[This text, which comes from the Project Gutenberg one transcribed by David Price — email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk — has been collated with that found in Poems (London: Macmillan, 1884), II, 3-44 by GPL, who adapted the html the follow Victorian Web style and added numbers in brackets to indicate page breaks in the print edition and thus allow users to cite or locate the original page numbers.]
Over the sea, past Crete, on the Syrian shore to the southward,
Dwells
in the well-tilled lowland a dark-haired Æthiop people,
Skilful
with needle and loom, and the arts of the dyer and carver,
Skilful,
but feeble of heart; for they know not the lords of Olympus,
Lovers
of men; neither broad-browed Zeus, nor Pallas Athené,
Teacher
of wisdom to heroes, bestower of might in the battle;
Share not
the cunning of Hermes, nor list to the songs of Apollo.
Fearing
the stars of the sky, and the roll of the blue salt water,
Fearing
all things that have life in the womb of the seas and the rivers, [3/4]
Eating
no fish to this day, nor ploughing the main, like the Phœnics,
Manful
with black-beaked ships, they abide in a sorrowful region,
Vexed
with the earthquake, and flame, and the sea-floods, scourge of Poseidon.
Whelming
the dwellings of men, and the toils of the slow-footed oxen,
Drowning
the barley and flax, and the hard-earned gold of the harvest,
Up
to the hillside vines, and the pastures skirting the woodland,
Inland
the floods came yearly; and after the waters a monster,
Bred of
the slime, like the worms which are bred from the slime of the Nile-bank,
Shapeless,
a terror to see; and by night it swam out to the seaward,
Daily
returning to feed with the dawn, and devoured of the fairest,
Cattle,
and children, and maids, till the terrified people fled inland.
Fasting
in sackcloth and ashes they came, both the king and his people, [4/5]
Came
to the mountain of oaks, to the house of the terrible sea-gods,
Hard
by the gulf in the rocks, where of old the world-wide deluge
Sank
to the inner abyss; and the lake where the fish of the goddess,
Holy,
undying, abide; whom the priests feed daily with dainties.
There
to the mystical fish, high-throned in her chamber of cedar,
Burnt
they the fat of the flock; till the flame shone far to the seaward.
Three
days fasting they prayed; but the fourth day the priests of the goddess,
Cunning
in spells, cast lots, to discover the crime of the people.
All
day long they cast, till the house of the monarch was taken,
Cepheus,
king of the land; and the faces of all gathered blackness.
Then
once more they cast; and Cassiopœia was taken,
Deep-bosomed
wife of the king, whom oft far-seeing Apollo [5/6]
Watched well-pleased
from the welkin, the fairest of Æthiop women:
Fairest, save
only her daughter; for down to the ankle her tresses
Rolled, blue-black
as the night, ambrosial, joy to beholders.
Awful and fair she arose,
most like in her coming to Here,
Queen before whom the Immortals
arise, as she comes on Olympus,
Out of the chamber of gold, which
her son Hephæstos has wrought her.
Such in her stature and
eyes, and the broad white light of her forehead.
Stately she came
from her place, and she spoke in the midst of the people.
‘Pure
are my hands from blood: most pure this heart in my bosom.
Yet
one fault I remember this day; one word have I spoken;
Rashly I
spoke on the shore, and I dread lest the sea should have heard it.
Watching
my child at her bath, as she plunged in the joy of her girlhood, [6/7]
Fairer
I called her in pride than Atergati, queen of the ocean.
Judge
ye if this be my sin, for I know none other.’ She ended;
Wrapping
her head in her mantle she stood, and the people were silent.
Answered
the dark-browed priests, ‘No word, once spoken, returneth,
Even
if uttered unwitting. Shall gods excuse our rashness?
That
which is done, that abides; and the wrath of the sea is against us;
Hers,
and the wrath of her brother, the Sun-god, lord of the sheepfolds.
Fairer
than her hast thou boasted thy daughter? Ah folly! for hateful,
Hateful
are they to the gods, whoso, impious, liken a mortal,
Fair though
he be, to their glory; and hateful is that which is likened,
Grieving
the eyes of their pride, and abominate, doomed to their anger.
What
shall be likened to gods? The unknown, who deep in the darkness [7/8]
Ever
abide, twyformed, many-handed, terrible, shapeless.
Woe to the
queen; for the land is defiled, and the people accursed.
Take thou
her therefore by night, thou ill-starred Cassiopœia,
Take
her with us in the night, when the moon sinks low to the westward;
Bind
her aloft for a victim, a prey for the gorge of the monster,
Far
on the sea-girt rock, which is washed by the surges for ever;
So
may the goddess accept her, and so may the land make atonement,
Purged
by her blood from its sin: so obey thou the doom of the rulers.’
Bitter
in soul they went out, Cepheus and Cassiopœia,
Bitter in
soul; and their hearts whirled round, as the leaves in the eddy.
Weak
was the queen, and rebelled: but the king, like a shepherd of people,
Willed
not the land should waste; so he yielded the life of his daughter. [8/9]
Deep
in the wane of the night, as the moon sank low to the westward,
They
by the shade of the cliffs, with the horror of darkness around them,
Stole,
as ashamed, to a deed which became not the light of the sunshine,
Slowly,
the priests, and the queen, and the virgin bound in the galley,
Slowly
they rowed to the rocks: but Cepheus far in the palace
Sate in
the midst of the hall, on his throne, like a shepherd of people,
Choking
his woe, dry-eyed, while the slaves wailed loudly around him.
They
on the sea-girt rock, which is washed by the surges for ever,
Set
her in silence, the guiltless, aloft with her face to the eastward.
Under
a crag of the stone, where a ledge sloped down to the water;
There
they set Andromeden, most beautiful, shaped like a goddess,
Lifting
her long white arms wide-spread to the walls of the basalt,
Chaining
them, ruthless, with brass; and they called on the might of the Rulers.
‘Mystical
fish of the seas, dread Queen whom Æthiops honour,
Whelming
the land in thy wrath, unavoidable, sharp as the sting-ray,
Thou,
and thy brother the Sun, brain-smiting, lord of the sheepfold,
Scorching
the earth all day, and then resting at night in thy bosom,
Take
ye this one life for many, appeased by the blood of a maiden,
Fairest,
and born of the fairest, a queen, most priceless of victims.’
Thrice
they spat as they went by the maid: but her mother delaying
Fondled
her child to the last, heart-crushed; and the warmth of her weeping
Fell
on the breast of the maid, as her woe broke forth into wailing.
‘Daughter!
my daughter! forgive me! Oh curse not the murderess! Curse
not!
How have I sinned, but in love? Do the gods grudge glory
to mothers? [10/11]
Loving I bore thee in vain in the fate-cursed bride-bed
of Cepheus,
Loving I fed thee and tended, and loving rejoiced in
thy beauty,
Blessing thy limbs as I bathed them, and blessing thy
locks as I combed them;
Decking thee, ripening to woman, I blest
thee: yet blessing I slew thee!
How have I sinned, but in love?
Oh swear to me, swear to thy mother,
Never to haunt me with curse,
as I go to the grave in my sorrow,
Childless and lone: may the
gods never send me another, to slay it!
See, I embrace thy knees—soft
knees, where no babe will be fondled—
Swear to me never to
curse me, the hapless one, not in the death-pang.’
Weeping
she clung to the knees of the maid; and the maid low answered—
‘Curse
thee! Not in the death-pang!’ The heart of the lady
was lightened.
Slowly she went by the ledge; and the maid was alone
in the darkness. [11/12]
Watching the pulse of the oars
die down, as her own died with them,
Tearless, dumb with amaze
she stood, as a storm-stunned nestling
Fallen from bough or from
eave lies dumb, which the home-going herdsman
Fancies a stone,
till he catches the light of its terrified eyeball.
So through
the long long hours the maid stood helpless and hopeless,
Wide-eyed,
downward gazing in vain at the black blank darkness.
Feebly at
last she began, while wild thoughts bubbled within her—
‘Guiltless
I am: why thus, then? Are gods more ruthless than mortals?
Have
they no mercy for youth? no love for the souls who have loved them?
Even
as I loved thee, dread sea, as I played by thy margin,
Blessing
thy wave as it cooled me, thy wind as it breathed on my forehead,
Bowing
my head to thy tempest, and opening my heart to thy children, [12/13]
Silvery
fish, wreathed shell, and the strange lithe things of the water,
Tenderly
casting them back, as they gasped on the beach in the sunshine,
Home
to their mother—in vain! for mine sits childless in anguish!
O
false sea! false sea! I dreamed what I dreamed of thy goodness;
Dreamed
of a smile in thy gleam, of a laugh in the plash of thy ripple:
False
and devouring thou art, and the great world dark and despiteful.’
Awed
by her own rash words she was still: and her eyes to the seaward
Looked
for an answer of wrath: far off, in the heart of the darkness,
Blight
white mists rose slowly; beneath them the wandering ocean
Glimmered
and glowed to the deepest abyss; and the knees of the maiden
Trembled
and sunk in her fear, as afar, like a dawn in the midnight,
Rose
from their seaweed chamber the choir of the mystical sea-maids. [13/14]
Onward
toward her they came, and her heart beat loud at their coming,
Watching
the bliss of the gods, as they wakened the cliffs with their laughter.
Onward
they came in their joy, and before them the roll of the surges
Sank,
as the breeze sank dead, into smooth green foam-flecked marble,
Awed;
and the crags of the cliff, and the pines of the mountain were silent.
Onward
they came in their joy, and around them the lamps of the sea-nymphs,
Myriad
fiery globes, swam panting and heaving; and rainbows
Crimson and
azure and emerald, were broken in star-showers, lighting
Far through
the wine-dark depths of the crystal, the gardens of Nereus,
Coral
and sea-fan and tangle, the blooms and the palms of the ocean.
Onward
they came in their joy, more white than the foam which they scattered,
Laughing
and singing, and tossing and twining, while eager, the Tritons [14/15]
Blinded
with kisses their eyes, unreproved, and above them in worship
Hovered
the terns, and the seagulls swept past them on silvery pinions
Echoing
softly their laughter; around them the wantoning dolphins
Sighed
as they plunged, full of love; and the great sea-horses which bore them
Curved
up their crests in their pride to the delicate arms of the maidens,
Pawing
the spray into gems, till a fiery rainfall, unharming,
Sparkled
and gleamed on the limbs of the nymphs, and the coils of the mermen.
Onward
they went in their joy, bathed round with the fiery coolness,
Needing
nor sun nor moon, self-lighted, immortal: but others,
Pitiful,
floated in silence apart; in their bosoms the sea-boys,
Slain by
the wrath of the seas, swept down by the anger of Nereus;
Hapless,
whom never again on strand or on quay shall their mothers [15/16]
Welcome
with garlands and vows to the temple, but wearily pining
Gaze over
island and bay for the sails of the sunken; they heedless
Sleep
in soft bosoms for ever, and dream of the surge and the sea-maids.
Onward
they passed in their joy; on their brows neither sorrow nor anger;
Self-sufficing,
as gods, never heeding the woe of the maiden.
She would have shrieked
for their mercy: but shame made her dumb; and their eyeballs
Stared
on her careless and still, like the eyes in the house of the idols.
Seeing
they saw not, and passed, like a dream, on the murmuring ripple. [16/17]
Stunned
by the wonder she gazed, wide-eyed, as the glory departed.
‘O
fair shapes! far fairer than I! Too fair to be ruthless!
Gladden
mine eyes once more with your splendour, unlike to my fancies;
You,
then, smiled in the sea-gleam, and laughed in the plash of the ripple.
Awful
I deemed you and formless; inhuman, monstrous as idols;
Lo, when
ye came, ye were women, more loving and lovelier, only;
Like in
all else; and I blest you: why blest ye not me for my worship?
Had
you no mercy for me, thus guiltless? Ye pitied the sea-boys:
Why
not me, then, more hapless by far? Does your sight and your knowledge
End
with the marge of the waves? Is the world which ye dwell in not
our world?’
Over the mountain aloft ran a rush and a roll and
a roaring;
Downward the breeze came indignant, and leapt with a
howl to the water,
Roaring in cranny and crag, till the pillars
and clefts of the basalt
Rang like a god-swept lyre, and her brain
grew mad with the noises;
Crashing and lapping of waters, and sighing
and tossing of weed-beds, [17/18]
Gurgle and whisper and hiss of the foam,
while thundering surges
Boomed in the wave-worn halls, as they
champed at the roots of the mountain.
Hour after hour in the darkness
the wind rushed fierce to the landward,
Drenching the maiden with
spray; she shivering, weary and drooping,
Stood with her heart
full of thoughts, till the foam-crests gleamed in the twilight,
Leaping
and laughing around, and the east grew red with the dawning.
Then
on the ridge of the hills rose the broad bright sun in his glory,
Hurling
his arrows abroad on the glittering crests of the surges,
Gilding
the soft round bosoms of wood, and the downs of the coastland;
Gilding
the weeds at her feet, and the foam-laced teeth of the ledges,
Showing
the maiden her home through the veil of her locks, as they floated
Glistening,
damp with the spray, in a long black cloud to the landward. [18/19]
High
in the far-off glens rose thin blue curls from the homesteads;
Softly
the low of the herds, and the pipe of the outgoing herdsman,
Slid
to her ear on the water, and melted her heart into weeping.
Shuddering,
she tried to forget them; and straining her eyes to the seaward,
Watched
for her doom, as she wailed, but in vain, to the terrible Sun-god.
‘Dost
thou not pity me, Sun, though thy wild dark sister be ruthless;
Dost
thou not pity me here, as thou seest me desolate, weary,
Sickened
with shame and despair, like a kid torn young from its mother?
What
if my beauty insult thee, then blight it: but me—Oh spare me!
Spare
me yet, ere he be here, fierce, tearing, unbearable! See me,
See
me, how tender and soft, and thus helpless! See how I shudder,
Fancying
only my doom. Wilt thou shine thus bright, when it takes me?
Are
there no deaths save this, great Sun? No fiery arrow,
Lightning,
or deep-mouthed wave? Why thus? What music in shrieking,
Pleasure
in warm live limbs torn slowly? And dar’st thou behold them!
Oh,
thou hast watched worse deeds! All sights are alike to thy brightness!
What
if thou waken the birds to their song, dost thou waken no sorrow;
Waken
no sick to their pain; no captive to wrench at his fetters?
Smile
on the garden and fold, and on maidens who sing at the milking;
Flash
into tapestried chambers, and peep in the eyelids of lovers,
Showing
the blissful their bliss—Dost love, then, the place where thou
smilest?
Lovest thou cities aflame, fierce blows, and the shrieks
of the widow?
Lovest thou corpse-strewn fields, as thou lightest
the path of the vulture?
Lovest thou these, that thou gazest so
gay on my tears, and my mother’s, [20/21]
Laughing alike at the horror
of one, and the bliss of another?
What dost thou care, in thy sky,
for the joys and the sorrows of mortals?
Colder art thou than the
nymphs: in thy broad bright eye is no seeing.
Hadst thou a soul—as
much soul as the slaves in the house of my father,
Wouldst thou
not save? Poor thralls! they pitied me, clung to me weeping,
Kissing
my hands and my feet—What, are gods more ruthless than mortals?
Worse
than the souls which they rule? Let me die: they war not with
ashes!’
Sudden she ceased, with a shriek:
in the spray, like a hovering foam-bow,
Hung, more fair than the
foam-bow, a boy in the bloom of his manhood,
Golden-haired, ivory-limbed,
ambrosial; over his shoulder
Hung for a veil of his beauty the
gold-fringed folds of the goat-skin,
Bearing the brass of his shield,
as the sun flashed clear on its clearness. [21/22]
Curved on his thigh
lay a falchion, and under the gleam of his helmet
Eyes more blue
than the main shone awful; around him Athené
Shed in her
love such grace, such state, and terrible daring.
Hovering over
the water he came, upon glittering pinions,
Living, a wonder, outgrown
from the tight-laced gold of his sandals;
Bounding from billow
to billow, and sweeping the crests like a sea-gull;
Leaping the
gulfs of the surge, as he laughed in the joy of his leaping.
Fair
and majestic he sprang to the rock; and the maiden in wonder
Gazed
for a while, and then hid in the dark-rolling wave of her tresses,
Fearful,
the light of her eyes; while the boy (for her sorrow had awed him)
Blushed
at her blushes, and vanished, like mist on the cliffs at the sunrise.
Fearful
at length she looked forth: he was gone: she, wild with amazement, [22/23]
Wailed
for her mother aloud: but the wail of the wind only answered.
Sudden
he flashed into sight, by her side; in his pity and anger
Moist
were his eyes; and his breath like a rose-bed, as bolder and bolder,
Hovering
under her brows, like a swallow that haunts by the house-eaves,
Delicate-handed,
he lifted the veil of her hair; while the maiden
Motionless, frozen
with fear, wept loud; till his lips unclosing
Poured from their
pearl-strung portal the musical wave of his wonder.
‘Ah,
well spoke she, the wise one, the gray-eyed Pallas Athené,—
Known
to Immortals alone are the prizes which lie for the heroes
Ready
prepared at their feet; for requiring a little, the rulers
Pay
back the loan tenfold to the man who, careless of pleasure,
Thirsting
for honour and toil, fares forth on a perilous errand [21/22]
Led by the
guiding of gods, and strong in the strength of Immortals.
Thus
have they led me to thee: from afar, unknowing, I marked thee,
Shining,
a snow-white cross on the dark-green walls of the sea-cliff;
Carven
in marble I deemed thee, a perfect work of the craftsman.
Likeness
of Amphitrité, or far-famed Queen Cythereia.
Curious I came,
till I saw how thy tresses streamed in the sea-wind,
Glistening,
black as the night, and thy lips moved slow in thy wailing.
Speak
again now—Oh speak! For my soul is stirred to avenge thee;
Tell
me what barbarous horde, without law, unrighteous and heartless,
Hateful
to gods and to men, thus have bound thee, a shame to the sunlight,
Scorn
and prize to the sailor: but my prize now; for a coward,
Coward
and shameless were he, who so finding a glorious jewel [24/25]
Cast on
the wayside by fools, would not win it and keep it and wear it,
Even
as I will thee; for I swear by the head of my father,
Bearing thee
over the sea-wave, to wed thee in Argos the fruitful,
Beautiful,
meed of my toil no less than this head which I carry,
Hidden here
fearful—Oh speak!’
But the maid,
still dumb with amazement,
Watered her bosom with weeping, and
longed for her home and her mother.
Beautiful, eager, he wooed
her, and kissed off her tears as he hovered,
Roving at will, as
a bee, on the brows of a rock nymph-haunted,
Garlanded over with
vine, and acanthus, and clambering roses,
Cool in the fierce still
noon, where streams glance clear in the mossbeds,
Hums on from
blossom to blossom, and mingles the sweets as he tastes them. [25/26]
Beautiful,
eager, he kissed her, and clasped her yet closer and closer,
Praying
her still to speak—
‘Not cruel nor
rough did my mother
Bear me to broad-browed Zeus in the depths
of the brass-covered dungeon;
Neither in vain, as I think, have
I talked with the cunning of Hermes,
Face unto face, as a friend;
or from gray-eyed Pallas Athené
Learnt what is fit, and
respecting myself, to respect in my dealings
Those whom the gods
should love; so fear not; to chaste espousals
Only I woo thee,
and swear, that a queen, and alone without rival
By me thou sittest
in Argos of Hellas, throne of my fathers,
Worshipped by fair-haired
kings: why callest thou still on thy mother?
Why did she leave
thee thus here? For no foeman has bound thee; no foeman
Winning
with strokes of the sword such a prize, would so leave it behind him.’ [27/27]
Just
as at first some colt, wild-eyed, with quivering nostril,
Plunges
in fear of the curb, and the fluttering robes of the rider;
Soon,
grown bold by despair, submits to the will of his master,
Tamer
and tamer each hour, and at last, in the pride of obedience,
Answers
the heel with a curvet, and arches his neck to be fondled,
Cowed
by the need that maid grew tame; while the hero indignant
Tore
at the fetters which held her: the brass, too cunningly tempered,
Held
to the rock by the nails, deep wedged: till the boy, red with anger,
Drew
from his ivory thigh, keen flashing, a falchion of diamond—
‘Now
let the work of the smith try strength with the arms of Immortals!’
Dazzling
it fell; and the blade, as the vine-hook shears off the vine-bough,
Carved
through the strength of the brass, till her arms fell soft on his shoulder. [27/28]
Once
she essayed to escape: but the ring of the water was round her,
Round
her the ring of his arms; and despairing she sank on his bosom.
Then,
like a fawn when startled, she looked with a shriek to the seaward.
‘Touch
me not, wretch that I am! For accursed, a shame and a hissing,
Guiltless,
accurst no less, I await the revenge of the sea-gods.
Yonder it
comes! Ah go! Let me perish unseen, if I perish!
Spare
me the shame of thine eyes, when merciless fangs must tear me
Piecemeal!
Enough to endure by myself in the light of the sunshine
Guiltless,
the death of a kid!’
But the boy still
lingered around her,
Loth, like a boy, to forego her, and waken
the cliffs with his laughter.
‘Yon is the foe, then?
A beast of the sea? I had deemed him immortal.
Titan, or
Proteus’ self, or Nereus, foeman of sailors: [28/29]
Yet would I
fight with them all, but Poseidon, shaker of mountains,
Uncle of
mine, whom I fear, as is fit; for he haunts on Olympus,
Holding
the third of the world; and the gods all rise at his coming.
Unto
none else will I yield, god-helped: how then to a monster,
Child
of the earth and of night, unreasoning, shapeless, accursed?’
‘Art
thou, too, then a god?’
‘No
god I,’ smiling he answered;
‘Mortal as thou, yet divine:
but mortal the herds of the ocean,
Equal to men in that only, and
less in all else; for they nourish
Blindly the life of the lips,
untaught by the gods, without wisdom:
Shame if I fled before such!’
In
her heart new life was enkindled,
Worship and trust, fair parents
of love: but she answered him sighing. [29/30]
‘Beautiful,
why wilt thou die? Is the light of the sun, then, so worthless,
Worthless
to sport with thy fellows in flowery glades of the forest,
Under
the broad green oaks, where never again shall I wander,
Tossing
the ball with my maidens, or wreathing the altar in garlands,
Careless,
with dances and songs, till the glens rang loud to our laughter.
Too
full of death the sad earth is already: the halls full of weepers,
Quarried
by tombs all cliffs, and the bones gleam white on the sea-floor,
Numberless,
gnawn by the herds who attend on the pitiless sea-gods,
Even as
mine will be soon: and yet noble it seems to me, dying,
Giving
my life for a people, to save to the arms of their lovers
Maidens
and youths for a while: thee, fairest of all, shall I slay thee?
Add
not thy bones to the many, thus angering idly the dread ones! [30/31]
Either
the monster will crush, or the sea-queen’s self overwhelm thee,
Vengeful,
in tempest and foam, and the thundering walls of the surges.
Why
wilt thou follow me down? can we love in the black blank darkness?
Love
in the realms of the dead, in the land where all is forgotten?
Why
wilt thou follow me down? is it joy, on the desolate oozes,
Meagre
to flit, gray ghosts in the depths of the gray salt water?
Beautiful!
why wilt thou die, and defraud fair girls of thy manhood?
Surely
one waits for thee longing, afar in the isles of the ocean.
Go
thy way; I mine; for the gods grudge pleasure to mortals.’
Sobbing
she ended her moan, as her neck, like a storm-bent lily,
Drooped
with the weight of her woe, and her limbs sank, weary with watching,
Soft
on the hard-ledged rock: but the boy, with his eye on the monster, [31/32]
Clasped
her, and stood, like a god; and his lips curved proud as he answered—
‘Great
are the pitiless sea-gods: but greater the Lords of Olympus;
Greater
the Ægis-wielder, and greater is she who attends him.
Clear-eyed
Justice her name is, the counsellor, loved of Athené;
Helper
of heroes, who dare, in the god-given might of their manhood,
Greatly
to do and to suffer, and far in the fens’ and the forests
Smite
the devourers of men, Heaven-hated, brood of the giants,
Twyformed,
strange, without like, who obey not the golden-haired Rulers.
Vainly
rebelling they rage, till they die by the swords of the heroes,
Even
as this must die; for I burn with the wrath of my father,
Wandering,
led by Athené; and dare whatsoever betides me.
Led by Athené
I won from the gray-haired terrible sisters [32/33]
Secrets hidden from
men, when I found them asleep on the sand-hills,
Keeping their
eye and their tooth, till they showed me the perilous pathway
Over
the waterless ocean, the valley that led to the Gorgon.
Her too
I slew in my craft, Medusa, the beautiful horror;
Taught by Athené
I slew her, and saw not herself, but her image,
Watching the mirror
of brass, in the shield which a goddess had lent me.
Cleaving her
brass-scaled throat, as she lay with her adders around her,
Fearless
I bore off her head, in the folds of the mystical goat-skin
Hide
of Amaltheié, fair nurse of the Ægis-wielder.
Hither
I bear it, a gift to the gods, and a death to my foe-men,
Freezing
the seer to stone; to hide thine eyes from the horror.
Kiss me
but once, and I go.’
Then lifting her neck,
like a sea-bird
Peering up over the wave, from the foam-white swells
of her bosom, [33/34]
Blushing she kissed him: afar, on the topmost Idalian
summit
Laughed in the joy of her heart, far-seeing, the queen Aphrodité.
Loosing
his arms from her waist he flew upward, awaiting the sea-beast.
Onward
it came from the southward, as bulky and black as a galley,
Lazily
coasting along, as the fish fled leaping before it;
Lazily breasting
the ripple, and watching by sandbar and headland,
Listening for
laughter of maidens at bleaching, or song of the fisher,
Children
at play on the pebbles, or cattle that pawed on the sand-hills.
Rolling
and dripping it came, where bedded in glistening purple
Cold on
the cold sea-weeds lay the long white sides of the maiden,
Trembling,
her face in her hands, and her tresses afloat on the water.
As
when an osprey aloft, dark-eyebrowed, royally crested, [34/35]
Flags on
by creek and by cove, and in scorn of the anger of Nereus
Ranges,
the king of the shore; if he see on a glittering shallow,
Chasing
the bass and the mullet, the fin of a wallowing dolphin,
Halting,
he wheels round slowly, in doubt at the weight of his quarry,
Whether
to clutch it alive, or to fall on the wretch like a plummet,
Stunning
with terrible talon the life of the brain in the hindhead:
Then
rushes up with a scream, and stooping the wrath of his eyebrows
Falls
from the sky, like a star, while the wind rattles hoarse in his pinions.
Over
him closes the foam for a moment; and then from the sand-bed
Rolls
up the great fish, dead, and his side gleams white in the sunshine.
Thus
fell the boy on the beast, unveiling the face of the Gorgon;
Thus
fell the boy on the beast; thus rolled up the beast in his horror, [35/36]
Once,
as the dead eyes glared into his; then his sides, death-sharpened,
Stiffened
and stood, brown rock, in the wash of the wandering water.
Beautiful,
eager, triumphant, he leapt back again to his treasure;
Leapt back
again, full blest, toward arms spread wide to receive him.
Brimful
of honour he clasped her, and brimful of love she caressed him,
Answering
lip with lip; while above them the queen Aphrodité
Poured
on their foreheads and limbs, unseen, ambrosial odours,
Givers
of longing, and rapture, and chaste content in espousals.
Happy
whom ere they be wedded anoints she, the Queen Aphrodité!
Laughing
she called to her sister, the chaste Tritonid Athené,
‘Seest
thou yonder thy pupil, thou maid of the Ægis-wielder?
How
he has turned himself wholly to love, and caresses a damsel, [36/37]
Dreaming
no longer of honour, or danger, or Pallas Athené?
Sweeter,
it seems, to the young my gifts are; so yield me the stripling;
Yield
him me now, lest he die in his prime, like hapless Adonis.’
Smiling
she answered in turn, that chaste Tritonid Athené:
‘Dear
unto me, no less than to thee, is the wedlock of heroes;
Dear,
who can worthily win him a wife not unworthy; and noble,
Pure with
the pure to beget brave children, the like of their father.
Happy,
who thus stands linked to the heroes who were, and who shall be;
Girdled
with holiest awe, not sparing of self; for his mother
Watches his
steps with the eyes of the gods; and his wife and his children
Move
him to plan and to do in the farm and the camp and the council.
Thence
comes weal to a nation: but woe upon woe, when the people [37/38]
Mingle
in love at their will, like the brutes, not heeding the future.’
Then
from her gold-strung loom, where she wrought in her chamber of cedar,
Awful
and fair she arose; and she went by the glens of Olympus;
Went
by the isles of the sea, and the wind never ruffled her mantle;
Went
by the water of Crete, and the black-beaked fleets of the Phœnics;
Came
to the sea-girt rock which is washed by the surges for ever,
Bearing
the wealth of the gods, for a gift to the bride of a hero.
There
she met Andromeden and Persea, shaped like Immortals;
Solemn and
sweet was her smile, while their hearts beat loud at her coming;
Solemn
and sweet was her smile, as she spoke to the pair in her wisdom.
‘Three
things hold we, the Rulers, who sit by the founts of Olympus,
Wisdom,
and prowess, and beauty; and freely we pour them on mortals; [38/39]
Pleased
at our image in man, as a father at his in his children.
One thing
only we grudge to mankind: when a hero, unthankful,
Boasts of our
gifts as his own, stiffnecked, and dishonours the givers,
Turning
our weapons against us. Him Até follows avenging;
Slowly
she tracks him and sure, as a lyme-hound; sudden she grips him,
Crushing
him, blind in his pride, for a sign and a terror to folly.
This
we avenge, as is fit; in all else never weary of giving.
Come,
then, damsel, and know if the gods grudge pleasure to mortals.’
Loving
and gentle she spoke: but the maid stood in awe, as the goddess
Plaited
with soft swift finger her tresses, and decked her in jewels,
Armlet
and anklet and earbell; and over her shoulders a necklace,
Heavy,
enamelled, the flower of the gold and the brass of the mountain. [39/40]
Trembling
with joy she gazed, so well Hæphaistos had made it,
Deep
in the forges of Ætna, while Charis his lady beside him
Mingled
her grace in his craft, as he wrought for his sister Athené.
Then
on the brows of the maiden a veil bound Pallas Athené;
Ample
it fell to her feet, deep-fringed, a wonder of weaving.
Ages and
ages agone it was wrought on the heights of Olympus,
Wrought in
the gold-strung loom, by the finger of cunning Athené.
In
it she wove all creatures that teem in the womb of the ocean;
Nereid,
siren, and triton, and dolphin, and arrowy fishes
Glittering round,
many-hued, on the flame-red folds of the mantle.
In it she wove,
too, a town where gray-haired kings sat in judgment;
Sceptre in
hand in the market they sat, doing right by the people, [40/41]
Wise: while
above watched Justice, and near, far-seeing Apollo.
Round it she
wove for a fringe all herbs of the earth and the water,
Violet,
asphodel, ivy, and vine-leaves, roses and lilies,
Coral and sea-fan
and tangle, the blooms and the palms of the ocean:
Now from Olympus
she bore it, a dower to the bride of a hero.
Over the limbs of
the damsel she wrapt it: the maid still trembled,
Shading her face
with her hands; for the eyes of the goddess were awful.
Then,
as a pine upon Ida when southwest winds blow landward,
Stately
she bent to the damsel, and breathed on her: under her breathing
Taller
and fairer she grew; and the goddess spoke in her wisdom.
‘Courage
I give thee; the heart of a queen, and the mind of Immortals;
Godlike
to talk with the gods, and to look on their eyes unshrinking; [41/42]
Fearing
the sun and the stars no more, and the blue salt water;
Fearing
us only, the lords of Olympus, friends of the heroes;
Chastely
and wisely to govern thyself and thy house and thy people,
Bearing
a godlike race to thy spouse, till dying I set thee
High for a
star in the heavens, a sign and a hope to the seamen,
Spreading
thy long white arms all night in the heights of the æther,
Hard
by thy sire and the hero thy spouse, while near thee thy mother
Sits
in her ivory chair, as she plaits ambrosial tresses.
All night
long thou wilt shine; all day thou wilt feast on Olympus,
Happy,
the guest of the gods, by thy husband, the god-begotten.’
Blissful,
they turned them to go: but the fair-tressed Pallas Athené
Rose,
like a pillar of tall white cloud, toward silver Olympus; [42/43]
Far above
ocean and shore, and the peaks of the isles and the mainland;
Where
no frost nor storm is, in clear blue windless abysses,
High in
the home of the summer, the seats of the happy Immortals,
Shrouded
in keen deep blaze, unapproachable; there ever youthful
Hebé,
Harmonié, and the daughter of Jove, Aphrodité,
Whirled
in the white-linked dance with the gold-crowned Hours and the Graces,
Hand
within hand, while clear piped Phœbe, queen of the woodlands.
All
day long they rejoiced: but Athené still in her chamber
Bent
herself over her loom, as the stars rang loud to her singing,
Chanting
of order and right, and of foresight, warden of nations;
Chanting
of labour and craft, and of wealth in the port and the garner;
Chanting
of valour and fame, and the man who can fall with the foremost, [43/44]
Fighting
for children and wife, and the field which his father bequeathed him.
Sweetly
and solemnly sang she, and planned new lessons for mortals:
Happy,
who hearing obey her, the wise unsullied Athené.
Eversley, 1852
Last modified 14 November 2006