Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature By Charles Mackay |
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THE WISH OF MIDAS. |
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 | Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature |  |
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THE WISH OF MIDAS.
“O treacherous Silenus, foe, not friend!
Take back, take back thy miserable boon,
And let my bread be bread, or let me die.
Take back, take back thy miserable boon,
And let my bread be bread, or let me die.
“When yestermorn I was befooled by thee,
And took thy hideous gift, I could not know,
I could not dream, the gods could be so false.
And took thy hideous gift, I could not know,
I could not dream, the gods could be so false.
“I thought thou wert my friend and comforter,
And blessed thy name when, stretching forth my hand
To touch the rose-red apple on the bough,
Or pendent bunches of the purple grapes,
They fell in yellow clusters at my feet:
Gold! all of gold! no purer in the mart.
And blessed thy name when, stretching forth my hand
To touch the rose-red apple on the bough,
Or pendent bunches of the purple grapes,
They fell in yellow clusters at my feet:
Gold! all of gold! no purer in the mart.
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“I blessed thy name when at the running stream
I bathed my lips, and all the sparkling flood
Rippled in golden waves before my sight.
I bathed my lips, and all the sparkling flood
Rippled in golden waves before my sight.
“I blessed thy name—I justified the gods!
Fool that I was! deluded that I am!
That could not, and that cannot, sound the depths
Of treachery—the gods' far worse than men's.
Fool that I was! deluded that I am!
That could not, and that cannot, sound the depths
Of treachery—the gods' far worse than men's.
“The rain rained on me like a storm of spears,
Each drop that touched me turning into gold,
Heavy enough to batter me to death,
Had I not hidden me in sheltering caves
Until the venomous storm had fretted o'er
Its overflow of wrath.
Each drop that touched me turning into gold,
Heavy enough to batter me to death,
Had I not hidden me in sheltering caves
Until the venomous storm had fretted o'er
Its overflow of wrath.
“Ah, woe is me!
Not all the gold that grows beneath my tread,
Or rattles from my hand, like falling shale
When lightning strikes the cliff, and all the shore
Is strewn with ruin; with the half of which—
Ay, or the twentieth or the hundredth part—
I could endow perpetual monarchies,
And make the meanest beggar more than king,
Is worth the crust a beggar might disdain;
No, nor one drop of water from the spring;
Nor one delicious dew-drop on my tongue—
My tongue burnt up and shrivelled as with fire.
Not all the gold that grows beneath my tread,
Or rattles from my hand, like falling shale
When lightning strikes the cliff, and all the shore
Is strewn with ruin; with the half of which—
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I could endow perpetual monarchies,
And make the meanest beggar more than king,
Is worth the crust a beggar might disdain;
No, nor one drop of water from the spring;
Nor one delicious dew-drop on my tongue—
My tongue burnt up and shrivelled as with fire.
“Oh, let me drink one long, long, wholesome draught,
And bathe my mouth in water ere I die—
My face, my hands, my body, and my feet!
Oh, let me drink and die! Drink is my heaven,
The crown of all things, Earth's supremest joy,
Worth all that mighty Zeus can e'er bestow!
And bathe my mouth in water ere I die—
My face, my hands, my body, and my feet!
Oh, let me drink and die! Drink is my heaven,
The crown of all things, Earth's supremest joy,
Worth all that mighty Zeus can e'er bestow!
“What have I done to be so smitten down,
Made lower than the beasts that munch the herb,
Or vagrant birds that drink the running stream?
The ox is happy with the juicy grass,
The wolf can put his nozzle in the flood,
But all the blessed moistures of the world
Yield to me nothing—but detested gold.
Made lower than the beasts that munch the herb,
Or vagrant birds that drink the running stream?
The ox is happy with the juicy grass,
The wolf can put his nozzle in the flood,
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Yield to me nothing—but detested gold.
“What have I done? Silenus, answer me!
Let me not die with curses on my lips,
As die I must, if thou, unmerciful,
Wilt not take pity on my agony,
And cease to mock me. Take, take back thy gifts!
Or, if thou wilt not, then let Zeus down hurl
His deadliest lightnings on my willing head.
I crave not life—I wish to drink and die!”
Let me not die with curses on my lips,
As die I must, if thou, unmerciful,
Wilt not take pity on my agony,
And cease to mock me. Take, take back thy gifts!
Or, if thou wilt not, then let Zeus down hurl
His deadliest lightnings on my willing head.
I crave not life—I wish to drink and die!”
Thus Midas groaned and moaned, and lay him down
Full length upon the sward, and cursed the gods,
And clutching handfuls of the flowers and grass,
Turned them, in desperate bitterness, to gold,
Then flung them from him with intense disdain
And fierce disgust. Silenus, peeping out
From the vast bole of a rough-rinded oak
Six hundred summers old, looked on and laughed,
And held his fat round sides with growing glee;
Then reeling forth as from a drunken bout,
And holding high a flagon running o'er
With blood-red wine, offered the tempting draught
To wretched Midas. “Wilt thou drink?”;quoth he.
Full length upon the sward, and cursed the gods,
And clutching handfuls of the flowers and grass,
Turned them, in desperate bitterness, to gold,
Then flung them from him with intense disdain
And fierce disgust. Silenus, peeping out
From the vast bole of a rough-rinded oak
Six hundred summers old, looked on and laughed,
And held his fat round sides with growing glee;
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And holding high a flagon running o'er
With blood-red wine, offered the tempting draught
To wretched Midas. “Wilt thou drink?”;quoth he.
“Oh, persecuting and infernal god,
Leave me alone! I wish this hour to die,
And never more to see thy bestial face,
Unless thou wilt relieve me of my curse.”
Leave me alone! I wish this hour to die,
And never more to see thy bestial face,
Unless thou wilt relieve me of my curse.”
“Nay,”;quoth Silenus, “if thou rail and scoff,
How shall I give thee gifts? When beggars sue
With hope of charity, they use fair words.
And so, good friend! rich Midas! thirsty soul!
If thou wouldst drink my wine, or bite my grapes,
Be meek and humble as becomes thy need;
Kneel, beggar, or I shall not pity thee!”
How shall I give thee gifts? When beggars sue
With hope of charity, they use fair words.
And so, good friend! rich Midas! thirsty soul!
If thou wouldst drink my wine, or bite my grapes,
Be meek and humble as becomes thy need;
Kneel, beggar, or I shall not pity thee!”
“Great as the gods, and far more merciful,
Mighty Silenus! let me worship thee!
Divine Silenus! let me kiss the ground
Where thou hast trodden to behold my pain.
I'd rather be the meanest husbandman,
That earns and eats his honest daily bread,
And cools his tongue with water, than I'd be
Such base, abject, and miserable slave
As now I am this moment at thy feet,
Richer than fifty kings, and yet so poor
As to be envious of the very swine
That swill their greasy draff, and sleep in peace.”
Mighty Silenus! let me worship thee!
Divine Silenus! let me kiss the ground
Where thou hast trodden to behold my pain.
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That earns and eats his honest daily bread,
And cools his tongue with water, than I'd be
Such base, abject, and miserable slave
As now I am this moment at thy feet,
Richer than fifty kings, and yet so poor
As to be envious of the very swine
That swill their greasy draff, and sleep in peace.”
“Drink!”;quoth Silenus. “I recall my gift!
Thy bread shall be thy bread, thy wine thy wine,
Upon condition that I touch thine ears,
And make them sprout and grow like ears of ass,
Hairy and huge—a warning evermore
To fools like thee, who quarrel with the gods,
And deem no blessing half so good as gold.”
Thy bread shall be thy bread, thy wine thy wine,
Upon condition that I touch thine ears,
And make them sprout and grow like ears of ass,
Hairy and huge—a warning evermore
To fools like thee, who quarrel with the gods,
And deem no blessing half so good as gold.”
“Give me the cup,”;said Midas; “let me drink!
I'll take the punishment—I'll bear the shame,
And bless thee for thy bounty; but I pray
Cheat me no more: I wish to drink or die.”
I'll take the punishment—I'll bear the shame,
And bless thee for thy bounty; but I pray
Cheat me no more: I wish to drink or die.”
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He took the cup—he drank a lusty draught,
Long, lingering, luscious, every drop a joy
That poured new life through all his clamorous veins,
And knew 'twas wine. And though he felt his ears
Shoot up and stretch at every grateful gulp
Flexile and asinine, he was content.
And when Silenus vanished, with a laugh
That rang through all the wood, he sat him down
And plucked the juiciest apples from the bough,
And ate them greedily. “The gods be thanked,
Apples are apples, and my bread is bread.
Let men or women scoff, to see mine ears,
It shall not matter to my peace of mind;
I thank the gods for water, not for gold,
And bear my punishment as best I may.”
Long, lingering, luscious, every drop a joy
That poured new life through all his clamorous veins,
And knew 'twas wine. And though he felt his ears
Shoot up and stretch at every grateful gulp
Flexile and asinine, he was content.
And when Silenus vanished, with a laugh
That rang through all the wood, he sat him down
And plucked the juiciest apples from the bough,
And ate them greedily. “The gods be thanked,
Apples are apples, and my bread is bread.
Let men or women scoff, to see mine ears,
It shall not matter to my peace of mind;
I thank the gods for water, not for gold,
And bear my punishment as best I may.”
| Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature | |