And stalls, and folds, and scatter'd cots between ; And fleecy flocks, that whiten all the scene.
A figured dance succeeds: such once was seen
In lofty Gnossus, for the Cretan queen,
Form'd by Dædalean art: a comely band
Of youths and maidens, bounding hand in hand.
The maids in soft simars of linen dress'd;
The youths all graceful in the glossy vest:
Of those the locks with flowery wreaths enroll❜d:
Of these the sides adorn'd with swords of gold,
That, glittering gay, from silver belts depend.
Now all at once they rise, at once descend,
With well taught feet: now shape,in oblique ways,
Confusedly regular, the moving maze :
Now forth at once, too swift for sight, they spring,
And undistinguish'd blend the flying ring:
So whirls a wheel, in giddy circle toss'd,
And, rapid as it runs, the single spokes are lost.
The gazing multitudes admire around:
Two active tumblers in the centre bound;
Now high, now low, their pliant limbs they bend:
And general songs the sprightly revel end.
Thus the broad shield complete the artist
crown'd
With his last hand, and pour'd the ocean round;
In living silver seem'd the waves to roll,
And beat the buckler's verge, and bound the whole.
He spoke; they hear him, and the word obey ;
The rage of hunger and of thirst allay,
Then ease in sleep the labours of the day.
But great Pelides, stretch'd along the shore,
Where, dash'd on rocks, the broken billows roar,
Lies inly groaning; while on either hand
The martial Myrmidons confusedly stand.
Along the grass his languid members fall,
Tired with his chase around the Trojan wall;
Hush'd by the murmurs of the rolling deep,
At length he sinks in the soft arms of sleep.
When lo! the shade, before his closing eyes,
Of sad Patroclus rose, or seem'd to rise:
In the same robe he living wore, he came :
In stature, voice, and pleasing look the same.
The form familiar hover'd o'er his head,
And sleeps Achilles (thus the phantom said),
Sleeps my Achilles, his Patroclus dead?
Living, I seem'd his dearest, tenderest care,
But now forgot, I wander in the air.
Let my pale corpse the rites of burial know,
And give me entrance in the realms below:
Till then, the spirit finds no resting place,
But here and there the' unbodied spectres' chase
The vagrant dead around the dark abode,
Forbid to cross the' irremeable flood.
Now give thy hand; for to the further shore
When once we pass, the soul returns no more:
When once the last funereal flames ascend,
No more shall meet Achilles and his friend;
No more our thoughts to those we loved make
Or quit the dearest, to converse alone. [known;
Me Fate has sever'd from the sons of earth,
The fate foredoom'd that waited from my birth:
Thee too it waits; before the Trojan wall
E'en great and godlike thou art doom'd to fall.
Hear then; and as in fate and love we join,
Ah, suffer that my bones may rest with thine!
Together have we lived; together bred,
One house received us, and one table fed;
That golden urn, thy goddess-mother gave,
May mix our ashes in one common grave.'
And is it thou? (he answers) to my sight
Once more return'st thou from the realms of night?
O more than brother! Think each office paid,
Whate'er can rest a discontented shade;
But grant one last embrace, unhappy boy!
Afford at least that melancholy joy.'
He said, and with his longing arms essay'd In vain to grasp the visionary shade; Like a thin smoke he sees the spirit fly, And hears a feeble lamentable cry.
Confused he wakes: amazement breaks the bands Of golden sleep, and, starting from the sands, Pensive he muses with uplifted, hands:
"'Tis true, 'tis certain; man, though dead, retains Part of himself; the' immortal mind remains : The form subsists without the body's aid, Aerial semblance, and an empty shade! This night my friend, so late in battle lost, Stood at my side, a pensive, plaintive ghost; E'en now, familiar, as in life, he came;~ Alas! how different! yet how like the same!'
THE REPLY OF PROTÉUS.
'HIGH wrapp'd in wonder of the future deed, With joy impetuous to the port I speed: The wants of nature with repast suffice,
Till night with grateful shade involved the skies,
And shed ambrosial dews. Fast by the deep,
Along the tented shore, in balmy sleep,
Our cares were lost. When o'er the eastern lawn,
In saffron robes the daughter of the dawn
Advanced her rosy steps; before the bay,
Due ritual honours to the gods I pay;
Then seek the place the seaborn nymph assign'd,
With three associates of undaunted mind.
Arrived, to form along the' appointed strand
For each a bed, she scoops the hilly sand:
Then from her azure car the finny spoils
Of four vast phocæ takes, to veil her wiles:
Beneath the finny spoils extended prone,
Hard toil the prophet's piercing eye to shun;
New from the corse, the scaly frauds diffuse
Unsavoury stench of oil, and brackish ooze :
But the bright seamaid's gentle power implored,
With nectar'd drops the sickening sense restored.
Thus till the sun had travel'd half the skies
Ambush'd we lie, and wait the bold emprise :
When thronging quick to bask in open air,
The flocks of ocean to the strand repair;
Couch'd on the sunny sand, the monsters sleep :
Then Proteus, mounting from the hoary deep,
Surveys his charge, unknowing of deceit
(In order told, we make the sum complete):
Pleased with the false review, secure he lies,
And leaden slumbers press his drooping eyes.
Rushing impetuous forth, we straight prepare A furious onset with the sound of war,
And shouting seize the god: our force to' evade
His various arts he soon resumes in aid:
A lion now, he curls a surgy mane;
Sudden, our bands a spotted pard restrain;
Then arm'd with tusks, and lightning in his eyes,
A boar's obscener shape the god belies:
On spiry volumes, there a dragon rides;
Here, from our strict embrace a stream he glides :
And last, sublime his stately growth he rears,
A tree, and well dissembled foliage wears.
Vain efforts! with superior power compress'd,
Me with reluctance thus the seer address'd-
"Say, son of Atreus, say what god inspired
This daring fraud, and what the boon desired?"
'I thus-"O thou, whose certain eye foresees
The fix'd event of Fate's remote decrees;
After long woes, and various toil endured,
Still on this desert isle my fleet is moor'd;
Unfriended of the gales. All-knowing! say,
What godhead interdicts the watery way?
What vows repentant will the power appease,
To speed a prosperous voyage o'er the seas?"
"To Jove (with stern regard the god replies)
And all the' offended synod of the skies,
Just hecatombs with due devotion slain,
Thy guilt absolved, a prosperous voyage gain.
To the firm sanction of thy fate attend!
An exile thou, nor cheering face of friend,
Nor sight of natal shore, nor regal dome
Shalt yet enjoy, but still art doom'd to roam.
Once more the Nile, who from the secret source
Of Jove's high seat descends with sweepy force,
|