 | Eclogues and monodramas |  |
53
THE APOTHEOSIS OF A TOWN HERO.
The sacrifice is ended—father, come:
Beneath the olives yonder there is rest.
The hymn of consecration and its close
Dwell on my fancy yet: the crowd is poured
About the vacant streets: the garlands droop
On architrave and fluted column-work.
The spiral smoke mounts feebler, and the ash
Is embered in the censer: all is done.
Henceforth the man Dicæus, at whose hand
This city drew such broad prosperity,
Is numbered with the everlasting Great
For lawful worship, hero, demigod,
Guardian for aye of right municipal
In this our native city-commonwealth.
Beneath the olives yonder there is rest.
The hymn of consecration and its close
Dwell on my fancy yet: the crowd is poured
About the vacant streets: the garlands droop
On architrave and fluted column-work.
The spiral smoke mounts feebler, and the ash
Is embered in the censer: all is done.
Henceforth the man Dicæus, at whose hand
This city drew such broad prosperity,
Is numbered with the everlasting Great
For lawful worship, hero, demigod,
Guardian for aye of right municipal
In this our native city-commonwealth.
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Hero is God, my father: but you say
That this same man, who wrought the state such praise,
Was, when he moved among us, much as we;
Only with greater fixity of will
To make the thing he wished, the thing he did:
And you alone of all this town survive
Who face to face lived with him, man to man.
The times are changed: the hero's stuff is done.
I do not think there will be any more.
That this same man, who wrought the state such praise,
Was, when he moved among us, much as we;
Only with greater fixity of will
To make the thing he wished, the thing he did:
And you alone of all this town survive
Who face to face lived with him, man to man.
The times are changed: the hero's stuff is done.
I do not think there will be any more.
You tell me ‘nay,’ that you and he have trod
Thro' foul and fair together, with no thought
That you were souls unequal, each to each
Conceding, as our common friendships use;
Allowing small vexations and the need
Of trivial talk for solace on the road:
And now that he is equal with the race
Of heroes, Heracles, or Brasidas
Of age more recent—you a broken man
Declining from the vigour of your time,
And daily losing something of the past.
Thro' foul and fair together, with no thought
That you were souls unequal, each to each
Conceding, as our common friendships use;
Allowing small vexations and the need
Of trivial talk for solace on the road:
And now that he is equal with the race
Of heroes, Heracles, or Brasidas
Of age more recent—you a broken man
Declining from the vigour of your time,
And daily losing something of the past.
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You loved the man and watched him mount serene
The gradual road of civic eminence.
He spread his hands to glory and it came:
The elements of discord in his eyes
Pealed out their cloudy bolts: the shocks of state
Beat on him like a rampart, and he stood
In that high region, like a thing at rest,
Invulnerably dauntless. At his voice
The city armed or rested: absolute
In council, as a private citizen
He trod our streets and gave his word to all.
He ripened thus his glory, chiefly blest
To leave it, as he left it, full and fair:
For dying, as he died, some worthless man
Had surely gained an honourable grave;
To him, the crowning and immortal close
Of undiminished honour this became,
To die where he had conquered, with a smile,
Under his country's banner as it stood
Upon the alien rampart. At his side
You knelt his ancient comrade, and received
The latest pressure of the strengthless hand,
The recognition of his last regard:
The leader, statesman, he, and you his friend
A nameless soldier in the city's war.
The gradual road of civic eminence.
He spread his hands to glory and it came:
The elements of discord in his eyes
Pealed out their cloudy bolts: the shocks of state
Beat on him like a rampart, and he stood
In that high region, like a thing at rest,
Invulnerably dauntless. At his voice
The city armed or rested: absolute
In council, as a private citizen
He trod our streets and gave his word to all.
He ripened thus his glory, chiefly blest
To leave it, as he left it, full and fair:
For dying, as he died, some worthless man
Had surely gained an honourable grave;
To him, the crowning and immortal close
Of undiminished honour this became,
To die where he had conquered, with a smile,
Under his country's banner as it stood
Upon the alien rampart. At his side
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The latest pressure of the strengthless hand,
The recognition of his last regard:
The leader, statesman, he, and you his friend
A nameless soldier in the city's war.
And that you loved the man beyond the taint
And touch of envy, envying but his death,
Rejoicing in his honour: you are old,
My father, now; but this your broken age
Is good in this, that you have seen to-day
What our most narrow season in the light
Forbids the race of man before he sleep—
You have seen a younger generation meet
To consecrate the type of living worth
In your own day, which you had loved, but these
Behold gigantic through the misty years.
And touch of envy, envying but his death,
Rejoicing in his honour: you are old,
My father, now; but this your broken age
Is good in this, that you have seen to-day
What our most narrow season in the light
Forbids the race of man before he sleep—
You have seen a younger generation meet
To consecrate the type of living worth
In your own day, which you had loved, but these
Behold gigantic through the misty years.
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