 | The violet crown by Sir Rennell Rodd |  |
29
TÆNARON
Nè dolcezza di figlio, nè la piéta
Del vecchio padre, nè il debito amore
Lo qual dovea Penelope far lieta,
Vincer potero dentro a me l'ardore
Ch'io ebbi a divenir del mondo esperto,
E degli vizj umani, e del valore.
Inferno, XXVI.
Del vecchio padre, nè il debito amore
Lo qual dovea Penelope far lieta,
Vincer potero dentro a me l'ardore
Ch'io ebbi a divenir del mondo esperto,
E degli vizj umani, e del valore.
Inferno, XXVI.
The sun sank slowly through the purple waves,
Flashed yet a moment on bluff Matapan,
While up the crest a rosy glamour ran,
And shadows deepened in the gaps and caves.
Flashed yet a moment on bluff Matapan,
While up the crest a rosy glamour ran,
And shadows deepened in the gaps and caves.
I came that evening to a little creek,
After long travel through a stone-cursed land,
Rock only, rock above, on either hand—
A barren wilderness, and what to seek?
After long travel through a stone-cursed land,
Rock only, rock above, on either hand—
A barren wilderness, and what to seek?
A race as wild as nature where they dwell
Nested in towers on the mountain crown,
Blood in their passions, murder their renown
An ancient race, since Lacedæmon fell
Nested in towers on the mountain crown,
Blood in their passions, murder their renown
An ancient race, since Lacedæmon fell
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And the war-flutes shrilled no longer, and strange folk
With alien voices thronged the land, and drank
From sacred fountains, Moslem, Sclave, or Frank
These stubborn mountains never felt their yoke.
With alien voices thronged the land, and drank
From sacred fountains, Moslem, Sclave, or Frank
These stubborn mountains never felt their yoke.
It was full summer in the Southern May,
And all day long I rode among the rocks,
Stumbled and clattered through the marble blocks,
Till even stayed me by a little bay,
And all day long I rode among the rocks,
Stumbled and clattered through the marble blocks,
Till even stayed me by a little bay,
Hid in the hollow of the sea-cliff's arm,
Half shelving shore and half a rock-wall sheer
Above whose rim one dim star rose to peer;—
The silence wrought upon me like a charm.
Half shelving shore and half a rock-wall sheer
Above whose rim one dim star rose to peer;—
The silence wrought upon me like a charm.
A summer peace lay on the sapphire deep,
Only close by a few late ripples played
O'er hues of amber, amethyst, and jade,
And darker madders where the oar-weeds sleep.
Only close by a few late ripples played
O'er hues of amber, amethyst, and jade,
And darker madders where the oar-weeds sleep.
A little bark that dared not venture nigh
Showed through the sea-cliff's shadow; but no tree,
No herb, no living thing was there to see,
Only the rocks, the waters, and the sky.
Showed through the sea-cliff's shadow; but no tree,
No herb, no living thing was there to see,
Only the rocks, the waters, and the sky.
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The waves of years had smoothed a narrow ledge
With age long beating on the earth's rough bound,
And there I wandered from our camping ground,
And watched the ripple fretting at the edge.
With age long beating on the earth's rough bound,
And there I wandered from our camping ground,
And watched the ripple fretting at the edge.
Then I grew 'ware how by that twilight creek
An old man sat and stared across the seas,
Steadfast, with arms that rested on his knees,
And hollow hands that propped a hoary cheek;
An old man sat and stared across the seas,
Steadfast, with arms that rested on his knees,
And hollow hands that propped a hoary cheek;
His hair was white, his beard was grizzled grey,
Yet was a fresh sea-keenness in his eyes
That rose not, fell not, nor betrayed surprise,
But ever watched the fading track of day.
Yet was a fresh sea-keenness in his eyes
That rose not, fell not, nor betrayed surprise,
But ever watched the fading track of day.
His garb was strange, and stained, and rent, and old,
And I could see, for all the light was dim,
That he was great and strong, and stout of limb,
And surely fashioned in heroic mould.
And I could see, for all the light was dim,
That he was great and strong, and stout of limb,
And surely fashioned in heroic mould.
And rather to himself I thought than me,
Softly and musingly he seemed to speak,
In rhythmic measure of the yore-world Greek
That has the cadence of the lapping sea.
Softly and musingly he seemed to speak,
In rhythmic measure of the yore-world Greek
That has the cadence of the lapping sea.
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‘Lo, I am he that could not drink his fill
Of earthly knowledge in his little span,
Who craved a lot too great for common man,—
I am Odysseus, and I wander still.
Of earthly knowledge in his little span,
Who craved a lot too great for common man,—
I am Odysseus, and I wander still.
‘The world, methinks, grows very old, the years
Write deeper furrows in the sea-cliff's face;
Change! change in all, save in the human race,
The same old passions and old loves and tears.
Write deeper furrows in the sea-cliff's face;
Change! change in all, save in the human race,
The same old passions and old loves and tears.
‘They come and go—the little dust and breath—
Whose only knowledge is that all things pass,
And with that little dust at times, alas!
A spirit nobler than its doom of death.
Whose only knowledge is that all things pass,
And with that little dust at times, alas!
A spirit nobler than its doom of death.
‘No life of man transcends the common lot,
The worm that crawleth hath no need for wings;
I might have taught them many strange new things,
Old things forgotten, but they hearkened not.
The worm that crawleth hath no need for wings;
I might have taught them many strange new things,
Old things forgotten, but they hearkened not.
‘Earth has no use for me, I go no more
Into the valleys and the tracks of men;
And now the seas are crowded out of ken,
And alien faces throng along the shore.
Into the valleys and the tracks of men;
And now the seas are crowded out of ken,
And alien faces throng along the shore.
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‘I think Athena is long dead, or sleeps,
Grown callous, but the grim Poseidon still
Lives on, and drives me at his wanton will
By barren shallows and by pathless deeps.
Grown callous, but the grim Poseidon still
Lives on, and drives me at his wanton will
By barren shallows and by pathless deeps.
‘For ever in some little lonely bay
I pass the friendless daylight, till the dark
Shows forth the beacons of the night that mark
My westward course towards the dying day;
I pass the friendless daylight, till the dark
Shows forth the beacons of the night that mark
My westward course towards the dying day;
‘Then on and on into the sunset track,
To where I have the blessed hope to die,
To where the islands of the heroes lie,
But he relentless ever beats me back.
To where I have the blessed hope to die,
To where the islands of the heroes lie,
But he relentless ever beats me back.
‘Thus once or twice I have descried from far
A faint grey shadow in the morning haze,
The outlines of my native land, the bays,
The long sought hills, beneath a waning star.
A faint grey shadow in the morning haze,
The outlines of my native land, the bays,
The long sought hills, beneath a waning star.
‘The land I won and knew not how to keep,
Wearying of ease, the altar and the loom,
The thralls, the banquet, weary to my doom,
For I am weary, weary of the deep.
Wearying of ease, the altar and the loom,
The thralls, the banquet, weary to my doom,
For I am weary, weary of the deep.
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‘I am as old as the world's age, well nigh,
Too old for effort and too tired for strife,
For ever drifting round the fringe of life,
And worn with waiting for the day to die.’
Too old for effort and too tired for strife,
For ever drifting round the fringe of life,
And worn with waiting for the day to die.’
Thus while he spoke he rose to his full height,
Making a blank between the stars and me,
Waded a little space into the sea
And vanished in the shadow of the night.
Making a blank between the stars and me,
Waded a little space into the sea
And vanished in the shadow of the night.
But softly like the echo of a sigh
Came back, as though upon a wind asleep,
‘For I am weary, weary of the deep,
And worn with waiting for the day to die.’
Came back, as though upon a wind asleep,
‘For I am weary, weary of the deep,
And worn with waiting for the day to die.’
Then, in a little while across the bay
I heard a plash like spirit oars, that broke
Upon the stillness with a measured stroke,
Fainter and fainter till it passed away.
I heard a plash like spirit oars, that broke
Upon the stillness with a measured stroke,
Fainter and fainter till it passed away.
| The violet crown by Sir Rennell Rodd | |