Henceforth shall men before thee bear

  In tourney and in stricken field.

  “But this mine heir shall bear my shield,

  Carry my banner, wear my crown,

  Ride equal with me through my town,

  Sit on the same step of the throne;

  In nothing will I reign alone;

  Nor be ye with him miscontent,

  For that with little ornament

  Of gold and folk to you he came;

  For he is of an ancient name

  That needeth not the clink of gold —

  The ancientest the world doth hold;

  For in the fertile Asian land,

  Where great Damascus now doth stand,

  Ages agone his line was born,

  Ere yet men knew the gift of corn;

  And there, anigh to Paradise,

  His ancestors grew stout and wise;

  And certes he from Asia bore

  No little of their piercing lore.

  “Look then to have great happiness,

  For every wrong shall he redress.”

  Then did the people’s shouting drown

  His clatter as he leapt adown;

  And taking in each hand a hand

  Of the two lovers, now did stand

  Betwixt them on the flower-strewn way,

  And to himself meanwhile ‘gan say, —

  “How many an hour might I have been

  Right merry in the gardens green;

  How many a glorious day had I

  Made happy with some victory;

  What noble deeds I might have done,

  What bright renown my deeds have won;

  What blessings would have made me glad;

  What little burdens had I had;

  What calmness in the hope of praise;

  What joy of well-accomplished days,

  If I had let these things alone;

  Nor sought to sit upon my throne

  Like God between the cherubim.

  But now — but now, my days wax dim,

  And all this fairness have I tost

  Unto the winds, and all have lost

  For nought, for nought! yet will I strive

  My little end of life to live;

  Nor will I look behind me more,

  Nor forward to the doubtful shore.”

  With that he made the sign to turn,

  And straight the autumn air did burn

  With many a point of steel and gold;

  And through the trees the carol rolled

  Once more, until the autumn thrush

  Far off ‘gan twittering on his bush,

  Made mindful of the long-lived spring.

  So mid sweet song and tabouring,

  And shouts amid the apple-grove,

  And soft caressing of his love,

  Began the new King Michael’s reign.

  Nor will the poor folk see again

  A king like him on any throne,

  Or such good deeds to all men done:

  For then, as saith the chronicle,

  It was the time, as all men tell,

  When scarce a man would stop to gaze

  At gold crowns hung above the ways.

  HE ended; and midst those who heard were some

  Who, midst his tale, half dreamed they were at home,

  Round the great fire upon the winter night;

  And, with the memory of the fresh delight

  Wherewith they first had heard that story told,

  Forgetting not they were grown weak and old,

  Yet felt as if they had at least grown grey

  Within the land left for so many a day.

  He, with the gestures they were wont to see,

  So told his tale, so strange with eld was he,

  Just so he stammered, and in just such wise

  He sighed, beginning fresh, as their young eyes,

  Their ears, in happy days passed long ago,

  Had ever noted other old men do,

  When they, full filled with their quick-coming joys,

  Would gaze on old folk as on carven toys.

  But he being silent, silently awhile

  They mused on these things, masking with a smile

  The vain regrets that in their hearts arose,

  The while with eager talk the young folk chose

  The parts that pleased them; but their elder hosts

  Falling to talk, yet noted well the ghosts

  Of old desires within their wasted eyes,

  Till one by one the fresh-stirred memories,

  So bitter-sweet, flickered and died away;

  And as old men may do, whose hopes grew grey

  Before their beards, they made a little mirth

  Until the great moon rose upon the earth.

  APRIL.

  O FAIR midspring, besung so oft and oft,

  How can I praise thy loveliness enow?

  Thy sun that burns not, and thy breezes soft

  That o’er the blossoms of the orchard blow,

  The thousand things that ‘neath the young leaves grow,

  The hopes and chances of the growing year,

  Winter forgotten long, and summer near.

  When Summer brings the lily and the rose,

  She brings us fear; her very death she brings

  Hid in her anxious heart, the forge of woes;

  And, dull with fear, no more the mavis sings.

  But thou! thou diest not, but thy fresh life clings

  About the fainting autumn’s sweet decay,

  When in’ the earth the hopeful seed they lay.

  Ah! life of all the year, why yet do I

  Amid thy snowy blossoms’ fragrant drift,

  Still long for that which never draweth nigh,

  Striving my pleasure from my pain to sift,

  Some weight from off my fluttering mirth to lift?

  — Now, when far bells are ringing, “Come again,

  Come back, past years! why will ye pass in vain?”

  AND now the watery April sun lit up

  Upon the fair board golden ewer and cup,

  And over the bright silken tapestry

  The fresh young boughs were gladdening every eye,

  And round the board old faces you might see

  Amidst the blossoms and their greenery.

  So when the flutes were silent, and the birds,

  Rejoicing in their flood of unknown words,

  Were heard again, a silken-fastened book

  A certain elder from his raiment took,

  And said, “O friends, few words are best to-day,

  And no new thing I bring you; yet ye may

  Be pleased to hear an ancient tale again,

  That, told so long ago, doth yet remain

  Fresh e’en ‘mongst us, far from the Argive land:

  Which tale this book, writ wholly by mine hand,

  Holds gathered up as I have heard it told.

  “Surely I fear me, midst the ancient gold

  Base metal ye will light on here and there,

  Though I have noted everything with care,

  And with good will have set down nothing new:

  Nor holds the land another book for you

  That has the tale in full with nought beside,

  So unto me let your good word betide;

  Though, take it as ye may, no small delight

  I had, herein this well-loved tale to write.”

  THE DOOM OF KING ACRISIUS.

  ARGUMENT.

  ACRISIUS, king of Argos, being warned by an oracle that the son of his daughter Danaë should slay him, shut her up in a brazen tower built for that end beside the sea: there, though no man could come nigh her, she nevertheless bore a son to Jove, and she and her new-born son, set adrift on the sea, came to the island of Seriphos. Thence her son, grown to manhood, set out to win the Gorgon’s Head, and accomplished that end by the help of Minerva; and afterwards rescued Andromeda, daughter of Cepheus, from a terrible doom, and wedded her. Coming back to Seriphos he took his mother thence, and made for Argos, but by stress of weather came to Thessaly, and there, at Larissa, accomplished the prophecy, by unwittingly slaying Acrisius. In the end he founded the city of Mycenæ, and died there.

  NOW of the King Acrisius shall ye hear,

  Who, thinking he could free his life from fear,

  Did that which brought but death on him at last.

  In Argos did he reign in days long past,

  And had one daughter, fair as man could see,

  Who in old tales is callèd Danaë;

  But as she grew up fairer day by day,

  A wandering oracle to him did say,

  That whatso else might happen, soon or late

  He should be taken in the toils of fate,

  And by the fruit of his own daughter’s womb

  Be slain at last, and set within his tomb;

  And therefore heavy sorrow on him fell,

  That she he thought to love so passing well

  Must henceforth be his deadliest dread and woe.

  Long time he pondered what was best to do;

  And whiles he thought that he would send her forth

  To wed some king far in the snowy north,

  And whiles that by great gifts of goods and gold

  Some lying prophet might be bought and sold

  To swear his daughter he must sacrifice,

  If he would yet find favour in the eyes

  Of the dread gods who govern everything;

  And sometimes seemed it better to the King,

  That he might ‘scape the shedding of her blood

  By leaving her in some far lonely wood,

  Wherein the Dryads might the maiden find,

  Or beasts might slay her, following but their kind.

  So passed his anxious days, until at last,

  When many a plot through his vexed brain had passed,

  He lacked the heart his flesh and blood to slay,

  Yet neither would he she should go away

  From out his sight, or be at large at all;

  Therefore his wisest craftsmen did he call,

  And bade them make for him a tower foursquare,

  Such as no man had yet seen anywhere,

  For therein neither stone nor wood should be,

  But all be wrought of brass most cunningly.

  Now thither oft would maiden Danae stray,

  And watch its strange walls growing day by day,

  Because, poor soul! she knew not anything

  Of these forebodings of the fearful King,

  Nor how he meted out for her this doom,

  Therein to dwell as in a living tomb.

  But on a day, she, coming there alone,

  Found it all finished and the workmen gone,

  And no one nigh, so through the open door

  She entered, and went up from floor to floor,

  And through its chambers wandered without dread;

  And, entering one, she found therein a bed,

  Dight daintily, as though to serve a queen;

  And all the walls adorned with hangings green,

  Tables and benches in good order set,

  And all things new, by no one used as yet.

  With that she murmured, “When again I see

  My father, will I bid him tell to me

  Who shall live here and die here, for, no doubt,

  Whoever enters here shall ne’er go out:

  Therefore the walls are made so high and great,

  Therefore the bolts are measureless of weight,

  The windows small, barred, turned towards the sea,

  That none from land may tell who here may be.

  No doubt some man the King my father fears

  Above all other, here shall pass his years.

  Alas, poor soul! scarce shall he see the sun,

  Or care to know when the hot day is done,

  Or ever see sweet flowers again, or grass,

  Or take much note of how the seasons pass.

  Truly we folk who dwell in rest and ease

  But lightly think of such abodes as these;

  And I, who live wrapped round about with bliss,

  Shall go from hence and soon forget all this:

  For in my garden many a sweet flower blooms,

  Wide open are the doors of all my rooms,

  And lightly folk come in and lightly go;

  And I have known as yet but childish woe.”

  Therewith she turned about to leave the place,

  But as unto the door she set her face

  A bitter wailing from outside she heard,

  And somewhat therewithal she waxed afeard,

  And stopped awhile; yet listening, she but thought,

  “This is the man who to his doom is brought

  By weeping friends, who come to see the last

  Of that dear face they know shall soon be past

  From them for ever.” Then she ‘gan to go

  Adown the brazen stairs with footsteps slow.

  But quick the shrieks and wailing drew anear,

  Till in her ears it sounded sharp and clear,

  And then she said, “Alas! and must I see

  These weeping faces drawn with agony?

  Would I had not come here to-day!” Withal

  She started, as upon her ear did fall

  The sound of shutting of the outer door,

  And people coming up from floor to floor;

  And paler then she grew, but moved to meet

  The woful sounds and slow-ascending feet,

  Shrinking with pity for that wretched one

  Whose life of joy upon that day was done.

  Thus down the stairs with saddened heart she passed,

  And to a lower chamber came at last;

  But as she went beneath the archway wide

  The door was opened from the other side,

  And in poured many maidens, whom she knew

  For her own fair companions, leal and true;

  And after them two soldiers armed there came,

  With knitted brows and eyes downcast for shame.

  But when those damsels saw her standing there,

  Anew they wept, and tore their unbound hair;

  But midst their wailing, still no word they said,

  Until she spoke oppressed with sickening dread:

  “O tell me what has happened to me then!

  For is my father slain of outland men?

  Or have the gods sent death upon the land?

  Or is it mine own death that they command?

  Alas, alas! but slay me quick, I pray,

  Nor let me linger on from day to day,

  Maddened with fear like this, that sickens me,

  And makes me seem the half-dead thing ye see.”

  Then, like a man constrained, a soldier said

  These cruel words unto the wretched maid:

  “Lady, lose hope and fear now once for all;

  Here must thou dwell betwixt brass wall and wall

  Until the gods send gentle death to thee;

  And these as erst thine handmaidens shall be:

  And if thou askest why the thing is so,

  Thus the King wills it, for a while ago

  An oracle foretold that thou shouldst live

  To have a son, who bitter death should give

  Unto thy father; so, to save this shame

  From falling on the glorious Argive name,

  He deemed it well that thou shouldst live indeed,

  But yet apart from man thy life shouldst lead.

  So in this place thy days must pass away,

  And we who are thy guards, from day to day

  Will bring thee everything that thou mayst need.

  But pardon us, constrained to do this deed

  By the King’s will, and oaths that we have sworn

  Ere to this life of sorrow thou wert born.”

  Therewith they turned and went, and soon the sound

  Of shutting doors smote like a deadly wound

  Into her heart; and yet no word she spoke,

  But fell as one beneath a deadly stroke.

  Then they who there her fellows were to be

  Bore up her body, groaning heavily,

  Unto the upper chamber where that day

  She came before, and on the bed did lay

  The wretched maid, and then they sat around,

  With heavy heads and hair that swept the ground,

  To weep the passing of those happy days

  When many an one their happy lot would praise.

  But now and then, when bitterly would sting

  The loss of some nigh-reached desired thing,

  To a loud wail their weeping would arise.

  Then in a while did Danae ope her eyes,

  And to her aching forehead raised her hand;

  But when she saw that wan, dishevelled band,

  She soon remembered this was no ill dream,

  But that all things were e’en as they did seem,

  Then she arose, but soon upon the bed

  Sank down again, and hid her troubled head,

  And moaned and moaned, and when a damsel came

  And touched her hand, and called her by her name,

  She knew her not, but turned her head away:

  Nor did she know when dark night followed day.

  So passed by many a day in mourning sore,

  And weariness oppressed her evermore

  In that unhappy prison-house of brass;

  And yet a little the first sting did pass

  That smote her, and she ate and drank and slept,

  And fair and bright her body Venus kept,

  Yea, such a grace the sea-born goddess fair

  Did to her, that the ripples of her hair

  Grew brighter, and the colour in her face

  And lovely lips waned not in that sad place;

  And rounder grew her limbs from day to day;

  Yea, as upon the golden bed she lay,

  You would have thought the Queen herself had come

  To meet some love far from her golden home.

  And once it happed at the first hour of day

  In golden morn upon her bed she lay,

  Newly awakened to her daily woe,

  And heard the rough sea beat the rocks below,

  The wheeling sea-gull screaming on the wing,

  Sea-swallows swift, and many a happy thing,

  Till bitterly the tears ran down her cheek,

  And stretching forth her arms and fingers weak,

  ‘Twixt moans these piteous helpless words she said: —

  “O Queen Diana, make me now thy maid,

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354 355 356 357 358 359 360 361 362 363 364 365 366 367 368 369 370 371 372 373 374 375 376 377 378 379 380 381 382 383 384 385 386 387 388 389 390 391 392 393 394 395 396 397 398 399 400 401 402 403 404 405 406 407 408 409 410 411 412 413 414 415 416 417 418 419 420 421 422 423 424 425 426 427 428 429 430 431 432 433 434 435 436 437 438 439 440 441 442 443 444 445 446 447 448 449 450 451 452 453 454 455 456 457 458 459 460 461 462 463 464 465 466 467 468 469 470 471 472 473 474 475 476 477 478 479 480 481 482 483 484 485 486 487 488 489 490 491 492 493 494 495 496 497 498 499 500 501 502 503 504 505 506 507 508 509 510 511 512 513 514 515 516 517 518 519 520 521 522 523 524 525 526 527 528 529 530 531 532 533 534 535 536 537 538 539 540 541 542 543 544 545 546 547 548 549 550 551 552 553 554 555 556 557 558 559 560 561 562 563 564 565 566 567 568 569 570 571 572 573 574 575 576 577 578 579 580 581 582 583 584 585 586 587 588 589 590 591 592 593 594 595 596 597 598 599 600 601 602 603 604 605 606 607 608 609 610 611 612 613 614 615 616 617 618 619 620 621 622 623 624 625 626 627 628 629 630 631 632 633 634 635 636 637 638 639 640 641 642 643 644 645 646 647 648 649 650 651 652 653 654 655 656 657 658 659 660 661 662 663 664 665 666 667 668 669 670 671 672 673 674 675 676 677 678 679 680 681 682 683 684 685 686 687 688 689 690 691 692 693 694 695 696 697 698 699 700 701 702 703 704 705 706 707 708 709 710 711 712 713 714 715 716 717 718 719 720 721 722 723 724 725 726 727 728 729 730 731 732 733 734 735 736 737 738 739 740 741 742 743 744 745 746 747 748 749 750 751 752 753 754 755 756 757 758 759 760 761 762 763 764 765 766 767 768 769 770 771 772 773 774 775 776 777 778 779 780 781 782 783 784 785 786 787 788 789 790 791 792 793 794 795 796 797 798 799 800 801 802 803 804 805 806 807 808 809 810 811 812 813 814 815 816 817 818 819 820 821 822 823 824 825 826 827 828 829 830 831 832 833 834 835