Was mixed with love in his great golden eyes; He turned to his Bacchantes in surprise. And said with guarded voice,—' Hush! strike no more Your brazen cymhals ; keep those voices still Of voice and pipe; and since ye stand before Queen Cypns, let her slumber as she will! And yet the cestus is not here in proof. A Grace, perhaps, whom sleep has stolen aloof: In which case, as morning shines in view, Wake this Aglaia !—yet in Naxos, who Would veil a Grace so? Hush! And if that she Were Hebe, which of all the gods can be The pourer-out of wine? or if we think She's like the shining moon by ocean's brink, The guide of herds,—why, could she sleep without Endymion's breath on her check? or if I doubt Of silver-footed Thetis, used to tread These shores,—even she \m reverence be it said) Has no such rosy beauty to dress deep With the blue waves. The Loxian goddess might Repose so from her hunting-toil aright Beside-the sea, since toil gives birth to sleep, But who would find her with her tunic loose, Thus? Stand off. Thracian! stand off! Do not leap. Not this way! Leave that piping, since I choose, O dearest Pan, and let Athene rest! And yet if she be Pallas .. truly guessed. . Her lance is—where ? her helm and a:gis —where V —As Bacchus closed, the miserable Fair Awoke at last, sprang upward from the sands, \nd gazing wild on that wild throng that stands Around, around her, and no Theseus there !— Her voice went moaning over shore and sea. Beside the halcyon's cry; she called her love; She named her hero, and raged maddeningly Against the brine of waters; and above, Sought the ship's track and cursed the hours she slept; And still the chiefest execration swept Against queen Paphia, mother of the ocean; And cursed and prayed by tunes in her emotion The winds all round. Her grief did make her glorious; her despair Adorned her with its weight. Poor wailing child! She looked like Venus when the goddess smiled At liberty of godship, debonair; Persuas ion own passion. She wept long; then she spake : — 'Sweet sleep did come While sweetest Theseus went. O, glad and dumb, I wish he had left me still! for in my sleep I saw his Athens, and did gladly keep My new bride-state within my Theseus' hall; And heard the pomp of Hymen, and the call Of 'Ariadne, Ariadne,' sung In choral joy ; and there, with joy I hung Spring-blossoms round love's altar !—ay, and wore A wreath myself; and felt him evermore, Oh, evermore beside me, with his mighty Grave head bowed down in prayer to Aphrodite! Wby, what sweet, sweet dream! He went with it, And left me here unwedded where I sit! Persuasion help me! The dark night My Love had left me when the Hour did And blest it well, my blessed Theseus left me: And thus the sleep, I loved so, has bereft me. Speak to me, rocks, and tell my grief to-day, Who stole my love of Athens ?'.... HOW BACCHUS COMFORTS ARiADNE. [Diottysiaca.Ub. XLVIl.) Then Bacchus' subtle speech her sorrow crossed :— '0 maiden, dost thou mourn for having lost The false Athenian heart? and dost thou still Take thought of Theseus, when thou may'st at will Have Bacchus for a husband? Bacchus bright A god in place of mortal! Yes, and though The mortal youth be charming in tby sight. That man of Athens cannot strive below. In beauty and valor, with my deity! Thou'lt tell me of the labyrinthine dweller. The fierce man-bull, he slew: I pray thee, be. Fair Ariadne, the true deed's true teller. And mention tby clue's help! because, forsooth, Thine armed Athenian hero had not found A power to fight on that prodigious ground, Unless a lady in her rosy youth Had lingered near him: not to spe:ik the truth Too definitely out till names be known— Like Paphia's—Love's—and Ariadne's own. Thou wilt not say that Athens can compare With Either, nor that Minos rules like Zeus, Nor yet that Gnossus has such golden air As high Olympus. Ha! for noble use We came to Naxos! Love has well intended To change thy bridegroom! Happy thou, defended From entering in tby Theseus' earthly hall, That thou mayst hear the laughters rise and fall Instead, where Bacchus rules! Or wilt thou choose A still-surpassing glory ?—take it all,— A heavenly house, Kronion's self for kin,— A place where Cassiopea sits within Inferior light, for all her daughter's sake. Since Perseus, even amid the stars, must take Andromeda in chains aetherial! But / will wreathe thee, sweet, an astral crown. And as my queen and spouse thou shatt be known— Mine, the crown-lover's!' Thus, at length, he proved His comfort on her; and the maid was moved; And casting Theseus' memory down the brine, She straight received the troth of her divine Fair Bacchus; Love stood by to close the rite: The marriage-chorus struck up clear and light. Flowers sprouted fast about the chamber green, And with spring-garlands on their heads, I ween. The Orchomenian dancers came along. And danced their rounds in Naxos to the song. A Hamadryad sang a nuptial dit Whom thus the god of grapes had deified. Ortygia sang out, louder than her wont. An ode which Phoebus gave her to be tried. And leapt in chorus, with her steadfast front, While prophet Love, the stars have called a brother, Burnt in his crown, and twined in one another, His love-flower with the purple roses, given In type of that new crown assigned in heaven. PARAPHRASE ON HESIOD. BACCHUS AND ARiADNE. [Theog., 947.) The golden-haired Bacchus did espoifse That fairest Ariadne, Minos' daughter, And made her wifehood blossom in the house; Where such protective gifts Kronion brougnt her, Nor Death nor Age could find her when they sought her. PARAPHRASE ON EURIPIDES. ANTiSTRUPHE. Love, Love who once didst pass the Who once didst lift up Troy in exultation, To mingle in tby bond the high Immortals !— Love, turned from his own name To Zeus' shame. Can help no more all. And Eos' self, the fair, white-steeded morning,—Her light which blesses other lands, returning, Has changed to a gloomy pall: She looked across the land with eyes of amber,— She saw the city's fall,— She, who, in pure embraces, Had held there, in the bymeneal chamber, Her children's father, bright Tithonus old. Whom the four steeds with starry brows and paces Bore on, snatched upward, on the car of gold, And with him, all the land's full hope of 3°y! . The love-charms of the gods are vain for Troy. Note.—Rendered after Mr. Binges'a reading in Bome respects—uot quite all. PARAPHRASES ON HOMER. HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. [Iliad, Lib. VI.) She rushed to meet him : the nurse following Bore on her bosom the unsaddened child, A simple babe, prince Hector's wellloved son, Like a star shining when the world is dark. Scamandrius, Hector called him, but the rest Named him Astyanax, the city's prince. Because that Hector only, had saved Troy. He, when he saw his son, smiled silently: While, dropping tears, Andromache pressed on, And clung to his hand, and spake, and named his name. 'Hector, my best one,—thine own nobleness Must needs undo thee. Pity hast thou none For this young child, and this most sad myself, Who soon shall be tby widow—since that soon The Greeks will slay thee in the general rush— And then, for me, what refuge, reft of thee. But to go'graveward 1 Then, no comfort more Shall touch me, as in the old sad times thou know'st— Grief only—grief I I have no father now. No mother mild! Achilles the divine. He slew my father, sacked his lofty Thebes, Cilicia's populous city, and slew itsking, Eetion—father, did not spoil the corse. Because the Greek revered him in his soul. But burnt the body with its daedal arms, And poured the dust out gently. Round that tomb The Oreads, daughters of the goatnursed Zeus, Tripped in a ring, and planted their green elms. There were seven brothers with me in the house, Who all went down to Hades in one day,— For he slew all, Achilles the divine. Famed for his swift feet,—slain among their herds 'Of cloven-footed bulls and flocking sheep! My mother too, who queened it o'er the woods Of Hippoplacia, he, with other spoil. Seized,—and, for golden ransom, freed too late,— Since, as she went home, arrowy Artemis Met her and slew her at my father's door. But—oh, my Hector,—thou art still to me Father and mother!—yes, and brother dear, 0 thou, who art my sweetest spouse beside! Come now, and take me into pity! Stay I' the town here with us! Do not make tby child An orphan, nor a widow, thy poor wife! Call up the people to the fig-tree, where The city is most accessible, the wall Most easy of a.«ault I—for thrice thereby The boldest Greeks have mounted to the breach,— Both Ajaxes, the famed Idomeneux Two sons of Atreus, and the noble one Of Tydeus,—whether taught by some wise seer. Or by their own souls prompted and inspired.' Great Hector answered :—' Lady, foi these things It is my part to care. And / fear most My Trojans, and their daughters, and their wives, Who through their long veils would glance scorn at me. If, coward-like, I shunned the open war. Nor doth my own soul prompt me to that end! I learnt to be a brave man constantly, And to fight foremost where my Trojans fight, And vindicate my father's glory and mine— Because I know, by instinct and my soul, The day comes that our sacred Troy must fall, And Priam and his people. Knowing which, I have no such grief for all my Trojan's sake, For Hecuba's, for Priam's, our old king. Not for my brothers', who so many and brave Shall bite the dust before our enemies,— As, sweet, for thee!—to think some mailed Greek Shall lead thee weeping and deprive tby life Of the free sun-sight—that, when gone away To Argos, thou shalt throw the distaff there Not for tby uses—or shalt carry instead doom. Upon thy loathing brow, as heavy a ' He gave the child; and she received The water of Greek wells—Messei; own, The wife of that same Hector who fought best Of all the Trojans, when all fought for Troy—' Ay I—and, so speaking, shall renew thy pang That, reft of him so named, thou shouldst survive To a slave's life! But earth shall hide my corse Ere that shriek sound, wherewith thou art dragged from Troy.' Thus Hector spake, and stretched his arms to his child. Against the nurse's breast, with childly cry. The boy clung hack, and shunned his father's face, And feared the glittering brass and waving hair Of the high helmet, nodding horror down. The father smiled, the mother could not . choose But smile too. Then he lifted from his brow The helm, and set it on the ground to shine: Then, kissel his dear child—raised him with both arms, And thus invoked Zeus and the general gods 'Zeus, and all godshipsl grant this boy of mine To be the Trojans' help, as I myself,— To live a brave life and rule well in Troy! Till men shall say, 'The son exceeds the sire By a far glory.' Let him bring home spoil Heroic, and make glad his mother's heart' With which prayer, to his wife's extended arms lim straight To her bosom's fragrance—smiling up her tears. Hector gazed on her till his soul was moved; Then softly touched her with his hand and spake. 'My best one—'ware of passion and excess In any fear. There's no man in the world Lan send me to the grave apart from fate,— And no man . . Sweet, I tell thee . . can fly fate— No good nor had man. Doom is selffulfilled. But now, go home, and ply thy woman's task Of wheel and distaff! bid thy maidens haste Their occupation. War's a care for men— For all men born in Troy, and chief for me.' Thus spake the noble Hector, and resumed His crested helmet, while his spouse went home; But as she went, still looked back lovingly, Dropping the tears from her reverted face. THE DAUGHTERS OF PANDARUS. And so these daughters fair of Pandarus, slain their kin: They were left orphans in their father'; house. And Aphrodite came to comfort them With incense, luscious honey, and fragrant wine; And Here gave them beauty of face and soul Beyond all women; purest Artemis Endowed them with her stature and white grace; And Pallas taught their hands to flash along |