u_ A -T» POEMS, LEGENDARY AND HISTORICAL. London : Spottiswoodes and Shaw, New-street-Squ.ire. POEMS, LEGENDARY AND HISTORICAL. BV EDWARD A. FREEMAN, M.A., LATE FELLOW, AND THE REV. GEORGE ¥. COX, S.C.L., SCHOLAR, OF TRINITY COLLEGE, OXFORD. LONDON: LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, AND LONGMANS, PATERNOSTER-ROW. 1850. -pi? F87C*p PREFACE. The present collection of poems, with perhaps a solitary exception, consists, according to its title, entirely of pieces relating to past events, and a large majority of them are cast in what is, whether rightly or wrongly, familiarly known as the ballad style. The employment of a form, which has been lately made the subject of much criticism, may demand some prefatory remarks. It can hardly now be matter of doubt, that the present age may fairly claim to itself a superiority over all that have preceded it, in at least one branch of study, that, namely, of history in all its forms, — from the highest philo- sophical speculations to the minutest antiquarian research. Nor can it well be a mere accidental A 3 VI PREFACE. coincidence, that in an age thus devoted to the study of past time, its poetry should to so great an extent have reverted to the earliest and simplest form, — so that in a condition of society the most conventional and the farthest removed from the inartificial cast of thought of earlier generations, its poetry is, in great measure, pre- sented in the form of historical ballads, or nar- ratives embodying, much after the manner of the earlier types, any striking event or scene, the outward action of which is presented with more or less of vividness, without any minuter analysis of inward feelings. This reproduction of an old form of poetry has by some been ascribed to a want of originality, — on the ground that ballad poetry, as being the fittest vehicle for the expression of the mind of a rude and unreasoning age, is on that very account the kind which most admits of imitation, as it furnishes a collection of phrases applicable to almost every circumstance, and an appropriate expression for every feeling so far as it is evi- denced by outward gesture, — this external por- PREFACE. VU traiture being, in effect, all that is aimed at, and that, consequently, such composition is scarcely more than a mechanical occupation, the most necessary qualification for which is a well-stored and retentive memory. In these objections there is doubtless a great amount of truth. Ballad poetry certainly affords more opportunity for the exercise of a merely imitative faculty than any other. It is very practicable to produce a poem which shall be a judicious fitting-in of expressions from ancient poetry, setting before us with sufficient distinct- ness the feeling or action suggested by the sub- ject ; nor would this be more than a piece of successful mechanism. But we believe that the difference in this respect between the ballad and other styles of poetry is simply one of degree. Be it epic, or lyric, or any other kind, it is as possible to fall into imitation in one as in the rest, — the dis- tinction perhaps between historical and other poetry being this, that in the latter the imitation, although it may prevail to a far greater extent, A 4 Vlll PREFACE. is unconscious, and also less apparent, — whole ideas or even successive trains of thought being oftentimes borrowed, with only a change of diction sufficient to disguise them. In the other, an epithet or an expression may be transferred unaltered from one writer to another, without any affectation or desire of concealment. In such instances, a whole phrase may be regarded as one word, expressive of some notion in- separable from the subject spoken of, as the epithets (for example) of the Homeric heroes, or the employment of the same words in all cases to express a particular feeling, — and this, more- over, as occurring not in one author only, many expressions and even lines being found unchanged in Hesiod and in Homer. All these must have had their several sources ; yet they become, as it were, the property of all ; and the more or less frequent adoption of them can hardly be allowed to stamp a poem as an imitation ; the charge, if it is to stand, must be substantiated on other grounds. It seems indeed almost impossible in subjects of this character (putting aside th<' PREFACE, IX occasional conscious employment of an expression belonging to another writer) to avoid some coin- cidences of a few or more words with others when describing similar events or thoughts, an occurrence especially likely in a piece descriptive of facts ; for an historical poem, it seems, must be of this kind (that is, a narration of facts by a lively depicting of the gestures and acts of all concerned, as well as of the scene of action), or it must take the form of words put into the mouth of an historical character, or of an ex- pression of the personal thoughts and feelings of the writer regarding those of whom he is speaking ; wherein there may manifestly be far more of approximation to the styles which are not considered imitative, and a much closer analysis of thoughts and emotions may be per- mitted than in the other. And, possibly, the narrations which are simply historical, assume the ballad form, not so much from any imitation conscious or otherwise, as from the suitableness of this form to the subject. The one leads naturally to the other ; and a writer might fall X PREFACE. into it, who possessed but very slight acquaintance with the earlier specimens of national poetry. So that Ave may fairly venture to claim for such historical poems as much freedom from imitation as for poems of a totally different character. They may all be purely imitative : but they cannot be proved so to be by the mere stating that they are ballad, or lyric, or of any other kind : the charge can with equal facility be brought against all, the only difference being that the supposed imitation is more apparent in one of them, inasmuch as we are generally more disposed to mark the resemblance of words than of ideas. The only exception can be, when any one originates a style wholly his own. How far this is possible in our time, or desirable, is matter of question. But, on looking closer, this charge of imitation against ballad poetry appears two-fold; some- times that it is the adoption of an ancient form unsuited to our own times ; sometimes that it is an imitation of modern writers in the same style, Macaulay, for instance. With regard to this PREFACE. XI latter charge we believe that, unless in the excep- tional case just mentioned, it is hardly possible to compose either poetry or prose without some admired author supplying the general model ; but we doubt whether this remark is more applicable to one species of composition than another. Ma- caulay may, to a certain extent, have suggested the general form of these poems, after the same manner that Milton, Byron, Southey, or any other poet, might suggest the general form of other compositions, which would be allowed to stand or fall by their own merits, and not be at once set down as imitative, on the ground merely of their form. And, with regard to imitation of ancient models, we can safely say that in our own case we have not intentionally practised it. But, in many instances, the charge of imi- tation is combined with another, viz., that a modern ballad is, after all, very unlike what it is said to imitate. The fact is, that it neither could be, nor is intended to be, otherwise. The case we believe to be this:- — the two styles Xll PREFACE. agree in the one common character of vivid narrative, which cannot be called peculiar to any age or country, and for which the ancient ballad has provided the most appropriate out- ward form. But further than this no imitation or resemblance need exist. The earlier ballad poetry of a nation is always contemporary, or nearly so, with the facts narrated. The modern poet will combine with his narrative the aspect in which past ages appear to us at the present day, in the same way that the more formal historian, with his totally different view, might still resort for the general model in his actual narrative to the inimitable forms with which Livy has clothed the blind and unreflecting credulity of an earlier age. We could enlarge much more on these sub- jects ; but a formal essay on ballad poetry would be quite out of place. All we here wish is to vindicate the claim of our compositions to stand or fall by their own merits or defects, possibly as being really imitative or the con- trary, but not to be prejudged as having want of PREFACE. Xlll originality stamped on their very form. In all those which are chiefly narrative, the ballad type may be discerned ; but we have adhered to it, or deviated from it with the same freedom as we should use in any other kind of composition, and without any greater consciousness of imitation. In accordance with what we before said of narrative poems, we have frequently repeated our own expressions in the same or different pieces, whenever it seemed desirable ; and in some instances we shall be found to have bor- rowed each from the other ; and with this mention of them, we have thought it needless to specify them severally where they occur. In the same way, although much more rarely, an expression has occasionally been transferred un- changed from another author ; and such an adoption, undisguised, of phrases which may now be regarded as the recognized mode of expressing certain thoughts, seems at the same time as high a tribute as it is in our power to pay to another writer. One poem* there is, * Recollections of Childhood. XIV PREFACE. which can scarcely be called either legendary or historical, except in so far as one or two historical associations are incidentally intro- duced into it. In another*, though put into the mouth of an historical character, there is no narrative, nor any approximation to the ballad form ; and we may perhaps be allowed to say that we have not felt conscious of any greater or less degree of originality in these than in others which might seem to be formed more closely after an earlier model. The poems entitled " The Meed of Heroes," and " King Harold's Funeral," have already appeared in a volume of " Original Ballads, by Living Authors," and in part the " Legend of the Alhambra," but the last two portions, as they now stand, are entirely different. E. A. F. G. W. C. Oakland.*, Dursley, August 28. 1850. * Harold and Edith. CONTENTS. SONGS OF GREECE. Poseidon and Athena - - - e. a. p. The Parting of Hector and Andro- mache - - - - Othryades ... The Meed of Heroes The Persians at Delphi The Feast of Attaginus A Legend of Thermopylae SONGS OF THE MOORISH WARS. The Battle of Calpe - The Death of Ramiro The Tomb of Don Roderick The Lament of the Moors for Lucena The Fall of Granada - The Reproach of Ayxa-la-Horra Page G. W. C. 21 E. A. F. 34 DO. 39 DO. 50 G. W. C. 63 DO. 69 G. W. C. 83 DO. 88 DO. 95 DO. 98 DO. 109 DO. 123 XVI CONTENTS. Pace » v El ultimo Suspiro del Moro - - g. w. c. 129 The first Te Deum in the Mosque of Granada - - - - do. 136 A Legend of the Alhambra - - do. 150 SONGS OF THE CONQUEST. Harold and Edith - - - e. a. f. 173 The Field of Hastings - - - do. 180 The Field of Hastings - - - g. w. c. 200 King Harold's Funeral - - - e. a. f. 217 Waltheof at York .... do. 224 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Alaric at Rome - - - - e. a. f. 243 Recollections of Childhood - - g. w. c. 255 SONGS OF GREECE. B SONGS OF GREECE. POSEIDON AND ATHENA. The main story, a versification of which is here attempted, the author would fain hope will sufficiently speak for itself. The minuter mythological and historical allusions must share the fate of all such : to the scholar, explanation would be superfluous ; to others, very superficial. It is hardly necessary to point out that the 19th stanza expresses only the popular Athenian notion of the act of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, without entering into the historical question con- nected with it, much less into the morality of their proceedings. I. The Gods are taking counsel upon earth. Hard by Cephisus' stream Twelve golden thrones, twelve golden footstools gleam Pitched for the deathless powers of Cronian birth. B 2 SONGS OF GREECE. There, high above them all, Is he who holds the world in thrall, The might of Zeus most high. His brow is smooth, his voice is bland, No lightnings sparkle in his hand, Yet speaks there fate in his command, And Gods might tremble at his stedfast eye. Close at his side Is throned, in matron's seemly pride, His sister and his queen. Eight Gods are sitting round, All in their glory crowned, On thrones of brightest sheen. 2. There is he, the pure, the bright ; Lord of vengeance, lord of light ; He who loves on earth to dwell With the men who please him well ; Him that keeps his hands from wrong, Him that twines the wreath of song : Yet hath he his silver bow, Strung to lay the proud ones low, Who shall scorn his word divine, Or shall rob his holy shrine. POSEIDON AND ATHENA. 3. By his side his sister fair, She who loves the mountain air, She who speedeth fast and free With her kirtle to her knee, O'er her back her quiver swung, And her bow for pastime strung ; She who flees the busy throng And the voice of bridal song, But, from cities far away, Loves with all her nymphs to play, By Eurotas' fragrant rills, Maiden of the Dorian hills. There sat the powers of fire, The God who sprang to life without a sire, The strong Hephaestus hight ; And Hestia too, who guards the hearth of home. And he who from high heaven's all-gleaming dome Oft springs to earth with pennons light, To work his father's high behest, Or dwell with man a welcome guest, Hermeias ever gay and ever bright, B 3 (5 SONGS OF GREECE. There, too, the mother grave and mild, Who sought so long her ravished child ; Back from her queenly brow The wreath of poppies binds her yellow hair ; The kindly power that gave the plough, And bade the wild and barren lands Yield to the toil of mortal hands The crown of golden ears that wave so rich and fair. There amid the deathless train Sat the lawless lovers twain ; Aphrodite with the smile That can sternest hearts beguile ; Ares with the brow of fear Softened as he feels her near : She the fairest power above, Queen of laughter and of love ; She, against whose silken chain Gods and men may strive in vain ; She who loves the dance and song With the Graces' sportive throng : He, who better loves to hear Crash of car and clang of spear ; POSEIDON AND ATHENA. He who joys to count the slain, Reeking on the battle-plain ; Yet he doffs his helm of pride, Tears his falchion from his side, As his bosom, wounded sore, Recks of warfare now no more Till the snowy arm he feels Which around him gently steals, And may taste in many a kiss More than conquest gives of bliss. The Gods are taking counsel upon earth. But wherefore have they left their seats on high ? Why show they thus to them of mortal birth The pomp of all their deathless majesty ? And wherefore empty stand Two burnished thrones on either hand ? Why sitteth not his brother by The next in pride and power, Who far away from Gods' and mortals' eye Hath fixed his royal bower ? Who loves as deep as deep may be To dwell beneath the wine-dark sea ; B 4 8 SONGS OF GREECE. Enthroned in halls wherein the rising day No lustre kindles with its new-born ray ; Nor may the moon-beam ever fall In silver on his palace wall ; But gems that mortal eye hath never seen Glow from the purple walls in brighter sheen ; In living glory beaming Their rays around are streaming, Where shells that earth hath never known Shed back their splendour from his gorgeous throne, Where coral groves their branches twine around, A canopy of state for him that shakes the ground. And where is she, the blue-eyed maid, In garb of combat fast arrayed ; Who still in peaceful hall or battle-field Spreads o'er the wise her guardian shield ; She who doth her counsel give Well to rule and well to live ; And loves to hold her stedfast asgis near Where Ares in his wrath hath couched his tameless snear ? POSEIDON AND ATHENA. !> 8. The Gods are taking counsel upon earth ; Each deathless power is choosing for his own, Among the homes of them of mortal birth, A realm wherein to fix his hearth and throne. From proud Mycenae's spacious streets Undying prayer the ear of Hera meets ; Phoebus and his sister fair Joy to breathe the Delian air; Aphrodite far away Loves in Paphian bowers to play. But beside Cephisus' stream Doth a prouder city gleam, Sprung to new-born life and power In a bright and happy hour : Who shall claim her for his own ? Who shall fix his hearth and throne In the land so bright and fair, Beyond Apollo's home and Hera's queenly care ? 9. Now before the deathless train Stand the mighty rivals twain. Boundino; o'er the waves afar Came Poseidon's glittering car . 10 SONGS OF GREECE. One strong hand with well-cut rein Guides the horses of the main, While the other, high in air, Doth the lordly trident bear. As he hastens on his way, All around the dolphins play ; All the monsters of the deep On his wheels attendance keep ; Foaming seas are smoothed before him, Isles and shivered rocks adore him ; Rivers check their subject waves, Nereids hasten from their caves ; All to hail their monarch throng, Raising high their joyous song, With a wild and wondrous sound, To the God that shakes the ground. 10. Swift athwart the sultry air Came the blue-eyed maiden fair ; She hath yoked the goodly steeds Which the land of Atlas breeds ; Bounding o'er the Libyan plain To the cliffs that guard the main ; POSEIDON AND ATHENA. 11 Then the clouds that float on high Joy to bear her through the sky. Not the shafts of Phoebus' bow Straighter to their mark can go, Not Hermeias' pinions twain Swifter cleave the heavenly plain. Forward drops each silken fold, While she grasps the reins of gold, And the aegis floats behind, Streaming in the balmy wind. Onward press the goodly steeds, Hill nor flood their course impedes ; On they hasten, on they fly, Over earth, and sea, and sky ; Nor may stop their thirst to slake, From the blue Tritonian lake, To the burnished thrones that gleam Fast beside Cephisus' stream. 11. Now whose shall be the city Of those strong rivals twain? All on their seats of judgment Are set the deathless train. 12 SONGS OF GREECE. Then spake the gay Hennelas, His voice like trumpet clear : " Now listen, Gods and Goddesses, The will of Zeus to hear. To claim the new-born city Two rival powers are found, The blue-eyed Athenaea And he that shakes the ground. Whoe'er the better boon shall give To them of mortal birth, Shall reign within that goodly town, The joy of all the earth. If Kino; Poseidon now to men The better boon shall give, Then Poseidonia's name of pride To endless years shall live ; But if the gift Athena brings The goodlier shall be found, Then the name of glorious Athens Shall earth and heaven resound." 12. Then arose the King Poseidon, High he waved his stout right hand, POSEIDON AND ATHENA. 13 Full lie smote his gleaming trident On the hard and rocky land. Like the crash of falling mountains Echoed far the shivered rock, And a mighty gulf was yawning, Cleft beneath the trident's shock. Forth then came a gallant charger, Bounding from the riven stone ; Never sure did mortal ruler Boast such charger for his own. O'er his goodly brow and shoulders Did his mane in tresses flow, Every hair on all his body Was as white as Scythian snow. Proudly gazed he all around him, Proudly pawed the trembling ground, Then he dashed towards the meadow With a free and gladsome bound ; Wildly streaming in the breezes Mane and tail like lightning play, Clearer than Tyrsenian trumpet Was his loud and joyous neigh. Thus in new-born life he revelled, Thus he bounded off afar ; Never shall a mortal master Bend his neck beneath his car. 14 SONGS OF GREECE. 13. The blessed Gods are cheering loud, Poseidon's gift to see ; What boon can Athenasa bring That shall more precious be ? The Goddess rises from her throne, And gaily looks around : " Methinks I have a better gift Than he that shakes the ground. His tells of blood and slaughter, When through the ranks of war The courser draws with eager bound The hero's gleaming car. But mine shall tell of peace and love, Doffed helm and sheathed sword, Of sturdy limb and cheerful face, Of home and festive board. The better gift to mortal men Athena's shall be found, And the name of glorious Athens Shall earth and heaven resound." 14. She planted straight a little seed Hard by the cloven ground ; TOSEIDON AND ATHENA. 15 Then sat once more upon her throne, And gaily looked around. The little seed has taken root, The tender sprouts are seen, And every sprout is budding fast With leaves of darkest green. The blessed Gods are marvelling The wondrous sight to see, How from the hard and rocky land Hath sprung that goodly tree ; The tree that tells of peace and love, Doffed helm and sheathed sword, Of sturdy limb and cheerful face, Of home and festive board. Then spake aloud the blessed Gods, They spake with one accord : " A better gift Athena brings Than iEgae's dark- haired lord : The olive-branch of golden peace Is goodlier boon by far, Than is the steed that loves to bend Before the warrior's car. Be hers the new-born city, Be hers the chosen ground, And the name of glorious Athens Let earth and heaven resound." 16 SONGS OF GREECE. 15. Then, spear in hand, and helm on head, And asgis o'er her shoulders spread, The Goddess left her throne ; She looked upon her chosen land, She o'er it waved her guardian hand, And hailed it for her own. 16. " And thou art mine, thou fair and goodly land ; In other soils let richer harvests grow, In other realms let men of stouter hand With spear and buckler stem the charging foe ; Yet shall the town that joys in my command The yoke of baser ruler never know : Thine be the arts that glad the wise and free, And thine the dashing oars that curb the vassal sea. 17. " The dark-haired king that may not be thy lord His rod of empire to thy will shall yield ; The mother mild shall to thy sons accord A better gift than Egypt's fruitful field, POSEIDON AND ATHENA.. 17 Those mystic rites which, even in realms abhorred Of gods and men, her faithful servants shield ; While Phoebus' self shall in thy marble live, And joy of choral songs shall Dionysus give. 18. " Thou, too, thou goodly tree ; the foeman's steel Shall harm thee not : amid the wasting flame Of barbarous war, the pledge of Athens' weal Unscathed shall live ; while foes of Grecian name Shall fear to rend Athena's guardian seal : Yea, in thy shade shall chiefs of holier fame Build up a realm for me that may not die, And gild the chosen shrine of wisdom's majesty. 19. " Land of the free ! thy heart shall never bow To earthly lord ; before my dearest shrine I see a mortal bend his haughty brow Who dares to claim the empire that is mine. Vain man ! all wreathed within the myrtle-bough Thou dost not see the patriot dagger shine ; Thou dost not see the hand that guides the steel Which Athenaea whets for injured Athens' weal. c 18 SONGS OF GREECE. 20. " In vain shall he to whom the nations bend, From Hoe urns' peaks of everlasting snow To India's burning shores, against thee send The garb of dread, the charger, and the bow ; My voice shall in thy councils still attend, My arm shall guide thy spear against the foe, My hand shall twine the crown for them who won, Who won the field of fields, the field of Marathon. 21. " In vain in freedom's home the despot's slave Shall spread the purple couch of revelry ; The Mede may trample upon Codrus' grave, And hearth and shrine in blackened ruin lie : Yet tames he not the spirits of the brave ; Walls are not cities ; to your home ye fly, Ye have a guard that may not fail or flee, Your home is the black ship, your realm the subject sea. 22. " Land of the free ! I see your ruler stand, The prince of all your hearts ; upon his brow No diadem is bound, his good right hand No sceptre bears, no slaves around him bow : POSEIDON AND ATHENA. 19 He needs no foreign spearman's hireling band, For his the power that despot may not know, His is the kingly sway of deathless mind, The honey-flowing speech that heart and soul doth bind. 23. " Land of the wise ! I see thee conquered lie, As others deem ; no subject islands bend At Athens' name ; no spirits swelling high With freedom's love the master-voice attend ; Crushed to the ground is all thy majesty : Yet doth the world to thee its homage send ; Thine is the empire still that aye must live While poet's voice hath charms, or art can glory give. 24. " Thou art in thrall, — yet all who would be free From thee must learn of freedom's earliest day ; Thy voice is hushed, — yet all must seek from thee The magic words that freeborn spirits sway ; Thou art all dark, — yet prophet eye can see Far lands enkindled by thy borrowed ray, Till realms of which thy great ones never heard Walk in thy darkened light, obey thy voiceless word. c 2 20 SONGS OF GREECE. 25. " Then who shall mourn thy ramparts crumbling low, Thy havens now with tribute rich no more ? Thou art unscathed, though each barbarian foe Shall o'er thy ruins wake the battle's roar. Let time and man thy temples overthrow, And with their relics strew thy conquered shore, Yet have I not thy mountains loved in vain ; Where'er thy name is named, Athena still shall reign.' E. a. F. 21 THE PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. The following lines are not intended as a translation of the story of the parting of Hector and Andromache as told in Homer's Iliad. But all the details are closely taken from it ; in some instances the thoughts have been suggested by it, and in a few others the expressions also have been adopted. It is hoped that it may serve in some degree, however faint, to show in an English form that which is perhaps the most touching portion of the greatest of all human poems. 1. " Lure me not to tarry longer, Helen of the golden wile, — For thy words, as honey flowing, Never can my heart beguile. Yet one hour, and in the battle Dardan and Achaean meet ; Thou mayst hear the tramp of warriors Marching through each crowded street. C 3 22 SONGS OF GREECE, 2. " Vain is all thy witching fondness, Helen of the golden wile ; I must hasten, ere the battle, To my home a little while : Yet before the strife awakens, I must greet my bride again ; For I know not whether living I shall leave the battle plain." 3. From the golden halls of Paris, Where the Spartan Helen lay, To his home with eager longing Hector sped upon his way. Empty was the bridal chamber, Desolate was bower and hall ; And her loved and gentle accents Gave not answer to his call. 4. " Tell me, maidens, to the temple Hath she hastened hence to pray That the might of dread Athena Shield the Dardan in the fray ? ' PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. 23 " Not unto Athena's temple, Soothly speaking, hath she gone ; But to Ilion's loftiest rampart Went she at the early dawn. " For she heard the sounds of warning And the summons to the fight, And they said the Trojan phalanx Quailed before the Achsean might." — From his home, with dark foreboding, Sped he forth to Ilion's tower, Whence was seen, spread out beneath them, All the Argives' leaguering power. Through the streets the suppliants hurried, Thronging to Athena's shrine, That the Dardan in the battle Might receive her aid divine. All unheeding passed the warrior ; Nought was there his glance to stay : To the Scasan gate he hastened, Whence they sally for the fray. c 4 24 SONGS OF GREECE. 7. There he gazed with eager glances, Hector of the waving plume ; And his brow with care was wrinkled, And his eye was dark with gloom. But, anon, with flowing garment, Lo ! a form he hath descried : It is she, Eetion's daughter, — It is she, his white-armed bride. 8. Joyously she came towards him "With a quick and eager pace ; Yet upon her sunny forehead Lingered sorrow's darker trace. Trembling at the trumpet's bidding To Sigaeum's battle-field, Thus unto her lord she hasteth, Hector of the brazen shield. 9. Pale she comes with grief and watching, While, behind, a maiden bears In her arms her tender infant, Solace sweet in all her cares. PAETING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. 25 With unconscious smile reposing, Like some softly gleaming star, Lay the darling of his father, Mightiest of his race in war. 10. Smiling fondly on the infant, Never yet a word he spake : But his bride looked on a moment, And the mournful silence brake. Raising then his hand she kissed it, And she called him by his name ; But her voice had lost its gladness, Though its music was the same. 11. " Thine own heart will work thy ruin, For thou wilt not pity more All thine infant's voiceless pleading, All my sorrow long and sore. Thou wilt meet the sons of Hellas, Thou wilt face the treacherous foe, — If thou in the strife be smitten, Better death should lay me low. 26 SONGS OF GREECE. 12. " Other hopes remain no longer ; All I loved of old are dead : By the hand of swift Achilles Was my father's life-blood shed. Yet he robbed not lance or buckler, But, all mailed as he died, On a funeral pyre he placed him, With his good sword by his side. 13. " Round his grave the mountain maidens Planted many a clustering pine, Where he sleeps, the last and bravest Of Cilicia's kingly line. All his sons, right brave and noble, To Pelides fell a prey, — Seven, to soothe the gods of Hellas, Slaughtered in one bloody day. 14. " But the love of sire and brother, Hector, I have found in thee : What avails it, if I may not Wake thy pity too for me ? PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. 27 Stay on this embattled turret, Leave me not amidst my woe, — Surely thou wilt not forsake me For the gathering strife below. 15. " Place thy hosts beside the fig-tree, "Where the shattered walls, they say, Least can stay the Argive armies When they thunder in the fray. Ever there is fiercest onset, — Ever there their numbers swell : But from whom this counsel cometh, — Heaven or man, — I cannot tell." 16. Gently then he spake, and softly, Hector of the brazen shield : " Ev'n with thee I may not linger, Shrinking from the battle-field, — Not because my blood is fevered With a quenchless thirst for fame, For the sons of Danaus tremble At the sound of Hector's name. 28 SONGS OF GREECE. 17. " I have aye been first in battle, As my father was, they tell : But far other thoughts, and deeper, Now within my bosom swell. For the destined day is coming, When the sacred walls of Troy, Mid the crash of war, shall echo To the foeman's shout of joy. 18. " Yet not all Troy's countless people May receive my chiefest care ; Not this day for aged Priam Do I breathe my fondest prayer : Nor for all my mother's sorrow, Is this bitterness of woe ; Nor for all my gallant brethren Who shall fall beneath the foe. 19. " Only now for thee, my loved one ! Is my grief thus great and sore, For a weary lot awaits thee When mv mortal toil is o'er. PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. 29 Soon shall murder, lust, and pillage, Stalk through Ilion hand-in-hand, And the Argive robber lead thee Captive to the Apian land. 20. " There, for hard unpitying masters, Thou wilt toil in menial guise, While the thoughts of bliss departed Call the teardrops to thine eyes. And it may be they will ask thee, ' Where is all thine ancient fame, When the sons of Danaus trembled At the sound of Hector's name ? ' 21. " All thy grief shall pass unheeded, And thy thoughts will turn to me, How of old my love did guard thee, And thy heart was glad and free. But within the grave's dark chambers Mine will be a dreamless sleep, Where thy cry can never reach me, And I ne'er shall see thee weep." 30 SONGS OF GREECE. 22. To the babe drew nigh the warrior, Hector of the brazen crest ; But he turn'd from him affrighted, Nestling in his nurse's breast, — For his father's form he knew not, Mid the brazen armour's gleam, Nodding plume and burnished helmet, Blazing in the noonday beam. 23. From his brow the warrior, smiling, On the ground his helmet threw ; And, as there it lay so glist'ning, Then the child his father knew. And he took that babe so tender, Gazing soft with laughing eye, Blessings rich for him entreating From the Gods that dwell on high : 24. " Zeus ! and all ye powers immortal, Guard my child from fraud and wrong, That he rule o'er ancient Ilion, Brave of soul, of purpose strong. PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. 31 May they greet him ever mightier In the battle than his sire, And his deeds a holy gladness In his mother's heart inspire ! " 25. In her arms he placed the infant ; — Gently, and with tearful smile, To her heaving breast she pressed him, With a saddened heart the while. Sadder still, as thickly coursing To her eyes the teardrops came, With a fond embrace he kissed her, And he called her by her name. 26. " Let not now thy heart, my loved one, Be too heavy with thy woe, For until the destined moment None shall ever lay me low. But I now must bend me onward, Though with thee I fain would dwell, Lingering on the words of parting, Ere I say the last farewell." 32 SONGS OF GREECE. 27. On his brow the helm is gleaming, And the plume is waving high : To her home his loved one wendeth, Gazing back with straining eye, If, amid the throng of warriors, Hector's plume she yet may know ; — All in vain, — her eyes are clouded, Thick and fast the teardrops flow. 28. Sad at heart she reached her dwelling, And she called her maidens round : All throughout those golden chambers, Mirth and song no more resound. But the voice of stifled anguish Rises fitfully and low ; And their eyes are dimmed with sorrow, And their hearts weighed down by woe. 29. Echoes long the sound of weeping Through the chieftain's festal hall ; All his trophies, hung around them, Seem as tokens of his fall. PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. . 33 Well they deem he hath departed To his latest battle-field, Mightiest of the sons of Priam, Hector of the brazen shield. G. w. c. 34 SONGS OF GREECE. OTHRYADES. The story of Othryades is familiar to every student of early Greek history. But as it appears from the statement of Hero- dotus, that part at least of the story was not told with absolute certainty in his time, the writer has had less scruple in deviating somewhat from his narrative. As told by him, out of the three hundred Argives and three hundred Spartans who were appointed to decide by battle a dispute between the two cities for the border territory of Thyrea, Othryades remained alone of the Spartans, and spoiled the enemy's dead, as here related ; while two Argives, named Alcenor and Chromius, survived and went to Argos with tidings of victory. Afterwards, when parties came from both cities to the place of combat, each asserted the victory to belong to their own party ; the Argives, because a greater number of them had survived ; the Spartans, because their champion had kept possession of the field, and spoiled the Argive dead. A general battle ensued in which the Argives were worsted. The suicide of Othryades is mentioned by the historian as a report. 1. The Sun-God's orb hath sunk to rest Beyond the Avestern main, While a lonely man is keeping watch Upon a battle-plain ; OTHRYADES. 35 There is a helmet on his brow, A spear is in his hand, He standeth like the sentinel To guard a sleeping band. 2. Right valiant men around him Are gathered far and near, But yet no voice of mortal man May strike the warder's ear ; There is no sound of revelry, No sound of hymn nor prayer, No sleeper draws his heavy breath Beneath the midnight air. 3. The hum of man is hushed below, The heavens above are still, And Zeus himself is taking rest Upon his holy hill. But the lonely man still keepeth watch, Nor sound is in his ear, Save the night-raven's flapping wings, And the night-wolf's howl of fear. i) 2 30 SONGS OF GREECE. 4. Two hosts upon that battle-plain At dawn of day were set, And he alone is living man Of all that there had met. The day is passed, the night hath come, The work of death is done ; He counteth over friend and foe, Six hundred all save one. 5. Three hundred men had Argos sent To guard her ancient cause, Three hundred came to do the hest Of Sparta's holy laws. But Argos hath no champion now, The bloody game is done, Othryades is left alone To tell how Sparta won. 6. Two hundred men and ninety-nine All in their armour lie, Smoothed down is every lifeless limb, And closed each darkened eye; OTHRYADES. 37 Three hundred men are heaped around, With bodies stark and bare, Their limbs have stiffened as they fell, Unclosed their eyeballs glare. 7. And in the midst his trophy The lonely victor rears, Three hundred Argive panoplies, Three hundred Argive spears ; He pours his lonely paean, To heaven he lifts his eyes, And straight to Zeus the Saviour He consecrates the prize. 8. The rite is done, and once again He walks through all the plain, And once again of friend and foe He counteth o'er the slain ; A tear was in the Spartan's eye, A sigh was on his breath, As he saw his brethren lying there, So beautiful in death. 38 SONGS OF GREECE. 9. " And I alone am living man, Alone of friend and foe ; I must not see the home again Where these may never go ; My fate was ever linked with theirs, Let weal or woe betide, Nor am I better man than they Who battled at my side." 10. Straight from his belt the sword he drew, His farewell prayer he prayed, Firm in the earth he fixed the hilt, He fell upon the blade. So now two hosts are perished all, The bloody game is done ; But he left his trophy standing, To tell how Sparta won. E. a. p. 39 THE MEED OF HEROES. This poem must be considered as a hymn sung in the worship of the warriors who fell at Marathon, and who received heroic honours. The last stanza would fix its supposed date to the time of the Peloponnesian war. The Pindaric allusions hardly need to be pointed out. 1. Awake, ye sons of Marathon, Day yokes her golden car ; Her milk-white steeds are chasing The gloom of Night afar. The rosy-fingered Morning Hath lit the dark -blue wave, And pours her gentle brightness Upon the heroes' grave : The grave which is our altar, Where we this morn must pray, And to the fallen heroes Our richest offerings pay. n 4 40 SONGS OF GREECE. 2. Bring hither the dark victims Unto the shades below; Dig deep the trench around the tomb, Where the dark blood may flow ; And strike with glee the golden harp, And sing their glorious deeds Who vanquished on this blessed ground The quiver-bearing Medes. While still the blue JEgsean keeps The birth-place of the free ; While Athens' triremes proudly float Far o'er the vanquished sea ; While still the Median bowman Quakes at the Grecian spear; Still shall the fallen heroes Be worshipped year by year. 3. Soft sweeps the blue JEg&an Around the heroes' grave, Soft sweeps the breeze of morning-land Where rest the fallen brave ; The mountains bend in homage, The trees wave soft in awe, THE MEED OF HEROES. 41 Over their graves who perished For freedom and for law. But in the gloom of midnight, When all beside is still, Then doth the cry of battle Float back from every hill ; Then rise the shadowy warriors, And meet again in fight ; But none may see their faces, Nor harness gleaming bright. Yet ever on the breezes The shouts of war are borne ; The clashing of their weapons, The blast of flute and horn, The clang of shivering harness, The neigh of gallant steeds ; As meet the Grecian spearmen And quiver-bearing Medes. 4. Look to yon two fair pillars That crown the grassy mound, Carved with their names whose purple blood Hath dyed this holy ground ; 42 SONGS OF GREECE. One for the sons of Athens, One for each true ally, Who dared for faith and freedom In glorious fight to die. There sleeps Calliniachus the brave, The chieftain of the fray, And Cynaegeirus, whose right hand The foeman lopped away. And he too of the ploughshare Dwelleth in glory here, The hero Echetlreus, Whom we worship year by year : He came amid the battle, He came against the foe, And with his Avondrous ploughshare Laid many a stranger low. But none before the battle E'er marked that warrior's mien ; And when the fight was over, He never more was seen ; And Pytho's prophet bade us To give him feast and prayer, And deem him last of heroes Who deathless worship share. THE MEED OF HEROES. 43 5. But while ye bend in homage, To greet the fallen brave, Think not their dauntless spirits sleep Within the voiceless grave. Their bones below are mouldering, Their shadows flit around, But a happier home than we may tell Their holy souls have found. Far, far beyond the western hills, Where sinks the Sun- God's car ; Beyond Hesperia's laughing plains, And Atlas frowning far ; Beyond the stream of Ocean, Fast by his farther shore, Their spirits dwell for ever, And sorrow taste no more. 6. For ever and for ever, In bliss that passeth song, The spirits of the blessed Lead the fair hours along. 44 SONGS OF GREECE. Theirs is no gloom v midnight, Theirs is no noon-tide blaze ; But the Sun-God, ever shining, Glads them with gentle rays. No winter binds their rivers, No summer blasts their fields, But one fair spring for ever Each choicest floweret yields. Not such as here we gather, Which wither and which fade, But gleaming rich with golden light, In groves of sacred shade. Beneath their feet, like velvet, The softest grass they tread, And all around the foot-path The golden flowers are spread. And, culling choicest beauties, The happy spirits there Wreathe garlands gilt with brightest sheen Around their flowing hair. They labour not for ever, Nor stem the tide of fight ; They pass not o'er the wine-dark seas, Nor mountains' weary height. THE MEED OF HEROES. 45 7. For ever and for ever, In bliss we may not tell, By Father Cronus' hoary tower The happy spirits dwell. Fast by the stream of Ocean They mark the passing tide, But reck not of the deeds men work Upon its eastern side. The Gods in all their glory Each morn and eve they see : They bring no bleeding victims, Nor offerings such as we ; But with a holy paean, Of calm and gentle sound, They hail the Lord of Thunder, And him that shakes the ground. And the pure God Apollo Deigns oft with them to dwell, And blue-eyed Athenaja Doth heavenly wisdom tell. They never quake at Hades, Nor dread Erinnyes near, For their blest souls are sinless, And no avenger fear. 46 SONGS OF GREECE. 8. For ever and for ever, In calm and holy joy, There dwell the fallen heroes Who fought at Thebes and Troy. There dwell the bards who sang of old Of all their deeds of might, Orpheus and godlike Homer, No longer lost to sight. Full oft he strikes his golden lyre, And tells of Ilion's day, How Dardan and Achaean Were matched in deadly fray. Then flock the chiefs around him To hearken to his song, Achaean matched with Dardan, But not in warlike throng. The swift-footed Achilles And Hector ever bold Clasp their pure hands together When they hear their fights of old. And there, in holy wedlock, She who at Aulis died, Prize of the death she meekly bore, Is now the hero's bride. THE MEED OF HEROES. 47 And Peleus eyes with gentle smile His children's holy joy, And deems their lot a fairer bliss Than fame of conquered Troy. 9. So dwell they on for ever In bliss that knows no end, To whom the Gods who dwell on hio-h. Have granted there to wend. Who dies for truth and freedom, Who keeps his hands from wrong, Who gives his people holy laws, Who twines the wreath of song ; These, in the happy island By Ocean's western shore, Reck not of earth's wild passions, And fight and toil no more. There dwells Aristogeiton, And fair Harmodius too, Who on Athena's festival The hated tyrant slew. And there they dwell for ever, The prize of holy deeds, 48 SONGS OF GREECE. Who vanquished on this blessed ground The quiver-bearing Medes. 10. But O ye powers that guard us, To whom our prayers are bound, The blue-eyed Athenaja, And him that shakes the ground, O hear us as we pray you To look upon our land, And ever o'er your temples To stretch your guardian hand ; And raise us in the battle, To grasp the Athenian spear, Men like the fallen heroes Whom we worship year by year. Drive far away, we pray you, From where your victims bleed. The wasting sons of Dorus, And the quiver-bearing Mede. Let health and wealth for ever' Around us sweetlv flow, In a land that knows no master, That sees no wasting foe. THE MEED OF HEROES. 49 So shall our children's children Your altars deck for aye, And with voice of high thanksgiving Their fathers' offerings pay. e. a. r. CtXXd TVapOVTtQ ^UXTO/XIV VfltV avroic;, Trcuolv, iraiSujv ivcna'tT, TrkovOvyieiav, evSaijioviav, fiior, iiprjvtp', vtoTtjTa, ykXio- ra, \opoi