University of Virginia Library


103

VENUS UNBURIED.

Deep in the bosom of the patient earth,
A statue slept;
And Time, the silent witness of her birth,
The secret kept.
A female form, of Parian marble pure,
A face of love,
Of radiant beauty, such as would allure
The Gods above.
She once had stood within a lofty fane,
In the world's youth;
A temple raised to her who holds profane
All forms uncouth.
A stately city round the fane displayed
Its proud array;
The city grew and flourished, then decayed,
And passed away.
The ploughshare passed o'er the once busy hold
Of lord and slave,
And on the spot the ripened corn then rolled
Its golden wave.

104

A battle big with the world's fate was fought
Above her head;
And many bodies by her side were brought;
She touched the dead.
The name of victor and of vanquished passed,
And left no trace;
Their very nations' names were wiped at last
From the earth's face.
New creeds, new tongues, new states, new arts arose;
'Twas but to fall,
And still the statue, in her deep repose,
Outlived them all.
A forest grew where once the rustling breeze
The corn had stirred;
And o'er the sleeper browsed beneath the trees
An antlered herd.
In endless line acorn from oak, and oak
From acorn sprung;
But still no sound the sleeping goddess woke,
For ever young.
At last the forest dwindled down to earth,
And passed away;
All save a single oak of mighty girth,
All gnarled and grey.
The children wild, who, round the giant played
With merry dance,
Turned into lovers meeting in its shade,
With furtive glance.

105

Then into old folk, white with years and care,
All bent and shrunk;
Who sat and watched their children's children there,
Play round its trunk.
The world was old, and had no memory now
Of its own youth;
And still the statue slept with radiant brow,
As pure as Truth.
One day men came with rope and axe, to fell
The giant oak;
It died, as giants die, resisting well
Stroke upon stroke.
And as it reeled and fell with thundering sound,
The earth was cleft;
And where the roots had fastened in the ground,
A chasm left.
One of the men peeped o'er the brink, but fled
In wild alarm,
And swore a form had beckoned from the dead,
With ghostly arm.
The others laughed, and then the chasm scanned,
And there beheld
A lovely form, that with its marble hand
The rootlets held.
And so the statue saw the light again
Of heaven above;
And smiled on man, as in the distant Past,
The smile of love.

106

So smiled soft Cypris, daughter of the Wave,
When, at her birth,
She wrung her hair, and by her presence gave
New life to earth.
All men from North and South, and West and East,
The statue saw:
Prince, artist, poet, philosopher and priest,
And man of law.
And each man owned, as on that form he gazed,
The force of love;
And felt his soul by heavenly power raised
To spheres above.
They placed her in a stately hall, away
From sounds uncouth;
To tell her story of a distant day,
In the world's youth.
When Gods as men in every myrtle grove
Of Hellas trod;
And man, though proud of being man, yet strove
To be a God.
When man, though fair, imagined fairer still
The human form;
And gave to marble life's celestial thrill,
And impulse warm;
When life and art were one harmonious whole
To every Greek;
And man in all things found a hidden soul,
And made it speak.