 | Tiresias |  |
“Showing, dear Mother, tho' the tale is told,
It carries only vague significance,
Save thro' experience and sympathy.
At easy ranges aye these triflers flit
Round bush and tree; and, haunting in the spring
Our upper lands, weave unregarded nests,
And utter little songs from hour to hour.
It carries only vague significance,
51
At easy ranges aye these triflers flit
Round bush and tree; and, haunting in the spring
Our upper lands, weave unregarded nests,
And utter little songs from hour to hour.
“On yestereven, ere the sun went down,
I scaled the crags, for ever sacred, where
Pallas Athena's voice foretold my doom.
I lay and meditated feats unwrought
By daring men of parents yet unborn:
As one, while musing, sees a city rise,
Whose paven streets slope down to massive quays;
The rock, meanwhile, whence hewn the stone must come,
For temples, towers, and palaces superb,
Untouched as yet of chisel, pick, or bar.
A city airy as a morning dream,
That grows to shape and harbours multitudes!
While thus I saw this phantom populace,
Urging alway in ceaseless ebb and flow,
I heard a haughty pair of eagles croon;
In trouble for a nestling that had fallen,
Breaking its unfledged winglet on the rock,
And marked for death; as, thralled with damaged limb;
Tho' haply it might forage and escape,
Escape were hopeless, should perchance it catch
A shepherd's eye; as shepherds ever kill,
Or maim with cruel torture creatures rare.
I scaled the crags, for ever sacred, where
Pallas Athena's voice foretold my doom.
I lay and meditated feats unwrought
By daring men of parents yet unborn:
As one, while musing, sees a city rise,
Whose paven streets slope down to massive quays;
The rock, meanwhile, whence hewn the stone must come,
For temples, towers, and palaces superb,
Untouched as yet of chisel, pick, or bar.
A city airy as a morning dream,
That grows to shape and harbours multitudes!
While thus I saw this phantom populace,
Urging alway in ceaseless ebb and flow,
52
In trouble for a nestling that had fallen,
Breaking its unfledged winglet on the rock,
And marked for death; as, thralled with damaged limb;
Tho' haply it might forage and escape,
Escape were hopeless, should perchance it catch
A shepherd's eye; as shepherds ever kill,
Or maim with cruel torture creatures rare.
“This danger lit ungovernable ire
In those grim parents: loudly then cried one:
In those grim parents: loudly then cried one:
| Tiresias | |