Iona, a lay of ancient Greece

Preface

It has been said of late, by some with a feeling of sadness and regret, that the poetic spirit has fled ; that the poetic temperament is submerged in the hurrying flood of new ideas of progress and needs of man and is cooled in the icy stream which flows from the fountain of scientific truth ; that all mystery is of the past, and that man, having subdued the forces of nature, and made them subservient to his will, finds them no longer mysterious ; that the whitened bones in the newly opened sepulchres reveal the truth that death is the end of life, while man grows like the grass in the fields, fulfils the purposes of his existence unknown to himself, and is as surely cut down by the stroke of time, to rise no more ; that nature no longer reveals to us a hidden Creator; and that the sighing winds, the moaning ocean, the rustling grasses, and shaking leaves, the pattering raindrops, and the babbling, restless brooks, need no longer thrill our beings with either joy or sadness, as these feelings are but sensations produced in our organic tissues, with the disintegration of which, ends all aspiration, all hope, all delight, all life ; that soul is but sense, and spirit but a figment of the imagination.

It is the aim of this book to show the desire that exists in every human being, — unaided by the teachings of Christianity, — to live

4 PREFACE.

on after this life is over ; the natural out-reaching of every human spirit toward the divine, calling for eternal life. The still sfnall voice floats upward, piercing the density of human wisdom, and is heard through all, and above all.

It has been said by philosophers, that the faculty of intuition is the highest pertaining to man, and is that alone which lifts him above the lower orders of animals, and enables him to conceive of an Infinite Being, or to become cognizant of abstract truths.

The author has endeavored in these pages to awaken and develop this supreme faculty, as well as to give pleasure through the exercise of the imagination, which is so closely allied to it ; and has placed the scenes and events of the narrative before the Christian era, in order to leave the thought unbiased by Christian teaching, admitting only the philosophy that may be gained from the works of Socrates and Plato, or by the true love of, and communion with nature ; and throughout the whole has adhered as closely as possible to the classic spirit and feeling, giving only the Greek names and significations to the deities.

THE AUTHOR.

CANTO IV. The Return 133 PRELUDE

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Iris, the messenger of Hera, employed in beneficent offices toward mortals.

Zeus, or Jupiter, the supreme deity.

Hera, or Juno, queen of heaven, and protectress of the interests of women

and of the sacredness of marriage. Artemis, or Diana, twin sister of Apollo. Heph^stus, or Vulcan, god of fire and of the forge. Aphrodite, or Venus, goddess of beauty, and wife of Hephaestus. Iona, a Grecian princess.

DioPHANTUS, a shipwrecked poet, saved by Iona. Hyas, a shepherd.

Lesta, daughter of Iris and Hyas. Ilerda, one of the maids of lona's household. Laestro, father of Ilerda.

Nearchus, one of lona's counsellors. Danaus, suitor to Iona. *

Astica, an old nurse in the household of lona's mother, and favorite servant. Leros, a philosopher, and the tutor of Iona. Hylax, GEagrus, and Edonus, lona's brothers.

lONA.

PRELUDE.

Here, singing stream, will I repose and dream, Here, where thy liHes wave their glory-laden heads. The violets lift their faces from their mossy beds To feel the sun's warm kisses and be wooed by thee. Above thy waves doth bend the virgin yellow-bell; Like as a maiden hideth her heart's love, so she Doth screen herself full modestly and well, Drawing so close her leafy veil, that none may see,

But only guess her loveliness. Naught stirreth now the echoes of this ferny dell Save thy soft murmuring voice, thou gentle rill. Thy voice is ever wayward, sweet, and low. Dost tell unto the bending flowers a tale of woe To charm the glittering dew-drops to their eyes, And make them rustle with a sad surprise? And dost in murmurings low thy story tell. That each fair face may bend, to hearken well,

12 lONA.

More near unto thine own, thou dreamy rill?

My heart with joy would dance within my breast

To know the many tales which thou dost tell.

I fain would be a floweret with the rest,

And learn of thee the songs which they love best.

Can naught but flowers and fairies know thy tongue?

They, and the nymphs that sport thy waves among?

So light they dance upon thy bubbles, rill !

And they may laugh thy gentle murmuring still,

And play for aye in thy clear depths, sweet stream,

While in thy waves their shining hair doth gleam.

And they may know each word which thou dost speak.

While I, poor mortal, here upon the brink.

Can naught but sit and gaze on thee, and think,

And dream, and wonder at thy song

Which thou art singing, singing, all the glad day long.

Thus sadly sighing at my fate

I lingered still.

The flowers seemed beck'ning me to wait Beside the rill ;

White iris flowers raised slender finger tips. And beckoned me.

Nodded the butter-cups, and down where drips

The spray from banks of moss, blue hare-bells smiled. And nodding, beckoned me.

lONA. 13

The reeds and water grasses rustled at my feet,

And all the air was filled with summer odors sweet,

All blue with opening violets, a fit retreat

For slumbering Psyche while she slept and dreamed —

The bank whereon I lay, aye, verily ! it seemed

That still the impress of her lovely form might be

Traced in the bended flowers and grasses where she lay,

Sweet-sleeping, dreaming, fairer than the risen day ;

Purer than lilies white, pearled with the morning dew —

Till thence came softly stepping, slyly, peeping through

The leafy screen, the Httle God of love, intent

On mischief still, with arrow set, and lithe bow bent

To send the winged dart

To any luckless heart,

He there might chance to meet.

When lo ! this vision sweet

Enthralled his wary feet.

That he who sought to snare

Others, all unaware Himself was caught in meshes of her golden hair, Which robed in light her wondrous loveliness. Himself ensnared in that fair net, his suit to press. Knelt in the grasses at her side, and left a kiss More light than lightest zephyr's breath, on her fair cheek.

But when his love he would confess,

14 ION A.

She wakened in affright, And fled, a vision bright, Faster than morning hght Flashes o'er mountain's height ; Or ray of setting sun When golden day is done, From steep to steep, swift darting from our sight. Leaves the dull earth shrouded in gloom of night.

There with the rustling of tlic grasses, soft and low. And with the sound of humming birds, and buzzing bees, And with the murmuring of waters, and the breeze Shaking o'erhead the leaves, soft, sweet, and slow, Came words unto mine ear, as uttered in the flow And ripple of the wavelets on the stones below. Came words more sweet and tender Than human tongue might render. And many tales of bygone days When Dian walked her wooded ways In all her queenly splendor.

While maidens lithe and slender, With maiden grace attend her.

Leading with leash of silver cord Her hounds, all ready at her word To bound away through forest glade. And start the deer from covert shade, lONA. 15

Or send the timid hare swift panting to liis lair. So heard I how, at close of day, Persephone, — along the way Where shps the stream 'twixt banks of moss, — Came down, the flowering fields across, With light, free step, and joyous, lissome grace. Lingered the sun's last rays, to touch her face With rosy kisses, thus to woo no more That lovely vision by the wooded shore. Wild flowers, of odors faint and sweet, she wore Bound in the braids of her smooth, silken hair, Darker than shadows of the night. More fair Was she, than any flower which she might wear; Unconscious of her own bright loveliness. As birds in air of their own joyousness. While on untrammelled wing they sing and soar.

She moved along where slow waves creep.

And silent, snowy lilies sleep,

To pluck of them, while one fair hand

Held her Hght robe from wave and sand.

She seemed afar, a faint, white gleam

On the dark bosom of the stream,

Until she turned, and sought once more

For flowers along the reedy shore,

Holding her light robe as before.

l6 lONA.

She plucked the scented iris bhie. Shaking the drops of evening dew, And gathered flowers of every hue, TrilHng the while a blithesome song. Beside her path-way trailed along Bearing their lamps, the glow-worms slow, White evening moths, a fluttering throng, §ped round her on soft, silent wings. All sought her to caress — all gentle things That love the opening flowers, and night, and dew. So strayed she on, when suddenly there grew Before her in the way, a flower more fair. More strange than any blossom growing there, Whose petals opening with pale opal glow. Seemed like a gleam of light from realms below. In her sweet innocence she stooped, and kissed, And plucked, and in her lovely bosom placed The harmful thing that wrought her sudden woe, The flower of fate, the charmed asphodel. In that same instant all the air grew still ; The green leaves trembled, and the laughing rill Hushed its glad song. The flowers drooped their heads And died of grief upon their mossy beds ;

While from the depths of the still stream Rose at her side, like some ill-omened dream.

ZONA. \J

Two shadowy steeds, and in their sombre track

A chariot ebon black,

Wherein two beings stood, as born of shade.

Who caught and bore away the sweet, white maid.

Grown cold with sudden fear.

Scarce from her lips had fled the gladsome song.

Ere she for aye was gone.

Yet still the echo of her voice is heard Fainter, more sweet, than any note of bird. Now far, now near, from towering tree to hill. Or hovering with the shadows round the rill. And still her mother's voice is heard afar Through woodland bowers where deepest shadows* are, Calling and sighing, as the wind the trees among, "Persephone! Persephone! why tarriest thou so long?"

Thus from the stream whose words in ceaseless flow

Came to mine ear, I heard of long ago

Ere time was old. Yea, long, and long ago.

When Gods came down, and walked the earth with men.

And wrought with them heroic deeds, and when

Bright nymphs, and naiads from the woods and streams.

Met mortals in the shades, or came in dreams

To make their slumbers glorious, and when

Fair Goddesses from far off wondrous heights l8 lONA.

Trailed through the air their clouds of rosy hue, To seek the haunts of man, and shed cool dew Upon the parched earth ; or speeding through The deep, wide waste of waters dark and blue. Their winged messengers they sent to guide Midst storms and dark, lost seamen through the tide. Thus spake the stream, — " An hundred hundred times Have these bright waters been caught up in clouds And floated round the high Olympian hill Where Gods have thrones, thence softly to distil In silent dews, or hide with leaden shrouds The heavy earth, or in bright showers to bring The blessings of the Gods upon the opening spring. Aye ! and Zeus' anger, when he stoops to rend With thunderbolts the earth, and downward send Dread fear into the hearts of men. An hundred times have these bright drops been shed O'er fields and moors and distant woods and hills To trickle down and run in countless rills Back to their rocky bed.

There to sing on, and on

In never ending song.

And over yet, and over lONA. 19

In ceaseless rhythmic story,

The deeds of gods and men,

Of life, and love, and glory.

Aye ! and of waning breath, And sorrow lost in death."

Canto I. Canto I

Thus, in reverberating murmurs low,

The words half uttered in the rhythmic flow,

As thought were fettered in sweet sounds to earth.

And needed but the form of words to give it birth,

Came to mine ear the tale of one whose woe

Filled the drear night with weeping, long ago,

Revealed in nature's music, like the low

Vibrations of a wind-played harp whose strings

Repeat in harmonies the sighs of breathing things,

Filling the air with the soft sound of wings,

Like some faint echo from the distant star-lit spheres

Of that vast harmony which never mortal hears.

A woman sat beside a stream, and wept In silent sorrow. Length'ning shadows crept And wrapped her round with a soft veil of gray; While, like a tired monarch, in the west The sun sank slowly down to glorious rest. Wearied with splendor, and the golden day Fled lightly after, trailing by the way

24 lOXA.

Her tinted robes. Soon silent-footed night

With brooding wings, covered the earth from sight,

And hid the last faint smile of day with gloom.

The woman with bowed head sat weeping still.

While the night breezes at their own wild will

Tossed her dark uncoiled hair, loosed from trim bands,

And downward sweeping with a wayward grace

Hiding her face.

Down in the stream, and on her clasped hands. Bright tear-drops fell in silence ; and her eyes Burned dimly with the hidden fire that lies Deep in the soul, that findeth no relief From its dull burning, is not quenched with tears But smould'reth ever in the souls that love. Thus, through slow creeping hours, devoid of fears, — For those who grieve fear not, so they may weep, — She sat as carved in stone ; till wild above Her head, unsheltered, with resistless sweep, Broke in fierce tumult, high twixt earth and heaven With heavy thunder loud, a storm-cloud, driven By rushing angry winds, Zeus' mighty breath ; Thus rudely waking the calm slumbering night With fiery darts, and shafts of vengeful light Mid darkness blacker than the vaults of death. Then she arose, lifting her wan, cold face Toward the high heavens, as if slie there would trace lONA. 25

The sorrow of her inmost soul with fire Drawn from the elements ; her bare white arms Outstretched, as if with magic art and charm She would lure on the spirit of the storm To never-ceasing fury, while she cried " Ah ! woe is me ! Oh ! heaviness of woe ! Grief smiteth me, nor know I whence to go. How is my life consumed ! Would I had died While yet I dreamed. Now am I hither borne Upon a sea of mine own tears, and shorn

Of all save life. My own glad heart I gave, All that I am, all I might ever be, To one who turned away. Yea ! shriek and rave. Ye wild winds through the earth. Spare not, nor save. Tear up the forest trees, and drop them in the sea. And yet thou canst not rave as doth my heart in me.

Oh ! cover me, ye heavy clouds. And wrap me round with your cold circling breath; Darkness on darkness piled, or shrouds on shrouds To hide my grief. Oh ! desolate as death !

lona crieth ; — Hear !

Arise, ye Storm-Gods, spirits of Zeus' wrath, And send on Diophantus whom I loved

Your heaviest floods.

26 ION A.

And say to him, ' Behold the grief she hath,

Whose love was thine ! ' and cry, ' Were these drops tears

Shed from her eyes, Her weeping could they compass not j her sighs Are wafted with the breath of dying flowers

To Hera's throne.' Hear ! thou great queen of heaven ! from thy fair skies Look down on me, and grant me strength to hate

As thou canst hate : For yet within my soul where opened late Fair blossoms of his love, a tender thought Lingereth, and calleth, that I have no rest.

But still would fain Reach out mine arms and call him back who wrought My heavy sorrow and my bitter pain. Who taught me love, and wakened my still soul From slumbering peace. Now as a hidden mole That gnaweth in the dark, within me lies Remembrance of him, and of those past hours. Hence would I gather up the last few flowers Of my dead love, trample them in the dust And leave the thorns wherewith they grew, to thrust And goad my laden spirit on to vengeance."

lONA. 27

Then with impetuous grief wasted and spent,

She drooped like some sad flower that lacks the sun ;

Nor lifted up her voice, nor wept, nor sent

Her silent prayers toward Heaven, winged with sighs,

But like despair enthroned in darkness sat, as one

Within whose bosom even sorrow dies.

So through the night, while still the heavy air

Echoed with sound of warring elements,

Wild beasts crept forth from hidden cave and lair,

Yet turned from that charmed spot.

And harmed the woman not.

But blended their fierce cries

With Nature's harmonies.

Lured by the wildness, to their own wild nature kin. Thus to orchestral music, awful, vast. Yet ever full, harmonious and deep. Whether the note be faintest echo cast Upon the air, an infant's sigh in sleep, Or whether mountains tremble, and the sea Revolts that it hath bounds, still to the key Of one majestic thought doth nature move, In numbers rhythmical, sublime ; Touched by the hand of the Divine Are all her instruments, Her wild, discordant elements

28 lONA.

Attuned and measured to the chord of love. Yea ! Ever the immortal symphony rolls on.

Thus sang the streamlet in its ceaseless song. " Nay, sing again of earth, sweet singing stream ; In wandering, thou hast wandered from the theme Wherein with pity thou hast stirred my soul ; Tell of the woman, I would know the whole Of her sad story ; pray thee, brought the morn No ray of gladness to her soul forlorn?" But though in haste I importuned, the stream must needs In its own way, slow slipping through the reeds And over mossy stones, reveal the wrong Zona wept.

So sped the hours along, A silent, fleeting throng; The sullen clouds passed by.

And all the eastern sky Flushed with the smile of day. In glorious, bright array, The glad earth waked to greet the sun, Smiling through tears, like jewels hung On every shaking spray.

On every nodding flower That bloomed in leafy bower, lONA. 29

Or decked the woodland path, As Zeus the arrows of his wrath, In pity, turned to sparkhng gems That in the sun would melt, and run Down all the quivering stems Of nature's growing things.

Renewing life, and filling stream and springs

With joyous overflow.

Then, as if all earth's gladness Smote on her heart, and woke again her sadness, lona rose, and lifting up her eyes,

Looked on the roseate skies.

Looked on the swaying trees, And felt the merry breeze Kiss her pale cheek, as fleet It passed her by.

Looked on the opening flowers And felt beneath her feet

The growing grass.

Almost she smiled.

Yet drew her breath in with a tremulous sigh.

As might a child Who hath been frighted in its sleep. And opens wide its eyes, and fain would weep, Although its terror is no longer nigh.

30 ION A.

Then spake she, "To what place

Have now my heedless feet conveyed My heavy weighted heart? Upon my face I feel the warm, soft breath of winds of June ; I hear the sound of many buzzing wings

Like music played By spirit-hands on silver gossamer strings, And every flower-bell rings

A sweet sound forth ; in merry tune Sing many merry birds.

Roaming the low, green hills, I see the herds

Of fair Artemis' dappled deer Tempting the huntress forth with hound and horn. Are these the fields Elysian? Is lona born

Into the land of spirits blest?

Or doth she dream?

If this be dreaming, may I never wake, Never return to that dull prison of my soul, Which I with tears flung by, a worthless thing. Thus let me ever dream, for the dear sake Of him I loved, and let me deem him true ; Or if I dream not, may the healing dew Of blest forgetfulness unto my spirit bring Sweet peace ; for surely this is that fair vale

Where sinless mortals find release

From sorrow, and weep not."

lONA. 31

Thus speaking she moved on a Httle space As one who walketh in a trance ;

Her tearful up-turned face Alight with inward radiance, As troubled waters on a moonlit eve, Reflect a splendor more than they receive. Then as her wet and clinging robe restrained Her eager feet, she with swift downward glance Its blackness did perceive, Her sandals worn and stained With weary journeyings, And knew her grief remained.

Herself the one dark blot In that bright sunlit spot.

She lifted up her arms toward heaven and cried In bitterness, " Ye Gods ! Why mock ye me ?

Have ye no shadows deep enough, to hide

lona and her griefs?"

Then fell upon the earth, and lay as she had died. There, out and in, and in and out, Sunlight and shadows danced about Over her heavy, sombre robe.

Like death and pleasure

32 lONA.

In mystic measure,

Dancing forever

On this strange globe.

While thus the stream its story was pursuing, The words were lost unto my mortal sense ; Only above my head I heard the cooing Of soft gray wood-doves, in their innocence ; Yet never ceased the stream its gentle singing, And still I listened on with half shut eyes. While from the far shore came the high shrill ringing Of katydids, and wayward wind-blown sighs Among the reeds and grasses passed me by. Until again in words the tale renewing, I heard how, as lona thus did lie Like one who hath repose past all undoing, A maid ethereal as the mists of morning, A maiden beautiful beyond adorning Rose from the stream, and moved to where she lay; Then kneeling at her side, shook from the tips Of her white fingers, cool, refreshing spray ; And bending over her, touched her pale lips, And in a voice like murmuring waters said " lona, rise ; lift up thy head And tell to me thy woe.

lONA. , 33

Last evening when the sun was low,

I wandered through the meadows, And saw thee moving, bowed and slow.

Among the deepest shadows, lona rise, lift up thy head !

Last night upon my quiet bed,

I felt thy warm tears falling,

I heard thy sighs, thy calling. And knew a mortal wept Above me, while I slept."

Then did lona rise, and fix her weary eyes Upon the maid, and shivering like a leaf That feels a sudden breeze, thus spake ; "Who art thou? Why dost bid me wake?

My spirit walketh as in death. And fain would I deny my body breath, That these mine eyes, on beauty such as thine Might never look ; even wert thou Divine, My heart unto my heart would say,

I love thee not, would that thou wert away." Then said the maiden, " Nay, thou wrongest me. My name is Lesta, and I come to thee

In sadness for thy sorrow;

Bide with me till the morrow,

34 lONA.

And tell me why thou weepest,

Here by the margin of this stream,

Have I a couch of softest down,

Where thou mayest lie, and rest, and dream, Beneath yon mossy bank.

Within a grotto cool, and clear, Where neither heat, nor vapors dank,

Nor any noisome things appear,

Nor troublous noises greet thine ear.

I will restore thy fainting soul With wine of lilies mine own hands have made ;

And why thou grievest, all thy dole

And ^ woe, thou shalt reveal to me. Perchance within my grasp, I have the key Wherewith to unlock treasures of delight. And bring thee joys that shall dispel thy night Of sorrow, and bring back thy smile.

lona, bide with me a while."

Then reaching out her arm, lona's hand She took within her own, and from her eyes Shed such soft radiant beams, as would beguile Even dumb animals to love, and rise. And follow her.

But her sweet, gentle pleading, lONA. 35

lona heard unheeding,

Yet followed at her leading

Through utter weariness.

Unwilling, unresisting,

With lingering step, nor listening Nor hoping for redress.

Thus Lesta led her on, through sun and shade, Beside the margin of the stream, and made The woodland path all glorious with the light That circled her, — her garments glistening bright With gems, like myriad water drops, each one Reflecting fairy hues, a mimic sun, — Until she came to that same mossy mound Where through the night lona weeping sat. Then turned, and took a narrow path that wound About the low green hillock to the stream. Where'er the maiden's light foot left the ground Flowers grew, each one encircled by a beam Of rosy light, and spangled bright with dew. Yet these lona saw not, neither knew Whither the maiden led her, till she stood Upon the water's edge. Then with a smile More sorrowful than tears, she turned her head And looked at Lesta, — beauteous, without guile And lovely as a rose-hued, morning cloud, —

36 lONA.

And said, —

" Hast thou then waked me from that sleep Which leads to death, that these bright waves may keep My sorrow for me, and may be my shroud? Surely thou seemest kind even though fair. My laden soul would seek the silence deep, That Cometh with oblivion dark and drear.

Lead on, I have no fear."

But Lesta answered — " Nay, only for rest. And for thy soul's refreshment enter here." Then with a sudden motion swift and strong, She swept aside the willows lithe and long. That hid the entrance to Artemis' halls, • And led unto her bower.

And through an archway curiously wrought She led lona down broad steps of stone Into a chamber beautiful and vast, A many pillared room, wherein was caught And multiplied each beam of light that shone Within. Yet here they loitered not, but passed Through many chambers, each than was the last.

More beautiful.

In some were tables, laden with repast Of choicest viands, temptingly displayed. In others many a soft couch was laid, lONA. 37

Luxurious and enticing to repose.

In these the light was tempered soft and gray,

As when the day was drawing to its close ;

And every lightest footfall on the marble floor,

Made musical vibrations through the air;

And every sound of voice, or whispered word,

From room to room re-echoed evermore.

In soft melodious measure, never heard

By waking mortals, like unto a dream

Of music, wafted from a distant shore,

Wayward and sweet, as never human hand

Might draw from human instrument in any land.

Voiceless and faint, yet filling every sense.

And leading to repose, and self-forgetful rest.

Yet neither here did Lesta pause, but led her hence

Into another chamber, cool and small.

With low, arched roof, where sounds of waterfall.

And gentle pattering of soft summer rain

Among the leaves, and clamorous noise of brooks.

Blended in soothing harmony of Hquid notes.

While past the amber walls, and crystal roof.

The silver stream was flowing. Warp and woof

Of golden sunbeams softly filtered through

The restless waves, and danced upon the floor

With rushes strewn; while odors faint and rare.

38 ION A.

Filled with a dream of flowers the quiet air, — Of water lilies sleeping in the sun, Of stately iris flowers that one by one, Lift their fair heads, and smile, and pass away. Here she remained, and bade lona rest Upon a couch with down of thistles dressed; And brought fresh fruits, and amber wine of flowers, Her hands had pressed .

From lilies pale, of healing powers And many virtues rare.

And bade her taste ; And brought her silken robes.

And bade her haste And put away The sombre dress that shadowed forth her grief.

Then said lona, " Stay !

Because I had no heart to tell thee nay, Have I thus followed thee.

Not that I hoped for aught.

I tell thee that for me Joy may not be.

The tears that I have wept, would fill my grave. What is there now in life that I would save? Only the tempest, that within me cries For vengeance. All else dies lONA. 39

Before the famine in my soul.

If thou with thy fair promises coi:^dst give One ray of hope that I might reach my goal And be revenged, then would I breathe and live; Then wear these shining robes, and plead with thee To teach me smiles and ways to charm the heart; Then would I sue the sun to shine on me, And kiss my cheek to redness, and would part With these black robes of sorrow. Yea ! with art Would I conceal my pain, and call upon the stream To teach me laughter, and the merry beam

Each firefly carries 'neath its wing To light the dusky eve, within these eyes Whose brightness hath long since been washed away