 | Gathered poems of Ernest Myers |  |
24
DORIEUS
In the year 406 b.c., seven years after the annihilation of the Athenian army before Syracuse, the Athenian fleet took prisoner one Dorieus, a member of the great Rhodian house of the Eratidai, who had brought ships to the aid of Sparta against Athens. Dorieus had himself been thrice crowned at Olympia, and his father Diagoras had won the boxing-match there in the year 464, when Pindar wrote for him the ode called the Seventh Olympian, which the Rhodians engraved in letters of gold in the temple of Athene at Lindos.
It was the custom of the time either to release prisoners of war for a ransom or else to put them to death. The Athenians asked no ransom of Dorieus, but set him free on the spot.
Queenly Athens, those were years of anguish,
Since thy proud host perished o'er the foam,
Left to rot upon the field, or languish
Pent in Dorian prison-pits of doom:
From that dire defeat
Turn'st thou back to meet
Foes without and fiercer foes at home.
Since thy proud host perished o'er the foam,
Left to rot upon the field, or languish
Pent in Dorian prison-pits of doom:
From that dire defeat
Turn'st thou back to meet
Foes without and fiercer foes at home.
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Yet in those nine years, when need was sorest,
How thy high heart stirs and strives alway!
Still the Queen of Light, whom thou adorest,
Breathes some brightness through the dolorous day:
As we read, the page
Glows with noble rage;
Deadly wounded, thou hast turned to bay.
How thy high heart stirs and strives alway!
Still the Queen of Light, whom thou adorest,
Breathes some brightness through the dolorous day:
As we read, the page
Glows with noble rage;
Deadly wounded, thou hast turned to bay.
But, more glorious than thy glorious anger,
Shines thy sudden mercy in its stead;
Clutched by death, nor agony nor languor
Bows the bearing of thy regal head:
Fearless yet and free
Sayest thou, “I am she,
Athens yet, though half my force be fled.
Shines thy sudden mercy in its stead;
Clutched by death, nor agony nor languor
Bows the bearing of thy regal head:
Fearless yet and free
Sayest thou, “I am she,
Athens yet, though half my force be fled.
“Ay, amid this darkened age and dwindled,
Still my sons have memory of their fame;
Now for one fair moment see rekindled
One divine spark of the ancient flame;
Know them, now as then,
Marathonian men,
Champions of the high Hellenic name.
Still my sons have memory of their fame;
Now for one fair moment see rekindled
One divine spark of the ancient flame;
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Marathonian men,
Champions of the high Hellenic name.
“Rhodian Dorieus, thou hast fought to tame me,
Fought and failed, and yielded to my spear:
Hadst thou conquered, conquest could not shame me,
So to thee too can no shame come near;
Still thine eager sight
Keeps the battle's light,
Still thy brave brow fronts me without fear.
Fought and failed, and yielded to my spear:
Hadst thou conquered, conquest could not shame me,
So to thee too can no shame come near;
Still thine eager sight
Keeps the battle's light,
Still thy brave brow fronts me without fear.
“But to mine eyes other light around thee
Hovers yet upon thy clustering hair,
Light of silvery olive-leaves that crown'd thee
When the Great Games hailed thee victor there;
When the mid-month moon
Heard the swelling tune
Heralding the athlete strong and fair.
Hovers yet upon thy clustering hair,
Light of silvery olive-leaves that crown'd thee
When the Great Games hailed thee victor there;
When the mid-month moon
Heard the swelling tune
Heralding the athlete strong and fair.
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“Nor in vain the Theban eagle, soaring
High in heaven the morning clouds among,
Bare thy sire's name for eternal storing,
Sealed in labyrinth of splendid song;
Still in golden line
From the Lindian shrine
Flames his praise the sunlit seas along.
High in heaven the morning clouds among,
Bare thy sire's name for eternal storing,
Sealed in labyrinth of splendid song;
Still in golden line
From the Lindian shrine
Flames his praise the sunlit seas along.
“By the spell of those Pindaric splendours,
By the old Athenian chivalry,
By thy sire, and by my sons, defenders
Of that God who crowned both him and thee,
Noble Rhodian foe,
Gird thy sword and go,
Athens gives thee greeting, thou art free.”
By the old Athenian chivalry,
By thy sire, and by my sons, defenders
Of that God who crowned both him and thee,
Noble Rhodian foe,
Gird thy sword and go,
Athens gives thee greeting, thou art free.”
| Gathered poems of Ernest Myers | |