University of Virginia Library

II

Then I saw
Myrsilus from underneath his robe
Draw forth a trumpet, raise it to his lips,
And blow a blast that made the armour ring.
And suddenly, as from the gorge of Night,
There came a cry in answer, that turn'd pale
The lips of the bystanders, but not so
The tyrant and his henchmen. He rose up
With scorn upon his lip: “Ha! ha!” he cried,
“Methinks the chase is ended, and the game
Is ready for the hunters!” As he spoke
Pittacus step forth again; drew back
The veil that hung between us and the garden,
And with a shout he signall'd thro' the dark;
“Welcome! I wait ye!” And another shout
Of a whole host, as of a bursting flood,
Gave answer, “We are here, long life to thee!”
And now the moonlight, mingling with the lamps,
Shimmer'd on the arms and helmed heads
Of yet another band; swiftly they near'd;
And Pittacus turning to the tyrant; “Who
Are now the hunters, and who are the game?”
So saying, he vanish'd in the gathering crowd.
The tyrant shouted, “Who are on my side?”
But none made answer; for the armed guard
Who came obedient, though unwise, to aid
Their lord, had heard wise words from Pittacus,
While Myrsilus was boasting of himself.
And now the wine of that old love was sour'd
By the sad tale into its opposite;
And the arm'd cohort who had leapt the wall
Were well prepared to fling down arms of brass,
And stretch forth arms of nature to their brothers.
But two or three, the tyrant's chosen friends,
Who rode forth, and who sat at meat with him,
And knew that they must live or die with him,
Unwitting of the change those words had wrought,
And fill'd with wrath, and trusting to be back'd
By arms, rose to lay violent hands upon
The bridal guests. But, ere the foremost man
Could touch the robe of Citharus, or his friends,
A javelin like a starflash, glanced across
The banquet-table, and smote him on the breast.
The tyrant whisper'd to a kinsman near,
To hasten forward, and be swift to stay
The flying maids. They with a wailing cry
Threw up their arms in piteous flight, and sought
The shelter of the shadows; and I saw
The peaceful Citharus cast away all fear!
Love lent him strength against the threatening bulk
Of yet another foe; he snatch'd a cup,
Fill'd it with wine, and dash'd it in his eyes.
Half blind he stumbled o'er a fallen stool;
Then Citharus grasp'd a dagger from the wall;
And while he held it lifted in the act
To strike it home, the ivory-hilted sword
Whirl'd by the arm of Antimenidas
Lighten'd between; and swiftly rushing down
Drown'd the last traitor's curses in his blood.
“'Tis well,” he said, “that I have slain this man;
If thou hadst done it, 'twould have been to thee
An arrow in thy heart, an evil dream
To haunt thee; but nor thou, nor any here
Can call it vengeance, for 'tis only justice!”
A moment's silence, and a plaining cry
Came from the garden side; we turn'd and saw
The white robes of the bridemaids hurrying thro'
The darkness of the vineyards, and a slope
Of olivewood behind; and there they stood,
And mourn'd, and raised their clasp'd hands to the stars.