Perseus with the Hesperides

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Perseus with the Hesperides.

3 1924 013 566 991

Book I. How Perseus Came To The Island Of The Nymphs

A SPACE of skies and waters limitless, Warm winds, bright sunshine, blue unruffled waves, Blue heavens, profound and liquid as the seas, And one man, soaring, like a soul in dreams, Betwixt the blue of ocean and of air. —

Thus, wending ever westward, like a crane, From night to morn across the midnight seas, From morn to night across the dimpling waves, By sunny isle and arid desert strand, By many a goodly sight and many a foul, Flew Perseus, like a cloud that, through the sky, Floats dreamily along the shining track

Where Phoebus' wheels have cleft the deepening blue, What time the twilight hovers o'er the world With whispering wings and wild unbraided hair. And round his path the sportive dolphins played, And overhead the shrieking seagull soared : And, on the waveless waste of Western seas, The sun, that slowly now began to wane, Shone with the splendour of declining day ; When, low against the utmost western verge, Arose the outline of a distant shore, Which, ever as he sped across the waves, Uprising slowly loomed upon the sky, Distinct and dark against the cloudy line ; At first a speck, but, nearer seen, an isle Thick-wooded, and a mountain whose vast peak Towered to the heavens : — and over all the land Was silence, as the silence of a dream.

The winds were mute : the mirror of the deep Lay still, without a ripple, and the sky, Blue as the heart of some strange sapphire, glowed With limpid azure, shot with nacreous pearl, And hues as of the rose's inmost soul

That blushes red with perfume. — Like a rose

Set round with hyacinth and crocus flowers,

The wizard sun unfolded in the west

Leaf after delicate leaf of crimson cloud,

And opalescent halos, soft, like dreams

Strayed earthwards from the Islands of the Blest.

The brooding waters slept beneath his feet, The brooding azure slumbered overhead, Pregnant as if with some impending birth — Some starry revelation of deep peace And sweetest melancholy, such as drowns The poet's soul, when, lost in other worlds, He wanders, sailing on Elysian streams.

Low down upon the surface of the deep Sea-swallows, swiftly darting, — like a thought Immortal, never destined to decay, Upon the placid spirit which reflects All Nature in its clear unruffled lake, — Shot silently above the smooth expanse Of tideless waves, or sported, dipped, and swam, Dimpling the dark-blue levels of the deep

With mimic wavelets : here and there a seal Rose lazily and slowly sank again In ever-widening circles, like a stone Dropped softly on the bosom of a pool.

Like one that nears at last his native land After long years of absence, Perseus flew, Scattering the grey sea-swallows in his flight, Fleeter than theirs,— and, through the rosy eve, Swift as the arrows of the westering sun, Slanted and dipped, and lighted on the shore, Where, in the crescent of a tiny bay, A gently-shelving beach of golden sand Strewed thick with countless wealth of pearly shells Sloped downwards to the waters : — at his feet, Within the furthest concave of the cove A prattling streamlet tinkled to the sea 'Twixt moss-grown banks of rock, with cooling plash Of gentle waterfalls, that, through the hush Of that sweet solitary island, fell- Softly adown from hidden inland heights, And, falling, spent themselves in feathery spray, With rippling cadence as of silver bells.

A holy isle of silence and of rest, Girdled with Halcyon seas, it seemed the nest Of happy Love, that, scared by earthly jars, Here in the utmost cradle of the West Had clasped sweet Peace, folded his restless

wings, And reared himself a temple and a home.

Down to the very margin of the beach A tangled copse of sylvan greenery, Of boughs and leaves and flowers and fronds of fern, And blossom-covered myrtle, intertwined With fragrant briar and scented honeysuckle, Wild roses, climbing vines, and clematis, And strange luxuriance of unknown fruit, Grew lavishly, and far as eye could see, — With here and there a glimpse of mossy lawn, Tall palm-tree or sequestered waterfall, — Mile after mile stretched northward, to the foot Of that vast mountain, on whose rugged sides Huge rocky precipice and cloven chasm, And dull-green forest-waves of giant pine, Tier after tier, swelled upward to the clouds

C

Of vaporous mist that veiled the topmost peaks.

Here Perseus laid him down upon a bank Hard by the stream, where beds of flowering thyme, And the wild strawberry clustered thick with fruit, Proffered sweet rest and food. Awhile he lay, And ate and drank, and watched the sunset-red Strike the white cloud upon the mountain peaks With shimmering hues of rose and mellow gold. And, as he gazed upon the goodly land, The evening silence, stricken from afar, Woke softly to the echoes of a strain That rose and fell in wild harmonious gusts Of melody, as when the nightingale, Grieving amid the leaves in Tempe's vale, Pours out her soul upon the vibrant air, Full-throated, thrilling all the wastes with song.

Then Perseus rose, and leapt aloft, and towered High in the air, and like a falcon, poised, Searching the skies for prey, hung hovering With eyes intent: and presently he spied A flowery' valley like a garden, hid

THE HESPERWES. 19

Among the woods to northwards, at the foot Of the vast mountain, and within the vale What seemed a marble palace : and the song, Borne on the evening winds, came floating down By cave and copse and lawn and winding stream, Waking the slumbering echoes of the woods, As if the spirit of that silent land Spake in the love-soft music of its tone, That, like a memory of forgotten days Stung into sudden wakefulness, pursued The startled spirit through its lonely halls With winged footsteps, waking in its flight Dim half-extinguished dreams of perished years, Lost images of Beauty, strange desires, Heart-hunger as for unimagined joy, And floods of wild remembrance, keen with pangs Of Hope, unborn, or dead. And Perseus sighed, For fulness of delight, that thralled his sense With longing for he knew not what, and stirred Vague answering symphonies of voiceless song Within his spirit, as the south wind's breath Stirs, with late summer, through the murmuring reeds.

Some moments' space, as hangs a golden cloud Above the gates of sunset, Perseus hung, A-dream upon the dusk of gathering eve, — Then, like a darting swallow, dipped, and flew, — Scarce higher than the tallest fronds of palm, — Towards the garden, whence that distant song Welled ever near and nearer on his ears, As, like a feathery moth, with noiseless flight He skimmed the topmost tangle of the copse, And, lower ever, as he drew anear, Sank through the shadowy twilight of the boughs, Lost in the leafy darkness, till at length, Scarce half a bowshot from the garden's verge, Within a wilderness of myrtle-shrubs He lit, and creeping softly through the boughs, Looked forth unseen.

Upon a flowery lawn Three maidens sang beneath a wondrous tree Laden with golden fruit that through the night Of dusky foliage glimmered thick, like stars Set in the raiment of the Pleiades. Straight upward, like a fountain, from the turf, Uprose the stem of that enchanted tree,

Five cubits higher than the golden heads Of those fair Nymphs, — then broke in rain of boughs, And vivid lightning-gleams of glittering fruit. And round about the maidens and the tree, Within the shadow of the outmost boughs, The loathsome circle of a hideous snake, With bristling mane and wrinkled slimy fold, Lay wallowing: blotched with green and livid

red, And lurid panoply of leprous scale, Among the flowers his frightful length reposed Huge as a pine-trunk : and his monstrous head Lolled lazily a-doze upon his tail.

Foul as the birth of some infernal dream

That scares the wanderer in the fields of sleep

With fiendish features, suddenly unveiled,

And hell-lit eyes,— till, with affrighted cry,

He wakes once more to shuddering consciousness

Of earthly life,— the dire abortion lay

'Twixt Perseus and the Nymphs: and loathing deep

Possessed him, and, withal, a fierce desire

To slay the gruesome reptile, and to purge

The isle of such fell presence, that inspired Instinctive hate : — hard-grasping, on the hilt Of glittering Herpe\ that enchanted blade, Forged by no mortal hand, his fingers closed Convulsively, and from the jewelled sheath Half plucked the gleaming death, whose trenchant

edge Nor tempered bronze, nor triple adamant, Nor aught of mortal or immortal mould That breathes beneath the sun might dare unscathed,.

So deftly had Hephaestus fashioned it In that grim forge whose unextinguished fires Volcanic, blaze through Etna's fiery throat : — When, all at once, the gathering tide of song, That, even now, from wild tempestuous flow Had sunk to low melodious murmurings, Rose clear and full upon the listening air With subtlest sorcery of blended tones, And choric harmonies that ebbed and flowed, Re-echoing far through slumbering woodland

bowers, And twilight solitudes of dreamful space.

As one who, witched by dark Circean spells, Halts, rigid, half-transformed to lifeless stone, At muttering of a charm, so Perseus stood Tranced by the passionate magic of the song : For all his soul, grown drunk with melody, Floated and sank beneath the floods of sound, Deep-drowned, intoxicated as with wine, Yet evermore athirst. Back in its sheath Gently he thrust the blade, nor heeded more Of that fell snake, or any evil thing ; For ill had grown an empty name, and toil, Loss, sorrow, death and pain, yea life itself, Dim far-off visions. Motionless he crouched Among the myrtles, listening like a Faun When Pan pipes softly on the warbling reed, At eve, beside the lone Arcadian streams.

Awhile in chorus sang the sister Nymphs, As round the tree, with light majestic tread, And languorous maze of lithe voluptuous limbs, In stately dance they circled, hand in hand : While ivory arms, and fluttering gauzy robe Caught loosely in about the naked waist

With zone of woven gold and orient pearl,

In graceful undulation gently swayed

To each responsive cadence of the strain.

But soon, with changing step and loosened hands,

They moved to other measures, each in turn

Chanting alone the burden of the song,

Each answering each : and thus the maidens sang: —

^Egle.

Upon the listless mountain-side The pine-tree sleeps his dreamless sleep, On the blue ocean, far and wide, White clouds lie mirrored in the deep. A slumber steeps the earth and sky With nectarous dews of restful dreaming ; The very breezes passing by Fret not the lake's untroubled gleaming. The quiet of declining day, The waning sun's wild colour-play, The pale light from the zenith streaming, When high above the noiseless night, Selena's silvery palace shines, The rising of Orion bright,

The waning of the Pleiades, The purpling of the berried vines, The mellowing of the apple-trees, — Are all whereby Time marks his flight In this our sunset land of light.

Arethusa.

Alone ! alone ! — and on the sea, The dead white daylight blazing falls, — The starry eyes of midnight skies -Blink dim on these enchanted halls: While we the lonely sisters three Among the woods and waterfalls, Hand in hand, hand in hand, Wander through the listless land, Weaving choric dances fleet, With the maze of airy feet.

Underneath the apple boughs, Underneath the laden trees, By the glimmering stream that flows Downwards to the changeless seas, Through the everlasting Spring, Everlasting as is he,

Through the woods we wandering sing To the murmuring of the sea Sweetest songs, — but yet, ah me ! Who of men is here but we ?

Hesperia.

Silence on the lofty mountain, Silence in the woods and vales, Silence by the feathery fountain, Where the shade of many a bower Veils the blinding noonday heat From the happy fruit and flower, 'Mong which the transient butterfly, Like a pearly vapour sails : — Silence on old Atlas' seat, High above the snow-peak lonely, — Silence everywhere, save only Where beneath the apple trees, We the lone Hesperides Charm the dragon-snake asleep ; — Or where wandering wind and wave, From some distant ocean-cave, Wake wild echoes of the deep.

THE HESPER1DES. 27

^EGLE.

Half-way up the mountain-steep, Where the flickering fen-fires play, Floats the mist in ringlets curled, — • Far away, far away ! — Image of the Eastern world, Unto us the maidens three, Of the shoreless Western sea.

Arethusa.

Far as keenest eye can see, Eastward lies the blinding blue ; And the Hyperborean land, Nearer to the sunrise lies, Than our land of sunset skies. There is neither ship nor crew That may reach our magic strand : Therefore dwell we all alone, For of men and Gods is none That hath touched this silent shore, Nor shall be, for evermore.

Hesperia.

Yet methinks an ancient tale,

Saith that in the times to be, Zeus-born Heracles shall sail O'er the shoreless sea, And shall bear this fruit away, Which, in bygone ages, Ge Gave Hera on her marriage-day.

MGVE..

Woe is me if this be true !

Never more shall ye and me Watch the yellow golden fruit, Dawn from green of leafy shoot, As the sun from out the sea, — As the stars from out the blue. Would that one would join our play, Stay and rest with us awhile, Here in endless holiday, In our sunny western isle, Where the storm-clouds never darken, and the laughing sunbeams smile !

Yet thou say'st that Heracles Will but bear our fruit away, Break our pleasant orchard trees,

And then go hence and leave us here, Sad maidens in a ruined home, To wail among the broken boughs, 'Neath which of old we used to roam Afar from any thought of fear.

Arethusa.

I know not why, but thou dost rouse Strange thoughts within my troubled soul : But sure that evil hour is far, And many a peaceful year shall roll, Ere change for good or evil come To visit this our island home.

For death nor sorrow, change nor pain, Have aught of lasting empire here : Only the slow-revolving year Goes round and round and round again : And slowly, imperceptibly, The languid seasons dawn and die, And rise and set, and dream and wake, From age to age, with naught to break Their sweet yet sad monotony.

Yea, Change herself, if change could be

On this remote unchanging shore,

Herself would change, and change no more.

Hesperia.

Change? — What have we to do with changeful

hours ? — Behold ! the winds are on the wakening sea : The evening breeze is stirring through the bowers, The latest sunshine bathes the apple-flowers, The red clouds stream before the blast and

flee Over the furthest limit of the world : And from the east, with tangled hair uncurled, The dusky Twilight mounts her nightly car. And lo ! where now, in the remotest skies, Our Father's silvery orb doth slowly rise, And through the distance throws its earliest

beam On us, the daughters of the Evening Star, The haunters of the forest and the stream, The guardians of the magic fruit that grows Here, where the pathless Western Ocean flows Towards the mighty sources of the sea :

Whence Day and Night and Heaven and Earth arose, And Time the daughter of Eternity, Among the elemental snows, Where the dying daylight goes.

Birth and Death Are but parted by a breath : Time and Space, Earth and Sky, Day and Night, are born to die. End of Life is Death begun, End of Death is Life ; and none, — Not the Gods that rule on high, — Knoweth why.

Arethusa.

Joyfullest newcomer Of the blushing summer, With the autumn fades the rose : —

Hesperia.

Trailing skirts of Twilight darken Daylight's close.

JEGLE.

Hearken ! hearken !

Evening's rustling plumes unclose.

Arethusa.

Winds are sighing, sunlight dying, Sleepily the streamlet flows :

Hesperia.

Fold their wings as Phcebus flying, Over into darkness goes.

jEgle, Arethusa, Hesperia.

Dews of evening softly falling In the apple-blossoms glisten. Father Hesperus, we thy children, calling, Bid thee rain once more thy silvery smile On this solitary isle, Where we droop in weary peace. — Oh, listen !

Father Hesperus our life is lonely : Send us one of Gods or men, one only,

Only for a little while !

Or thyself descend from those far starry spaces Dimly glimmering in the heaven above us Where thy bright-winged brethren have their

dwelling-places : Come thyself, or send us one to love us ! Father, hear us !

Naught gives answer, naught is near us Save the forests and the waters. Father, from thy crystal portal Look on us thy suppliant daughters ! What avails this weary blank immortal ? — This sad life that lacking nothing, lacketh all ? Hear, oh ! hear us when we call ! Lest we pine away and wither in this land of sweet

despair, — Cease at last, and melt Jike Echo into viewless air !

The lingering music wailed itself away Slowly and mournfully, as loth to die Upon the hungry silence of the night. And now the maidens stayed their mystic dance, And stood, with heaving breasts and dew-lit eyes,

D

And faces turned towards the Evening Star, Whose undisturbed impenetrable eye Glared glassily above the darkening West : And, as they gazed, they drooped their heads and

sighed, And murmuring plaintively, " He hears us not : Surely he cannot hear us ! " — sighed again More heavily, — then slowly turned away, And stepping o'er the body of the snake, Who raised his crest in lazy greeting, passed Along the border of a little lake Towards the marble palace by the woods : And, as they neared the spot where Perseus lay, Suddenly, bursting through the myrtle-brake, He stood before them. With affrighted scream They made as though to flee : but Perseus spoke Gently, as wise Athene" schooled his tongue, And bade them fear not. Winningly he spake, Full softly, yet the watchful dragon heard, And, rearing upwards his enormous neck High as the tree-tops, roared till every leaf Shook in the woodlands, and the vibrant air, Smitten to life by that hoarse tide of sound,

Tingled with monstrous bellowings. Yet the

Nymphs, Trembling 'twixt fear and hope, restrained his rage, The while they gazed on Perseus doubtfully Like startled deer, with eyes whose luminous depths Half-loving, half-distrustful, strangely moved His wondering soul, then questioned, "Who art

thou ?

Art thou Apollo, fair Latona's child, Or Hermes the swift messenger of Zeus ? Say, art thou God or man ? Or art thou he Of whom the ancient prophecy foretells, That he shall carry off our golden fruit, — That Heracles the Mighty, whose dread name Rings echoing in our souls this many an age With inarticulate menace, conjuring up We know not what pale images of fear : — Nay then, speak quickly : — let us know the worst."

Then Perseus, answering mildly, made reply : " May sorrow, fear, and every evil thing That dogs the steps of Man, be far from ye, O lovely Nymphs, and from these tranquil shores,

For evermore. As for this Heracles

I know him not : nor do I covet aught

Of golden fruit from yon enchanted tree,

Albeit to some, perchance, that yellow gleam

Were sore temptation. Not for such base ends,

Have I, a mortal of the Hellene race,

Traversed the seas by long and perilous paths :

But rather on the errand of the Gods,

I fare, with whatsoever might I may,

To slay the loathly Gorgon, whose foul brood

Infests the earth and moves to righteous ire

Their equal minds : — and she at whose command

I go, Pallas Athene^ bade me seek

These sunset regions. Think not, fairest Nymphs,

That I am come to rob or to destroy.

Nay, rather as a suppliant do I come,

To crave your aid and counsel in my need,

For ye are wise as beautiful, and know

How I must quit me in this desperate deed :

Wherein, if I succeed, I win renown

Immortal, yea and life immortal too,

Such as the Gods' and yours, — but failing, die

Within the heart of that Unshapen Land

Where lie the formless phantoms of the Past,

Ruinous, half-dismembered, waste and bare,

By slow disintegration crumbling down

To blank oblivion, night and nothingness,

Until they are as though they had not been,

Swept clean away, abolished utterly

By Time and Change, — and side by side with these,

The scarce-embodied ghosts of things to be,

Rude, vague and shapeless, as the stubborn mass

Of marble, whence the cunning sculptor's thought,

Informing, all-compelling, deftly lures

To gradual birth the coy reluctant shape

Of some fair statue, with creative touch

Moulding its chaos into ordered form

And curving symmetry of breast and limbs. —

And there, where incompleteness and decay

In strange disorder heaped and mingled lie,

Naked and barren, hideous to behold,

If ye refuse your succour must I roam

In bootless wanderings blind and objectless,

Aimlessly groping towards an unknown goal,

Like some doomed bark, afloat on pathless seas,

Without or sail or rudder, — till, at length,

Still stumbling onwards through the desolate

gloom, Alone, unholpen both of Gods and men, Sinking, I fall, and perish miserably, Unwept, without a memory or a name."

He ceased : and joyfully the sister Nymphs, No longer doubting aught of his intent, Came close about him, murmuring : " This is he, For whom we prayed, our father's messenger." And eagerly, with long inquiring gaze, They scanned the tall and goodly child of Zeus, Who stood before them, towering, like an elm Above three lilies on one slender stem, — Strong in the fearless strength of godlike youth, Long-limbed, deep-chested, lithe and sinewy, Blue-eyed, with eagle mien, and golden locks Ambrosial, that fell in clustering curls About his broad white brows and shapely neck, Firm-set on mighty shoulders, like the base Of Dorian shaft, on some broad pedestal Fast-rooted, in despite of age and time : — A noble presence, cast in stately mould,

Heroic, such as in Olympus' halls,

Is many a one, that, in the elder days,

When men and Gods held closer fellowship,

A mortal among mortals, trod the earth,

Joyed, sorrowed, loved and hated, lived and died,

Even as mankind, — but now, immortal, sits

Throned loftily above the realms of Death,

In recompense for many a deathless deed,

Of fame imperishable and high renown. —

Nor less than these seemed Perseus to the Nymphs,

So richly had Athene" dowered him

With every choicest gift of soul and sense, 1

Beauty and strength, and terrible manhood, stern,

Yet gentle, tempered to complete accord

Valour with prudence, king-like majesty

With mildness, comeliness with wisdom, grace

With iron hardihood, simplicity

And trustfulness with judgment, such as holds

True balances, and weighs the false as false,

Discerning base for base, and foul for foul,

Though all men else with one consentient voice

Should cast rank falsehood in the face of Truth,

And, blinded by imbruted instinct, call All foul things fair, all base things honourable. Calm was he, yet with no self-centred calm, Impassive, heeding naught of mortal woes, But rather calm as he in whom the mind Bears rule, and ever-watchful, sways the sense With undisputed empire, such as springs Of self-control, high daring, fixed resolve, And sleepless enterprise, that overbears All obstacles by force of godlike will Persistent, all-subduing, — like the sea, That patiently, with slow incessant toil, Batters the base of some columnar mass Of pillared basalt, hard as adamant, That stands alone in solitary strength, — Sapping the stronghold of its stony roots, Day after day with ceaseless wave on wave. — A myriad times the billowy legions roll Back from the charge, repulsed yet undismayed, But, fresh from wildest rout, come seething back With furious swirl and rush of angry waves, Flecked white with menacing foam, that, falling, burst

Hurled backward ever by the ponderous mass, In clouds of driving mist and shivering spray, And shuddering cataracts of broken floods, That staggering blindly seawards foiled and spent, With eldritch shriek, and sullen sweltering moan, Sob out their boisterous rage in agonies Of sibilant spite,— till, gathering once again, Surge after surge with desperate vehemence, Falls shattering on the stubborn crag, that

mocks Their turbulent yet ineffectual might With mute derision, though its narrowing base Grows more and more unstable : till, at length, Tormented, buffeted, and undermined, Now here, now there, by the implacable foe, It sways, and, tottering forward from its seat, Falls hurtling downwards, with appalling crash, And din of clamorous blasts and churning waves, In headlong ruin to the hungry deep.

Such, then, was Perseus, son of Danae, And such the steadfast purpose of his mind, To slay the Gorgon, and to win renown.

Then quickly onward, through the glimmering wood, They hurried till they reached the palace gates : Pale shone the risen moon upon the walls Of gleaming alabaster, strangely wrought With tracery of forms unknown to man, And sculptured columns of stupendous size, Each several shaft hewn from one single block Of sparkling crystal : gates of ponderous bronze, Forged of huge bars of metal, intertwined In wreaths of flower and fruit, stood open wide : And o'er the gilded threshold, Perseus passed With those fair Nymphs into a silent hall, Hung round with broidered ■ arras : — food and

wine The maidens brought him, and he ate and drank : The while they ever questioned curiously Of whence he came, his birth and parentage, His name, his errand, and his wanderings, And all that had befallen on the road.

And Perseus, answering briefly, told the tale On this wise : " Son am I of Danae,

THE HESPER1DES. 43

Sole daughter of Acrisius, Argos' lord,

Of whom great Zeus, Father of Gods and men,

Descending in a golden shower, begat

Me, youngest, least renowned of all his sons.

Whereat, the king Acrisius, sore displeased,

Cast mother and babe into a little boat,

Without or sail or oar, and thrust us forth,

Abandoned to the mercy of the waves.

But, by good fortune, or my father's care,

I know not which, the crazy boat took land

Safely upon Seriphos, in which isle

I grew to man's estate. — And, on a day,

King Polydectes made a royal feast,

Whereto he bade me with the island chiefs,

Who brought rich gifts of horses and of arms,

While I, being poor, brought naught. Whereat, the

king, Who, for what, cause 'I know not, hated me, Spake scornfully, ' Where, Perseus, is thy gift ? Right royal should thy present be, I trow, For, since the old wives call thee child of Zeus, Doubtless thy sire hath well provided thee, And thy sole gift shall beggar all the rest'

" Whereto, ashamed and angry, I replied : ' No gift have I, O king, for I am poor : Yet forasmuch as thou hast bidden me With these that pay good cheer with costly gifts, Lo ! whatsoever thou shalt ask of me Which wealth can buy thee not, though valour may, That will I do to quit me of my debt, In manhood paying what I lack in pence.'

" Then sneeringly replied the crafty king, ' Thou sayest well. I crave the Gorgon's head. 'Twere worth an army in these troublous times, And thou shalt win it for me. — Get thee hence, For those that give not may not feast with kings.' Whereat the servile courtiers laughed and jeered, Calling me. braggart, fool, and beggar's brat, While, dumb with rage and shame, I glared on them Like a caged wolf, — then turned and left the hall.

" Forth of the town, scarce heeding where I went, I roamed like one distraught : for in my mind Wrath and confusion strove for mastery, So that I recked not where I turned my steps, —

Till, on the cliffs to westward of the isle,

I lighted on a solitary spot

Wherein I sat me down, and strove to think

How it were best to act : — when, suddenly,

Like lightning through the tempest of my brain

There flashed the recollection of a dream

I dreamt at Samos, whither I had sailed

Three years agone, aboard a Tyrian ship

That plied among the isles with merchandise :

And while the ship was lading in the port,

One sultry afternoon I roamed away

Alone, and in a sacred olive-grove,

Hard by Athene's temple, laid me down

Beside a little stream to rest awhile :

And, — though I knew it not, — I seemed to sleep

Or fall into a vision, for I dreamed

(If dream indeed it were) a wondrous dream :

For standing straight before me, I beheld

Blue-eyed Athene armed and helmeted ;

And in one hand she held a glittering spear,

And in the other this same oval shield,

On whose bright surface, side by side, I saw

Twain images reflected : — this the first.

— A lazy boor sat underneath a tree,

Quaffing huge draughts of wine, — and by his side

A monstrous boar lay wallowing : and, methought,

So like was each to other, that I knew

No difference ; for, at times, the man would seem

To wallow on the ground, the while the boar

Sat manlike, drinking in his master's seat :

Whereat, fulfilled with loathing and contempt

Upon the next I turned my gaze. — And lo !

A hero fought with monsters, and, hard by,