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THE DEATH OF PAN.
1.
In that old Treatise of the Cheronaean,
Of how the Oracles have ceased to be,
'Tis told of Epitherses the Nicæan
How he, from Lemnos Island in the Ægean
Faring to Brindisi in Italy,
Of how the Oracles have ceased to be,
'Tis told of Epitherses the Nicæan
How he, from Lemnos Island in the Ægean
Faring to Brindisi in Italy,
Was of a calm, in the Ionian Ocean,
O'ertaken, hard by the Echinades.
The sails, as drenched with some narcotic potion,
Slept on the mast; and sudden, without motion,
The vessel stood upon the windless seas.
O'ertaken, hard by the Echinades.
The sails, as drenched with some narcotic potion,
Slept on the mast; and sudden, without motion,
The vessel stood upon the windless seas.
Thence, duck-like, on the slow sea-swell it drifted,
Still forging Northward, for a long day's while,
From wave to wave-crest by the surges shifted,
Until, no more by swell or current lifted,
It stopped, as if hand-stayed, by Paxos Isle.
Still forging Northward, for a long day's while,
From wave to wave-crest by the surges shifted,
Until, no more by swell or current lifted,
It stopped, as if hand-stayed, by Paxos Isle.
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There, the clouds gathering and the darkness nearing,
The prudent captain in the little bight,
Where the ship halted was, cast anchor, fearing
Lest by and by the wind should rise and veering,
The vessel cast upon the cliffs by night.
The prudent captain in the little bight,
Where the ship halted was, cast anchor, fearing
Lest by and by the wind should rise and veering,
The vessel cast upon the cliffs by night.
Now, when the heavens with night were overdarkened
And most folk slept, of those the bark aboard,
In the mid-mirkness, by the midnight starkened,
When but the helmsman and the sailors hearkened,
Who on the deck with him kept watch and ward,
And most folk slept, of those the bark aboard,
In the mid-mirkness, by the midnight starkened,
When but the helmsman and the sailors hearkened,
Who on the deck with him kept watch and ward,
Rending the silence and the night in sunder,
From out the secret places of the land
There of a sudden spoke a voice of thunder;
Whereat the awakened folk, for fear and wonder,
Arose and gathered in a trembling band.
From out the secret places of the land
There of a sudden spoke a voice of thunder;
Whereat the awakened folk, for fear and wonder,
Arose and gathered in a trembling band.
Thrice upon Thamos' name, it thundered, crying,
The Egyptian pilot of the bark wind-bound,
Louder and louder still and nearer nighing;
What while the folk, affrighted of replying,
In silence hearkened to the horrent sound:
The Egyptian pilot of the bark wind-bound,
Louder and louder still and nearer nighing;
What while the folk, affrighted of replying,
In silence hearkened to the horrent sound:
Till Thamos, taking on the prow his station,
Said, “Here am I! What wouldest thou with me?”
Whereto the voice, “Look thou, on thy salvation,
“That, to Palodes come, thou proclamation
“Make of the death there of the great God Pan!”
Said, “Here am I! What wouldest thou with me?”
Whereto the voice, “Look thou, on thy salvation,
“That, to Palodes come, thou proclamation
“Make of the death there of the great God Pan!”
Therewith it stinted; nor the echo faded
Was of its speaking, when a mighty wind,
Blowing from the island, all the air invaded
And on the ship, that, by its anchors aided,
Rode at a standstill, falling from behind,
Was of its speaking, when a mighty wind,
Blowing from the island, all the air invaded
And on the ship, that, by its anchors aided,
Rode at a standstill, falling from behind,
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Smote with such fury that each hempen cable
Parted, as though a skein of silk it were,
And out to seaward, on the wild waves' babel,
The ship went driving through the midnight sable,
Across the clamours of the wind-vexed air.
Parted, as though a skein of silk it were,
And out to seaward, on the wild waves' babel,
The ship went driving through the midnight sable,
Across the clamours of the wind-vexed air.
So for a day and night it scudded, fleeing
Before the tempest, till, at set of sun,
What time Palodes headland rose in seeing,
The storm as sudden sank as it to being
Came and the wind dropped with the daylight done.
Before the tempest, till, at set of sun,
What time Palodes headland rose in seeing,
The storm as sudden sank as it to being
Came and the wind dropped with the daylight done.
The ship stood still before the promontory,
Arrested by some power past that of man,
And Thamos, standing in the sunset-glory,
Unto the cliffs and to the forests hoary
Thundered the tidings of the death of Pan.
Arrested by some power past that of man,
And Thamos, standing in the sunset-glory,
Unto the cliffs and to the forests hoary
Thundered the tidings of the death of Pan.
Whereat from all the plains and peaks came leaping
Such sounds of pine as pass the written word;
Hill answered headland, woe on woe upheaping;
The air was full of wailing and of weeping,
That rent the rueful hearts in all that heard.
Such sounds of pine as pass the written word;
Hill answered headland, woe on woe upheaping;
The air was full of wailing and of weeping,
That rent the rueful hearts in all that heard.
Up from the meadows rose the lamentation
And sank in music from the mourning skies;
Heaven answered Earth; and still, without cessation,
Its song of grief and funeral salutation
The world-all chanted on melodious wise.
And sank in music from the mourning skies;
Heaven answered Earth; and still, without cessation,
Its song of grief and funeral salutation
The world-all chanted on melodious wise.
The death-dirge of a world it was that floated
From earth to heaven and from heaven to earth,
In monodies of music throstle-throated;
The passion of the Past-time, death-devoted
By the same breath that gave the Present birth.
From earth to heaven and from heaven to earth,
In monodies of music throstle-throated;
The passion of the Past-time, death-devoted
By the same breath that gave the Present birth.
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2.
Thence, (quoth the teller) nowise understanding
These things, we on our voyage, thus delayed,
Fared in due course to Brindisi, where landing
And of the things which late had passed demanding,
It, amongst others, unto us was said
These things, we on our voyage, thus delayed,
Fared in due course to Brindisi, where landing
And of the things which late had passed demanding,
It, amongst others, unto us was said
How in Jerusalem, the town Judæan,
What time the tidings of Pan's death heard we,
One for a new God hailed, a Galilean,
For victim fall'n unto the rage plebeian,
Had died the death upon the ignoble tree;
What time the tidings of Pan's death heard we,
One for a new God hailed, a Galilean,
For victim fall'n unto the rage plebeian,
Had died the death upon the ignoble tree;
And how, as he his last breath rendered, dying,
Dead darkness curtained all the heavenly plain;
The Temple-veil was rent, whilst voices sighing
Shrilled through the silence, “Woe!” and “Havoc!” crying,
And earthquakes tore the shuddering earth in twain.
Dead darkness curtained all the heavenly plain;
The Temple-veil was rent, whilst voices sighing
Shrilled through the silence, “Woe!” and “Havoc!” crying,
And earthquakes tore the shuddering earth in twain.
Now this the God, by whom the old Gods' races,
I doubt not, died, was, Phoebus, Zeus and Pan,
To whom Olympus' peoples, Muses, Graces,
Furies and Fates, their dim diminished faces
Must veil, the foreappointed Son of Man.
I doubt not, died, was, Phoebus, Zeus and Pan,
To whom Olympus' peoples, Muses, Graces,
Furies and Fates, their dim diminished faces
Must veil, the foreappointed Son of Man.
3.
Thus in one moment met th'opposing ages,
The Past-time mingled with the coming years,
The old frank world of heroes, singers, sages,
And the new time that on the Future's pages
Began to grave its writ of blood and tears.
The Past-time mingled with the coming years,
The old frank world of heroes, singers, sages,
And the new time that on the Future's pages
Began to grave its writ of blood and tears.
As different was the manner of their parting
As was the fashion of their use with men.
The new world moaned and menaced in its starting,
Thundering, discordant; whilst the old, departing,
In dulcet tones bewailed itself and Pan.
As was the fashion of their use with men.
The new world moaned and menaced in its starting,
Thundering, discordant; whilst the old, departing,
In dulcet tones bewailed itself and Pan.
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Not with volcano-voice the lovesome fancies
Bygone the old age mourned nor thunder-clang;
The mountains for the mirthful old romances,
The forests for the nymphs' and Dryads' dances
Vociferous vented not their parting pang.
Bygone the old age mourned nor thunder-clang;
The mountains for the mirthful old romances,
The forests for the nymphs' and Dryads' dances
Vociferous vented not their parting pang.
Across the star-thrilled air their chiming chorus
Threnodial to the rueful heavens rang;
The old world died, as it had lived, canorous;
In waves of wailing music, soft, sonorous,
The high Hellenian Gods their death-song sang.
Threnodial to the rueful heavens rang;
The old world died, as it had lived, canorous;
In waves of wailing music, soft, sonorous,
The high Hellenian Gods their death-song sang.
The new age 'twas its “O ye world, rejoice!”s
That by the mouth of blast and tempest roared:
To the discordant choir of earthquake-voices,
It thundered forth its tidings of accord;
Uncertain, as it might be, of the choices
'Twixt grief and gladness, jubilance and sorrow,
Which, in the treasuries of the Future stored,
For the new world-all waited on the morrow,
With the New Covenant and the New Lord.
That by the mouth of blast and tempest roared:
To the discordant choir of earthquake-voices,
It thundered forth its tidings of accord;
Uncertain, as it might be, of the choices
'Twixt grief and gladness, jubilance and sorrow,
Which, in the treasuries of the Future stored,
For the new world-all waited on the morrow,
With the New Covenant and the New Lord.
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