University of Virginia Library

HOW IT ENDS.

A HEBREW LAMENT AFTER DEFEAT.

THE SOLDIER'S RETURN.

THE SPEAR-HEAD.

A LAMENT.

FREEDOM OR FETTERS?

ACQUIESCENCE.

Man, leave the gods their way.
Let them, O man, prevail:
Mighty and more than thou,
How should their anger fail?
Why settest thou thy baby palms
To wrestle down the thews that may not tire?
Why wilt thou vex thyself to be as they,
Weakling of sorrow and sleep?
Why wilt thou thrust about the world for peace?
God is at peace alone.
Take from their careless hands
The morsels of their pity as they fall:
Take from their scornful brows
The curse, and call them just.
Nay, thou art foolish to have any pride:
They use thee as they choose.
Count every happy dream
As stolen from the envy of their power.
Turn at the last to slumber, if no great woe
Hath taken thee, secure,
That under the warm earth to vex thy sleep
Their hands can never come.

THE DEATH OF HERACLES.

The athlete Heracles had ending thus:
He drew that garment steeped in curses on,
And felt the poison eat his flesh bone-deep,—
Nor could he tear it from him, baleful web,—
And knew the mighty horror of his doom
Inevitable, clothing him throughout
With creeping flame intensest. And he said,
‘My death is on me, comrade, in thy love
I charge thee nowise leave me till the end.
Thine will be full brief service, for I climb
This Œta, there I sacrifice and die.’
And so we clomb together. All day long
We toiled up Œta, and the evening fell
One red great ball of sun, and flared and split
The radiance: and he ever moaning clomb,
Moaning and shuddering, and huge agonies
Of sweat were on the muscles of his limbs,
And in his eyes a dumb pain terrible.
And now he clomb, and now in torment sat
With set teeth on some boulder, swaying slow
His head and rugged beard; and all his breast
Lay heaving, and the volumes of its breath
Went up in dry hot vapour. Or he sat
Staring as in amazement. And I went
And touched him and he moved not, and again
I touched him. Suddenly the whole man leapt
Straightened on the instant, and addressed himself
To the sheer hill and leaning clomb. At length
It ceased into a level desolate
As death, a summit platform: the near clouds
Racked over us until the hill itself
Seemed giddy with their motion. Cruel winds
Flapt icily at our heated limbs, and seemed
To bite away in very cruelty
The few black shivering grasses in the peat,
Or tugged the fangs of heath long dead in cold.
And, when he saw the horror of the place,
He stayed himself and called with a great voice, ‘Here;’
Suddenly calling it. And I began
To pile an altar at his word of all
The hill-side nourished, birch and pine and stunt
Gray sallow of the peat-tops. He that time
Tore at his flesh or heavily sobbing rolled
Against the shaly edges. And in fear
I built it, tremble-handed, dizzy-eyed;
And when it rose he turned his face and cried,
‘O comrade, is all ready?’ And I said,
‘All ready, master.’ Then I lit a brand
Of resinous pine storm-riven, as I strake
Two clear hill-pebbles, gave blue fire free birth;
So stood with a great beating heart to wait
The issue, ready with my torch. But he
Climbing disspread upon the wood his vast
And throbbing frame. And after a deep breath,
He gathered up his final strength to speak,
And reached his hand, and thus his speech found way:—
‘This is the end, and I am bounded here,
And all my ancient triumph is decayed.
One agony enwraps me, scalp to heel;
So I am made derision to the gods
That smile above my torment. This is he
The eminent of labours, conqueror,
The universal athlete, whose rash arm
Would stifle down the evils of the earth.
Behold, in what a mesh of woven pain
The deity confounds him. Think not thou
Hereafter, simple-hearted as was I,
To stand between the gods and their desire
That man receive no comfort only woes.
They hate for us to stand upon our strength
And love our degradation chiefly. Thou
Consider this, my friend, and think no shame
To let them have their wills, and stand aside,
Seeing my end, and all this ruined flesh
I thought so strong in beautiful living power;
And, lo, a little poison quenches all
Into a writhing worm, ensheathed with fire;
The smoke-sighs of whose torment shall ascend
A music to the sleepy gods, a dream
Lulling the dew of pleasure in their eyes
With echoes of mine infelicity.
Have they not cursed these mortals long ago?
And every curse is fruitful as a seed:
And woe to him who dares disroot but one,
Thro' foolish loving of his fellow-men.
And now I die: fire only reaps away
This stain upon me. But, O comrade, learn
I may bequeath thee something, tho' I seem
So utterly naked of all honour now,
Because thou hast not left a stricken man.
Guard thou mine arrows, they to guard are thine.
The gall of hydra on their barbs is death.
And once a strange seer told me they should end
A mighty war of Hellas soon to be.
This fell not out in any day of mine.
Therefore, if blind-eyed Eris fling this dread
Upon the measure of thy time, rejoice,
For I have given thee its remedial power,
To use as thy heart bends thee. Any way
Guard these at least for ancient love of mine.’
And his voice brake; and then he mightily called,
‘Light it!’ and I forbore; and he called twice,
‘If thou dost love me, light it;’ and I lit.
Then came the rushing creature of the flame
Over and under, writhing into spire
And branch and eager inward-licking rings,
And mighty stifling pine-smoke, volumed round.
And I endured no longer to behold,
Exceedingly unnerved, and wailing fled
Down the sheer hill, till in a secret vale
I found a corner, and there grovelling lay,
And brought my face into my hands, and hid
The daylight and its doings out. Yet still
Sung in mine ears the horrible hiss of the flame.
Until, a great while after, I had heart,
Again ascending, from the smouldered pyre
To gather very reverently his bones.
These I concealed in mounded sepulture,
Guarding the arrows, which I treasure now
To feed my vengeance. Thus died Heracles.

THE FALL OF THE TITANS.

A SUNRISE EFFECT.

DAFFODILS.

A FUTURE.