II.
THE BIRTH OF HERCULES.
1
“The Babe now swathed in saffron sheen
Scaped not the golden-thronèd Queen;
In jealous wrath unquenchable
Instant she sent two serpents fell.
Then through the portals opening wide
To the broad chamber's haunt they hied,
Eager to slime their ravenous maw
Over the babe;—the infant saw,
Lifting his eager head upright,
And first essayed the coming fight.
2
“Then with both hands in iron grasp
Both their huge necks he firm did clasp,
And held them struggling fast, until
Their monstrous limbs in death were still.
Then what amazement did astound
The matrons that were gather'd round
Alcmena's bed! and them among,
Lo, she herself that instant sprung
Upon her feet, all disarray,
Those portentous beasts to fray.
3
“Then in brazen panoply
Rush'd the Theban chiefs to see;
And, heart-pierced, the warrior Lord,
Brandishing his naked sword,
Came the sire Amphitryon.
Home-felt grief holds every one,
But the cheek is sooner dry
In another's sympathy.”
THE CONTRAST.
Such were the heathen auguries,
Portending feats of high emprize,
Which in his royal cradle gave
A hero-god who came to save;
Shadows that wait the infant born,
Beneath the eye-lids of the Morn,
And in his chamber come to dwell.
Such is the picture—mark it well—
When man would pourtray power of Heaven.
Now look on this which God hath given:—
No cradle in a kingly hall,
A star without, within a stall,
And where three strangers prostrate fall,
The little hands as if to bless
Uplifted in meek lowliness.
Or look again,—beneath the night
A helpless pair in hurried flight—
Where nought but stars on either hand
Keep watch o'er the Arabian strand.
Look on each picture, note it well,
And more of wisdom shall it tell
Than kindled heathen poet's theme,
Or walk'd the groves of Academe.
