, And heard upon this distant western shore ; How happens it this world of ours appears No wiser than was your world in its way, That guilt and crime seem nowise less, but more? 19] THE CHORAL DANCE W ITH clasped hands, devoutly circling round An altar garlanded with myrtle green, Fair maids in honor of the Cyprian Queen Weave festal dance, their brows with myrtle crowned ; Their feet unsandalled beat the grassy ground To music made by rustic Pan, unseen, Piping two scraggy olive trees between While lithe limbs register the mystic sound. Slowly the marble crumbles into dust, The chiseled lines so delicate grow dim, And flush of joy from maiden cheeks is gone ; But yet those lifelike, graceful figures must Repeat the modulation of the hymn As here the happy choral dance goes on. 20 THE DANCERS OAIL, blithesome dancers on the village green, At eventide when in the glowing west The sun has gone into his tent for rest, And purple mist is in the vales between; Hail, ye glad dancers now as gladly seen In handiwork of rustic weavers dressed Now is the piper playing at his best, And parents fond are looking on serene! How has the artist spared no practised skill To draw your figures to a flowing line, And from restraint your supple limbs release! The dance goes on while alien hands now fill This decorated amphora with wine, Nor will the piper's music ever cease. [21] IN THOUGHT IN thought that overpasses bounds of space, Nor heeds of time if it be now or then, That brings within our vision yet again What in far ages past has taken place ; In thought along the course of years I trace What bold adventures have been made by men To regions that were held mysterious when The world was new and when was new the race. Will there be at some distant future date One sentient being led in thought along To where this hour his halting-place may be, And will he tarry here to speculate What is, perhaps, the magic charm of song That to its sanctuary beckons me? [22 NATURE'S THOUGHT F AR from the noisy, crowded market-place, Here in the silence of the lonely wood, Alone with Nature in her solitude, I search the secret of her thought to trace In varied forms of leaf and flower that grace So richly tangled thicket where intrude But rarely feet of men to find her mood Shown in the smiles and tears upon her face. A sudden strain of music on the ear Comes with a sense of freedom and of power Such as to minstrelsy of birds belong ; Then is the mystery of that thought made clear, For Nature gives the charm of leaf and flower That she may have the melody of song. [23] ONE LITTLE THOUGHT little thought, abiding with me long, Has been content in friendly heart to stay, Companion of my dreams, and all the day At my heart's door singer of happy song ; One little thought the unskilled Muse would wrong. Were she to wed this to a common lay, To lead it forth upon the public way Where common thoughts on common objects throng. One little thought but precious all ah, well! In vain were my attempt to set it free, Since in my heart of hearts fain would it dwell And all of life would fare along with me ; Nay, only this my Muse of it can tell, That little thought, dear Love, is thought of thee. [24] ON THE INTERVALE 1 HEY spring to life beneath the viewless feet Of breezes wandering up or down between Two low hill-ranges bordering a green Expanse of meadow ; here a calm retreat Where fern-clad slope and stream each other greet ; The waters dallying in a mood serene Reflect the mirrored beauty of the scene, And all the region is with charm replete. They spring to life, these waves upon the grass, These ripples running with them on the stream As if had land and water spirits met ; They beat a rhythmic measure as they pass, A vision rises as in idle dream, We hear the music of a canzonet. 25 AT DAYBREAK LxAY comes with song brown thrushes in the wood, Red-breasted robins in close orchard trees And blackbirds piping merrily with these Wake each to happiness its sleeping brood ; There is a call of little ones for food, And over shadowed fields of grass one sees Barn swallows circling on the wing with ease, Repeating their short creed that life is good. Day comes with song that tells of happiness Among these humble creatures of the air, Whose grateful hearts in song thus overflow; Their blended voices raise a hymn to bless The gracious Hand that gives them constant care, And makes Heaven's goodness all the greater so. [26] IMPRISONMENT W ITHIN the prison of its cage confined, The captive bird sings on as merrily As when it sang out o'er the meadows free, And lavished music on the summer wind ; Now, to this forced imprisonment resigned, The bird does not abate its melody But still sings on heart-glad in memory Of open skies these gilded bars behind. The soul peers out through avenues of sense, Dim-lighted from fond smile of Heaven above, On boundless universe of worlds bestowed ; Though burdened with deep longing, most intense, It wooes with song companionship of Love And of a dungeon makes a blest abode. [27] SILENCE OAY, what is silence? 'Tis a passing thought Of what is left to us from pleasing sound For which again are waiting all around, Repeating that last strain, but hearing naught Of all the melody the morning brought, On field and forest lies a spell profound ; The noontide shadow, sleeping on the ground With hush of summer stillness, guards the spot. Sometimes upon the crowded street it seems, Among the many voices that we hear, There comes to us a long-remembered tone; And then, as in the vanishing of dreams, All other shapes and shadows disappear, And we are left with one dear friend alone. 28 SILENCE IN MUSIC /\. SHARE in music silence has with sound, The flow of melody runs as a rill Runs noisily adown the sloping hill, Sometimes in laughter as with sunshine crowned, And sometimes idly lingering around Deep pools which overhanging willows fill With shadows ; there the somber waters still Dream of their coursing in a sleep profound. The current of our feeling runs not long Without increase or slackening of its force, From time to time with sweet oblivion blessed, Not otherwise it must be with our song That, changing now and then its onward course, Halts by the willows for a needed rest. [29 MAGIC REEDS O REEDS on which the god of shepherds played While shepherds listened with delight of tears, Still are ye musical though no one hears When on your pipes mute lips of Eve are laid, The delicate sweet harmonies are made, Soft melting music coming to our ears ; We're not in mood of shepherds, it appears, With leaden cares our hearts are over weighed. Would that our thoughts might let us sit and dream While Evening hushes discords of the day And slowly draws thick curtains of the night; Then might we hear soft lapsing of the stream, Hear you, O reeds, upon its margin say, "We drink that music with how deep delight!" [30 NATURE'S HARMONIES 11 OW many different voices Earth can raise, Together chiming varied harmonies As perfumes, blended, call out eager bees From busy hives and lead them devious ways O'er meadow grounds through slumberous summer days; Aye chiming in sweet unison are these, Each modulated some fond heart to please, And all combined to sound their Maker's praise! In all the music of this vocal throng, Most subtle magic of enchanting word, Loud roar of waters as these pour along, Domestic twittering of home-keeping bird, In volume grand of Earth's exultant song Will any feeble note of mine be heard? [31] THE EMPTY SHELL A.N idle boy, at play upon the shore Of the mysterious sea, holds to his ear An empty-chambered shell that he may hear Repeated from far off the mighty roar Of billows, long incoming, dashing o'er Rough, broken ledges rising bold and sheer Against the ocean's rage, to domineer Those waters turbulent forevermore. If he were asked upon what curving strand Continuously the sounding billows roll, It were not easy for the boy to tell ; Nor is it easier to understand How much of that strange rhythm is in his soul, How little of it echoed from the shell. 32 THE DRUID was the priestly office to invoke Those powers spiritual that intervene Betwixt material things and those unseen, What once were gods for whom did altars smoke ; As if interpreter divine he spoke Explaining what the heavenly portents mean And what are whispered secrets of the green Umbrageous leafage of time-hallowed oak. Today the druid enters in the wood With other thoughts than those of fear and dread To meet his own soul's kindred spirit there, The peaceful quiet of that solitude Alarms him not it seems to him instead The holy silence of unspoken prayer. 33] ACROSS THE CENTURIES S OME gentle singer, in an age unknown, Told in his song a story of distress A tale of suffering and of wretchedness, With touch of human pity in its tone As if its burden had been his alone ; Those low sad notes have often served to bless Poor sorrowing hearts with their deep tenderness Until at length they serve to move mine own. O sweet- voiced singer of a far-off past, I know not of what land or tongue thou art, Yet for thy deep compassion cherished long ; Those loving notes of thine have come at last To modulate the beating of my heart ; I greet thee, "Brother!" in the Realm of Song. [34] BELATED HONORS V-iREEP, Ivy, creep in gentlest quietude Across the poet's tomb, with tendrils green, Within the shade where drooping willows lean Above the sleeping dead in mournful mood ; Here, where the poet rests, green ivy should In close embracing of gray stone be seen Planted and trained by loving hands that mean Thus may be shown their lasting gratitude; For, while he lived, the Muses gave him skill That waked the lyre to sweetest melody, And what they taught, their docile pupil learned ; Now that the voice is hushed, the strings are still, There should be given to his memory Belated honors that were nobly earned. 35 RELEASE 1 HE bird that has been in strict bondage bred, Has never tasted liberty how sweet! Is always ready minstrel to repeat The song, for singing which it has been fed; Finds life that is in calm seclusion led Flow on from day to day with peace replete As life of anchorite in lone retreat, Changeless as stars are, stationed overhead. But let loud singing of the lark be heard, Outpouring all its heart in ecstacy, The memory of that song will never cease To stir to fluttering the captive bird, To waken native longing to be free, And turn its song to pleading for release. [36] IN THE GALLERY great the gift of genius was his Whose rich creative power of thought could trace What in the calmness of this lovely face Repose of marble meditation is! This look has kept throughout long centuries The artist's fond ideal of our race, The poet's dream of loveliness and grace That comes to him in realm of reveries. This mild expression wins me from before Statues of gods, as gods were held of old, And groups of mythic heroes, gathered here; This face of quiet beauty charms me more Than in my halting measure can be told ; It is as if an angel should appear. 37 NATURE'S SYMPHONIES oMALL part, indeed, of Nature's symphonies Comes to the dull, the inattentive ear Of him who is indifferent to hear Sweet song of birds, soft murmuring of bees, Low whispering of pine tops to the breeze, Rustling of Autumn's raiment brown and sere, Bold Winter's challenge ringing loud and clear To match for music Summer's melodies. Our own the blame; we fail to cultivate What faculties were given us at birth The true to hear, the beautiful to see ; Our thought, to selfish uses dedicate, Neglects to note the friendliness of Earth And lacks at last the broadened sympathy. 38 TRIUMPH OF SONG 1 HE stone, inscribed, is slowly ground to dust, High granite walls, laid up by mortal hand, Will crumble down into coarse desert sand, Memorial bronze will be consumed by rust; All work, except that done by Nature, must Tend to decay; however wisely planned And strongly built, the structure cannot stand; To things material we cannot trust. Only the Spirit builds to outlast time, For this one purpose using human thought, Possessing truth that lives through ages long ; With this erects an edifice sublime On which Fame's noblest eulogies are wrought, And herein find we triumph grand of Song. 39 MINSTRELSY UNHEARD of my soul, O thou that leadest me Into the rich and wide domain of Song, Taking a solitary way along Some meadow stream that winds down to the sea, Flooding its reedy banks with melody, How should I do those gentle spirits wrong Who to these festivals of Nature throng, Were I at such a time to sing to thee! Heart of my heart, here let us rest the while We listen for that minstrelsy unheard Except by those who reverently come ; Here now will Nature greet us with a smile, Nor shall we find occasion for a word ; In adoration souls devout are dumb. [40 PAN W HEN Heaven at first, in all-embracing plan, Provided means by which the human soul Should rise through effort to its destined goal, Attain angelic dignity in man, Then numbers in harmonious strains began To rule his steps, his conduct to control Round his completed life to perfect whole Under the kindly tutelage of Pan. Pan led the winds along bright meadow stream Whose running waters wakened vocal reeds, He posted Echo halfway up the hill ; Sang to the sleeping shepherd in his dream Such music as an upward climbing leads The Soul Heaven's highest purpose to fulfill. [41] DEATH OF PAN UF pagan gods was Pan the last to die, And when he died, off Parga's rocky shore, Those sparkling blue Illyrian waters o'er Came from the hills long shepherded the cry, "Great Pan is dead!" beneath the open sky, On sunny slopes were shepherd choirs no more Heard singing choral measures as of yore, The best of shepherds thus to glorify. Went out of human life a joy that day That never will on earth again be known, Gladness produced by simple harmony, The heart contented on the hills to stay, To take the summer beauty as its own And of the summer sounds make melody. 42 FAUNS V>/NE faun sits piping in the ample shade By outstretched arms of oak thrown on the ground, Soothes midday into silence, while around Stand others hearing music that is made Upon the vocal reed so fondly played; Charmed by the simple melody of sound, Life is their blessing, with delight is crowned Exile from Eden being yet delayed. All this upon the pitcher at the well To show what happy thought the artist had When came this vessel from the potter's wheel He found in this design the means to tell How little do we need to make us glad When we for simple art have learned to feel. 43 THE SILENT MUSE INTO the august presence of his chief Strode suddenly Achilles, bluff and rude, Of temper passionate, in angry mood, His words, discourteous, were sharp and brief, Scarce had he given his pent-up wrath relief When he was conscious close behind him stood Athena in her peerless maidenhood; He turned was silent for his shame and grief. So are the brave notes of the singer stilled With realizing he at length has come The unimpassioned Silent Muse before, His ardent soul with icy breath is filled, The lips that have been jubilant are dumb, And song of his will be heard nevermore. 44 LAURIGER OF old the flutist, playing airs divine In honor of Apollo, went before The Grecian youth who bough of laurel bore From Tempe's vale to Delphi's honored shrine, Due offering to Art's patron and a sign Of fealty to ancient mythic lore, Immortal praises of the god that pour Triumphantly along the Dorian line. This was a fitting tribute to the powers That ruled of Greece the highest destinies And for her fashioned splendid forms of art ; And nobler yet it makes this task of ours, To lead through brighter meads of song than these The rhythmic overflowings of the heart. 45 ANGELS' VISITS longer do men listen well to hear Angelic voices singing hymns of praise, Nor do men as in patriarchal days Expect an angel at their tent appear When are in dimness blended far and near, When stars come out with friendly smiling rays To light the pilgrim on deserted ways, Late seeking shelter, seeking rest and cheer. No, we have tried to measure infinite space, Have sought for sources whence do centuries flow, Left unobserved small garden of the heart ; So does it happen that we cannot trace Short paths by which God's angels come and go ; Heaven lying from us so small space apart! 46 AT WHEEL AND LOOM INDUSTRIOUSLY the maiden at her wheel Spins flaxen fibers that are smooth and strong Into a shining thread where none goes wrong, The work directed by her fingers' feel, And when is distaff bare, the twirling reel Winds off the knotted skein, while all day long Her work goes to the measure of a song That tells of lives were noble, hearts were leal. While busy matron at her weaving plies Her shuttle as the swallow skims the plain A rhythmic maze describing in the sun; We hear the shuttle singing as it flies, Accompanied by a familiar strain ; The songs of maid and matron are but one. 47] THE SCROLL 1J.OW little of man's craftsmanship remains From times remote, from half -forgotten lands, That kept employed so many toiling hands On palaces, strong fortresses and fanes, King's coffers filling up with hoarded gains! Now only worn and broken column stands, All else reduced to loosely-winnowed sands More widely spreading out bare desert plains. More is there left to us of ancient thought, Ethereal fabrics of the poet's mind And lofty visions of heroic soul ; All these in words of full-toned music brought, In mellowed sweetness of the years, we find Inscribed upon this worn and faded scroll. 48 THE QUIETIST 1 HE moving lips are mute, the voice is dumb, No words of prayer in trembling accents rise On bated breath unheard the tender sighs Of adoration and of faith that from A bosom all of sweet desire come; All are as silent as those brimming eyes Within whose depths a heaven reflected lies, Of peace and joy of happiness the sum. It may be that the Quietist, in fond And deep devotion to the Heavenly Power, Unto the throne of God comes very near, Or that some angel, from the world beyond, Bends over him in this ecstatic hour And to his unvoiced longing lends an ear. 49 THE MYSTIC 1 HE world may vanish; with it every sun Be blotted out in darkness absolute; The stars in spheral courses may be mute Stars vocal since creation was begun; The planets with the earth may cease to run, All motion stop, its forces to recruit And of its labors gather up the fruit, And Nature may proclaim her purpose done ; But yet there stands the universe the same Unto the mystic's gaze as 'twas before, That which has vanished empty was and vain There always will be wherewithal to frame A universe of light and praise once more So long as truth and reason shall remain. 50 SUGGESTION W HO hears the ringing of the vesper bell Come over waters from far miles away And on the silence of the evening lay Of Sabbath stillness the entrancing spell, Finds not in mortal speech the power to tell What mild enchantment of the spirit may The finer feelings of his being sway, And cause the sympathetic tears to well. So near they come, and yet from source how far, Those thoughts that meet us when at eventide We walk abroad and deem ourselves alone! Unconscious of their coming as we are And startled thus to find them at our side, We yet see they are kindred to our own. [51] OUR EXEMPTION V-lUR world is one of music and of song; The rivers in their journeying to the sea Make, on their downward course, continually A low, sweet murmur as they rush along ; . The winds come from the hills, too, blowing strong Through pine tops that are stringed for min- strelsy, With unfelt touches wake to melody Soul-haunting measures that have slumbered long. We need but listen, to those notes give heed, Lend ear unto the voice of flood and wood, Weave into rhythmic strain the sounds they bring; Of our own labored work there is no need, Our tones are harsh, our composition rude, No reason is there we should try to sing. 52 GIPSIES 1 HE gay, light-hearted players to the sun With singing fill the hours as these pass, Keep up their ceaseless chirping in the grass, Ten thousand crickets with the voice of one; They take no note of when the day is done More than the sand which, running in the glass, Marks when an hour of sunshine ends, alas! And when another cycle is begun. So passes life beneath the open sky Among the children of a homeless race Whose history is not of months and years ; Whose plans and purposes are bounded by No limits definite of time and place, But by the light and shade of smiles and tears. [53] THE PITY 11 OW great the pity any hearts are sad When so much beauty in the world is found, The heavens by day and night with splendor crowned ; The woods and orchards all with singing glad, The sloping fields and meadows richly clad, Sweet-scented violets springing from the ground ; From smiling scenes and melody around So much of joy in living to be had! How great the cheerless pity is that we Who have unfailing sources of delight Should make our dwelling in a vale of tears; Should never lift our eyes above to see How in the glory of creation bright Most strangely wonderful our world appears! [54] MUSIC UNCONDITIONED 1 HERE would be music though were no one near To listen to glad singer's merry note Of joy in living, sung from tuneful throat Of happy bird whose voice rings loud and clear; For if there were no human soul to hear That simple song, repeated as by rote, There would yet be some faithful heart to dote Upon the singing of a mate most dear. Earth has her choir of voices trained to raise Glad matin song of greeting and of cheer, Sweet evensong to charm the world to rest; And were the world to lack these songs of praise, There would be silence deep in which to hear Far spheral music, and mankind were blest. 55 SORROW'S SERVICE 1 HE workman having forged a shapely blade And having polished this upon the wheel, Engraves upon the brightly glittering steel Some text of honor, pledge of duty made To king or country, worthy homage paid At shrine of beauty, where do champions kneel ; Then is the heated sabre made to feel The chill of waters its slight form invade. When Heaven has sent a poet soul to dwell Upon the earth for man's allotted years, No further grace is left for soul to ask; But it has been ordained by Heaven as well That fervid soul should be baptized in tears To be attempered to its nobler task. [56] BY THE STREAM Wi E watch the river on its seaward course Sweep round the headland with its current strong, And at the rocky narrows rush along, Leap down the ledges with increasing force ; We hear the river's voice from murmuring hoarse Fall to the gentle cadence of a song Where with the wind-blown reeds it lingers long ; We see not how it gets back to its source. Day follows day into remoteness vast As runs the rapid river to the sea, They vanish like the vision of a dream ; But when the days of morn and eve are past Into the measureless eternity, We then shall know whence issues forth the stream. [57] WINGED WORDS VjUICK words are spoken in reproof of wrong, Brave words are boldly uttered in debate Where men are gathered to deliberate, And where runs party spirit deep and strong ; Words that have lived in hearts of people long, Made vital with the spirit of the great, Serenely bearing sentiments of weight, Or made immortal, woven into song; Such words with keenness of the Indian's dart, And feathered with the lightest plumes of wit, Speed as through storm-cloud flash the light- ning flames; Such words, escaping from the speaker's heart, Unerring in their flight, are bound to hit The mark, though far, at which the speaker aims. [58] INSCRIBED JjESIDE the mighty, onward-flowing Nile The pyramids in silent mystery stand, Their thought, in Egypt's lonely waste of sand, Inscrutable as is of Sphinx the smile, On sculptured face of most majestic pile A poet's lines are traced by Roman hand ; Two thousand years have passed in pageant grand, But yet their tender feeling lives the while. We know not who designed the pyramid, Who ordered to their task the Egyptian host, What secret in its darkened crypt lies hid, Of what proud deed its pictured chambers boast ; But here in poet's phrase a stranger did Record his grief for what the heart had lost. 59 PERSIA'S POET BENEATH full splendor of the desert skies That border empty Persian sands around, Within scant shadow of acacia found The poet of all doubt and unfaith lies And dreams a heart-sufficing Paradise ; The cares of life in draughts Lethean drowned, His wrinkled brow with Bacchic ivy crowned, He drains his jug of wine Silenus-wise. So has the World through all the ages tried To ease the aching heart, the troubled soul, And deem itself with present pleasures blest ; But when of sorrow comes the whelming tide, Along the shores of life its billows roll And sweep that frothy reasoning with the rest. 60] OMAR KHAYYAM 1 GET of life, who fortunately found A little garden in a desert place, Where grew at hand the Muses' herb-o'-grace, And only was "the Wilderness" around, And where of life was heard not any sound Except the bulbuTs notes to interlace Light tinkling waters in the fountain vase A melody with reverent silence crowned! Thy quaint philosophy we ponder well And wonder if its scheme we understand, If its elusive spirit we have caught ; Still do thy softly-cadenced verses tell To those who read them in an alien land The life immortal of poetic thought. 61 THE PAGAN WORLD 1 HE Pagan World lived nearer to the Source Of Life than we ; it reverently heard Low whispering pine tops, sweetly singing bird, Wild winds at play with ocean breakers hoarse, In fancy followed them upon their course ; With sense of awe the pagan soul was stirred, In adoration listened for the Word That should command all elemental Force. But we today are all intent to find What power is slumbering on in beds of ore, To our own use feed sacrificial flame ; We strive avenging wrath of Jove to bind To menial service, wasting Nature's store, Regardless from what Hand the bounty came. 62 ON THE SACRED WAY V-/UT from Athena's city, violet-crowned, Went men and women in procession long With piping shrill and with melodious song. Unblemished offerings with fillets bound Were led in front, and maidens danced around; Black-bearded priests were mingled with the throng, Repeating praises as they moved along The Eleusinian way to holy ground. And evermore mankind are going forth Along the sinuous boundaries of time, Some sacred shrine of worship yet their goal ; They count that day the one of greatest worth That brings to them a vision more sublime; Brings into view bright City of the Soul. 63 HEAD OF APHRODITE 1 HOUGH mute these lips of marble, yet they speak What in the lofty artist soul was thought What time the hand of sculptor fondly wrought Unfading youth upon that brow and cheek; No further mystery need any seek Of sudden rapturous feeling that was caught For that sweet loveliness by Genius brought Upon those lips that are divinely Greek. Ah! would it be some whispered word of love, Framed to awake delight of mortal ear, If only power of utterance had been given? Or would it be some simple strain above Our unaccustomed sense of sound to hear, Some missing note kept in reserve for Heaven? [64 HELLAS A.FAR from us, beyond the ocean wide, Beyond abode of famed Hesperides, Bathed by the waters of Ionian seas, Lies Hellas glittering in translucent tide, Her storied plains and mountains glorified In song by her heroic memories Of valor shown by sons defending these ; By noble sons who for her freedom died. So is it Hellas lives for us today, A splendid monument to valor's worth Wherever man for truth and victory strives ; An inspiration to mankind for aye While Right must be maintained upon the earth, And Liberty outvalues human lives. [65 ORPHEUS VxRPHEUS, the minstrel, by his unmatched skill, Ruled Hermes' lyre that its chords vibrate In melody, charm keeper of Hell's gate To dull forgetfulness of duty, fill Dim courts of Pluto with his music till Lord of the dead his rigor should abate, Allow the singer to reclaim his mate And let the fond wife follow at her will. Ah, happy both, had he but kept in mind The one condition of their blessedness, And held his gaze toward realms of genial light ; But Love, unthinking, made him look behind Upon the face that was his life to bless Only to find it fading out of sight. 66] EURYDICE 1 HE saddest page in Love's sad history Is that which tells how by the magic charm Of his sweet music Orpheus did disarm Hell's guardian beast of his ferocity; And how he came to where Persephone, With Pluto reigning, trembled in alarm By song and lyre he soothed all dread of harm, Won back to life his lost Eurydice. By one condition only were they bound, The pair returning to their native skies ; He should not turn as he went on before. With happiness existence would be crowned ; If they could look into each other's eyes, Hell were itself a Heaven evermore. [67] SONG'S HERITAGE W HEN Orpheus died, was lost the magic skill That led his hand along the trembling wire, While this, accordant with the heart's desire, Rang out responsive to the player's will, Mute to remain those tuneful strings until Apollo should take up the fallen lyre, Again its tones with melody inspire, Again with magic touch its being thrill. What was at first of mortal origin Came to immortal heritage at length, Yet was upon the earth allowed to stay ; So is it that the nobler arts begin, Favor of gracious Muses gives them strength, And Heaven's indulgence grants us them for aye. 68 MELPOMENE OAD was she called the Muse of lyric verse, Gifted with song, sweet- voiced Melpomene, When she was called the chorister to be, To help the players on the stage rehearse Woes of the house of Laius even worse Than was of Priam's house the destiny When Troy to ruin fell, in misery Did envious Fate the royal queen submerse. Ill-fortuned Song that should have led the dance When were the purple grapes of autumn pressed, When vintagers kept their high festival ; On sacred days should have gone in advance Of victims with pure snowy fillets dressed, To loftier feelings have inspired all! 69 ATYS 11 OW close the kinship of our mortal race With flowers that blossom in the early spring, These into life a breath of incense bring And give a wealth of beauty to the place! How gladly would we keep their gentle grace Charms of the sense that close about them cling, Delay the season of their withering And fold them in Affection's fond embrace! Upon this law does myth of Atys rest ; The great Earth-Mother wished him for her own While to a human love his heart was true ; His body sleeps upon the Mother's breast, But from his blood have purple violets grown With every year to pay Love's vows anew. 70 NIOBE O WOMAN, thou of suffering hadst known More than is given to mortal heart to share, And heavier woe than human soul could bear, Wast blessed by favor of the gods alone In sorrowing to grieve thyself to stone! O'er this the trickling streams deep furrows wear, Whose channels show grief immemorial there, Thus symbolizing stifled sob and groan. Whether it be that once relenting Fate In pity of a mother's broken heart Did grant to her this measure of relief ; Today there stands by the disconsolate Thy figure made familiar in our art To show how old is our most recent grief. [71] PSYCHE A.S when do buds upon the orchard trees Waken to beauty on the April air To find the world about them is how fair, How sweet the breathing of the April breeze, How musical the murmuring of bees! A flush of gladness mantles branches bare As though some consciousness were wakened there, Of new-created sovereign power to please. So was it Psyche wakened once to find The world about her beautiful and bright, Welcomed herself so smilingly to earth ; She scarcely dreamed that graces of the mind Crown all creative effort with delight All Nature gladdened by that happy birth. 72 PSYCHE AND PROSERPINA IT is a spacious, dimly-lighted sphere Without a sun, a moon, or any star To make distinction between near and far In space or time eternity the year Two presences upon the way appear, The one is Ceres' child, Proserpina, Brought hither once in Pluto's ghostly car And made the queen of unfleshed spirits here ; The other, Psyche from the world above; And each to each had these two been well known When they were playmates, living on the earth ; Now are they drawn together by the love No less by their long separation grown ; They bless and pity each the other's birth. 73 PYGMALION U PON the formless stone Pygmalion wrought To realize the ideal of his mind, From day to day strove patiently to find That excellence of beauty which he sought, A passing glimpse of which his soul had caught Upon the background of his faith outlined ; Celestial grace to human love inclined, But yet beyond the grasp of human thought. The chisel falls, the sculptor's work is done, The grace and comeliness of woman stand Before him reason reels from love and joy! Alas, that triumph such as this is won! Were it not better that the artist hand Its cunning had forgotten to employ? 74] ATHENA 1* ROM brain of Zeus the prudent goddess springs, Equipped for war and most divinely fair, Her realm the spacious field of ambient air Which round the earth in folds transparent clings, Soft meadow breeze, the fanning of her wings On which she comes at times of weighty care To bid the rash adventurer beware, Or comfort of sustaining courage brings. What matters it we may not see the maid As she was seen of old on field of strife, Feel her restraining as did Thetis' son? Who goes to shrine of Duty unafraid, To Wisdom gives full measure of his life, Enjoys at last the triumph victory won. DIONYSUS W HO was the god of life those hidden springs Of vital forces that in Nature dwell He was the sovereign lord of death as well, Destroying utterly that which life brings ; Yet this divinity of mystic things So widely separate as heaven and hell, Threw over souls of worshippers a spell Inspiring what the minstrel artist sings. So is it that the round of life is made As in the circle of a choral dance Around the secret Eleusinian shrine ; The noblest enterprise by man essayed, His betterment in spirit to advance, Comes from his feeling life and death divine. 76 THE CARYATIDES 1 HEY bear the burden of high pediment, These marble figures of the woman slave ; Upon their heads the heavy architrave Rests evermore the years will not relent ; And yet, as with a gift they had been sent To sacred shrine, these women duly grave Now bear themselves in bondage strong and brave, The step aye steady and the neck unbent. Ye archetypal women, doomed to bear All burdens, without murmuring, patiently, As these are portioned by unfeeling Fate ; Ye have the grace in wretchedness to wear High look of dauntless courage and to be Chief ornament of temple and of state. [77] PAEAN healing, O Apollo, on the rays Of Morning as she climbs far eastern hills! Send healing of the many grievous ills Our people suffer these unhappy days! Send healing, thou, and grateful hands shall raise An altar to thee, whereon myrrh distils A fragrance that thy grove and temple fills, While round the shrine we chant a hymn of praise." Such was the cry of poor hearts in distress When Pestilence, unseen in noonday light, Walked by the side of helot and of king ; The people had their simple faith to bless Their aching hearts faith in Apollo's might And in his readiness relief to bring. 78 CYDIPPE'S PRAYER 1 WAS Argos' festival, of all the year The day to Here's worship dedicate, Then Argive people thronged her temple gate, Impatient for her priestess to appear ; Her car should have been drawn by sacred steer With fillets decorated when too late Her two sons, running at their swiftest rate, Triumphantly drew their fond mother here. When were the sacred rites of worship brought To close, Cydippe stood in silent prayer That Here send her sons what gift was best; Then in the temple's shaded porch she sought Her tired children found them sleeping there Death's dreamless slumber they were richly blessed. [79] UP PARNASSUS 15UT little way upon this toilsome road Our steps have brought us toward our destined goal, How much is left untraveled of the whole We planned when first into this path we strode! Not knowing then how burdensome a load Of care we took; how heavy was the dole; Were disappointments to o'erwhelm the soul; What duties were to ancient usage owed. Now that we've come to feel our work a task, To find the path grow steeper day by day, Aye lengthening with the shadows growing long, Of our attendant Muse we only ask She let us halt at times along the way And cheer us with a soul-inspiring song. 80 TRAGEDY OOW have we watched the swift cloud shadows run, Light-footed, these bright summer meadows o'er, As if they fled in merry mood before The close-pursuing laughter of the sun, Until at last of shadows there was one Was heavy with dark threatenings it bore, With wind, with hail, the deep-voiced thunder's roar, And when this had gone by was ruin done. So on the stage of human life do we Of Fortune watch the alternate smile and frown, See either for short victory compete ; And when the sport of cruel Fate is he Who has put on the long-desired crown, Then is the work of Ruin most complete. [81] ENDYMION sleeps Endymion in the Latmian cave In all the freshness of his childhood years ; Age with his wrinkled forehead never nears The sleeper's couch nor any watcher save Silene, stealing softly o'er the wave, Comes to that restful chamber she appears Night after night, pale from her maiden fears, Nor has she blushed for that fond kiss she gave. And still the myth its magic charm retains, Still does the sleeper keep the bloom of youth, Now comes Silene as she came of old. From Time's remotest infancy Love reigns Over the planetary orbs, in truth, More surely yet does Love that dreamer hold. 82 LETHE UF all the streams that pour their flood around The outer borders of the world below, Cocytus with its burdening of woe, Scarce-moving Acheron, whose waves resound With groans of pain, with sobs of grief profound, And Styx with deadly hate o'erloaded so Its turbid, sluggish currents hardly flow Of all is Lethe with sweet solace crowned. For Lethe's tide, charged with forgetfulness, Affords a healing draught to Sorrow's pain, Brings to the Passions calm relief of sleep ; And there is wherein it has grace to bless The troubled soul, for in our dreams remain What memories devoted Love would keep. 83 NEMESIS ITS moving shadow keeps at equal pace Along with substance wheresoe'er this goes, And where does stationed body find repose The faithful shadow e'en yet haunts that place ; Day after day across the dial's face The gnomon traces circling line that shows How pass the hours to the long day's close, Its final falling into night's embrace. Silent as shadows creeping o'er the grass, Forever hastening toward their destined goal With steps that never their direction miss, In comradeship with hours as they pass, There comes before the shrinking, guilty soul, Dimly outlined, dread form of Nemesis. 84 HOMER F AR off, far off, as in another age And in another realm of human thought, Wherein ambitions of today were nought But dreams unworthy patriot and sage, We hear a strain of music to engage Attention of our souls to rapture caught, While we behold such deeds of valor wrought As are not shown upon historic page. O Genius, availing to create A world in which humanity attains Its height in virtue as was virtue then ; Where Sorrow ever holds her royal state, And woman in her loveliness remains To be forever idolized of men! 85 SONG OF LINUS J. HE genial earth, the fondly fostering rain, The smiling summer sun each has its share In seconding the plowman's prudent care And bringing to its prime the ripening grain Until the golden harvest on the plain Waves to warm winds of August blowing there, Rising and falling with the rhythmic air As rise and fall long billows on the main. And when at length come harvesters to reap, And women gleaners follow in their wake To garner all the bounty of the soil, Then is the Song of Linus raised to keep The movement steady for the laborers' sake, To give them pastime and to sweeten toil. 86 HELEN llEAVEN with its smiling lends its loveliness To what of beauty lies about us here ; Beneath that brightness earth and sea appear Robed in Creation's new- wove bridal dress; But when the genial light shall cease to bless With softest radiance what is lying near, Then will our world a planet shining clear Give back the day through realms are measureless. So is it with the beauty that once led White sails of Greece across the ^Egean Sea, Led warrior princes from their homes afar; E'en to our world is Helen's glory shed Above the horizon verge of history, She lingers, smiling, as bright evening star. [87] ON THE WALL vjLAD in the beauty of a starry night, Came Helen from the palace to the wall Where were the Trojan elders seated all, Came, to their eyes a vision of delight; Their hearts were cheered and gladdened by the sight Of so great loveliness, and yet a pall Of sorrow did upon their spirits fall For their dead heroes fallen in the fight. In such a way as this how often we Some gleam of beauty wonderful behold As form of pitying angel bending o'er, And in the splendor of that vision see The painfully unhappy story told Of what had taken place long time before! 88 ACHILLES AND ATHENA W ITH indignation deep his high soul burned, Mean taunt of cowardice with scorn he met, Disdained to notice Agamemnon's threat Of violence; for safety unconcerned, He rested calm; but when at length he learned His chief a greater wrong than any yet Had planned, his fingers to the hilt were set In wrath Athena warned him ; quick he turned. His glance was one of anger, but he knew The calmness in those steadfast eyes of blue, In that low voice, by him alone was heard Of all the encampment on the Phrygian shore, Back to its scabbard slipped the half -drawn sword, Lord of himself Achilles was once more. [89] HECTOR'S PARTING UNFADING picture, that domestic scene As the great master painted human life, Troy's Hector,, going into deadly strife, Outside the Scaean gate turns to his queen, To sad Andromache the nurse between Holds their young babe, proud treasure of the wife, Hope of the City with forebodings rife, Recalling, too, the father's noble mien. There stands that outlined group before our eyes; What tenderness upon that mother's face, On Hector's what devotion to the State! We hear the affrighted infant's feeble cries, Upon those faces pain of parting trace, The picture typifies our human fate. 90 ODYSSEUS r AR had he wandered, many cities known, With men of various moods and morals met, At Troy had borne ten years of war, and yet The Fates had singled out this man alone, With risk and peril his long way had strewn. Through seas that were with magic islands set Foregoing song of sirens with regret At last he was on stranger island thrown. Strict allegory this of mortal life That years and years laborious takes us o'er And leaves us spent upon an alien strand ; After the heavy toiling and the strife It brings us shipwrecked to an unknown shore To meet with kindness at an angel's hand. [91] PENELOPE r ATTERN of faithfulness through weary years While was her lord engaged in mortal strife Waged once at Troy for Menelaus' wife, Doomed cause of countless miseries and tears ; Keeping through longer time of doubts and fears A heart with love and true devotion rife, With courage meeting trials of our life, Most womanly Penelope appears. Her name wears glory ever since the bard To whom that clearer vision did belong Which Heaven in pity to the blind allows, Gave to her constancy the high reward Of praises due in his immortal song, Chanting the virtue of Odysseus' spouse. 92 OFF SIGEUM lines inscribed on monumental stone, No pyramid upraised by toil of slaves, No cairn heaped high with pebbles from the waves Tells with a tone of sadness all its own Where were the slaughtered heaps of heroes thrown When Greek and Trojan youth shared common graves, And earth drank more of blood than desert craves Of water victor and vanquished equally unknown. They need it not the dead who slumber there Beside the ^Egean sea that evermore Repeats sad dirges on that lonely strand ; They show on Homer's page how bright and fair The names of those who perished on that shore; Their deeds of valor showing yet how grand! 93 SAPPHO As music heard across a sylvan lake Comes with a softened cadence to the ear, The one who listens there is charmed to hear How sweet a melody the numbers make ; Upon the stillness of the evening break The liquid notes as ripples they appear On our lone shore, sent from another sphere; We stop and listen for the singer's sake. And so it is that now and then a strain Of Lesbian music comes from out the past In company with some endearing word, We find in song repeated once again After the lapse of centuries how vast! Low warbling sweet'of Sappho fondly heard. 94 KLEIS &WEET maiden dowered with a poet's praise, And by the grace of that fair gift alone To men of these remoter ages known, Known and beloved for what the singer says Thou hast thy splendid portion in these days And in this land far distant from thine own ; Unconscious are we how much time has flown When now perusing Sappho's softest lays. No mausoleum mortal hands could build No epitaph on brazen tablet grand Could keep the memory of a name so long As these few lines with tender passion filled Have by their beauty from the years been saved, And still are breathing strains of Lesbian song. 95 A FRAGMENT iTOW has the glory of the weaver's skill Brought solace often to some aching breast, To tired hand has offered grateful rest And soothed an over-troubled soul until The heart was quiet and the passion still With vision of a dear one's figure dressed In fabric fit for entertaining guest, Or fit for choral dance to pipe and quill. Such thought comes with a verse remembered lonj By which my mother would her toil relieve Soft singing of the shuttle heard above, Linked with a strain of Lesbian Sappho's song, "O mother dear, my web I cannot weave, My heart is thinking of the youth I love!" 96] ERINNA MORTAL singer by the Muses taught, Who with them sang unto a world's delight, How can one, not thus favored, now requite A debt of grateful homage as he ought? What offering to thy worship shall be brought Worthy thy genius? Who shall now indite Songs that shall fittingly thy charms recite In measured verse, of strains immortal wrought? 1 take not to myself such lofty task, My hand would venture not to touch the string That quivers still with thy intense desire ; Only would I of god Apollo ask That he will from his flaming altar bring Some spark of Poesy's celestial fire. 97 AESCHYLUS 'A- iTHENIAN ^Eschylus, Euphorion's son, In his last rest doth 'neath this stone abide 'Mid the wheat fields of Gela where he died. Be witness of his manhood, Marathon!" Such legend was inscribed upon the stone That marked the grave of him who glorified High tragedy with genius denied To all except Euphorion's child alone. This record shows that poets 'even then With some prophetic sense foresaw the sword Would win for Valor most enduring bays ; That in the world of action grateful men Would set bold deed above inspired word, Give to brave warrior his full meed of praise. 98 PROMETHEUS 1 HE mind is prone to send its thought abroad Upon a far and hopeless quest to find What still lies hidden in the Sovereign Mind And in the eternal providence of God ; Thought goes where never yet have angels trod, Leaves all the present peace and joy behind, Unto its toil and fruitless task resigned As is the slave submissive to the rod. Once only Jove attempted to control, To curb mankind's insatiable desire For prying into mysteries profound, And then it was that the Promethean soul Showed itself proof against celestial ire Although the man to Caucasus were bound. [99] PINDAR LjREAT Soul that didst inspire Hellenic song Yet lingering on the ever-quivering strings, That from the past a blended echo brings Of shouts still urging Hiero's car along And plaudits of the loud-acclaiming throng ; Thy song, immortal, through the ages rings, We see the crowd, see Victory fold her wings And with wild olive crown the athlete strong! The gods of Hellas are now empty names, Their sacred temples buried in the dust, But still wild olive thrives upon her plains ; The fame survives of her Olympic games, The emblazoned victory is undimmed by rust, The victors living in thy lofty strains. [100 AT OLYMPIA W E see mad horses rushing at full speed Adown the course; discordant calls we hear Of wild spectators warning charioteer That he the pillars at the turning heed ; "Give rein to outer, curb the inner steed, Nor try to graze firm-planted stone too near!" Yet others hail with loud applauding cheer The driver's daring, horses' royal breed. All this has Pindar shown in glowing lines That tell of victories more proudly won Than those rewarded by a kingdom's crown; Upon his page the name of Hiero shines As that of winner in the courses run, Thus gaining an imperishable renown. [101] SOPHOCLES u NRIVALLED master of the Athenian stage, He brought full glory to dramatic art, He sounded to its depths the human heart, Set forth its passions on the Attic page ; He traced man's destiny from birth to age, Looked calmly on life in its every part, Felt guilt's remorse and knew the bitter smart Of baffled aims when evil passions rage. It was the part of an heroic soul To question sphinx-like mysteries of Fate, Draw out the monitory truth from these ; The one who saw of human life the whole, Its ills how many, sufferings how great, And gave them living form, was Sophocles. [102] AT AULIS 1 HE ships were idle in the sheltered bay, The men were idle, too, upon the shore, Impatient for their places at the oar, From Greece to wind-swept Troy to get away; The priests declared grim cause of the delay, Offended gods must be appeased before The winds would calm, the fleet could sail once more, A virgin's blood alone Heaven's wrath allay. The priest for sacrificial victim took The king's own child the father turned aside And drew his mantle close before his face ; He could not bear his daughter's pleading look, Keen anguish of his soul he could not hide, Nor bear to give his child the last embrace. 103 ANTIGONE JL/ARK night reveals more to our wondering gaze Than day with all its wealth of light can show ; Across the boundless heavens in order go Unnumbered worlds upon their several ways, Not one in all that ordered movement stays Its measured progress, be it fast or slow, But keeping in its line of service so The majesty of sovereign law obeys. And there are other worlds of ordered plan, Embracing humble duties manifold Whose claims upon us are a mystery ; Mild offices of love from man to man, Firm loyalty to Heaven that we hold, Shown in fixed purpose of Antigone. 104 ANTIGONE AT COLONUS 11 OW is the beauty of Colonus crowned By what is told us of that unblessed king Who came in exile and keen suffering To this fair spot, who in its quiet found Favor of Furies, that his woes were drowned, Release from hated memories that cling To Thought, unsleeping, that to frenzy sting His royal soul, his noble spirit wound. So is it that enchanting spot we see Within of poesy the tender haze When tragic fate of CEdipus is told ; And there is seen steadfast Antigone, As poet pictured her in earlier days, Bending above her father blind and old. [105 PHILOCTETES .NATURE, in her maternal sympathies, Comes to the grieving soul and helps it bear What weight of sorrows has been made its share Of freightage over life's tempestuous seas ; She soothes the spirit with her harmonies Of song that throbs upon the summer air She lifted Philoctetes from despair As told in tragic verse by Sophocles ; For when of loathsome ills the sufferer Was from his lazaretto isle set free, He lingered long upon that Lemnian shore ; His soul with deep emotion was astir When he stood listening to the imprisoning sea That broke upon the rocks in ceaseless roar. [106] ELECTRA AT HER FATHER'S TOMB r ORTH from the palace with attendant maid Electra comes unto her father's grave ; She pours libations generous to crave The gracious favor of the offended shade ; The thankless gift is on the altar laid, A prayer is offered that the gods would save That house from penalty the Fates would have For murdered lord, for plighted faith betrayed. Then is perceived upon the altar there Beside her own a votive gift that shows 'Twas made by one was kindred with the dead ; Two fresh-clipped sunny locks of golden hair, Fine as her own is, and from this she knows They are from her beloved brother's head. 107] EURIPIDES 1 HE world indulges fondness for the stage, For comic mask ; for tragic sock to show Mirth of a clown, a sovereign's heavy woe; A thoughtless Paris, Priam's wretched age, Sad grief of Hecuba, Medea's rage; Put light and shade of life in contrast so That we while viewing them may come to know What flame of genius lights dramatic page. Three children of the Muses came of old On the Athenian stage with themes sublime And by Apollo's grace with power to please ; The first one hardy theft of fire told, The next Antigone's praiseworthy crime, And last came tenderest Euripides. 108 ORESTES IN SANCTUARY z\.T last the long and hot pursuit is o'er, Orestes clings unto the sacred shrine Beneath protection of an arm divine ; Around him, sleeping on the temple floor, Lie Furies tired out they loudly snore Their features threaten him in every line A vengeance terrible ; they give no sign They will relent their purpose evermore. Dark picture this of one brought to despair By crime to which himself was madly driven Through wickedness was earlier than his own; We see remorseful spirit sheltered there, Of matricidal guilt divinely shriven, And granted peace it never yet had known. 109 ORESTES AT DELPHI /TLBOUT the threshold of the temple door Keen-scented hounds of hell their vigil keep Until o'erwearied with their watch they sleep Stretched in confusion on the marble floor, And on the stony steps that rise before The peristyle their heavy breathing deep Shows that they rest in readiness to leap On him who comes protection to implore. Such are the Furies to the frenzied sight Of him whose hands are reddened with the blood Drawn from the breast that in his babyhood Has been the pillow of his head at night, The sanctuary of his face from fright, The source from which he earliest drew his food. 110 ALCESTIS 11 E who would count the value of our years, How great a boon they are unto the soul, Must reckon all they bring of joy and dole And learn to counterbalance hopes and fears; Must see that smiles are brighter made by tears, And let the memory of loss console For whelming waves of loneliness that roll Between this world and yet more happy spheres. The story of Alcestis told of yore By Grecian poet in his moving lines Presents the worthiness of life in brief, For Death in sending back the wife once more Showed how the Infinite to ruth inclines In giving us the discipline of grief. Ill MELEAGER LlGHT-HEARTED singer of an earlier day, Singing thy songs of mirth and love among Those who gave music to the Grecian tongue And breathed their passion in melodious lay, We listen to thy numbers light and gay, In which the charms of Zenophil were sung, To which the fragrance of white lilies clung And wherein myrtle was entwined with bay. Perennial is the bloom of sympathy That makes another's joy and grief our own, Identifies the present with the past ; So long as we may thoughtful violets see By Nature's lavish hand profusely sown So long shall Meleager's memory last. 112 THEOCRITUS IN O sweeter voice is heard than that doth greet At earliest dawn the coming of the day, When does the veiling of a tender grey Conceal where gladly night and morning meet; It is the wood thrush ready to repeat A song that in the evening died away Into a dream of soft melodious lay Lulling to rest with numbers faintly sweet. So is it that from centuries remote, From pastured slopes of green Sicilian hills, With all the sweetness of that morning bird, There comes the freshness of a liquid note As down a mountainside come laughing rills, The singing of Theocritus is heard. 113] PASTORALS W HO now will tend the flock? who now will sing Within the shade of spreading mulberry trees Songs that some neighbor shepherdess may please, Delight the ears of shepherd lads who bring Their panting sheep at noon time to cool spring Of water they meanwhile forgetting these, Lost to their duty in sweet melodies Of Pan's composing, shepherd's rendering? That simple life and taste is not for us, Weak slaves of Fashion, servitors to care, On Custom's dusty highway driven along; But, losing ourselves in Theocritus, With unschooled Fancy we may wander there On cool sequestered paths through Realms of Song. 114 LUCRETIUS 1 HE Infinite, existing without bound And having in itself both Time and Space, Presents nor youth nor age nor any place Within which may the Infinite be found. And yet that unsolved mystery to sound The feeble, childish intellect of our race Creeps to the verge of knowledge, there to trace Some limitation the Unknown around. Lucretius, poet of most curious mind And of a fearless spirit, undertook Adventures perilous o'er seas of thought ; Made far excursions, profitless, to find That for which only unwise mortals look, Returned unhappy, having found it not. 115] CATULLUS .f\LL day we see the mountain streamlet pour Its foaming waters over ledges bare, Nor are we of their music made aware, The noises round us are so many more ; But when the clamor of the day is o'er, And hush of evening comes upon the air, The cadenced lapsing of the waters there Gives to the solitude imperious roar. While reading ancient Rome's heroic verse, We hear the battle cry, the legion's cheers, Loud clash of weapons, brazen trumpet's call; But when Catullus' Muse we hear rehearse Occasion sorrowful of Lesbia's tears, Then rises music from their rhythmic fall. 116 VIRGIL IxOME'S laurelled poet, seeking worthy theme On which to exercise his magic skill, Chose early years of Latium to fill With men and deeds heroic that they seem The fanciful imaginings of a dream ; We hear the cries, the blast of clarion shrill Proclaiming Roman victory until Through battle-clouds advancing standards gleam. Rome's palaces are crumbled now to dust, Her empire but a memory of the past, Her legions tented on Time's farther shore ; Her brazen tablets are consumed with rust, But yet of poesy the glories last, And Dido's passion burns forevermore. 117 HORACE 11 HE poet to philosophy inclined, Who sees how great the purpose of our lives, How mean the ends for which man madly strives, To all the nobler issues being blind ; The poet aiming to uplift mankind, As soon as he at altar step arrives He kindles what divinity survives, What fire smoulders in the human mind. So, Flaccus, thou dost show us how to laugh Where others make it only ours to weep, Our hearts with pity yet and sorrow filled ; It is not wine that thou wouldst bid us quaff From amphorae that have been buried deep, But rather wine of thought doubly distilled. 118 LALAGE maiden, laughing from the poet's page And gaily prattling in the Roman tongue, A group of mischief -loving maids among, All ready a keen rivalry to wage, In merry games of children to engage ; How has the charm of innocence been sung That you remain the girl forever young Down to the present time, from age to age! 'Tis of humanity the better part, Of happy mirth this fresh inheritance That makes the world again all over new ; That keeps a youthful feeling in the heart, And as through lengthened centuries we advance We turn back, Lalage, and laugh with you. [119] OVID IN EXILE r OOR Roman poet! torn from home and friends, Unjustly exiled to far Scythian shore Where gales torment the Euxine evermore, Where elemental warfare never ends ; How to thy wretchedness stern Nature lends A sympathy unknown to thee before! The grieving heavens show pity, bending o'er Thy sorrow, and the rain with weeping blends. Thy verse has taught humanity to keep A tender thought for those who waste their days In exile, sorrowing for their country's woes; It paints the desolation wide and deep, The hunger and fatigue on toilsome ways To quench life's embers 'mid Siberian snows. [120 DANTE 15 RAVE soul of man to search the dark abyss, To wander through wide gloomy realms of woe! And, venturing on untravelled way, to go At last to undisturbed abode of bliss That has a yet more spacious heaven than this! What if that guiding spirit should not know The devious path to follow up, and so His final goal should rash adventurer miss? The soul of Dante proved that it was bold To make its Heaven-appointed way through life And into other world its thought to send ; On dangerous path unslackened course to hold O'er all rough fields of effort and of strife, And come to Victory's crowning at the end. [121 BEATRICE J. HROUGH life and even longer yet survives The feeling passionate of human love, This rules the soul all other force above And shapes the destiny of mortal lives ; But for that sovereignty Love never strives, 'Tis not for him his right divine to prove, But rather does it loyal hearts behoove To greet Love royally when he arrives. In soul of Dante through long troublous years Did love for Beatrice hold ample sway And lead his thoughts to hidden mysteries ; Inferno could not banish with its fears Nor Purgatory bar him from his way With her companionship through Paradise. 122] THE "INFERNO" VJREAT Singer of a greater world than ours, Of regions never reached by any sail, Of land un visited by ocean gale, By cloud that round the lonely island lowers And freshens summer meadows with its showers, You sing a sunless realm of morning pale, Of evening twilight when the senses fail, And vision rests with supernatural powers. You had companion on your journey there, One who had gone the dismal way before With fate-announcing Sibyl by his side; Now, since your visit, all who have a care The underworld of horror to explore Have taken your "Inferno" for their guide. 123 THE NEW LIFE 'LOVE, reasoning of my Lady in my mind With constant pleasure, oft of her will say Things over which the intellect may stray, His words make music of so sweet a kind My Soul hears with delight, is glad to find Her sister Spirit worshipped in such way As Love himself can his devotion pay In words of praise with charm of song combined.' So Dante said when at the Banquet, crowned, He poured the wine of philosophic thought Reality of his New Life to prove ; In that discussion of his past he found Whatever overturns the years had brought Renewal of his life was all from Love. 124 PETRARCH FIE lived an exile from the morning land Of woman's love, though he gave all his own Fond adoration to one heart alone That banished him as to an alien strand ; There, in obedience to Love's command, He made his unrequited passion known To hill and valley, echoing woods and stone, And traced his lady's name upon the sand. From that lone life of heavy solitude, From out the fullness of his aching heart, Amid the tumult of a rising storm, With charm of song did Petrarch calm his mood, He gave his tender longing unto Art And left the world the sonnet's perfect form. 125 MICHAEL ANGELO r EW things, well done and meriting the praise Of excellence, of newness in design, Whose form is perfect, workmanship is fine These serve our admiration warm to raise. It may be that the hand of genius plays On organ keys a symphony divine, Or lifelike statue seems disposed to twine For artist brow wreath of unfading bays. To Michael Angelo the gift was given To meditate upon angelic grace And show his bold conceptions unto men ; Aspiring thought he lifted up to Heaven By chiseled truth, by magic skill to trace Beauty of soul with facile brush and pen. 126 TASSO'S PRISON r ERRARA'S dungeon of unpitying stone, Dark, damp, cold cell of close confinement where For seven long weary years the spirit fair Of Tasso had been buried, that had known His heavy grief, had echoed to his groan, Been witness to what wrongs he suffered there, Shut from the sunlight, from the open air, Left to companionship of woe alone ; Ferrara's dungeon tells more mournful tale, More pitiful than any artist's skill, Or most impassionate lines of poet can ; And yet it shows how mortal powers avail To bear up against wrongs designed to kill, Endure man's inhumanity to man. 127 CIRIACO DI ANCONA "T 1 GO," the Italian antiquary said When he went wandering through the land alone In search of bronze inscribed or sculptured stone, What record there "I go to wake the dead." But though his way among the sleeping led, Among gray tombs with mosses overgrown And ruined walls of temples overthrown, He roused from slumber living souls instead. The coming of Greek letters and Greek art Was as the breaking of day's genial light O'er eastern hills upon a summer's morn; With ravishment their beauty touched the heart, Men lost themselves in wonder at the sight, To truth and freedom was the world reborn. 128 CONSTANTINE W HEN was a token given to Constantine Of Heaven's approval in the stubborn fight That he was waging in behalf of right, For human law and for a faith divine, Among the faithful stars that nightly shine Appeared the holy cross unto his sight, Thereon he read the legend flaming bright, "The victory shalt thou win beneath this sign." Eternal are the bounds of right and wrong, Unchanging as the stars' appointed course, To be inviolate by you and me; When we maintain them with a courage strong E'en to resort unto an arm^d force, For us beneath that sign is victory. 129] CAMOENS W HO sang the Tagus with its gentle flow Through meadows blossoming on either side, His destiny it was to wander wide And mortal life's vicissitudes to know, For Camoens gave himself to Fortune so That he was made the plaything of the tide Yet he with courage and with skill defied The Indian wave to whelm his work below. One hand to swim and one the Lusiad To hold aloft above the billow's strife, Heroics he would not to ruin yield ; Such were the fateful risks the poet had, He said, regarding his eventful life, "One hand the sword, one hand the pen did wield." EL CID flies the eagle straight toward the sun, Or as a white moth hovers round a light, So men as well are lured by the sight Of valiant deed on field of battle done Where, in defence of right, is glory won, Whither does Fancy often take her flight To watch the heroes of the past in fight On plain of Troy, on hill-slopes of Leon. Long as Romance shall gild her Gothic page With stories of bold Christian knights of Spain, Shall tell what feats of chivalry they did, So long their wreaths of laurel cannot age, Corroding rust of centuries shall prove vain To dim th' unblazoned glory of the Cid. [131] LADY ANNE MACHAM A. LONELY island in an ocean wide Lies far remote from England's merrie land, There sparkling waters lap the golden sand, And wooded mountain shows a verdurous side. Hither a lover brought his English bride ; Here was a home for these two fond ones planned, From this retreat were care and trouble banned, And yet "of thought," 'tis said, "the lady died." Ah me! how often do we go apart From walks of common life, avoiding care, Unconscious of the burden that is brought Along the way as treasure of the heart Only to be more fondly cherished there Until, as she of old, we die "of thought." 132 THE MINNESINGER LlGHT-HEARTED Singer, singing on your way The slender burden of an idle song As centuries ago you strolled along Incurving shores of some Venetian bay! How glad if only we could hear today In solitude, apart from noisy throng Of those who would with their indifference wrong Your gentle art could hear an old-time lay! Of praise would Truth and Honor have their meed, And Love would have his sovereignty made known, Then Life would have companionship of Mirth. Life of itself would be a joy indeed, And we should realize what charm had flown, What worthiness had vanished from the earth. 133 GUNLAD'S MEAD 1 HE mead that is by Gunlad guarded well And is reserved for Odin's honored guest, Is of all beverages esteemed the best That's quaffed by blest divinities who dwell Within Valhalla's sacred courts who tell In song the ancient glory and the zest With which Valkyrie make their searching quest For those who, fiercely fighting, nobly fell. This is the magic mead that ever gives To skald the sweetness of triumphal song, And gives yet ampler vision to his soul ; Inspires the bold, exalted strain that lives In Scandinavian minstrelsy so long ; High Gothic thought inscribed on runic scroll. [134 THE SKALD 11 E was no singer of an idle lay To please the fancy of a lovelorn maid, Nor yet has Muse of Scania essayed To soothe berserker rage amid the fray, Nor ever sought uplifted hand to stay Dire work of carnage with the bloody blade, But rather urged the warriors, unafraid, Through broken hostile ranks to hew their way. Only heroic deeds on battlefield Amid the din of war, the clash of arms, Received the tribute of the singer's breath ; Accompanied by ringing swords and shields, He glorified in song Valhalla's charms Until the soldier fell in love with Death. 135 FOUNT OF URD 1 HE Muses drank sweet waters, crystal clear, That flowed down from the bright Castilian spring When they in friendly unison would sing Full glories of the genial Grecian year, Repeating to Apollo's grateful ear The simple harmonies that ever ring In Nature's low, sweet, tender carolling Of life and love and heartfelt worship here. But Bragi quaffed those sacred waters cold That bubbled sparkling from deep fount of Urd, From underneath the roots of ash tree old Whence was the inspired voice of Mimer heard, And to the world such wondrous things he told As are not found in rune nor written word. 136] IDUNA'S RUNES 1 HREE magic runes Iduna gives to those Who celebrate her praise from year to year, From age to age go on repeating here What paean through Valhalla ever goes When Valor overcomes all Scania 's foes, When Peace and Liberty at length appear Three runes unto the skald's perception clear, But whose significance none other knows. One tells of honest truth the priceless worth, Beyond all opulence of Ind to prove; One tells the beauty of this lower earth, And beauty of the heavenly worlds above; The third, of human goodness that has birth And genial nurture in warm heart of Love. 137 MIMIR'S WELL VjHILD of the melting glacier and snow' With which are Scandinavia's ridges crowned The rugged mountain giants clustered round Deep vale of Scania peaks that catch the glow Of Midnight Sun, and signal those below That in the courses of the sun is found Of summer's lengthening days the farthest bound,- Child of the glacier, musically flow! Known to an earlier age as Mimir's Well, Still by thy borders do white birches grow, But not as once with runes cut deep and fair; And yet the trees have mysteries to tell, Truths that our age is not allowed to know, Yet we in spirit fondly worship there. 138 FRITHIOF'S SAGA OWEET fragrance of the birch woods on the breeze Comes down the slopes of Scania 's rounded hills In company with laughter-loving rills That with the whispering pines make melodies Haunting the shadowy spaces 'neath the trees ; The low sad music of their cadence fills The soul with thoughts of distant days it thrills The feeling heart with wakened memories. The softly plaintive voices of the pines, Inspired with prescience of the storm, repeat Prophetic strains as oracles of old; In measured movement of the poet's lines Are felt of loving hearts the rhythmic beat, The one love saga of the North is told. 139 GOETHE 1 HE shifting scenes upon his mimic stage Bring us the heights of heaven, the depths of hell, Abode of angels, den where devils dwell, Where mercy soothes us and where passions rage ; There we behold man's enemy engage To ruin man ; we hear the tempter tell The market price at which a soul will sell, And read its paltriness on Goethe's page. We turn from that to smiling summer fields, We listen to sweet singing of a bird And in the grass cull one blue violet ; The breath of morning only sweetness yields, In sparrow's song full note of joy is heard ; We try sad fate of Faustus to forget. 140 FAUST THE race of man, devoid of reverence For things are sacred for divinity, Has always over-curious been to see What lies beyond its little sphere of sense ; In its presumption 'twould inquire whence Its limitation that it cannot be Lord of itself and hold the mastery Over the ordering of life's events. So is it in his Faust has Goethe shown This folly and this madness of mankind, The wish all mystery of life to know ; To have creative power all its own, And in the exercise of this to find Man is himself humanity's dread foe. 141 SCHILLER I* ATE strove with Nature, trying hard to make A soldier of one whom the Muses chose To be their servant he to duty rose As one who gave his service for their sake. It was for Schiller Custom's rule to break, Heed higher call, desert the ranks of those Who were enlisted against foreign foes, From its long sleep the larger world to wake. He painted tyranny as none before Had dared to draw it with a hand so free, He showed how thrones in wrath of Heaven fell; To what high patriotic zeal could soar Affirmed heroic Maid of Doremy, And emphasized intrepid soul of Tell. 142 HEINE v^HILD of a captive and an outcast race, A people from their holy temples torn, Subjected to the world's contempt and scorn But finding in Jehovah's plenteous grace Strength to endure man's ostracism base, To a condition wretched and forlorn, Gifted with genius was Heine born Unto a lowly lot, most commonplace. His was the unregarded task to bear Burden of want, of misery and pain, Neglect of friends, of enemies the hate; Through long, long years of wretchedness to wear The mocking mask of mirth, good cheer to feign, Approve himself superior to Fate. 143] LA FONTAINE W ITH hearty laughter or with mild disdain To note the foibles of the human race, To chide its follies with most gentle grace, And make the weakness of its nature plain By having beasts in courts of reason reign, The height of pride's absurdity to trace Through donkey's voice behind the lion's face This was the genial task of La Fontaine. Were we to search the parallel to find To this engaging fabulist of yore, His analogue would come on ready wing, Our year-round redbreast promptly come to mind ; The deeper snow the nearer to our door, The heavier rain more blithely would he sing. 144 CHATEAUBRIAND A WIND-SWEPT headland on St. Male's shore, Washed by the driving storm, the driven spray, And crowned by that lone lookout of Grand Be", Around whose foot strong tidal currents pour, Drown the wild sea-bird's cry with angry roar, There was most fitting place whereon to lay In final rest loved singer of his day Whose death must France, must all the world de- plore. Who wakens pity in the human breast And teaches hearts to feel another's woe, He does mankind a service far beyond Toil in the field. He shows us what is best, Most profitable for the heart to know, Such was the work Heaven gave Chateau- briand. 145 BERANGER O cricket ever sang more blithely gay Into late hours of a summer's night, No early-waking lark e'er met the light Of summer morning with a roundelay More joyous, more light-hearted in its way, Poured from a heart transported at the sight Of god Apollo climbing up the height Than was the cheerful song of Beranger. He touched the chords of pity with a deft And gentle hand, was most compassionate Of hearts o'erburdened with a nation's pain ; He saw the heart of France with sorrow cleft, Her fields a waste, her hearthstones desolate, And yet he sang to her a merry strain. [146] VICTOR HUGO 11 E lived a stranger in a foreign land; He mourned, as Ovid mourned, the unfeeling fate That sent him there the scorning of the State That banished him beyond her sea- worn strand. Sad in his island home by breezes fanned That came to him across the imprisoning strait And brought sweet scent of lilies to his gate, For France and Liberty he nobly planned. Now is the ignoble power at an end, And he who drove the poet over sea Is for his last misfortune chiefly known ; To Hugo years the greater glory lend, The World, declaring his supremacy, Calls him to larger than imperial throne. 147 HEREDIA W ITHIN a world that has been made so fair, Its lands and seas alike pavilioned by A borderless, blue, star-bespangled sky, Few are they seeing any beauty there, But let the artist choose a landscape bare, Rock-strewn, wind-swept, and to his canvas try To give what moods and features charm his eye, The beauty of that picture men declare. The ancient world of feeling and of thought, What joys and sorrows earlier men had known Were by more recent passions shaded o'er; These lone, bleak wastes were by Heredia sought, He made their wide, deserted tracts his own, The glory of their greatness to restore. [148] CARMEN SYLVA 1 HOU favored child of Fortune, thou hast worn With queenly grace what crown a queen may wear; What heavy burdens are for those to bear With uncomplaining patience hast thou borne; Thine oath of coronation that was sworn In faithfulness, has been observed with care, And thy heart's pity given everywhere When have thy loyal sons been called to mourn. And yet, and yet thy gracious heart hath known More troubles than a stranger would divine Could round the station of a sovereign cling ; Thy griefs and sorrows then become our own When taken down for us "from Memory's Shrine"; Thine is what solace sympathy may bring. 149 TARA A. LONE low hill upon an empty plain, By ruined walls and ditches fenced around, Has stood through ages as memorial mound To those who fighting for their land were slain ; The spot was sacred under Druid reign, Its summit by the hall of Cormac crowned As Erin's noble capital renowned 'Neath curse of bell and book long time has lain. Since Diarmid's day lies Tara in the dust, All echoes of her song have died away, Has vanished every token of her art ; But still the memory of her heroes must Survive and flourish to the latest day, Enshrined within the faithful Irish heart. [150] STONEHENGE r AR out on unfrequented moor they rise, Huge stones were never wrought by hammer stroke But taken, just as titan forces broke Rough granite ledge, in blocks of massive size; The druids ranged these pillars circle wise; A roofless temple wherein heart of oak Should on the sacred altar duly smoke With savor of appointed sacrifice. The fires burned out, the altars now are cold, Hushed are the voice of priest, the victims' groans, The place is silent as abode of Death ; But yet, the mystery of that work is told In mute disclosure of these upraised stones ; These were the lower steps to higher faith. [151 THE ROUND TABLE f AIN would the world again see Arthur's court In all the splendor of its pageantry, Enchantments of its fair surroundings see, The beauty of its dames beyond report, The flower of knighthood, met in manly sport, Upholding the renown of chivalry, And that Round Table with its galaxy Embracing spirits of the nobler sort. Shall we who lead of manhood hold today, Who strive a higher level yet to gain, And in a clearer atmosphere to live; Shall we our standard higher set than they, More strong defense of righteousness maintain And to the world a grander vision give? [152] PASSING OF ARTHUR r ROM the great deep he went to the great deep; It was not birth, it was not death that gave The limits to that course from wave to wave, That splendid pageantry of mighty sweep As magic dream* afford us in our sleep. The spirit of our age was strong and brave That put this in a poet's care to save And, in "the Idylls of the King" to keep. We, too, h.-t\< , i, that pageantry sweep by From out dim mystery to yet more dim As one might watch a vessel from the shore. ' mi- hearts they follow after with a sigh,