Golden Histories, etc By Wathen Mark Wilks Call |
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THE LION OF ANDROCLUS. |
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 | Golden Histories, etc |  |
73
THE LION OF ANDROCLUS.
“There are many well-authenticated narratives of the affection of lions for individuals of the human species, and these might lead us to believe that the story was not altogether a fable which is told by Aulus Gellius, of Androdus (the Androcles of Buffon), a Roman slave, —being known and caressed in the Circus by a lion who was destined to tear him to pieces, but who recollected that the unfortunate man had cured a wound in his leg in his native deserts. That lions subdue their instincts to protect and foster weaker animals, particularly dogs, is well known.”—(From “The Menagerie: Quadrupeds,” vol. i. p.182, 1829.)
The lion's reputation for courage and magnanimity has been called in question; but that he is capable of gratitude, affection, and forbearance is a fact established by competent testimony.
Not man alone is touched with love or ruth,
With regal thought, or stately passion fired,
But the wise Dog with step as true as Truth,
The beauty-loving Peacock self-admired,
The knightly Horse with conscious strength attired;
The Thrush that sings all day for love of Song,
The Mason-Beaver with strange art inspired,
The Righteous Bird that still avenges wrong—
To these, to these, as us, both sense and soul belong.
With regal thought, or stately passion fired,
But the wise Dog with step as true as Truth,
The beauty-loving Peacock self-admired,
The knightly Horse with conscious strength attired;
The Thrush that sings all day for love of Song,
The Mason-Beaver with strange art inspired,
The Righteous Bird that still avenges wrong—
A writer in the Spectator (September 15, 1862) newspaper vouches for the following facts:— “Some years ago, a gentleman on a visit to Nanteos, near Aberystwith, heard a mighty noise on the lawn outside his window. He got up, and looking out, saw several rooks standing in concentric circles round a solitary rook in the centre. They cawed vehemently for a long time, during which the rook environed remained silent. After a while they all rose with one accord, flew upon their arraigned brother, and pecked him to death. Have the rooks a code of justice?”
Goldsmith declares that they have. Thefts, he says, never go unpunished, if perpetrated during nest-building time. “I have seen,” he adds, “eight or ten rooks gather upon such occasions, and, setting upon the new nest of the young couple, all at once tear it in pieces in a moment.” —(See “The Domestic Habits of Birds—Library of Enter- taining Knowledge,” p. 38, 1863.)
To these, to these, as us, both sense and soul belong.
Thus, some for strength, and some for glorious deed,
Some for rare grace, or unimagined skill,
And some for courteous help in sorest need,
Of these, our lowlier mates, are honoured still;
As Una's Lion following her meek will,
Or Hesiod's Dog
that tracked the murder out,
Or in that tragic tale of household ill,
The milk-white Doe, that fearless ranged about,
While o'er pale Rylstone's towers hung nameless fear and doubt.
Some for rare grace, or unimagined skill,
And some for courteous help in sorest need,
Of these, our lowlier mates, are honoured still;
As Una's Lion following her meek will,
Or Hesiod's Dog
The legend is that at Œnoe, a town of Locris, Hesiod, a pilgrim to the Delphic Oracle, was entertained by Ganyctor. His fellow- traveller, a Milesian, and a youth called Troilus, also shared the hospitalities of the Locrian. During the night Ctemene, the daughter of their host, was so treated by one of the guests as to arouse the resentment of her brothers. Their suspicion, however, fell not on theMilesian, the real offender, but on Hesiod: and Ctemenus and Antiphus —for such were their names—murdered the poet in the fields. His body was thrown into the sea, and a dolphin conveyed it to a part of the coast where the festival of Neptune was celebrating. The murderers afterwards confessed, and were drowned in the waves. Plutarch states that the corpse of Hesiod was discovered through the sagacity of his dog.—(See Elton's “Life of Hesiod.” See also Plutarch's “Morals, ” Pausanias, &c.)
Or in that tragic tale of household ill,
The milk-white Doe, that fearless ranged about,
While o'er pale Rylstone's towers hung nameless fear and doubt.
74
So in the humbler children of the Earth
A mirror of our nobler selves we see,
From one veiled Silence they like us have birth,
Like us are born of one blind Mystery;
They have the same quick sense and soul as we,
The same great feelings thrill their hearts as ours,
Our friends and co-mates lower in degree,
They watch our hearths, they frolic in our bowers,
Throw grace o'er human grace, lend power to human powers.
A mirror of our nobler selves we see,
From one veiled Silence they like us have birth,
Like us are born of one blind Mystery;
They have the same quick sense and soul as we,
The same great feelings thrill their hearts as ours,
Our friends and co-mates lower in degree,
They watch our hearths, they frolic in our bowers,
Throw grace o'er human grace, lend power to human powers.
O ye that doubt or darken Truth or Love,
O ye that dream Life is but one with Thought,
By generous Lion or sweet-natured Dove,
Or loyal Dog, a higher lore is taught,
Who only think, ne'er live, for life is naught,
If Life from Beauty, Love, or Strength we sever,
Who only love ne'er live, for Life hath wrought
Her dædal web of Love, Thought, high Endeavour—
O blend thought, feeling, doing, blend and part them never.
O ye that dream Life is but one with Thought,
By generous Lion or sweet-natured Dove,
Or loyal Dog, a higher lore is taught,
Who only think, ne'er live, for life is naught,
If Life from Beauty, Love, or Strength we sever,
Who only love ne'er live, for Life hath wrought
Her dædal web of Love, Thought, high Endeavour—
O blend thought, feeling, doing, blend and part them never.
Man is not man until he love and think,
Man is not man until he think and love,
Man is not man till love, in golden link,
Bind thought with deed, and he his strength approve
In life's stern warfield, not the dreaming grove;
Then thought, love, action, centre and unite,
Then glory rounds his head where'er he move,
The triple crown of his imperial might,
Truth, beauty, noble worth that make his royal right.
Man is not man until he think and love,
Man is not man till love, in golden link,
Bind thought with deed, and he his strength approve
In life's stern warfield, not the dreaming grove;
Then thought, love, action, centre and unite,
Then glory rounds his head where'er he move,
The triple crown of his imperial might,
Truth, beauty, noble worth that make his royal right.
75
—A touching Legend of old days I tell,
Ere the dear Pagan gods were out of date,
Ere Zeus the Thunderer from his empire fell,
Or white-arm'd Here lost celestial state.
Alas! that Gods should be discrowned by Fate!
—But now, our Pallas guards her mystic Trees,
The Muses yet round young Apollo wait,
Still Pan's dread murmur swoons upon the breeze,
And Jove o'er queenly Rome his soaring eagle sees.
Ere the dear Pagan gods were out of date,
Ere Zeus the Thunderer from his empire fell,
Or white-arm'd Here lost celestial state.
Alas! that Gods should be discrowned by Fate!
—But now, our Pallas guards her mystic Trees,
The Muses yet round young Apollo wait,
Still Pan's dread murmur swoons upon the breeze,
And Jove o'er queenly Rome his soaring eagle sees.
The City holds high festival to-day;
The people, senate, emperor, all are met;
The Circus burns with gem and gold array,
Above, close-rank'd, the surging crowd is set;
Below are gather'd, arm'd with spear and net,
They that for Rome's delight to death are come;
Afar strange sounds, heard indistinctly yet,
But heard too well, strike Hope the flatterer dumb,
The lion's hungry voice blends with th'inhuman hum.
The people, senate, emperor, all are met;
The Circus burns with gem and gold array,
Above, close-rank'd, the surging crowd is set;
Below are gather'd, arm'd with spear and net,
They that for Rome's delight to death are come;
Afar strange sounds, heard indistinctly yet,
But heard too well, strike Hope the flatterer dumb,
The lion's hungry voice blends with th'inhuman hum.
But now the strife of man with man is o'er.
Take hence the dead; the unenvied conqueror crown;
For slave with fellow-slave shall fight no more,
Nor peer with peer dispute a vile renown,
But man with beast. Down with the barriers, down!
And let the kingly savage come this way!
Like some dark chief, with terror-striking frown
He comes, he comes, impatient of delay,—
The dreadful lion comes, and darkens all the day.
Take hence the dead; the unenvied conqueror crown;
For slave with fellow-slave shall fight no more,
Nor peer with peer dispute a vile renown,
But man with beast. Down with the barriers, down!
And let the kingly savage come this way!
Like some dark chief, with terror-striking frown
He comes, he comes, impatient of delay,—
The dreadful lion comes, and darkens all the day.
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Pale, but determined, scarce three steps aside,
Stands the proud victim, passionless as trance,
Yet inly weeps, for all his Stoic pride,
As memory throws far back her longing glance,
And where the fleet young steps once led the dance,
Again he sports a child amid the reeds,
Or plucks wild fruit by his loved lake's expanse,
Or listens while across the blowing meads,
A voice comes down the wind which chants his father's deeds.
Stands the proud victim, passionless as trance,
Yet inly weeps, for all his Stoic pride,
As memory throws far back her longing glance,
And where the fleet young steps once led the dance,
Again he sports a child amid the reeds,
Or plucks wild fruit by his loved lake's expanse,
Or listens while across the blowing meads,
A voice comes down the wind which chants his father's deeds.
He knows that voice, which calls as mothers call,
From some dim world to grief-bewilder'd men.
But hark! a roar, that might whole woods appal,
Bursts from the infuriate lord of glade and glen,
And, Androclus awakes to life agen:
Resolved he turns, for it were gain to die,
And nobly heedless how, or where, or when,
Looks calmly down with sad victorious eye:
The man and lion gaze while Rome sits breathless by.
From some dim world to grief-bewilder'd men.
But hark! a roar, that might whole woods appal,
Bursts from the infuriate lord of glade and glen,
And, Androclus awakes to life agen:
Resolved he turns, for it were gain to die,
And nobly heedless how, or where, or when,
Looks calmly down with sad victorious eye:
The man and lion gaze while Rome sits breathless by.
The lordly beast in baffled wonder stands,
Like to a man that seeks some haunting thought,
Some deed that, writ on Time's unresting sands,
Life's winds have rased, scarce knowing what is sought:
So by the sylvan king hath memory wrought;
And with a lion's courtesy and grace,
As one in forest knighthood fairly taught,
With lowly lofty mien, and gentle pace,
He moves, and as he moves recalls a well-loved face.
Like to a man that seeks some haunting thought,
Some deed that, writ on Time's unresting sands,
Life's winds have rased, scarce knowing what is sought:
So by the sylvan king hath memory wrought;
And with a lion's courtesy and grace,
As one in forest knighthood fairly taught,
With lowly lofty mien, and gentle pace,
He moves, and as he moves recalls a well-loved face.
77
With the old feeling the old thought comes back,
And the glad lion hails his friend once more:
Love sheathes his talons opening for attack,
Till he that late had slain would now adore.
He knows those hands, and licks them o'er and o'er;
That kind low voice, those gracious eyes he knows;
And feeding on the pleasant thoughts of yore,
He fawns, as once in that old Forest-close,
Such kindness to the man the grateful lion shows.
And the glad lion hails his friend once more:
Love sheathes his talons opening for attack,
Till he that late had slain would now adore.
He knows those hands, and licks them o'er and o'er;
That kind low voice, those gracious eyes he knows;
And feeding on the pleasant thoughts of yore,
He fawns, as once in that old Forest-close,
Such kindness to the man the grateful lion shows.
Nor less the man now hails that sylvan friend,
But with true love his old acquaintance greets:
Strange scenes revive, long wavering branches bend
O'er a dim cave in the wild wood's retreats,
Where all the forest-emperors have their seats,
Where erst one kind good lion gave him rest,
Protected, fed him, brought him dainty meats,
Old times revive: caressing and caress'd,
The lion and the man their mutual joy attest.
But with true love his old acquaintance greets:
Strange scenes revive, long wavering branches bend
O'er a dim cave in the wild wood's retreats,
Where all the forest-emperors have their seats,
Where erst one kind good lion gave him rest,
Protected, fed him, brought him dainty meats,
Old times revive: caressing and caress'd,
The lion and the man their mutual joy attest.
But, hark! a voice like ocean murmurs round;
The universal shout of Rome is there,
And all that mighty and tumultuous sound
Flies eddying back upon the ringing air.
Some bless the gods that work this marvel fair.
Some praise the lion. But the people cries,
“Grace, grace for man and beast! Spare, Emperor, spare!”
“Grace, grace for both!” the lord of Rome replies.
“Ho, lictor! call the slave: nor man nor lion dies!”
The universal shout of Rome is there,
And all that mighty and tumultuous sound
Flies eddying back upon the ringing air.
Some bless the gods that work this marvel fair.
Some praise the lion. But the people cries,
“Grace, grace for man and beast! Spare, Emperor, spare!”
“Grace, grace for both!” the lord of Rome replies.
“Ho, lictor! call the slave: nor man nor lion dies!”
78
In that imperial presence bows the slave,
And there is stillness as when men lie dead,
Or as when Death himself near some fresh grave
Passes, and all stand hush'd to hear his tread:
So, with still face, and downward-listening head,
The living city round her sovereign stands.
“Tell, thou,” the world's majestic master said,
“From what far depths of undiscover'd lands,
“What forest shades unknown, or realms of desert sands,
And there is stillness as when men lie dead,
Or as when Death himself near some fresh grave
Passes, and all stand hush'd to hear his tread:
So, with still face, and downward-listening head,
The living city round her sovereign stands.
“Tell, thou,” the world's majestic master said,
“From what far depths of undiscover'd lands,
“What forest shades unknown, or realms of desert sands,
“Thou and thy strange companion here are come,
“And how a man and lion first were friends.
“What dear remember'd ties, what common home,
“What mutual impulses, or kindred ends,
“Could link you in one fate? What genius lends
“A lion such sweet soul, and to a man
“Such tender care, and such high grace extends?”
From side to side the applauding murmur ran;
Then ceased the world's great lord, and thus the slave began:
“And how a man and lion first were friends.
“What dear remember'd ties, what common home,
“What mutual impulses, or kindred ends,
“Could link you in one fate? What genius lends
“A lion such sweet soul, and to a man
“Such tender care, and such high grace extends?”
From side to side the applauding murmur ran;
Then ceased the world's great lord, and thus the slave began:
“My master, in the years dead long ago,
“Held golden realms in Afric, far away,
“But nought of human ruth his heart might know,
“For it was cold as winter frore and gray,
“So I, his slave, was tortured night and day,
“And tears and only sorrow were my food.
“I hoped, but hope will pine for long delay,
“I pray'd, but the deaf gods unpitying stood;
“Desperate, at length I fled to secret rock and wood.
“Held golden realms in Afric, far away,
“But nought of human ruth his heart might know,
“For it was cold as winter frore and gray,
“So I, his slave, was tortured night and day,
“And tears and only sorrow were my food.
“I hoped, but hope will pine for long delay,
“I pray'd, but the deaf gods unpitying stood;
“Desperate, at length I fled to secret rock and wood.
79
“Over the barren fiery sands I wander'd,
“Mid the blue panic of the changeless sky;
“And, as my starless destiny I ponder'd,
“Careless of life I grew, and wish'd to die,—
“The great, the noble pass, and why not I?
“Then hope revived, that leaves not king nor slave,
“And fairer now it seem'd to fight than fly,
“In that great battle won but by the brave;
“Swift as my thought I rose to seek some sheltering cave.
“Mid the blue panic of the changeless sky;
“And, as my starless destiny I ponder'd,
“Careless of life I grew, and wish'd to die,—
“The great, the noble pass, and why not I?
“Then hope revived, that leaves not king nor slave,
“And fairer now it seem'd to fight than fly,
“In that great battle won but by the brave;
“Swift as my thought I rose to seek some sheltering cave.
“Far off, far off, it lay, near flowing waters,
“Veil'd amid grasses sheath'd with spear-like halm,
“Where flowers of gorgeous hue, earth's regal daughters,
“White, scarlet, orange, scent the air with balm,
“Where lithe and arrowy stands the plumèd palm,
“Still in the dread blue glare of blinding noon;
“Here, when night dropp'd her shadow black but calm,
“With weary eyes and heart all out of tune,
“I saw that welcome cave beneath the full-faced moon.
“Veil'd amid grasses sheath'd with spear-like halm,
“Where flowers of gorgeous hue, earth's regal daughters,
“White, scarlet, orange, scent the air with balm,
“Where lithe and arrowy stands the plumèd palm,
“Still in the dread blue glare of blinding noon;
“Here, when night dropp'd her shadow black but calm,
“With weary eyes and heart all out of tune,
“I saw that welcome cave beneath the full-faced moon.
“Scarce had I enter'd, scarce an opening found,
“Where the pale light and vesper wind might pass,
“When, glancing o'er the witch-like landscape round,
“I saw, slow-moving through the blood-dropp'd grass,
“A wounded lion creep. ‘Woe and alas!
“This Death is come for me! ’aghast I cried;
“‘But where yon water drowns the wild morass,
“From all the ills that mortal life betide,
“That refuge will I seek which men and gods provide!’
“Where the pale light and vesper wind might pass,
“When, glancing o'er the witch-like landscape round,
“I saw, slow-moving through the blood-dropp'd grass,
“A wounded lion creep. ‘Woe and alas!
“This Death is come for me! ’aghast I cried;
“‘But where yon water drowns the wild morass,
“From all the ills that mortal life betide,
“That refuge will I seek which men and gods provide!’
80
“But, lo! a wonder! for, with lingering pace,
“The deadly lion comes, subdued and meek,
“And human-like, looks in my human face,
“And seems as he with human voice would speak;
“And then, like some huge wave broken and weak,
“Throws his gaunt length upon the cave's rude floor,
“And as man's aid some wounded child may seek,
“The gentle beast sought mine. ‘The gods restore
“The golden years,’ I cried, ‘and Love is king once more!’
“The deadly lion comes, subdued and meek,
“And human-like, looks in my human face,
“And seems as he with human voice would speak;
“And then, like some huge wave broken and weak,
“Throws his gaunt length upon the cave's rude floor,
“And as man's aid some wounded child may seek,
“The gentle beast sought mine. ‘The gods restore
“The golden years,’ I cried, ‘and Love is king once more!’
“He raised his suffering foot, he held it near,
“While from the wound the cause of pain I drew;
“And then, as use and converse lessen'd fear,
“And mutual trust 'twixt man and lion grew,
“I pressed the sore, I bathed and cleansed it, too,
“Till pure of gravel and sharp fretting sand;
“Then did the princely Thing his strength renew,
“And, free from pain, in child-like meekness grand,
“He slept, his loving foot still resting in my hand.
“While from the wound the cause of pain I drew;
“And then, as use and converse lessen'd fear,
“And mutual trust 'twixt man and lion grew,
“I pressed the sore, I bathed and cleansed it, too,
“Till pure of gravel and sharp fretting sand;
“Then did the princely Thing his strength renew,
“And, free from pain, in child-like meekness grand,
“He slept, his loving foot still resting in my hand.
“For three long years the lion was my mate,
“The sentinel who watch'd my sleeping hours,
“And in our desert realm and lonely state,
“True brother kings were we, and loving powers;
“And often would I garland him with flowers,
“And stroke his head, and plait his tawny mane;
“And oft would he, mid reeds and sylvan bowers,
“Hunt the swift prey, and to our hermit reign
“With food for his dear mate would still return again.
“The sentinel who watch'd my sleeping hours,
“And in our desert realm and lonely state,
“True brother kings were we, and loving powers;
“And often would I garland him with flowers,
“And stroke his head, and plait his tawny mane;
“And oft would he, mid reeds and sylvan bowers,
“Hunt the swift prey, and to our hermit reign
“With food for his dear mate would still return again.
81
“And evermore the daintiest share was mine,
“Of all the game the royal hunter took;
“I made the sun my fire, his flame divine
“Stealing Prometheus-like; the crystal brook
“Cool'd my parch'd lips; while still, with earnest look.
“The lion near me crouch'd, or with me fed,
“And in my face, as in an open book,
“Each flitting thought or changing fancy read,
“Or slumber'd by my side, or follow'd where I led.
“Of all the game the royal hunter took;
“I made the sun my fire, his flame divine
“Stealing Prometheus-like; the crystal brook
“Cool'd my parch'd lips; while still, with earnest look.
“The lion near me crouch'd, or with me fed,
“And in my face, as in an open book,
“Each flitting thought or changing fancy read,
“Or slumber'd by my side, or follow'd where I led.
“Time fled: and in that fair but wild oasis,
“Refuge I found from fortune's cruel blast,
“And ever down the mountain's marble basis
“I saw the shadows, which the palm-trees cast,
“Lengthen or lessen, as the daylight pass'd
“Athwart the peak of the blue burning air,
“But fear and hate of man still held me fast,
“And oft I sigh'd for what I dream'd of fair
“In that sweet world might lie beyond my rocky lair.
“Refuge I found from fortune's cruel blast,
“And ever down the mountain's marble basis
“I saw the shadows, which the palm-trees cast,
“Lengthen or lessen, as the daylight pass'd
“Athwart the peak of the blue burning air,
“But fear and hate of man still held me fast,
“And oft I sigh'd for what I dream'd of fair
“In that sweet world might lie beyond my rocky lair.
“Years pass'd. I wearied of this barren life,
“So void of noble care and tender grace,
“‘And give me back,’ I cried, ‘the unequal strife,
“The agony and tumult of the race;
“Once more I pine to see a human face,
“To hear sweet human speech, as man with men.
“Abroad is gone the lion to the chase,
“And I am free to leave this loathsome den,’
“I said, and to the world, O fool! return'd agen.
“So void of noble care and tender grace,
“‘And give me back,’ I cried, ‘the unequal strife,
“The agony and tumult of the race;
“Once more I pine to see a human face,
“To hear sweet human speech, as man with men.
“Abroad is gone the lion to the chase,
“And I am free to leave this loathsome den,’
“I said, and to the world, O fool! return'd agen.
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“Three days I wander'd o'er the burning sand;
“On the fourth morn I saw the glittering light
“Of arms fall round me, from uplifted hands;
“In vain, in vain I look'd, now left now right,
“Swart-featured men, red-handed from the fight,
“Stood round a chief whom most I knew my foe,—
“One that in earlier years had felt the might
“Which clothes the arm truth weapons for the blow:
“To him this hour atoned for years of guilty woe.
“On the fourth morn I saw the glittering light
“Of arms fall round me, from uplifted hands;
“In vain, in vain I look'd, now left now right,
“Swart-featured men, red-handed from the fight,
“Stood round a chief whom most I knew my foe,—
“One that in earlier years had felt the might
“Which clothes the arm truth weapons for the blow:
“To him this hour atoned for years of guilty woe.
“A slave once more! O, grief and drear disaster!
“Over the sands, and o'er the wild sea-foam,
“This, my chief foe, to an unpitying master,
“Led me in chains, where late my lord had come,
“To the world's mother-city, sceptred Rome.
“What could I do? My strength was to be meek;
“A slave can have nor will, law, friend, nor home:
“I stood before my tyrant bow'd and weak,
“With sorrow-sunken eyes, and hollow hueless cheek.
“Over the sands, and o'er the wild sea-foam,
“This, my chief foe, to an unpitying master,
“Led me in chains, where late my lord had come,
“To the world's mother-city, sceptred Rome.
“What could I do? My strength was to be meek;
“A slave can have nor will, law, friend, nor home:
“I stood before my tyrant bow'd and weak,
“With sorrow-sunken eyes, and hollow hueless cheek.
“‘Master, receive,’ I cried, ‘an humbled slave;
“Each word of thine shall be my oracle,
“And, taught by sorrow to be meek and brave,
“I with a loyal heart will serve thee well,
“So thou forgive me what of old befell.’
“I ceased; but soon a voice, cold, stern, and clear,
“Froze my young hopes like flowers in wintry cell:
“‘Hence, to the lions, hence!’Three slaves stood near;
“They did his wicked will, and therefore am I here.
“Each word of thine shall be my oracle,
“And, taught by sorrow to be meek and brave,
“I with a loyal heart will serve thee well,
“So thou forgive me what of old befell.’
“I ceased; but soon a voice, cold, stern, and clear,
“Froze my young hopes like flowers in wintry cell:
“‘Hence, to the lions, hence!’Three slaves stood near;
“They did his wicked will, and therefore am I here.
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“The rest the Emperor knows. Thine eyes behold
“The gentle nurture of the royal beast.
“He, too, it seems, the generous and the bold,
“That watch'd my sleep, that spread the desert-feast,
“That had the freedom of the gorgeous East;
“He, too, like me, is captive and a slave.
“Speak, and he, too, like me may be released.
“See, how he gives me back the love I gave;
“See, how the milder gods would grant the boon I crave!”
“The gentle nurture of the royal beast.
“He, too, it seems, the generous and the bold,
“That watch'd my sleep, that spread the desert-feast,
“That had the freedom of the gorgeous East;
“He, too, like me, is captive and a slave.
“Speak, and he, too, like me may be released.
“See, how he gives me back the love I gave;
“See, how the milder gods would grant the boon I crave!”
The tale is told; a glad tumultuous cry
Shows that the people's heart is greatly stirr'd;
And Evoe! Evoe! hurtling rings on high,
And Euge! Euge! echoing round is heard,
With many a crowning and victorious word,
In praise of that strange-storied fugitive.
Well has the gentle slave his prayer preferr'd:
“Live, live!” they cried: “the Emperor life will give!
“O, live, thou, noble slave; thou princely lion, live!”
Shows that the people's heart is greatly stirr'd;
And Evoe! Evoe! hurtling rings on high,
And Euge! Euge! echoing round is heard,
With many a crowning and victorious word,
In praise of that strange-storied fugitive.
Well has the gentle slave his prayer preferr'd:
“Live, live!” they cried: “the Emperor life will give!
“O, live, thou, noble slave; thou princely lion, live!”
They live: the lion and the man are free.
Ay, theirs is life and freedom which renews
The light of life, and makes it bliss to be.
Ay, theirs is life whose heaven of changing hues
Sheds love's delicious warmth and hope's sweet dews
Over all hearts save those whom wrong makes mad;
Thus, Androclus his long despair subdues,
Lifts his meek head, nor servile now, nor sad:
For with the light of freedom his calm eyes are glad.
Ay, theirs is life and freedom which renews
The light of life, and makes it bliss to be.
Ay, theirs is life whose heaven of changing hues
Sheds love's delicious warmth and hope's sweet dews
Over all hearts save those whom wrong makes mad;
Thus, Androclus his long despair subdues,
Lifts his meek head, nor servile now, nor sad:
For with the light of freedom his calm eyes are glad.
84
Forth fares he, follow'd by his forest-mate,
For such true-hearted friendship who can sever,
The lion and the man, so link'd by fate,
The imperial will of Rome now links for ever,
And from the lion Androclus parts never;
But still, in silken leash submissive led,
Where through the city flows the golden river,
The lion meekly bows his regal head,
And wears a human look, and walks with princely tread.
For such true-hearted friendship who can sever,
The lion and the man, so link'd by fate,
The imperial will of Rome now links for ever,
And from the lion Androclus parts never;
But still, in silken leash submissive led,
Where through the city flows the golden river,
The lion meekly bows his regal head,
And wears a human look, and walks with princely tread.
And ever, as from house to house they go,
Some welcome gift the wondering inmates bring,
While flower-like round them gentle fancies grow,
And glorify the beggar to a king;
For noble ends from lowliest service spring;
Love with her magic wand turns all to gold,
And shows fair uses in each meanest thing,
And thus the houseless churl elate and bold,
In pride and reverence walk'd in the great days of old.
Some welcome gift the wondering inmates bring,
While flower-like round them gentle fancies grow,
And glorify the beggar to a king;
For noble ends from lowliest service spring;
Love with her magic wand turns all to gold,
And shows fair uses in each meanest thing,
And thus the houseless churl elate and bold,
In pride and reverence walk'd in the great days of old.
So with the Lion and the Man it fares,
In Rome's proud ways, ere fall the Olympian powers,
Still for the pilgrim twain some hand prepares,
And through the vernal days and summer hours,
The people strew the knightly beast with flowers,
Yet knightlier through their love and gentleness;
And infant fingers cull from glittering bowers,
The starry blooms that haunt each wild recess,
And clothe him as for sport in this sweet sylvan dress.
In Rome's proud ways, ere fall the Olympian powers,
Still for the pilgrim twain some hand prepares,
And through the vernal days and summer hours,
The people strew the knightly beast with flowers,
Yet knightlier through their love and gentleness;
And infant fingers cull from glittering bowers,
The starry blooms that haunt each wild recess,
And clothe him as for sport in this sweet sylvan dress.
85
And as with calm and stately step they march,
The people watch them with admiring eye,
Through winding street and under sculptured arch,
Half-veil'd in roses, as they linger by,
And ever rings the loud exulting cry:
“Behold the lion! he that in the East
“Did make the man his guest and dear ally;
“Behold the man that heal'd the courteous beast,—
“The noble fellow-slaves whom Rome from death released.
The people watch them with admiring eye,
Through winding street and under sculptured arch,
Half-veil'd in roses, as they linger by,
And ever rings the loud exulting cry:
“Behold the lion! he that in the East
“Did make the man his guest and dear ally;
“Behold the man that heal'd the courteous beast,—
“The noble fellow-slaves whom Rome from death released.
| Golden Histories, etc | |