 | The violet crown by Sir Rennell Rodd |  |
45
THE PASSING OF ALARIC
Southward,—Through lands of dream unravaged yet,
By towns white gleaming to the inland bays,
Dark groves that shadowed colonnaded shrines,
By streams nymph-haunted, solitary vales
Where still the awe of ancient sanctitudes
Possessed the silence of the noon, and still,
Unconscious of the strife of empires, peace
Compassed the half-forgotten world of Greece.
By towns white gleaming to the inland bays,
Dark groves that shadowed colonnaded shrines,
By streams nymph-haunted, solitary vales
Where still the awe of ancient sanctitudes
Possessed the silence of the noon, and still,
Unconscious of the strife of empires, peace
Compassed the half-forgotten world of Greece.
Southward from Thrace, the rebel of two Romes,
Across the parched Thessalian plain he drew,
The young victorious Norseman: on his helm
The wild-goose wings spread crescent-wise displayed
The mark of princedom; his long flaxen hair
Fell to the leathern corselet;—and his Goths,
Gazing on Oeta and the encroaching sea,
Streamed through the narrows of Thermopylæ.
Across the parched Thessalian plain he drew,
The young victorious Norseman: on his helm
The wild-goose wings spread crescent-wise displayed
The mark of princedom; his long flaxen hair
Fell to the leathern corselet;—and his Goths,
Gazing on Oeta and the encroaching sea,
Streamed through the narrows of Thermopylæ.
46
No foeman stayed them. In a grass-grown mound
The heart that once gave heart to heroes slept,
Cold as the mouldering lion on its crest.
The tides of Aulis washed a silent shore
Whose barks had fled to Chalcis; only Thebes
From high Cadmeia watched the host roll by
To where Cithaeron's rocky folds conceal
A booty worthier of the Amal's steel.
The heart that once gave heart to heroes slept,
Cold as the mouldering lion on its crest.
The tides of Aulis washed a silent shore
Whose barks had fled to Chalcis; only Thebes
From high Cadmeia watched the host roll by
To where Cithaeron's rocky folds conceal
A booty worthier of the Amal's steel.
And now Eleusis lay in sight; not yet
Were the Earth Mother's sacraments forsworn,
And no steep rampart walled the holy site.
Gold gleamed the temple roof-plates, massive stood
The columned aisles rock-morticed; hoary groves
Awed the last pilgrims of a passing faith,
And still within the innermost recess
The mystic felt her potency to bless.
Were the Earth Mother's sacraments forsworn,
And no steep rampart walled the holy site.
Gold gleamed the temple roof-plates, massive stood
The columned aisles rock-morticed; hoary groves
Awed the last pilgrims of a passing faith,
And still within the innermost recess
The mystic felt her potency to bless.
Half tranced he stood, outmarching all his van,
A world of wonder in his steel blue eyes;
The silent magic touched him; scarce heard he
The hoarse wolf-voices of his braves exult
Scenting the hoarded treasure; till the cry
Rose from the tonsured Arians of his train,—
Let God arise and His avenging flame
Purge this affront to His eternal name!
A world of wonder in his steel blue eyes;
The silent magic touched him; scarce heard he
The hoarse wolf-voices of his braves exult
Scenting the hoarded treasure; till the cry
Rose from the tonsured Arians of his train,—
47
Purge this affront to His eternal name!
Alas for great Eleusis! on her shrine,
Worship and wonder of a thousand years,
The savage horde rolled like a wave of doom.
Alas the ivory marvels and the gold,
Flung on the creaking wagons! and alas,
The trophied marbles shattered, and the bronze!
While mænad war-hymns mocked the old world's woe
Till the last fire of sacrifice burned low.
Worship and wonder of a thousand years,
The savage horde rolled like a wave of doom.
Alas the ivory marvels and the gold,
Flung on the creaking wagons! and alas,
The trophied marbles shattered, and the bronze!
While mænad war-hymns mocked the old world's woe
Till the last fire of sacrifice burned low.
He left Eleusis as the quick night fell
A smouldering ruin and a stifled wail,
And under a great autumn moon he climbed
The tomb-fringed gradient of the sacred way,
To stand on high Aegaleos ere the dawn.
And far beneath him in the shadowy plain
He saw the city dreamed of, ivory white,
Burning her startled watch-fires in the night.
A smouldering ruin and a stifled wail,
And under a great autumn moon he climbed
The tomb-fringed gradient of the sacred way,
To stand on high Aegaleos ere the dawn.
And far beneath him in the shadowy plain
He saw the city dreamed of, ivory white,
Burning her startled watch-fires in the night.
Slowly day grew prevailing, and the moon
Paled in the west, the gabled roofs took life,
And on the buttressed citadel's high ridge
The golden spear-blade of a mighty lance
Flashed back the sun;—up rose Athena's self
Defiant and defendant;—and the lilt
Of ancient sagas like long sleeping fires
Roused the old Norse blood of his Baltic sires.
Paled in the west, the gabled roofs took life,
And on the buttressed citadel's high ridge
48
Flashed back the sun;—up rose Athena's self
Defiant and defendant;—and the lilt
Of ancient sagas like long sleeping fires
Roused the old Norse blood of his Baltic sires.
‘Hail! Alaric's Hail! Thou warrior maid of God!’
He cried. ‘On what grim day of battle here
Descending didst thou bring this land renown!
Back, ye red war-wolves, quench your eager brands,
Leaguer the wagons!—Lo, from yonder height
The daughter of the Aesir greets her kin!
No strife shall desecrate her harvest fields,
And I will pass unscathed the gates her honour shields.’
He cried. ‘On what grim day of battle here
Descending didst thou bring this land renown!
Back, ye red war-wolves, quench your eager brands,
Leaguer the wagons!—Lo, from yonder height
The daughter of the Aesir greets her kin!
No strife shall desecrate her harvest fields,
And I will pass unscathed the gates her honour shields.’
| The violet crown by Sir Rennell Rodd | |