And scarce the cavern’s mouth made shift to reach,

  And lay there fainting till the sun was high.

  Then I awoke, and rising fearfully,

  Gat into the dark cave, and there have been,

  How long I know not, and no man have seen;

  And as for food and drink, within the cave

  Good store of sweet clear water did I have,

  And in the nights I went along the strand

  And got me shell-fish whiles, and whiles laid hand

  On seafowls’ eggs; but natheless, misery

  Must soon have slain me, had not the kind sea

  Sent you, O lords, to give me life again;

  Therefore, I pray ye may not wish in vain

  For aught, and that with goods and happiness

  The Father of all folk your lives may bless.

  THEN said the prince: And be thou strong of heart,

  For after all thy woes, shalt thou have part

  In this our quest, if so thou willest it;

  But if so be that thou wouldst rather sit

  In rest and peace within a fair homestead,

  That shall some king give to thee by my head,

  For love of me; or else for very fear

  Shall some man give thee what thou countest dear.

  And if thou askest of us, know that we

  Are children of the conquering Minyæ,

  And make for Colchis o’er the watery plain,

  And think we shall not fail to bring again

  The Fleece of Neptune’s ram to Thessaly.

  Prince, said the Lemnian, I will go with thee

  Whereso thou willest, neither have I will

  To wait again for ruin, sitting still

  Among such goods as grudging fate will give,

  Even at the longest, only while I live.

  Then Jason bade them bring him arms well wrought

  And robes of price; and when all these were brought,

  And he was armed, he seemed a goodly man.

  MEANWHILE, along the high cliffs Argo ran

  Until a fresh land-wind began to rise

  Then did they set sail, and in goodly wise

  Draw off from Lemnos, and at close of day

  Again before them a new country lay,

  Which when they neared, the helmsman Tiphys knew

  To be the Mysian land; being come thereto,

  They saw a grassy shore and trees enow,

  And a sweet stream that from the land did flow:

  Therefore they thought it good to land thereon

  And get them water; but the day being gone,

  They waited for the dawn anigh the beach,

  Till the sea’s rim the golden sun did reach.

  But when the day dawned, most men left the ship,

  Some hasting the glazed water-jars to dip

  In the fresh water; others among these

  Who had good will beneath the murmuring trees

  To sit awhile, forgetful of the sea.

  And with the sea-farers there landed three

  Amongst the best; Alcmena’s godlike son,

  Hylas the fair, and that half-halting one,

  Great Polyphemus. Now both Hercules

  And all the others lay beneath the trees,

  When all the jars were filled, nor wandered far;

  But Hylas, governed by some wayward star,

  Strayed from them, and up stream he set his face,

  And came unto a tangled woody place,

  From when the stream welled, and within that wood

  Along its bank wandered in heedless mood,

  Nor knew it haunted of the sea-nymphs fair;

  Whom on that morn the heroes’ noise did scare

  From their abiding-place anigh the bay;

  But these now hidden in the water lay’

  Within the wood, and thence could they behold

  The fair-limbed Hylas, with his hair of gold,

  And mighty arms down-swinging carelessly,

  And fresh face, ruddy from the wind-swept sea;

  Then straight they loved him, and being fain to have

  His shapely body in the glassy wave,

  And taking counsel there, they thought it good

  That one should meet him in the darksome wood,

  And by her wiles should draw him to some place

  Where they his helpless body might embrace,

  So from the water stole a fair nymph forth;

  And by her art so wrought that from the north

  You would have thought her come, from where a queen

  Rules over lands summer alone sees green;

  For she in goodly raiment, furred, was clad,

  And on her head a golden fillet had,

  Strange of its fashion, and about her shone

  Many a fair jewel and outlandish stone.

  There in the wood, anigh the river side,

  The coming of the Theban did she bide,

  Nor waited long, for slowly pushing through

  The close-set saplings, o’er the flowers blue

  He drew nigh, singing, free from any care;

  But when he saw her glittering raiment fair

  Betwixt the green tree-trunks, he stayed a space,

  For she, with fair hands covering up her face,

  Was wailing loud, as though she saw him not,

  And to his mind came old tales half forgot,

  Of women of the woods, the huntsman’s bane.

  Yet with his fate indeed he strove in vain;

  For going further forward warily,

  From tree-trunk unto tree-trunk, he could see

  Her ivory hands, with wrist set close to wrist,

  Her cheek as fair as any God has kissed,

  Her lovely neck and wealth of golden hair,

  That from its fillet straggled here and there,

  And all her body writhing in distress,

  Wrapped in the bright folds of her golden dress.

  Then forthwith he drew near her eagerly,

  Nor did she seem to know that he was nigh,

  Until almost his hand on her was laid;

  Then, lifting up a pale wild face, she said,

  Struggling with sobs and shrinking from his hand:

  O, fair young warrior of a happy land,

  Harm not a queen, I pray thee, for I come

  From the far northland, where yet sits at home

  The king, my father, who, since I was wooed

  By a rich lord of Greece, had thought it good

  To send me to him with a royal train,

  But they, their hearts being changed by hope of gain,

  Seized on my goods, and left me while I slept;

  Nor do I know, indeed, what kind God kept

  Their traitorous hands from slaying me outright;

  And surely yet, the lion-haunted night

  Shall make an end of me, who erewhile thought

  That unto lovelier lands my soul was brought,

  To live a happier life than heretofore.

  But why think I of past times any more,

  Who, a king’s daughter once, am now grown fain

  Of poorest living, through all toil and pain,

  If so I may but live: and thou, indeed,

  Perchance art come, some God, unto my need;

  For nothing less thou seemest, verily.

  But if thou art a man, let me not die,

  But take me as thy slave, that I may live.

  For many a gem my raiment has to give,

  And these weak fingers surely yet may learn

  To turn the mill, and carry forth the urn

  Unto the stream, nor shall nay feet unshod,

  Shrink from the flinty road and thistly sod.

  SHE ceased; but he stooped down, and stammering said:

  Mayst thou be happy, O most lovely maid,

  And thy sweet life yet know a better day:

  And I will strive to bring thee on thy way,

  Who am the well-loved son of a rich man

  Who dwells in Thebes, beside Ismenus wan.

  Therewith he reached his hand to her, and she

  Let her slim palm fall in it daintily;

  But with that touch he felt as through his blood

  Strange fire ran, and saw not the close wood,

  Nor tangled path, nor stream, nor aught but her

  Crouching before him in her gold and fur,

  With kind appealing eyes raised up to his,

  And red lips trembling for the coming kiss.

  But ere his lips met hers did she arise,

  Reddening with shame, and from before his eyes

  Drew her white hand, wherewith the robe of gold

  She gathered up and from her feet did hold,

  Then through the tangled wood began to go,

  Not looking round; but he cared not to know

  Whither they went, so only she were nigh.

  So to her side he hurried fearfully,

  She nought gainsaying, but with eyes downcast

  Still by his side betwixt the low boughs past,

  Following the stream, until a space of green

  All bare of trees they reached, and there-between

  The river ran, grown broad and like a pool,

  Along whose bank a flickering shade and cool,

  Grey willows made, and all about they heard

  The warble of the small brown river-bird.

  And from both stream and banks rose up a haze

  Quivering and glassy; for of summer days

  This was the chiefest day and crown of all.

  There did the damsel let her long skirts fall

  Over her feet, but as her hand dropped down,

  She felt it stopped by Hylas’ fingers brown,

  Whereat she trembled and began to go

  Across the flowery grass with footsteps slow,

  As though she grew aweary, and she said,

  Turning about her fair and glorious head:

  Soft is the air in your land certainly,

  But under foot the way is rough and dry

  Unto such feet as mine, more used to feel

  The dainty stirrup wrought of gold and steel,

  Or tread upon the white bear’s fell, or pass

  In spring and summer o’er such flowery grass

  As this, that soothly mindeth me too much

  Of that my worshipped feet were wont to touch,

  When I was called a queen; let us not haste

  To leave this sweet place for the tangled waste,

  I pray thee therefore prince, but let us lie

  Beneath these willows while the wind goes by,

  And set our hearts to think of happy things,

  Before the morrow pain and trouble brings.

  She faltered somewhat as she spoke, but he

  Drew up before her and took lovingly

  Her other hand, nor spoke she more to him,

  Nor he to her awhile, till from the rim

  Of his great shield broke off the leathern band

  That crossed his breast, whether some demon’s hand

  Snapped it unseen, or some sharp rugged bough

  Within the wood had chafed it even now;

  But clattering fell the buckler to the ground,

  And, startled at the noise, he turned him round.

  Then, grown all bold within that little space,

  He set his cheek unto her blushing face,

  And smiling, in a low voice said: O sweet,

  Call it an omen that this, nowise meet

  For deeds of love, has left me by its will,

  And now by mine these toys that cumber still

  My arms shall leave me. And therewith he threw

  His brass-bound spear upon the grass, and drew

  The Theban blade from out its ivory sheath,

  And loosed his broad belt’s clasp, that like a wreath

  His father’s Indian serving-man had wrought,

  And cast his steel coat off, from Persia brought;

  And so at last being freed of brass and steel,

  Upon his breast he laid her hand to feel

  The softness of the fine Phœenician stuff

  That clad it still, nor yet could toy enough

  With that fair hand; so played they for a space,

  Till softly did she draw him to a place

  Anigh the stream, and they being set, he said:

  And what dost thou, O love? art thou afraid

  To cast thine armour off, as I have done,

  Within this covert where the fiery sun

  Scarce strikes upon one jewel of thy gown?

  Then she spake, reddening, with her eyes cast down

  O prince, behold me as I am to-day,

  But if o’er many a rough and weary way

  It hap unto us both at last to come

  Unto the happy place that is thine home,

  Then let me be as women of thy land

  When they before the sea-born goddess stand,

  And not one flower hides them from her sight.

  But with that word she set her fingers white

  Upon her belt, and he said amorously:

  Ah, God, whatso thou wilt must surely be,

  But would that I might die or be asleep

  Till we have gone across the barren deep,

  And you and I together, hand in hand,

  Some day ere sunrise lights the quiet land,

  Behold once more the seven fair-gleaming gates.

  O love, she said, and such a fair time waits

  Both thee and me; but now to give thee rest

  Here in the noontide, were it not the best

  To soothe thee with some gentle murmuring song,

  Sung to such notes as to our folk belong;

  Such as my maids awhile ago would sing

  When on my bed a-nights I lay waking?

  Sing on, he said, but let me dream of bliss

  If I should sleep, nor yet forget thy kiss.

  She touched his lips with hers, and then began

  A sweet song sung not yet to any man.

  I KNOW a little garden-close

  Set thick with lily and red rose,

  Where I would wander if I might

  From dewy dawn to dewy night,

  And have one with me wandering.

  And though within it no birds sing,

  And though no pillared house is there,

  And though the apple boughs are bare

  Of fruit and blossom, would to God,

  Her feet upon the green grass trod,

  And I beheld them as before.

  There comes a murmur from the shore,

  And in the place two fair streams are,

  Drawn from the purple hills afar,

  Drawn down unto the restless sea;

  The hills whose flowers ne’er fed the bee,

  The shore no ship has ever seen,

  Still beaten by the billows green,

  Whose murmur comes unceasingly

  Unto the place for which I cry.

  For which I cry both day and night,

  For which I let slip all delight,

  That maketh me both deaf and blind,

  Careless to win, unskilled to find,

  And quick to lose what all men seek.

  Yet tottering as I am, and weak,

  Still have I left a little breath

  To seek within the jaws of death

  An entrance to that happy place

  To seek the unforgotten face

  Once seen, once kissed, once reft from me

  Anigh the murmuring of the sea.

  She ceased her song, that lower for a while

  And slower too had grown, and a soft smile

  Grew up within her eyes as still she sung.

  Then she rose up, and over Hylas hung,

  For now he slept; wherewith the God in her

  Consumed the northern robe done round with fur

  That hid her beauty, and the light west wind

  Played with her hair no fillet now did bind,

  And through her faint grey garment her limbs seemed

  Like ivory in the sea, and the sun gleamed

  In the strange gems about her middle sweet,

  And in the jewelled sandals on her feet.

  So stood she murmuring, till a rippling sound

  She heard, that grew until she turned her round

  And saw her other sisters of the deep

  Her song had called while Hylas yet did sleep,

  Come swimming in a long line up the stream,

  And their white dripping arms and shoulders gleam

  Above the dark grey water as they went,

  And still before them a great ripple sent.

  But when they saw her, toward the bank they drew,

  And landing, felt the grass and flowers blue

  Against their unused feet; then in a ring

  Stood gazing with wide eyes, and wondering

  At all his beauty they desired so much.

  And then with gentle hands began to touch

  His hair, his hands, his closed eyes; and at last

  Their eager naked arms about him cast,

  And bore him, sleeping still, as by some spell,

  Unto the depths where they were wont to dwell;

  Then softly down the reedy bank they slid,

  And with small noise the gurgling river hid

  The flushed nymphs and the heedless sleeping man.

  But ere the water covered them, one ran

  Across the mead and caught up from the ground

  The brass-bound spear, and buckler bossed and round,

  The ivory-hilted sword, and coat of mail,

  Then took the stream; so what might tell the tale,

  Unless the wind should tell it, or the bird

  Who from the reed these things had seen and heard?

  MEANWHILE, the ship being watered, and the day

  Now growing late, the prince would fain away;

  So from the ship was blown a horn to call

  The stragglers back, who mustered one and all,

  Save Theban Hylas; therefore, when they knew

  That he was missing, Hercules withdrew

  From out the throng, if yet perchance his voice

  Hylas might hear, and all their hearts rejoice

  With shout well-known in answer thereunto:

  With him must Polyphemus likewise go,

  To work out the wise counsel of the fates:

  Unhappy! who no more would see the gates

  Of white-wailed fair Larissa, or the plain

  Burdened by many an overladen wain.

  FOR while their cries and shouts rang through the wood,

  The others reached the ship, and thought it good

  To weigh the anchor, and anigh the shore,

  With loosened sail, and run-out ready oar,

  To trim the ship for leaving the fair bay;

 

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