University of Virginia Library

Under the shadow of the sultry cloud
Stilly we slept on shore; no tongue play'd truant;
Only the chief deliver'd his brief word
In low clear tones, yet heard along the host
Sharp as the ring of armour, and our men
Show'd scarcely darker than the night behind
Built like a wall of blackness toward the East.
The windless seas fell heavy on the sands
With hollow thunder; and at every burst
Flicker'd a flame that ran along the beach,
And made the blackness blacker than itself.
The armed bands, descending silently,
Grew vaster in the dark and calm, their crests,
Shuddering amid the gloom, still loftier seem'd,
Till in the eye of Fancy they became
The shadows of those heroes, that lay there,
Under the stones of Ilion hard by,
Come sadly forth to fight their fields again.
Far to the North the watchfires of the foe
Throbb'd with a ceaseless motion, like the glow
Of fiery foam thrown up against the shores
Of Phlegethon; and on that sullen light
Flitted their dismal shapes like busy ghosts.
And momentary uproar, like the sound
Of surging fires that scald the strands of Hell,
Blew down upon us thro' the breathless calm.
And in the pauses of the tumbling surf
“Let each man take his rest as best he may,”
Said Pittacus—“the shore is tost in waves
Of sand, within whose hollows ye might lie
By daylight, screen'd from the too curious foe.
And now, or for concealment, or for sleep,
Ye need no other mantle than this night
Whose breath is burning.” At that moment shot
A flash of soundless lightning, pointing down,
As with a fiery finger, to a mound
About a bowshot from me. In that glimpse
I knew I saw the great Pelides' tomb;
And thither I betook me; and within
The darker shadow of its bulk I lay
Fill'd with an awe, half terror, half delight,
At seeing thus my restless boyhood's dream
Bid fair to be accomplish'd. “I accept
The flaming omen, and will rest in hope,”
I cried—“Come to me, son of Tethys, come,
Breathe into me the vision of the past,
Till I awake; and arm me in my sleep
With strength to do thy deeds!” But long I lay
Upgazing at the starless dark, as though
To peep behind the veil, and mark the Fates
At work for me; this was my first emprise,
And all before but prelude to this act;
Chance tumult, dust of stormy accident;
When ofttimes those, who had been friends a day,
Unriveted their love; and friendships, sever'd
Over a cup of wine, again embraced
Across another. This was work for men.
Nations were met, as mountains earthquake-shaken,
That move to one another; this still night,
That roof'd with thunder the heroic land,
Morn with fierce wings would cleave, a bird of prey,
And sweep with fatal talons. Then there rose
Home thoughts of early days, and swiftly pass'd
O'er that dark ground of dreadful phantasies;
Sweet memories, bending like immortal spirits
Their mournful eyes upon me, and turning back
Their radiant foreheads. Ah! we never know
How lovely is the lowly tinkling flow
Of peaceful moments, with their sunny sparks,
Their eddies, and their bubbles brightly broken,
Their little shallow whirlpools, which betray,
Like the clear shells, and tiny gemlike stones,
Humble and pure affections underneath;
Till tempest swings the sudden torrent down
That clouds their beauty. And all my life at once
Mysteriously, as to a drowning man
Come back the thoughts of all that he hath been,
Upon the orbed dark as on a shield
Was scroll'd. My mother's face bent over me,
When Time threw back for me the gates of Life,
And the dark sisters in my little hand
Laid one more thread of the great Mystery;
My father when he led me first to school,
And left me, with dim eyes, and a faint heart,
To struggle with strange souls; that wise old man
Who fed my spirit. Then came moonlit dance,
And noonday feast beneath cool upland trees;
The loving boy still holds the loving hand
Of the fond grandsire, or the fonder sire,
His manly head erect still dark with youth.
Seldom he thinks, or, when indeed he thinks,
He mocks himself, poor fool, and scorns his years,
Those years joy-wing'd, yet slower than his pride,
That takes vain leaps to reach the height of man,
And falls back striving—sighing still to strive—
But arming daily. Then that glorious morn,
When like the Sun's fierce horses, Pyrous,
Phlegon, and Æthon, and Eous, pulsing
With golden hoofs, and outspread mighty vans,
That beat the Orient into fiery drift,
My firstborn Fancies sprang up from the earth
Into a world of wonder; and I ran
Along the shore, delighting in my strength,
The wild wind singing in my hair, my voice
Rising above the waters. And that hour
More memorable, when wing'd Eros took
The reins of the wild chariot of my thoughts,
And made the untamed lions feel his hand
And keep harmonious paces; from his wings
Scattering roseplumes o'er waste, and dusty way,
And making the dun shadows as we pass'd
Radiant with his own light. Again that eve,
When, hasting from a bridal in the hills,
And singing as I rode into the gate,
I saw Death with his finger on his lips
Before my father's chamber; and the threne
Unutterable, as my mother lay
Prone on the bed, her lamentable face
Prest 'neath her long loose hair upon her hands,
And the dread surety of mortality,
Erewhile beheld beside the stranger's hearth,
Like sculptur'd marble on a banquet table,
Unreal image, look'd on and forgot,
Now rose upon me, like a wintry dawn,
That, thro' one cloven cloud, shows far behind
The drear and fathomless Infinity.
Lastly, ascending slowly from beneath
The dust of desolations, and of tombs,
Ambition, like an armed King, whose frown
Pleasure, and Love, and Fancy must obey,
And fight for him, until his throne be piled
Above their wither'd wreaths, and ruin'd shrines,
Seized with his iron gauntlet on my heart.

II

At last I sank into unquiet sleep.
Again that silent flash, that had reveal'd
The plain at even, shot across mine eyes.
But the light waned not; and behold, outspread
All that heroic region as beneath
A paler sun. Methought the fallen stones
Of Ilion rose up in gigantic shapes,
Immeasurable towers, and walls that sloped
Like mountainsides—each stone a mighty cube
Of adamant, huge as the granite blocks
From their high peaks by earthquake roll'd beneath
A cataract, dashing it to dust of dew,
Then sundering it in streams. And thro' great gates,
Like Alpine Valleys over-arch'd with cloud,
Pour'd forth the sons of Priam—giants now
Huge as their own renown—and their first tread
Shook all the earth to Ida; plumes went up
Like altar smoke, shields, and colossal arms,
That might have redden'd in Ætnæan fires,
And under Cyclopean hammers rung,
Wrought for the Gods of that primeval day
Titanic, when unearthly war was waged.
I heard the roaring of their chariotwheels
Make echoes, as they roll'd into the waste,
Like doubling thunders shot from hill to hill,
Or torrents, or great winds from Gargarus.
The battlements throng'd thick with Dardan sons,
And longrobed daughters, tall as Pallas, pale
As marble Sorrow, or ghosts on Stygian shore,
With streaming hair, and arms raised up to Heaven.
And from the vast and column'd fanes behind,
That thro' great clouds o'erhanging skyward clomb,
Wreathed with dim scrolls, and wonderful, there soar'd
Unutterable, from sanctuary and shrine,
Far inwards, awful pathos, and divine
Accents of golden hymn, and longdrawn plaint!
Then, as in storm-tost seas a hanging cloud
Darkens the onward waters, while the near
Soar with their clashing surges, angry-bright
Against that gloomy rim; the gleaming piles
Of that great city in quick night were drown'd;
While nigher flow'd the spectral tumult, fired
With troubled aspects of Achaian chiefs,
And brazen breasts and plumes, and towering arms,
Poising a thousand javelins, that went forth
Over the dark necks of the madden'd steeds,
Swift as the foamflakes shorn from curling seas
Fly kindling in the sun. Unnumber'd shields,
Delved with sharp points, sent lightnings off, and shrill'd
With screaming iron; and beneath their wheels
Fall'n giants writhed, from whose upturned eyes,
Afire with agony and with hate, recoiled
The scared horses, and fled faster on,
Whirring the dust like smoke from lava floods
Into the trembling ether, in a cloud
That hid the farther battle, and then show'd
Thro' dreadful rifts torn open by the wind
Long aisles of bloody ruin. And the uproar
Hush'd for a moment; other voices roll'd
Thro' winding ways of that great world of Death,
Like echoes of the nearer, dying off
In dim remoteness; like the endless wail
Of sunken seas borne o'er a wilderness.
Then once again the cloudy curtain rose
From off the leaguer'd city; and the war,
Like the lash'd waters huddled by the wind
Into a cavern's mouth, with roaring sound
Burst thro' the open gates; and I leapt up
And follow'd with the hindmost, hurried on
By strong fatality, and join'd my cry
Unto the universal voice of Doom
Eddying around the piled Pergamus;
“Down with her, down with her unto the ground!”
Whereat its bases and its topmost towers
And holy places shuddered. Far within
The foremost arm'd avengers I beheld
Thronging the battlements; their shields and plumes
Mingling and reddening in the frequent flare
Of torches, tossing to and fro, that show'd
Their bloody blades illumined from below,
As by an angry sunset. Fast and far
We thunder'd on thro' dark and winding ways,
Shadow'd by steepy wall, and barred gate,
Made sudden visible by tongues of flame
That struck aloft from far up pinnacles
To heaven, and shed ensanguin'd light below
Like lava-streams; column and architrave
Reel'd earthward, leaving all the space within
Swept, like vast furnaces, with howling flame
And blinding light! But what do I behold?
At once the onward tide of ruin ebb'd
At from a greater ruin, and a hush
Held all their panting hearts as 'twere abash'd
With sudden awe; you might have heard them throb
In that tremendous silence. Then I heard
The wail of women's voices from afar,
Wild lamentation, as when hope is past
For ever and for ever: pity-smote
And passionate with grief, I made my way,
Right thro' the hosts of those gigantic men,
As guided by a spirit, and I look'd—
Thro' shafts of blacken'd marble, thro' long aisles
Of regal architecture, which the smoke
Of gilded rafters, smouldering in the glow
Of half-extinguish'd embers, curl'd about,
And floated under the carved roof, and frown'd
Away the mystery of dim halls beyond
That stretch'd away for ever—on a sight
That might have made the blessed Gods themselves
Weep over mortal sorrow, and repent.
There in his ancient chambers, stood the King,
Tall, and majestic as a God himself,
Sire of a race of giants, Priamus,
Awful with many winters! his old arms
Lifted against the dazzling sword: “Hold! hold!”
I shriek'd: but, faint as whispers, that wild cry
Out of my sickly heart, poor dwarf of Time,
Reach'd not the unrelenting ears of Gods,
And godlike men. Suddenly I awoke.

III

Those dread dream-thoughts were scatter'd by the noise
Of the Etesian, that came down at morn,
And round the tomb blew with a wailing voice
That broke my rest; and thro' the serried clouds
Burst, swiftly driving them, like routed horse
With weltering manes, across the stars; and soon
Along the East lay, like another sea
Of stilly flame, the quickening dawn; and round
The slumbering host fast on the signals flew.
And fast the warriors, arming in the dusk,
Prepared for onset, ere the growing light
Should show their motions. To the chariots some
Yoked the fresh steeds, while yet they champ'd the grain
Against the curb; some eyed their javelin points,
Or drew their hands across the darkling blade
With knitted brows; then into line they fell;
And, like some monstrous serpent deadly still,
Under the shadow of the city wall,
The faint light shimmering from its linked scales,
They wound into the champaign silently.
Between the barred gates, and hostile camp
Nearer the ships held Citharus a reserve
Of chosen men; and Antimenidas
Struck further down into the reedy plain,
With aim to turn the foe; but soon rejoin'd.
For all the plain to northward was astir
With the advancing foe, in haste to storm
The gates; and their dark helms, and bristling arms
Nodded, like pinewood, in the wind of morn,
And the clear amber onward. On they came
In silence, till the first ray of the sun
Smote on the brazen breastplates of our men,
And made the bucklers glare like angry eyes.
And then a shout arose—as when the waves,
Snarling along a shingly strand, are held
Upon a sudden gust—answer'd at once
By ours; then first they saw us; then unroll'd
Their standards altogether, radiant,
The rippling crimson fleckt with sparks of light,
The tall staves tipt with stars. The hour was come!
I cannot say I did not fear; for Youth—
Like a wild horse that drives with headlong speed
Up to the sheer edge of a precipice,
And starts back with blown mane, and dazed eye,
At sight of the abhorred gulph, and sound
Of torrents roaring—hung back loth, yet lured
To sound the measureless Futurity,
Where Life and Death, like winged Giants, lockt
In writhen strife with struggles lightning-swift,
Fell thro' the grey abysm of the Unknown
Further than thought can follow: tho' my heart
Within my breast beat solemn pulses, mighty
As thunder-winged shakings underground.
Strong will, proud purpose, and fullarm'd resolve
Press'd down its throbs, like the adamantine hills,
With all-subduing strength; and fear itself—
Like to the wild wave rocking in the storm,
Glittering with sunbows and with sunny stars—
Crested and plumed with glorious phantasies
Forwent itself, and changed into delight.

IV

Then first I knew Death seen is not so drear
As Death foreseen; Death's self is not so dread
As Death imagined: tho' the air was thick
With whirling dust; tho', for the shrieks and cries
Around me, I could scarce hear my own voice.
The aspect of the living battle-plain
Was a fair picture by the side of that
Seen in my dream, the vision by the tomb.
The flash of swords, the glancing of the spears
Like summer lightnings glorious to behold;
The roar of chariotwheels, the neigh of steeds
Beating the earth, and mingling with the dust
Their flying manes; the surging to and fro
Of mighty hosts full soon became to me,
The thousand thunders a weird harmony,
The many motions as an awful dance!
So that my soul was clothed with wings, my heart
Sang as in triumph. Many fell around,
Both friends and foes: and now with sword in hand
And waving o'er my head, I with my band
In hot pursuit of a retreating troop
Held onward, and mine arm was raised to strike
One close before me; when the dusty cloud
Scatter'd before a sudden gust, and then
I saw another sight, and held my hand.
Behold, as in an amphitheatre,
The two opposing armies stood and gazed
Upon each other, resting on their shields,
While the two chiefs, two paces in advance,
Eyed one another, one the sturdy strength
Of Pittacus, the other the tall form
And bulk of Phrynon, mightiest of his men.
I heard a trumpet sound; a herald strode
Into the middle space between the lines;
And with a great voice he proclaim'd—“The chiefs
On either side are of one mind, to hold
Back their arm'd hosts, and rest upon their arms
And pause, and hold a parley.” Then stood forth
Our Lesbian leader, not a man of mark
For stature, or for graces; but they knew,
Who met him face to face, and saw the light
In his deep eyes, that he was one who rules
By will and wit, more than by hand and sword:
And they who look'd upon his frame might see
That temperance and toil, self-sought, had wrought
A panoply of sinewy might, enough
To tame a wild beast with a single blow,
Or stretch an unskill'd giant on the earth.
Then forward stood the Lesbian chief and sage.
There was a sudden silence, and he said—
“Methinks, O Phrynon, that enough is done
To save the honour of two famous realms,
Two valiant races; and the earth is red
With blood of many; wherefore should we sow
More mortal seed to grow immortal hate?
When, were we wise, the blood of two, or one,
Of me, or thee, in single strife, might serve,
To set the seal of Victory on the side
Of those whose champion is the better man,
Were all assembled here of the same mind.
Shall we not then, O Phrynon, spare the waste
Of thousands, and ourselves play out the game?
What boots it to pursue the bloody sport
With equal forces match'd against each other?
Hear me, and I will tell thee what befell
Two noble armies striving long ago
In a far land; and claiming each the right;
And yet that right was but a little thing.
They met each other, in their numbers like,
And in their prowess; all day long they strove
Till set of sun; and on the morrow morn
Rose fiercer still and fewer; thus ten days
They struggled, each host vanishing away,
Like cross beams charring o'er the selfsame fire;
Striving all day until the set of sun
Still fiercer and still fewer; till at last
On the tenth day but the two chiefs were left,
Glaring, two hungry lions, on each other.
And then they slew each other, and their bones
Whiten'd the plain with those of half that host;
And none were spared to claim the victory!
Why should we tarry, till the end of war
Leaves us, nor lookers on, nor arbiters?
And then, if thou or I were slain, not both,
The victor, who survives, must crown himself,
And bear home the sad tidings that of all
The brave, he only is escaped; wouldst thou
Do this, and stand before thy countrymen,
Whose love, like a vain woman's, turns to hate,
Veering with fortune? Would I cross the strait
With my one life, when all the rest are dead,
Or fled away, not to be found again?
Not rather hang a weight upon my neck,
And drown in the deep sea than front the shame?”
Then answer'd Phrynon with a curt disdain,
Heedless of all the words that he had heard:
“I thought to see one worthier of my arm.
What now I see is like what I have heard.
Art thou their captain? Think thyself in luck
That I forbear to bind thee on the spot,
And tie thee to my tent-stakes; I have heard
Thou art a man of parchments, not of arms;
Wise, as they say, in knowledge; wiser still
In thrifty tricks, and economic arts;
And skill'd to beat an obolus so thin
Thou canst see through it ev'n into next week;
And make a flask of wine, or cruse of oil,
Outlast the weary vinedresser's, who sleeps
At sunset, and awakes before the dawn.
I pledge not mine own friends, if I be slain,
Not to avenge me; let them do their will.
But if thou fallest, what must surely be,
I promise thee, my men shall fall on thine,
And hack them hip and thigh unto their ships.
Ha! ha! and thou wouldst be a swordsman too!
But art thou come to mock me, at thy peril,
That thou art come unarm'd? or is he mad,”
Mutter'd huge Phrynon, “that he meets me thus?
Or doth he dream the Gods, who made him wise,
Will help their chosen in a strait like this,
Which calls for that they gave him, and not laugh,
If now, to honour them, in simple faith
He calls upon them for a miracle?
Will Pallas float down on a cloud for him,
As though he were great Diomedes, or
The tall Achilles?” Then he shouted “Man,
Where is thy sword, where are thine arms, and where
Thy wisdom? Will that blunt my weapon's point
Or sheathe its edge?” He shouted and he laugh'd.
Whereto the sturdy Lesbian Chief replied—
“I saw two dogs this morning yelping strife,
A big one and a small; and, while the one
Stood idly barking o'er the other's head,
The small shot under and bit at his tail;
And as the big one bow'd his head at once,
The small rush'd on and pinn'd it to the earth.
I saw two men in Mitylene meet,
A tall one and a short; and while the one
Stood loudly railing o'er the other's head,
The other look'd up underneath his face
Wagging a long forefinger at his nose.
And, while the tall man watch'd this act alone,
The short man tripp'd his heels with sudden foot,
And laid his adversary on the earth.
I am the small man and the little dog,
And therefore charge thee, look unto thyself,
Meanwhile I do defy thee, and thy bark.”
“Then die, thou fool,” the Athenian shouted—“die”—
And rush'd upon him like a falling tower.
But the hard point of the down-lightening blade
Delved with such dint upon the brazen boss
Of the Lesbian's buckler, that it harshly rang,
And then was shiver'd into fragments small,
That glitter'd in the sunlight, as they fell,
Like shooting stars. The Lesbian laugh'd—“'Tis well;
I find thy bark is better than thy bite;
Come, take another sword;” and, while he turn'd
To his own men, the Lesbian, quick as thought,
Swung o'er his arms what seem'd a fisher's net
Of closely woven cords, and then at once
With forward motion, cast it o'er his foe,
And with a giant's strength drew fast the toils
Till head and breast and sword-arm caught within
Were palsied, and the fish, a man, was caught.
And then he said—“O Phrynon, I have dealt
Not as a traitor with thee; thou art taken
Arm'd by an unarm'd man; and now I bid
My old, familiar weapon, fear'd of fish,
To do its second duty and its best.”
Then, while he tighten'd with one hand the cords,
Running back swiftly, with the other he drave
The sharp points of the trident thorough all,
Thro' net, and shield and armour of his foe
Right to his heart; and with a shriek he fell!
Then rose a shout from all the Lesbian side,
As when a thousand echoes, rolling round
A rocky valley, double and redouble,
Till they faint far away along the wind:
Whereat the Athenian cohorts with a cry
Bursting, like flame from out a smouldering fire,
Raised sword and shield, and swift as eagles wing'd
To vengeance for their rifled nests, they swoop'd
Down on us; pride, the wounded giant, rose
To tenfold stature, like a cloudy peak
Giving forth lightnings: lance, and javelin flew
A sudden hailstorm shattering crested helm,
Cuirass, and shield. Now came my turn to feel
The pain and shame that I had dealt that day
To others; now my shield was on my back,
And not my harp; but not for long to me
'Twas left to flee from death o'er fallen lives,
And stumble thro' the dying, whose dull eyes
Turn'd on me their last desolate regard;
Whose outstretch'd arms a moment seem'd to crave
Aid of the Gods, then fell, like blasted boughs,
Heavily to the earth; while with parch'd lips
Others were writhing, as tho' but one draught
Of water, even if it dash'd their throats
From the salt sea, whose freshness they could hear
And breathe from far, were heaven, altho' they paid
For it that moment the last hope of life.
So from the fall of one the many rose
And Victory crown'd the vanquish'd: but I heard
The voice of Pittacus,—whose wise essay,
Jealous of him, and eager for her own
Pallas Athena had discomfited;
Or he had saved all that were lost, and won
A peaceful victory—tho' worsted, calm,
And watchful; gathering up the flying bands,
And, like a swift and cunning shepherd's dog,
Compassing front and flank and rear, as though
He multiplied his presence as he will'd.
Not long 'twas free for me to fly in fear
From vengeance; for a hot pursuing foe
Striding upon my failing footsteps drave
His javelin thro' my shield, and pierced my side.
To aid my flight I flung away my shield;
And then I fell, and for a time I lost
Memory of all; and, when I woke, behold
The plain was all forsaken but by them
Who never more should waken, and by them
Whose cries and curses beat off the dark wings
Of hovering vultures, and the beasts of prey,
Until they ceased for ever. I rose; I fled
Another way than Pittacus had taken.
Meanwhile, from the deep furnace of the West
Fold upon fold of onward tempest roll'd,
Hurricane-swift, its thunder-raiment splash'd
With sanguine crimsons, like the endless smoke
Of burning worlds; far off along the plain
The wind-borne dust-wreaths smit with the red light
Waved like to flames; lower and lower sank
The dying sun; the dust-wreaths seem'd to change
Into grey mist; still over it I saw
The banners flying, and I heard the shouts
Of the onward foe triumphant, and beheld
Their spears and lances drive into the mist
Like drowning stars. I stood upon the shore;
And there a weary fisher by his bark
Lay slumbering, while his nets dried in the sun,
Mindless of all the uproar of the fray,
The dust, and clang, and clamour; he had pass'd
That very morning from his Lesbian home
To mark the issue of the fight, and first
Bear back the tidings, hoping for the best.
Just as I stepp'd into the boat I saw,
Far up above me, where the temple rose
Of Hera, over the Sigeian wall,
Now burning in the last glare of the sun,
The glittering sheen, and heard the clash of arms.
And then a shout came down from near the shrine;
A something flash'd a light into mine eyes;
And then I knew, that, with the spoil of war,
There was hung up the shield that I had lost.