University of Virginia Library

II.

Ephesus lies all abask in Mediterranean noon-day:
While to her quays and wharves with lovingest silvery kisses,
Creep up the ripplets and kiss them, saluting the Queen of the Ocean.
This is the Bank of the world; its thousand vessels at anchor
Heavy with corn, and with wine, and with oil; corn, drawing its fatness
From the enrichment of Nile, the glory and pride of the Delta;
Wine that the maidens of Spain trod out in the vats of Huesca;
Oil that exuded itself from the full-juiced Syrian berry.
These are but shreds of her wealth, her pledges and counters of commerce.
Right in her central of Docks, and nearer the mouth of Caÿster,
Ranged in their priceless array, all the Red Sea merchantmen bring her
Jewels and ingots of silver and spices of Kedar and Sheba.
Coasters are there that have hung o'er the calm green depths of the ocean,
Hazarding vessel and life for the blue pearl, perfect in beauty;
Others, yet bolder of soul, that have rounded the pillars of Atlas,
Skirting that loveliest land; and seeking the treasures of Lisbon,
Laughing the bay to scorn, and exploring the Cape of Namancus;
Then, on a south-west wind, touched the barbarous island of Britain.
Ay, but look up, where the mountains, incurving themselves round the City,
Tower, to the unflecked blue, and are crowned by the mightiest Tmolus:
Tmolus, whose head still wears its coronal, glorious and sparkling,
Where the late winter's snows have not yielded as yet to the summer.
Winding its way round the base, by palm tree and chesnut and platane,
Specked with its myriads of swans, flows the sweetest of rivers, Caÿster:
Oh! what a work of God! how lovely and beautiful wholly!
But where the spice-fields end, that girdle the centremost mountain,
Breathing an odour afar on the sea, like Paradise-breezes,
Down to the main itself, and with all the glory of this world,
Man, too has done his part, and has built him a city of idols.
Tier above tier they rise, with portico, column and pillar,
Glowing in marble as bright and as varied as forests in autumn;
Statues of brass and of gold, the curious work of the artist,
Flashing the noon-ray back undimmed, undiminished in brightness;
Zeus, king of gods and of men, and the tamer of horses Poseidon;
Here, with her terrible Ægis, and long lance, Pallas Athene,
Strong in her father's strength, as she scatters the ranks of the heroes:
Here, too, purest amongst the impure, stands Phœbus Apollo,
Laughing the laugh of might, as he slew the terrible Python.
These, and a thousand such; but not on these would they linger,
Ephesus' daughters and sons, when they tell of their beautiful mother:
One above all, one temple on earth, unrivalled in glory:
Treasury this of the world, gem of Asia, marvel of nations;
Rich, with the gifts of Kings, with the prime of the spoil of the battle;
Rich, with the offerings of maidens, whose topaz and emerald bracelets,
Gladly were laid at the Shrine, some lustre to add to the Goddess;—
Artemis, Queen of the City, and Queen of the hearts of its people.—
Who has not heard of a title o'er others that Ephesus boasts in,
Shrinekeeper she of the Goddess? And holiest and chiefest of treasures,
Who has not heard of the image that fell from Zeus in Olympus?
But it is not to the Temples to-day, it is not to the Altars,
Men hurry forward in groups, one goal, one object before them;
Thither must we with the rest,—to the theatre, mighty erection,
Mightiest far among those, that have reeked with the blood of the Martyrs;
Yielding, no not for a moment, to Rome's earthfamed Colosseum.
Here an Apostle had planted the cross; here Paul of the Gentiles
Fighting with beasts had triumphed: here multitudes, following after,
Went from the dust of the strife to the still cool waters of Heaven;
Tier above tier of the seats rose high in their sumptuous marble:
Awnings were up, well bleached in the sun; and jets from beneath them
Ready to shed their perfume when it drew to the heat of the noon-day.
Curtained and canopied richly and laden with silver and jewels,
Slightly projected the Asiarch's throne; Rome's Genius above it.
Here let us leave the crowd to enter by hundreds and thousands,
Eager for this day's sports; the might and the glory of this world
All on one side arrayed, and a virgin alone on the other.
Watch they, who list, the theatre still: let us go to the Martyr.