Dripping with oozy gold which scarce the bee

  Had ceased from building, a black skin of oil

  Meet for the wrestlers, a great boar the fierce and white-tusked spoil

  Stolen from Artemis that jealous maid

  To please Athena, and the dappled hide

  Of a tall stag who in some mountain glade

  Had met the shaft; and then the herald cried,

  And from the pillared precinct one by one

  Went the glad Greeks well pleased that they their simple vows had done.

  And the old priest put out the waning fires

  Save that one lamp whose restless ruby glowed

  For ever in the cell, and the shrill lyres

  Came fainter on the wind, as down the road

  In joyous dance these country folk did pass,

  And with stout hands the warder closed the gates of polished brass.

  Long time he lay and hardly dared to breathe,

  And heard the cadenced drip of spilt-out wine,

  And the rose-petals falling from the wreath

  As the night breezes wandered through the shrine,

  And seemed to be in some entrancèd swoon

  Till through the open roof above the full and brimming moon

  Flooded with sheeny waves the marble floor,

  When from his nook up leapt the venturous lad,

  And flinging wide the cedar-carven door

  Beheld an awful image saffron-clad

  And armed for battle! the gaunt Griffin glared

  From the huge helm, and the long lance of wreck and ruin flared

  Like a red rod of flame, stony and steeled

  The Gorgon’s head its leaden eyeballs rolled,

  And writhed its snaky horrors through the shield,

  And gaped aghast with bloodless lips and cold

  In passion impotent, while with blind gaze

  The blinking owl between the feet hooted in shrill amaze.

  The lonely fisher as he trimmed his lamp

  Far out at sea off Sunium, or cast

  The net for tunnies, heard a brazen tramp

  Of horses smite the waves, and a wild blast

  Divide the folded curtains of the night,

  And knelt upon the little poop, and prayed in holy fright.

  And guilty lovers in their venery

  Forgat a little while their stolen sweets,

  Deeming they heard dread Dian’s bitter cry;

  And the grim watchmen on their lofty seats

  Ran to their shields in haste precipitate,

  Or strained black-bearded throats across the dusky parapet.

  For round the temple rolled the clang of arms,

  And the twelve Gods leapt up in marble fear,

  And the air quaked with dissonant alarums

  Till huge Poseidon shook his mighty spear,

  And on the frieze the prancing horses neighed,

  And the low tread of hurrying feet rang from the cavalcade.

  Ready for death with parted lips he stood,

  And well content at such a price to see

  That calm wide brow, that terrible maidenhood,

  The marvel of that pitiless chastity,

  Ah! well content indeed, for never wight

  Since Troy’s young shepherd prince had seen so wonderful a sight.

  Ready for death he stood, but lo! the air

  Grew silent, and the horses ceased to neigh,

  And off his brow he tossed the clustering hair,

  And from his limbs he throw the cloak away;

  For whom would not such love make desperate?

  And nigher came, and touched her throat, and with hands violate

  Undid the cuirass, and the crocus gown,

  And bared the breasts of polished ivory,

  Till from the waist the peplos falling down

  Left visible the secret mystery

  Which to no lover will Athena show,

  The grand cool flanks, the crescent thighs, the bossy hills of snow.

  Those who have never known a lover’s sin

  Let them not read my ditty, it will be

  To their dull ears so musicless and thin

  That they will have no joy of it, but ye

  To whose wan cheeks now creeps the lingering smile,

  Ye who have learned who Eros is—O listen yet awhile.

  A little space he let his greedy eyes

  Rest on the burnished image, till mere sight

  Half swooned for surfeit of such luxuries,

  And then his lips in hungering delight

  Fed on her lips, and round the towered neck

  He flung his arms, nor cared at all his passion’s will to check.

  Never I ween did lover hold such tryst,

  For all night long he murmured honeyed word,

  And saw her sweet unravished limbs, and kissed

  Her pale and argent body undisturbed,

  And paddled with the polished throat, and pressed

  His hot and beating heart upon her chill and icy breast.

  It was as if Numidian javelins

  Pierced through and through his wild and whirling brain,

  And his nerves thrilled like throbbing violins

  In exquisite pulsation, and the pain

  Was such sweet anguish that he never drew

  His lips from hers till overhead the lark of warning flew.

  They who have never seen the daylight peer

  Into a darkened room, and drawn the curtain,

  And with dull eyes and wearied from some dear

  And worshipped body risen, they for certain

  Will never know of what I try to sing,

  How long the last kiss was, how fond and late his lingering.

  The moon was girdled with a crystal rim,

  The sign which shipmen say is ominous

  Of wrath in heaven, the wan stars were dim,

  And the low lightening east was tremulous

  With the faint fluttering wings of flying dawn,

  Ere from the silent sombre shrine this lover had withdrawn.

  Down the steep rock with hurried feet and fast

  Clomb the brave lad, and reached the cave of Pan,

  And heard the goat-foot snoring as he passed,

  And leapt upon a grassy knoll and ran

  Like a young fawn unto an olive wood

  Which in a shady valley by the well-built city stood.

  And sought a little stream, which well he knew,

  For oftentimes with boyish careless shout

  The green and crested grebe he would pursue,

  Or snare in woven net the silver trout,

  And down amid the startled reeds he lay

  Panting in breathless sweet affright, and waited for the day.

  On the green bank he lay, and let one hand

  Dip in the cool dark eddies listlessly,

  And soon the breath of morning came and fanned

  His hot flushed cheeks, or lifted wantonly

  The tangled curls from off his forehead, while

  He on the running water gazed with strange and secret smile.

  And soon the shepherd in rough woollen cloak

  With his long crook undid the wattled cotes,

  And from the stack a thin blue wreath of smoke

  Curled through the air across the ripening oats,

  And on the hill the yellow house-dog bayed

  As through the crisp and rustling fern the heavy cattle strayed.

  And when the light-foot mower went afield

  Across the meadows laced with threaded dew,

  And the sheep bleated on the misty weald,

  And from its nest the waking corncrake flew,

  Some woodmen saw him lying by the stream

  And marvelled much that any lad so beautiful could seem,

  Nor deemed him born of mortals, and one said,

  “It is young Hylas, that false runaway

  Who with a Naiad now would make his bed

  Forgetting Herakles,” but others, “Nay,

  It is Narcissus, his own paramour,

  Those are the fond and crimson lips no woman can allure.”

  And when they nearer came a third one cried,

  “It is young Dionysos who has hid

  His spear and fawnskin by the river side

  Weary of hunting with the Bassarid,

  And wise indeed were we away to fly,

  They live not long who on the gods immortal come to spy.”

  So turned they back, and feared to look behind,

  And told the timid swain how they had seen

  Amid the reeds some woodland God reclined,

  And no man dared to cross the open green,

  And on that day no olive-tree was slain,

  Nor rushes cut, but all deserted was the fair domain,

  Save when the neat-herd’s lad, his empty pail

  Well slung upon his back, with leap and bound

  Raced on the other side, and stopped to hail,

  Hoping that he some comrade new had found,

  And gat no answer, and then half afraid

  Passed on his simple way, or down the still and silent glade

  A little girl ran laughing from the farm,

  Not thinking of love’s secret mysteries,

  And when she saw the white and gleaming arm

  And all his manlihood, with longing eyes

  Whose passion mocked her sweet virginity

  Watched him awhile, and then stole back sadly and wearily.

  Far off he heard the city’s hum and noise,

  And now and then the shriller laughter where

  The passionate purity of brown-limbed boys

  Wrestled or raced in the clear healthful air,

  And now and then a little tinkling bell

  As the shorn wether led the sheep down to the mossy well.

  Through the grey willows danced the fretful gnat,

  The grasshopper chirped idly from the tree,

  In sleek and oily coat the water-rat

  Breasting the little ripples manfully

  Made for the wild-duck’s nest, from bough to bough

  Hopped the shy finch, and the huge tortoise crept across the slough.

  On the faint wind floated the silky seeds

  As the bright scythe swept through the waving grass,

  The ousel-cock splashed circles in the reeds

  And flecked with silver whorls the forest’s glass,

  Which scarce had caught again its imagery

  Ere from its bed the dusky tench leapt at the dragon-fly.

  But little care had he for any thing

  Though up and down the beech the squirrel played,

  And from the copse the linnet ’gan to sing

  To its brown mate its sweetest serenade;

  Ah! little care indeed, for he had seen

  The breasts of Pallas and the naked wonder of the Queen.

  But when the herdsman called his straggling goats

  With whistling pipe across the rocky road,

  And the shard-beetle with its trumpet-notes

  Boomed through the darkening woods, and seemed to bode

  Of coming storm, and the belated crane

  Passed homeward like a shadow, and the dull big drops of rain

  Fell on the pattering fig-leaves, up he rose,

  And from the gloomy forest went his way

  Past sombre homestead and wet orchard-close,

  And came at last unto a little quay,

  And called his mates aboard, and took his seat

  On the high poop, and pushed from land, and loosed the dripping sheet,

  And steered across the bay, and when nine suns

  Passed down the long and laddered way of gold,

  And nine pale moons had breathed their orisons

  To the chaste stars their confessors, or told

  Their dearest secret to the downy moth

  That will not fly at noonday, through the foam and surging froth

  Came a great owl with yellow sulphurous eyes

  And lit upon the ship, whose timbers creaked

  As though the lading of three argosies

  Were in the hold, and flapped its wings and shrieked,

  And darkness straightway stole across the deep,

  Sheathed was Orion’s sword, dread Mars himself fled down the steep,

  And the moon hid behind a tawny mask

  Of drifting cloud, and from the ocean’s marge

  Rose the red plume, the huge and hornèd casque,

  The seven-cubit spear, the brazen targe!

  And clad in bright and burnished panoply

  Athena strode across the stretch of sick and shivering sea!

  To the dull sailors’ sight her loosened looks

  Seemed like the jagged storm-rack, and her feet

  Only the spume that floats on hidden rocks,

  And, marking how the rising waters beat

  Against the rolling ship, the pilot cried

  To the young helmsman at the stern to luff to windward side.

  But he, the overbold adulterer,

  A dear profaner of great mysteries,

  An ardent amorous idolater,

  When he beheld those grand relentless eyes

  Laughed loud for joy, and crying out “I come”

  Leapt from the lofty poop into the chill and churning foam.

  Then fell from the high heaven one bright star,

  One dancer left the circling galaxy,

  And back to Athens on her clattering car

  In all the pride of venged divinity

  Pale Pallas swept with shrill and steely clank,

  And a few gurgling bubbles rose where her boy lover sank.

  And the mast shuddered as the gaunt owl flew

  With mocking hoots after the wrathful Queen,

  And the old pilot bade the trembling crew

  Hoist the big sail, and told how he had seen

  Close to the stern a dim and giant form,

  And like a dipping swallow the stout ship dashed through the storm.

  And no man dared to speak of Charmides

  Deeming that he some evil thing had wrought,

  And when they reached the strait Symplegades

  They beached their galley on the shore, and sought

  The toll-gate of the city hastily,

  And in the market showed their brown and pictured pottery.

  II

  But some good Triton-god had ruth, and bare

  The boy’s drowned body back to Grecian land,

  And mermaids combed his dank and dripping hair

  And smoothed his brow, and loosed his clenching hand;

  Some brought sweet spices from far Araby,

  And others bade the halcyon sing her softest lullaby.

  And when he neared his old Athenian home,

  A mighty billow rose up suddenly

  Upon whose oily back the clotted foam

  Lay diapered in some strange fantasy,

  And clasping him unto its glassy breast

  Swept landward, like a white-maned steed upon a venturous quest!

  Now where Colonos leans unto the sea

  There lies a long and level stretch of lawn,

  The rabbit knows it, and the mountain bee

  For it deserts Hymettus, and the Faun

  Is not afraid, for never through the day

  Comes a cry ruder than the shout of shepherd lads at play.