 | Lays and Legends of Ancient Greece, with Other Poems |  |
83
ARIADNE.
This most beautiful legend of the Dionysiac series, embodies a principle more Christian than Hellenic, but which belongs so essentially to the moral nature of man, that it is not possible for any religious mythology altogether to exclude it: the principle that I mean may be called the consecration of sorrow. Christian legends containing this moral, of which the number is very great, always represent suffering as the road to glory, and the cave of despair as the propylaea of the temple of celestial bliss. The Hellenic legend has been a favourite subject with modern painters and sculptors; and the travelled reader will scarcely require to be told that the concluding part of this ballad (pp. 90, 91) is only a verbal paraphrase of the well known statue of Ariadne by Dannecker, exhibited as one of the lions of Frankfort.
“Χρυσοκομης δε Διωνυσος ξανθην Αριαδνην
κουρην Μινωος, θαλερην ποιησατ' ακοιτιν
την τε οι αθανατον και αγηρω θηκε Κρονιων.”
—Hesiod.
κουρην Μινωος, θαλερην ποιησατ' ακοιτιν
την τε οι αθανατον και αγηρω θηκε Κρονιων.”
—Hesiod.
“Protinus adspicies venienti nocte coronam
Gnossida; Theseo crimine facta dea est.”—
Ovid.
Gnossida; Theseo crimine facta dea est.”—
Ovid.
I.
Ariadne, Ariadne,Thou art left alone, alone!
And the son of Attic Aegeus,
Faithless Theseus, he is flown.
Ariadne, Ariadne,
In a sea-cave left she sleepeth:
In her dreams her bosom heaveth,
Through her dreams the maiden weepeth.
84
In the bright and sunny weather,
O'er the meadows green and flowery,
She and Theseus walk together.
Suddenly there comes a change;
O'er a moor of old brown heather,
O'er a bare and treeless waste,
She and Theseus walk together.
Cold and loveless is the air,
Huge white mists are trailing near her;
And the fitful-swelling blast
Pipes with shrill note clear and clearer.
By a lonely tower she stands,
Where the wasted ruin crumbles;
Wandering by a lone black lake,
On an old grey stone she stumbles.
“Theseus! Theseus!”—to his arms
Close she clings; but like a trailing
Mist he flees; and o'er the waste
Echoes laughter to her wailing.
Dim confusion blinds her eye,
Through her veins the chilly horror
Creeps: she stands; she looks; she runs
O'er the moor with mazy error.
85
“Save me, Jove, save Ariadne!
Theseus, Theseus, in the waste
Hast thou left thy Ariadne?”
And the Spirits of the storm
Shout around her—“Ariadne!
Thou art left alone, alone,
In the waste, O Ariadne!”
II.
From the painful dream she wakes,
Starts, and looks, and feels for Theseus;
On the cold rock-floor her hand
Falls, and feels in vain for Theseus.
“Theseus, Theseus!”—he is gone;
Dost thou see that full sail swelling?
There he hies, with rapid keel,
Soon to find his Attic dwelling.
“Theseus! Theseus!”—she doth beat
The breasted wave with idle screaming;
Like a white sea-bird so small,
Now his distant sail is gleaming:
Now 'tis vanished. O'er the isle
Hurries vagrant Ariadne;
None she sees, and, when she calls,
Answers none to Ariadne.
'Neath a high-arched rock she rests,
Weary, and, with meek behaviour,
Stretched upon a stony floor,
Plains her prayer to Jove the Saviour:—
Starts, and looks, and feels for Theseus;
On the cold rock-floor her hand
Falls, and feels in vain for Theseus.
“Theseus, Theseus!”—he is gone;
Dost thou see that full sail swelling?
There he hies, with rapid keel,
Soon to find his Attic dwelling.
“Theseus! Theseus!”—she doth beat
The breasted wave with idle screaming;
Like a white sea-bird so small,
Now his distant sail is gleaming:
86
Hurries vagrant Ariadne;
None she sees, and, when she calls,
Answers none to Ariadne.
'Neath a high-arched rock she rests,
Weary, and, with meek behaviour,
Stretched upon a stony floor,
Plains her prayer to Jove the Saviour:—
Mighty Jove, strong to destroy,
Stronger to save,
Hear; nor in vain may Minos' daughter
Thy mercy crave!
Weak is a maiden's wit: I saw
The galliard stranger,
And, with wise clue, I brought him through
The mazy danger.
My father's halls I left; I gave
My heart's surrender;
He loved the flower, and plucked the fruit,
With hand untender.
Mighty Jove, the suppliant's friend,
My supplication
Hear thou, and touch my prostrate woe
With restoration!
Stronger to save,
Hear; nor in vain may Minos' daughter
Thy mercy crave!
Weak is a maiden's wit: I saw
The galliard stranger,
And, with wise clue, I brought him through
The mazy danger.
My father's halls I left; I gave
My heart's surrender;
He loved the flower, and plucked the fruit,
With hand untender.
Mighty Jove, the suppliant's friend,
My supplication
Hear thou, and touch my prostrate woe
With restoration!
87
She spake; and, on the stony floor,
Stretched she lay in tearful sorrow;
Slumber, sent from Saviour Jove,
Bound her gently till to-morrow.
Stretched she lay in tearful sorrow;
Slumber, sent from Saviour Jove,
Bound her gently till to-morrow.
III.
Wake, Ariadne!Wake from thy slumbers;
Wake with new heart,
Which no sorrow encumbers!
Black Night is away now,
And glorious Day now
Reddens apace.
The white mists are fleeing,
And o'er the Ægean,
His shining steeds follow
The call of Apollo,
And snort for the race.
Hark! through thy slumbers,
Undulant numbers
Quicken the air!
O'er the Ægean
88
With melody rare;
The clear-throated flute,
And the sweet-sounding lute,
The cymbals' shrill jangle,
And tinkling triangle,
And tambour, are there.
Wake, Ariadne!
Look through thy slumbers!
The Mænads, to meet thee,
Marshal their numbers.
Down, from the sky
Dionysus has sent them;
Rosiest beauty
Venus has lent them.
Hovering nigh,
Their thin robes floating,
With balm in their eye,
Thy wounds they are noting,
O Ariadne!
Blest be the bride
(So echoes their song)
That shall sleep by the side
Of the wine-god strong,
89
Daughter of Minos,
Though Earth may reject thee,
Great Dionysus
Above shall expect thee.
Like a gem thou shalt shine
'Mid the bright starry glory;
A name shall be thine
With the famous in story.
Wake, Ariadne,
From Earth's heavy slumbers;
Wake to new life,
Which no sorrow encumbers!
IV.
Ariadne from her slumberWoke and rose, and smiled benignly;
Radiant from the rapturous dreams,
That stirred her secret soul divinely.
Round her stood the Mænad maids,
Round her swelled their tuneful chorus;
Round her wheeled their floating dance,
To a piping reed sonorous.
90
Hairy-limbed, with goatish features;
Pans and Satyrs strange to view,
Forest-haunting, freakish creatures.
Old Silenus, bald and broad,
Stood beside, his bright face showing
Wreathed with laughter; his full eye
Brimmed with mirth to overflowing.
Strange; but Ariadne saw,
With strange eyes, a sight yet stranger;
Troops of shaggy forest whelps
Thronged around, and brought no danger.
Bearded goat, and tusky boar,
Fox that feasts on secret slaughter,
Tawny lion, tiger fierce,
Harmless looked on Minos' daughter.
Lo! a spotted pard appears
At the feet of Ariadne;
Comes, and, like a prayerful child,
Kneels before thee, Ariadne.
Pleased the savage brute she sees
Bend like sleekest ass demurely;
Mounts the offered seat, and rides
On the panther's back securely.
91
Moves with measured pace and wary;
Then aloft (O wonder strange!)
Paws the heavenward pathway airy.
Fear thee not, thou Cretan maid,
Gods are with thee where thou fliest;
Dionysus waits for thee,
Near the throne of Jove the Highest.
In Olympus' azure dells,
Waits the god in ivy bowers,
Where for thee immortal Hebe
Twines the amaranthine flowers;
Where the purple bowl of joy
Brims for thee; where bitter sorrow
Grows not; where to-day's keen thrill
Leaves no languid throb to-morrow.
Flourish there, immortal bride,
Flourish in the minstrel's story;
Shine, to sorrowing hearts a sign,
High amid the starry glory!
| Lays and Legends of Ancient Greece, with Other Poems | |