Golden Histories, etc :: :: University of Virginia Library

The story of Minucius is taken from Livy, book xxii. ; that of Khaled may be read in one of Washington Irving's volumes on the “Successors of Mahomet;” the legend of Manoli was borrowed from a prose version of a Moldo-Wallachian legend, given in a number of the Spectator newspaper for 1856.

I.

“I yield to none, to none,” Minucius cried,
Loading his words with scornful emphasis,
While his large eyes grew larger. “I am brave
“As thou art, Fabius, have a swifter hand
“For splendid act, a nimbler wit than thine;
“And in the nobler uses of the field,
“The blind adventurous risks of royal war,
“First, mid the first, allow no peer in thee,
“Our Romans, for the slow and subtle thought,
“Which, as men fable, pilots Will to power,
“But which, as Fact that slays the Fable, shows,
“With restless argus-eyes sees overmuch,
“And so unsinews action ere it spring;—

“I say our Romans, Fabius, yoked us twain,
“Yoked thee with me in one fair fellowship
“Of dangers and delights that wait on war,
“Co-equal chiefs, to strive with him whose name
“Is as the fear of earthquake or eclipse—
“The climber of the Alps, dread Hannibal.—
“Thou, therefore, Fabius, mate with me in arms,
“Be mate in acts, and bid thy nobler mind
“Burst the weak toils of drowsy Policy,
“Which, ever dreaming of to-morrow's sun,
“Still oversleeps Occasion's golden hour,
“Wherein ripe Victory wins her perfect bloom,
“And lets an alien strip the glittering bough.
“Choose, Fabius, choose. Together shall we go
“To pluck the dropping glory, ere it fall?
“Or shall we, severing counsel, sever deeds,
“And I, I only, shake the mighty tree
“That bears the immortal fruit? Choose, Fabius, choose.”

“What shall we do?” said Fabius, grave and stern:
“Such choice delights me not.” To whom replied
Minucius, frowning: “Day, still heired by day,
“Shall alternate the sovereign rule in arms,
“And centre, now in thee, and now in me,
“The one and indivisible sway of might!”
“That likes me not.” said Fabius. “Fortune still
“Is mistress of the field when rash men lead,
“And for the imperial chieftaincy in war
“Rome gave it thee with me, and me with thee,
“Embodying and not dismembering power.

“Nor do I love this maimed and eyeless sway,
“And days all parcelled out in see-saw wise,
“And the keen light of our concentric thought
“Defeated and struck off from its great aim,
“As sunbeams travelling on a forth-right path,
“By one of the innumerous nameless hands
“Of Darkness, the dull sister of blind Night,
“Are seized and plucked away. I will divide
“The army rather than the army's rule,
“That so, if part must perish, part be saved.
“This is my sentence.”

“Be it also mine,”
Minucius cried. And as they said they did;
With even severance all that mailèd force
Betwixt them sharing, sword, and shaft, and spear,
With all that rode and all that warred on foot,
Whom Rome the imperial sent, link'd with the strength
Of kindred soldier-peoples, and what bore
The antique Latin name which never dies;
This done, Minucius, with uplifted crest
That called the high prophetic Fates his own,
Usurping the veiled triumph, proudly passed
To the near level, followed by his men;
And Fabius stood and watch'd him as he passed.

II.

Twixt the wild motley camp of Hannibal,
And where Minucius with his legions lay,

Domed a fair crest, a crowning eminence,
Whereof who made himself the happy lord
Might stand in calm security of place;
And ever as the hovering victory paused
Grasp her strong eagle-wing; but shadowing death,
It frowned for those pale men that warred below.
Here, tho' no sylvan undergrowth appear'd,
With drapery of green leaves, and clasping thorns,
To clothe the interspace, yet in and out,
Dim-sheltering caves spotted the broken ground,
And in the caves were housed five thousand knights,
Both man and steed, with flower of infantry,
Swathed in the kindly gloom, nor, any where,
Could gleam of armour or the wavering light
Of casque, that twinkled if a head but moved,
Alarm Suspicion with her million eyes;
For ere the bright forefinger of the Day
Had half undrawn the curtain of the dark,
And let the young light in, came desperate men,
Fresh from the motley host of Hannibal,
To climb that crowning height, and climbing it,
Focus all vision there. But as they came
The Romans saw, and laughed, and laughing, said:
“Mere sport it were, sullying our brighter fame
“To match our swords with swords of men like these—
“A nameless crew—and, from their coward fears,
“Extort what worth should win.” And as they mocked,
The blaring trumpet rang thro' all the field,
With scornful fiery snarl of silver sound,
The while Minucius with his braggart band

Called out “To arms! to arms!” and jeered and sneered,
Flaunting his peacock fancies as he called.
“Now go,” he says, “the lightest of my troops,
“But not too many.” And the Light-armed went
And fought, and did their best, but fled amain.
“Now go,” he cries, “but go in serried line,
“My noble knights.” And all his noble knights
Went, as he bade, and fought and fled amain.
Then called Minucius his whole strength of war—
Part mounted, part unmounted—to the field.
And Hannibal beheld, and fed the fight
With goodly horse, or flower of valiant men
That fought on foot; and the hot battle grew.
Band mixed with band, and man with man they fought,
Till the field rang with clang and clash of arms,
And crash of shivering sword and splintering spear,
And the long scream of horses mad with pain,
And moan of men despairing; and all life
Went drowning down in that wild sea which Death
O'erhangs—the spectral Shape that feeds on men.

So fought the Romans or, alas! so fled
Un-Romanlike those Romans. But on fire
For that fair fame which diademed their Past,
Unbroken stood a flower of nobler men,
Fighting as heroes fight; and had the hour
Equalled desert, had matched their old renown.
But suddenly, from cave and hollow rock,
The secret soldier, with insulting cry,
Leapt out—one here, one there, and thro' the field

Tumult and terror bore, till hope's pale star,
Alike for victory or for flight, had set.
So, mid the hollow rocks, Minucius fought.

III.

But Fabius, hearing all the cry of pain
That echoed down the field, and far away,
Seeing the wandering, wavering, flying fight,
Exclaimed, “Ah, me! not sooner than I feared,
“Mischance hath caught the rash ones. Equalled now
“With Fabius in command, Minucius knows
“Too late Sidonian Hannibal his lord
“In valour as in fortune. But rebuke
“Befits not men whom nobler work awaits.
“On, Standards, on!—beyond the ramparts on!
“To snatch the new-fledged triumph from the foe,
“And win confession of a perilous fault
“From our dear countrymen. On, Standards, on!”
So while they stood, these poor defeated men,
Some looking on the fight, some on the slain,
Came Fabius with his band, and curbing still
His happier Following that, with fiery heart,
Mixed in the strife, and gathering back from flight—
One here, one there—the broken soldiery,
He, with the unconquered blent the conquered half,
Till, one exulting, one victorious whole,
It fronted the Phœnician. That great Chief,
Seeing the game of kings thus lost and won,

Bade sound retreat, and, as the tuneful brass
Rang down the Vale of Death, cried out aloud,
“I am the conqueror of Minucius, I!
“But Fabius is the man who conquered me.”

IV.

So Fortune veered that day, till o'er the hills
Slipped the long shadows as the sun went down.
Then to the camp Minucius with his men
Paced sadly, silently; there, clothed with shame,
—And nobler for that shame—he stood and cried:
“The foremost man, and chief of all the world,
“O soldiers and O Romans, mates in arms!
“Is he whose wisdom for his country's weal
“Bears mellow fruit; and he the next in rank,
“That with obedience crowns the royal word
“That ripens victory, and who cannot bring
“Wisdom to counsel Power, nor yet obey
“Grey-haired Authority—stands last of all.
“Too late I see the swift prophetic mind
“That can outrun the winds of common thought,
“And the oracular judgment are not ours.
“So learn we best self-knowledge, so begin
“The lesson with a blind submissiveness,
“Content to follow, as the night the day,
“The slave his lord, through all the clanging fight,
“Our happier masters. Here our wisdom lies,
“And our true valour; for when men do wrong

“It is not manly to persist in wrong,
“But mend that wrong with right. If thus ye think,
“O co-mates in one common guilt with me,
“And co-mates in one common penitence,
“Wed the good thought to action, bearing back
“Your eagles, all dishonoured to the Tent,
“Where Fabius with fresh glory keeps his own.
“There will we pause; and, making hush'd approach
“To him that conquered Hannibal, nor less
“Hath conquered us, in that blind strife for rule,
“Will I look up into his gracious face,
“And call him Father: for what meaner name
“Befits the majesty that haloes him?
“Befits his love and all his gentle worth,
“And that illustrious service in the field?
“And you, O soldiers, you, saluting low
“Those famous victors, whose thrice-welcome arms,
“Protected, saved you, call them Patrons. Thus,
“If ampler breadth of glory be not ours,
“The tender grateful heart, that best commends
“The heroic deed, its lowlier praise shall win.
“Blow trumpets, blow!” The loud melodious call
Rang thro' the camp, and soon in stately march,
Minucius and his followers, rank by rank,
Moved to the Fabian tent; and as they passed,
All eyes that watched grew dim with generous tears,
Beholding nobler heights of conquest there,
Than all their swords could reach. Before the rest,
Minucius stepped, and pausing reverently,
Where mid his happier warriors Fabius sate,

He called him Father, and, saluting low,
His soldiers called them Patrons, and he said:
“Fabius, to thee I give the crowning name
“Men give to parents, likening thee to them,
“Tho' greater service asks a greater name,
“For they but gave me life, one single life,
“But thou the lives of all these many men.
“I therefore cancel that fond Roman law
“Which gave co-equal rule, and bend my will
“To thine, O Father, bringing back with me
“My legions and their eagles, the Preserved
“To the Preserver. Be it well for us,
“O Fabius! O my Father, be it well
“For thee and me, and be it well for all,
“And as we stand, clothing our looks with shame,
“Grace us with smiles, as parents grace their sons,
“And bid thy suppliants, now thy soldiers, march
“With joyful step in the old ranks of war.”

Then Pride knelt down to Love, and hands were clasp'd,
Old friends old friends encounter'd, or with new
New friends made friendly league for evermore.

Thus the black winds of passion, that at morn
Clouded the soul's pure sunlight, changed and passed
Into the stainless calm of summer thought,
To match the still fair Hour that slept without
In sunset's cradling arms; and all because
A human-hearted man, who loved his will,
Saw something greater yet than the blind sway
Of absolute will, and, stooping all his pride
In shame and grief, which carry stateliest proof

Of our self-reverence, to his nobler peer
Nobly surrendering, knelt, throwing a grace
Of princely words on this fine courtesy,
And calling him Preserver, Father, Friend,
So equalled with him in that high renown
Which guerdons manhood, or for splendid deed.
That walks in the broad light of crowding noon.
Or common pieties that love the shade,
And with the violets hide.

Thus in old days.
Humanity trod softly, speaking low,
Among the trumpets, for the ancient world
Stept best to martial music; yet at times,
In the rank bloom of mail'd and sceptred wrong,
Ere grief and shame took glory from the smiles
Of that still-dying One, who does not die,
Soft melodies were heard, and lowliest doubt
And sorrow sweet as love, rebuking pride,
Ere Christ came down made many a Christian man.