Chapter 105

That was the truth. Vexed waters sank to smooth:'T was only when the last of bubbles broke,The latest circlet widened all awayAnd left a placid level, that up swamTo the surface the drowned truth, in dreadful change.So, through the quiet and submission,—ay,Spite of some strong words—(for you miss the tone)The grief was getting to be infinite—Grief, friends fell back before. Their office shrankTo that old solace of humanity!—"Being born mortal, bear grief! Why born else?"And they could only meditate anew."They, too, upborne by airy help of song.And haply science, which can find the stars,Had searched the heights: had sounded depths as wellBy catching much at books where logic lurked,Yet nowhere found they aught could overcomeNecessity; not any medicine served,Which Thrakian tablets treasure, Orphic voiceWrote itself down upon: nor remedyWhich Phoibos gave to the Asklepiadai;Cutting the roots of many a virtuous herbTo solace overburdened mortals. None!Of this sole goddess, never may we goTo altar nor to image: sacrificeShe hears not. All to pray for is—'Approach!But, oh, no harder on me, awful one,Than heretofore! Let life endure thee still!For, whatsoe'er Zeus' nod decree, that sameIn concert with thee hath accomplishment.Iron, the very stuff o' the Chaluboi,Thou, by sheer strength, dost conquer and subdue;Nor, of that harsh abrupt resolve of thine,Any relenting is there!""O my king!Thee also, in the shackles of those hands,Not to be shunned, the Goddess grasped! Yet, bear!Since never wilt thou lead from undergroundThe dead ones, wail thy worst! If mortals die,—The very children of immortals, too,Dropped 'mid our darkness, these decay as sure!Dear indeed was she while among us: dear,Now she is dead, must she forever be:Thy portion was to clasp, within thy couch,The noblest of all women as a wife.Nor be the tomb of her supposed some heapThat hides mortality: but like the GodsHonored, a veneration to a worldOf wanderers! Oft the wanderer, struck thereby,Who else had sailed past in his merchant-ship,Ay, he shall leave ship, land, long wind his wayUp to the mountain-summit, till there breakSpeech forth, 'So, this was she, then, died of oldTo save her husband! now, a deityShe bends above us. Hail, benignant one!Give good!' Such voices so will supplicate.But—can it be? Alkmené's offspring comes,Admetos!—to thy house advances here!"I doubt not, they supposed him decentlyDead somewhere in that winter world of Thrace—Vanquished by one o' the Bistones, or elseVictim to some mad steed's voracity—For did not friends prognosticate as much?It were a new example to the point,That "children of immortals, dropped by stealthInto our darkness, die as sure as we!"A case to quote and comfort people with:But, as for lamentation, ai and pheu,Right-minded subjects kept them for their lord.Ay, he it was advancing! In he strode,And took his stand before Admetos,—turnedNow by despair to such a quietude,He neither raised his face nor spoke, this time,The while his friend surveyed him steadily.That friend looked rough with fighting: had he strainedWorst brute to breast was ever strangled yet?Somehow, a victory—for there stood the strength,Happy, as always; something grave, perhapsThe great vein-cordage on the fret-worked front,Black-swollen, beaded yet with battle-dewThe yellow hair o' the hero!—his big frameA-quiver with each muscle sinking backInto the sleepy smooth it leaped from late.Under the great guard of one arm, there leantA shrouded something, live and woman-like,Propped by the heartbeats 'neath the lion-coat.When he had finished his survey, it seemed,The heavings of the heart began subside,The helpful breath returned, and last the smileShone out, all Herakles was back again,As the words followed the saluting hand."To friendly man, behooves we freely speak,Admetos!—nor keep buried, deep in breast,Blame we leave silent. I assuredlyJudged myself proper, if I should approachBy accident calamities of thine,To be demonstrably thy friend: but thouTold'st me not of the corpse then claiming care,That was thy wife's, but didst instal me guestI' the house here, as though busied with a griefIndeed, but then, mere grief beyond thy gate:And so, I crowned my head, and to the GodsPoured my libations in thy dwelling-place,With such misfortune round me. And I blame—Certainly blame thee, having suffered thus!But still I would not pain thee, pained enough:So let it pass! Wherefore I seek thee now,Having turned back again though onward bound,That I will tell thee. Take and keep for meThis woman, till I come thy way again,Driving before me, having killed the kingO' the Bistones, that drove of Thrakian steeds;In such case, give the woman back to me!But should I fare,—as fare I fain would not,Seeing I hope to prosper and return,—Then, I bequeath her as thy household slave.She came into my hands with good hard toil!For, what find I, when started on my course,But certain people, a whole country-side,Holding a wrestling-bout? as good to meAs a new labor: whence I took, and hereCome keeping with me, this, the victor's prize.For, such as conquered in the easy work,Gained horses which they drove away: and suchAs conquered in the harder,—those who boxedAnd wrestled,—cattle; and, to crown the prize,A woman followed. Chancing as I did,Base were it to forego this fame and gain!Well, as I said, I trust her to thy care:No woman I have kidnapped, understand!But good hard toil has done it: here I come!Some day, who knows? even thou wilt praise the feat!"Admetos raised his face and eyed the pair:Then, hollowly and with submission, spoke,And spoke again, and spoke time after time,When he perceived the silence of his friendWould not be broken by consenting word.As a tired slave goes adding stone to stoneUntil he stop some current that molests,So poor Admetos piled up argumentVainly against the purpose all too plainIn that great brow acquainted with command."Nowise dishonoring, nor amid my foesRanking thee, did I hide my wife's ill fate;But it were grief superimposed on grief,Shouldst thou have hastened to another home.My own woe was enough for me to weep!But, for this woman,—if it so may be,—Bid some Thessalian,—I entreat thee, king!—Keep her,—who has not suffered like myself!Many of the Pheraioi welcome thee.Be no reminder to me of my ills!I could not, if I saw her come to live,Restrain the tear! Inflict on me, diseased,No new disease: woe bends me down enough!Then, where could she be sheltered in my house,Female and young too? For that she is young,The vesture and adornment prove. Reflect!Should such an one inhabit the same roofWith men? And how, mixed up, a girl, with youths,Shall she keep pure, in that case? No light taskTo curb the May-day youngster, Herakles!I only speak because of care for thee.Or must I, in avoidance of such harm,Make her to enter, lead her life withinThe chamber of the dead one, all apart?How shall I introduce this other, couchThis where Alkestis lay? A double blameI apprehend: first, from the citizens—Lest some tongue of them taunt that I betrayMy benefactress, fall into the snareOf a new fresh face: then, the dead one's self,—Will she not blame me likewise? Worthy, sure,Of worship from me! circumspect my ways,And jealous of a fault, are bound to be.But thou,—O woman, whosoe'er thou art,—Know, thou hast all the form, art like as likeAlkestis, in the bodily shape! Ah me!Take—by the Gods—this woman from my sight,Lest thou undo me, the undone before!Since I seem—seeing her—as if I sawMy own wife! And confusions cloud my heart,And from my eyes the springs break forth! Ah meUnhappy—how I taste for the first timeMy misery in all its bitterness!"Whereat the friends conferred: "The chance, in truth,Was an untoward one—none said otherwise.Still, what a God comes giving, good or bad,That, one should take and bear with. Take her, then!"Herakles,—not unfastening his holdOn that same misery, beyond mistakeHoarse in the words, convulsive in the face,—"I would that I had such a power," said he,"As to lead up into the light againThy very wife, and grant thee such a grace!""Well do I know thou wouldst: but where the hope?There is no bringing back the dead to light.""Be not extravagant in grief, no less!Bear it, by augury of better things!""'T is easier to advise 'bear up,' than bear!""But how carve way i' the life that lies before,If bent on groaning ever for the past?""I myself know that: but a certain loveAllures me to the choice I shall not change.""Ay, but, still loving dead ones, still makes weep.""And let it be so! She has ruined me,And still more than I say: that answers all.""Oh, thou hast lost a brave wife: who disputes?""So brave a one—that he whom thou behold'stWill never more enjoy his life again!""Time will assuage! The evil yet is young!""Time, thou mayst say, will; if time mean—to die.""A wife—the longing for new marriage-joysWill stop thy sorrow!""Hush, friend,—hold thy peace!What hast thou said! I could not credit ear!""How then? Thou wilt not marry, then, but keepA widowed couch?""There is not any oneOf womankind shall couch with whom thou seest!""Dost think to profit thus in any wayThe dead one?""Her, wherever she abide,My duty is to honor.""And I praise—Indeed I praise thee! Still, thou hast to payThe price of it, in being held a fool!""Fool call me—only one name call me not!Bridegroom!""No: it was praise, I portioned thee,Of being good true husband to thy wife!""When I betray her, though she is no more,May I die!"And the thing he said was true:For out of Herakles a great glow broke.There stood a victor worthy of a prize:The violet-crown that-withers on the browOf the half-hearted claimant. Oh, he knewThe signs of battle hard fought and well won,This queller of the monsters!—knew his friendPlanted firm foot, now, on the loathly thingThat was Admetos late! "would die," he knew,Ere let the reptile raise its crest again.If that was truth, why try the true friend more?"Then, since thou canst be faithful to the death,Take, deep into thy house, my dame!" smiled he."Not so!—I pray, by thy Progenitor!""Thou wilt mistake in disobeying me!""Obeying thee, I have to break my heart!""Obey me! Who knows but the favor doneMay fall into its place as duty too?"So, he was humble, would decline no moreBearing a burden: he just sighed, "Alas!Would thou hadst never brought this prize from game!""Yet, when I conquered there, thou conqueredst!""All excellently urged! Yet—spite of all,Bear with me! let the woman go away!""She shall go, if needs must: but ere she go,See if thereisneed!""Need there is! At least,Except I make thee angry with me, so!""But I persist, because I have my spiceOf intuition likewise: take the dame!""Be thou the victor, then! But certainlyThou dost thy friend no pleasure in the act!""Oh, time will come when thou shalt praise me! Now—Only obey!""Then, servants, since my houseMust needs receive this woman, take her there!""I shall not trust this woman to the careOf servants.""Why, conduct her in, thyself,If that seem preferable!""I prefer,With thy good leave, to place her in thy hands!""I would not touch her! Entry to the house—That, I concede thee.""To thy sole right handI mean to trust her!""King! Thou wrenchest thisOut of me by main force, if I submit!""Courage, friend! Come, stretch hand forth: Good! Now touchThe stranger-woman!""There! A hand I stretch—As though it meant to cut off Gorgon's head!""Hast hold of her?""Fast hold.""Why, then, hold fastAnd have her! and, one day, asseverateThou wilt, I think, thy friend, the son of Zeus,He was the gentle guest to entertain!Look at her! See if she, in any way,Present thee with resemblance of thy wife!"Ah, but the tears come, find the words at fault!There is no telling how the hero twitchedThe veil off: and there stood, with such fixed eyesAnd such slow smile, Alkestis' silent self!It was the crowning grace of that great heart,To keep back joy: procrastinate the truthUntil the wife, who had made proof and foundThe husband wanting, might essay once more,Hear, see, and feel him renovated now—Able to do, now, all herself had done,Risen to the height of her: so, hand in hand,The two might go together, live and die.Beside, when he found speech, you guess the speech.He could not think he saw his wife again:It was some mocking God that used the blissTo make him mad! Till Herakles must help:Assure him that no spectre mocked at all;He was embracing whom he buried once.Still,—did he touch, might he address the true,—True eye, true body of the true live wife?And Herakles said, smiling, "All was truth.Spectre? Admetos had not made his guestOne who played ghost-invoker, or such cheat!Oh, he might speak and have response, in time!All heart could wish was gained now—life for death:Only, the rapture must not grow immense:Take care, nor wake the envy of the Gods!""O thou, of greatest Zeus true son,"—so spokeAdmetos when the closing word must come,"Go ever in a glory of success,And save, that sire, his offspring to the end!For thou hast—only thou—raised me and mineUp again to this light and life!" Then askedTremblingly, how was trod the perilous pathOut of the dark into the light and life:How it had happened with Alkestis there.And Herakles said little, but enough—How he engaged in combat with that kingO' the dæmons: how the field of contest layBy the tomb's self: how he sprang from ambuscade,Captured Death, caught him in that pair of hands.But all the time, Alkestis moved not onceOut of the set gaze and the silent smile;And a cold fear ran through Admetos' frame:"Why does she stand and front me, silent thus?"Herakles solemnly replied, "Not yetIs it allowable thou hear the thingsShe has to tell thee; let evanish quiteThat consecration to the lower Gods,And on our upper world the third day rise!Lead her in, meanwhile; good and true thou art,Good, true, remain thou! Practise pietyTo stranger-guests the old way! So, farewell!Since forth I fare, fulfil my urgent taskSet by the king, the son of Sthenelos."Fain would Admetos keep that splendid smileEver to light him. "Stay with us, thou heart!Remain our house-friend!""At some other day!Now, of necessity, I haste!" smiled he."But mayst thou prosper, go forth on a footSure to return! Through all the tetrarchy,Command my subjects that they instituteThanksgiving-dances for the glad event,And bid each altar smoke with sacrifice!For we are minded to begin a freshExistence, better than the life before;Seeing I own myself supremely blest."Whereupon all the friendly moralistsDrew this conclusion: chirped, each beard to each:"Manifold are thy shapings, Providence!Many a hopeless matter Gods arrange.What we expected never came to pass:What we did not expect Gods brought to bear;So have things gone, this whole experience through!"Ah, but if you had seen the play itself!They say, my poet failed to get the prize:Sophokles got the prize,—great name! They say,Sophokles also means to make a piece,Model a new Admetos, a new wife:Success to him! One thing has many sides.The great name! But no good supplants a good,Nor beauty undoes beauty. SophoklesWill carve and carry a fresh cup, brimfulOf beauty and good, firm to the altar-foot,And glorify the Dionusiac shrine:Not clash against this crater in the placeWhere the God put it when his mouth had drained,To the last dregs, libation lifeblood-like,And praised Euripides forevermore—The Human with his droppings of warm tears.Still, since one thing may have so many sides,I think I see how,—far from Sophokles,—You, I, or any one might mould a newAdmetos, new Alkestis. Ah, that braveBounty of poets, the one royal raceThat ever was, or will be, in this world!They give no gift that hounds itself and endsI' the giving and the taking: theirs so breedsI' the heart and soul o' the taker, so transmutesThe man who only was a man before,That he grows godlike in his turn, can give—He also: share the poets' privilege,Bring forth new good, new beauty, from the old.As though the cup that gave the wine, gave, too,The God's prolific giver of the grape,That vine, was wont to find out, fawn aroundHis footstep, springing still to bless the dearth,At bidding of a Mainad. So with me:For I have drunk this poem, quenched my thirst,Satisfied heart and soul—yet more remains!Could we too make a poem? Try at least,Inside the head, what shape the rose-mists take!When God Apollon took, for punishment,A mortal form and sold himself a slaveTo King Admetos till a term should end,—Not only did he make, in servitude,Such music, while he fed the flocks and herds,As saved the pasturage from wrong or fright,Curing rough creatures of ungentleness:Much more did that melodious wisdom workWithin the heart o' the master: there, ran wildMany a lust and greed that grow to strengthBy preying on the native pity and care,Would else, all undisturbed, possess the land.And these the God so tamed, with golden tongue,That, in the plenitude of youth and power,Admetos vowed himself to rule thenceforthIn Pherai solely for his people's sake,Subduing to such end each lust and greedThat dominates the natural charity.And so the struggle ended. Right ruled might:And soft yet brave, and good yet wise, the manStood up to be a monarch; having learnedThe worth of life, life's worth would he bestowOn all whose lot was cast, to live or die,As he determined for the multitude.So stands a statue: pedestalled sublime,Only that it may wave the thunder off,And ward, from winds that vex, a world below.And then,—as if a whisper found its wayE'en to the sense o' the marble,—"Vain thy vow!The royalty of its resolve, that headShall hide within the dust ere day be done:That arm, its outstretch of beneficence,Shall have a speedy ending on the earth:Lie patient, prone, while light some cricket leapsAnd takes possession of the masterpiece,To sit, sing louder as more near the sun.For why? A flaw was in the pedestal;Who knows? A worm's work! Sapped, the certain fateO' the statue is to fall, and thine to die!"Whereat the monarch, calm, addressed himselfTo die, but bitterly the soul outbroke—"O prodigality of life, blind wasteI' the world, of power profuse without the willTo make life do its work, deserve its day!My ancestors pursued their pleasure, pouredThe blood o' the people out in idle war,Or took occasion of some weary peaceTo hid men dig down deep or build up high,Spend bone and marrow that the king might feastEntrenched and buttressed from the vulgar gaze.Yet they all lived, nay, lingered to old age:As though Zeus loved that they should laugh to scornThe vanity of seeking other endsIn rule, than just the ruler's pastime. TheyLived; I must die."And, as some long last moanOf a minor suddenly is propped beneathBy note which, new-struck, turns the wail that wasInto a wonder and a triumph, soBegan Alkestis: "Nay, thou art to live!The glory that, in the disguise of flesh,Was helpful to our house,—he prophesiedThe coming fate: whereon, I pleaded soreThat he,—I guessed a God, who to his couchAmid the clouds must go and come again,While we were darkling,—since he loved us both,He should permit thee, at whatever price,To live and carry out to heart's contentSoul's purpose, turn each thought to very deed,Nor let Zeus lose the monarch meant in thee."To which Apollon, with a sunset smile,Sadly—'and so should mortals arbitrate!It were unseemly if they aped us Gods,And, mindful of our chain of consequence,Lost care of the immediate earthly link:Forwent the comfort of life's little hour,In prospect of some cold abysmal blankAlien eternity,—unlike the timeThey know, and understand to practise with,—No,—our eternity—no heart's blood, brightAnd warm outpoured in its behoof, would tingeNever so palely, warm a whit the more:Whereas retained and treasured—left to beatJoyously on, a life's length, in the breastO' the loved and loving—it would throb itselfThrough, and suffuse the earthly tenement,Transform it, even as your mansion hereIs love-transformed into a temple-homeWhere I, a God, forget the Olumpian glow,I' the feel of human richness like the rose:Your hopes and fears, so blind and yet so sweetWith death about them. Therefore, well in theeTo look, not on eternity, but time:To apprehend that, should Admetos die,All, we Gods purposed in him, dies as sure:That, life's link snapping, all our chain is lost.And yet a mortal glance might pierce, methinks,Deeper into the seeming dark of things,And learn, no fruit, man's life can bear, will fade:Learn, if Admetos die now, so much moreWill pity for the frailness found in flesh,Will terror at the earthly chance and changeFrustrating wisest scheme of noblest soul,Will these go wake the seeds of good asleepThroughout the world: as oft a rough wind shedsThe unripe promise of some field-flower,—true!But loosens too the level, and lets breatheA thousand captives for the year to come.Nevertheless, obtain thy prayer, stay fate!Admetos lives—if thou wilt die for him!'"So was the pact concluded that I die,And thou live on, live for thyself, for me,For all the world. Embrace and bid me hail,Husband, because I have the victory—Am, heart, soul, head to foot, one happiness!"Whereto Admetos, in a passionate cry:"Never, by that true word Apollon spoke!All the unwise wish is unwished, O wife!Let purposes of Zeus fulfil themselves,If not through me, then through some other man!Still, in myself he had a purpose too,Inalienably mine, to end with me:This purpose—that, throughout my earthly life,Mine should be mingled and made up with thine,—And we two prove one force and play one partAnd do one thing. Since death divides the pair,'T is well that I depart and thou remainWho wast to me as spirit is to flesh:Let the flesh perish, be perceived no more,So thou, the spirit that informed the flesh,Bend yet awhile, a very flame aboveThe rift I drop into the darkness by,—And bid remember, flesh and spirit onceWorked in the world, one body, for man's sake.Never be that abominable showOf passive death without a quickening life—Admetos only, no Alkestis now!"Then she: "O thou Admetos, must the pileOf truth on truth, which needs but one truth moreTo tower up in completeness, trophy-like,Emprise of man, and triumph of the world,Must it go ever to the ground againBecause of some faint heart or faltering hand,Which we, that breathless world about the base,Trusted should carry safe to altitude,Superimpose o' the summit, our supremeAchievement, our victorious coping-stone?Shall thine, Beloved, prove the hand and heartThat fail again, flinch backward at the truthWould cap and crown the structure this last time,—Precipitate our monumental hopeAnd strew the earth ignobly yet once more?See how, truth piled on truth, the structure wants,Waits justs the crowning truth I claim of thee!Wouldst thou, for any joy to be enjoyed,For any sorrow that thou mightst escape,Unwill thy will to reign a righteous king?Nowise! And were there two lots, death and life,—Life, wherein good resolve should go to air,Death, whereby finest fancy grew plain factI' the reign of thy survivor,—life or death?Certainly death, thou choosest. Here stand IThe wedded, the beloved one: hadst thou lovedHer who less worthily could estimateBoth life and death than thou? Not so should sayAdmetos, whom Apollon made come courtAlkestis in a car, submissive brutesOf blood were yoked to, symbolizing soulMust dominate unruly sense in man.Then, shall Admetos and Alkestis seeGood alike, and alike choose, each for each,Good,—and yet, each for other, at the last,Choose evil? What? thou soundest in my soulTo depths below the deepest, reachest goodIn evil, that makes evil good again,And so allottest to me that I liveAnd not die—letting die, not thee alone,But all true life that lived in both of us?Look at me once ere thou decree the lot!"Therewith her whole soul entered into his,He looked the look back, and Alkestis died.And even while it lay, i' the look of him,Dead, the dimmed body, bright Alkestis' soulHad penetrated through the populaceOf ghosts, was got to Koré,—throned and crownedThe pensive queen o' the twilight, where she dwellsForever in a muse, but half awayFrom flowery earth she lost and hankers for,—And there demanded to become a ghostBefore the time.Whereat the softened eyesOf the lost maidenhood that lingered stillStraying among the flowers in Sicily,Sudden was startled back to Hades' throneBy that demand: broke through humanityInto the orbed omniscience of a God,Searched at a glance Alkestis to the soul,And said—while a long slow sigh lost itselfI' the hard and hollow passage of a laugh:"Hence, thou deceiver! This is not to die,If, by the very death which mocks me now,The life, that 's left behind and past my power,Is formidably doubled. Say, there fightTwo athletes, side by side, each athlete armedWith only half the weapons, and no more,Adequate to a contest with their foe:If one of these should fling helm, sword and shieldTo fellow—shieldless, swordless, helmless late—And so leap naked o'er the barrier, leaveA combatant equipped from head to heel,Yet cry to the other side, 'Receive a friendWho fights no longer!' 'Back, friend, to the fray!'Would be the prompt rebuff; I echo it.Two souls in one were formidable odds:Admetos must not be himself and thou!"And so, before the embrace relaxed a whit,The lost eyes opened, still beneath the look;And lo, Alkestis was alive again,And of Admetos' rapture who shall speak?So, the two lived together long and well.But never could I learn, by word of scribeOr voice of poet, rumor wafts our way,That—of the scheme of rule in righteousness,The bringing back again the Golden Age,Which, rather than renounce, our pair would die—That ever one faint particle came true,With both alive to bring it to effect:Such is the envy Gods still bear mankind!So might our version of the story prove,And no Euripidean pathos plagueToo much my critic-friend of Syracuse."Besides your poem failed to get the prize:(That is, the first prize: second prize is none.)Sophokles got it!" Honor the great name!All cannot love two great names; yet some do:I know the poetess who graved in gold,Among her glories that shall never fade,This style and title for Euripides,The Human with his droppings of warm tears.I know, too, a great Kaunian painter, strongAs Herakles, though rosy with a robeOf grace that softens down the sinewy strength:And he has made a picture of it all.There lies Alkestis dead, beneath the sun,She longed to look her last upon, besideThe sea, which somehow tempts the life in usTo come trip over its white waste of waves,And try escape from earth, and fleet as free.Behind the body, I suppose there bendsOld Pheres in his hoary impotence;And women-wailers in a corner crouch—Four, beautiful as you four—yes, indeed!—Close, each to other, agonizing all,As fastened, in fear's rhythmic sympathy,To two contending opposite. There strainsThe might o' the hero 'gainst his more than match,—Death, dreadful not in thew and bone, but likeThe envenomed substance that exudes some dewWhereby the merely honest flesh and bloodWill fester up and run to ruin straight,Ere they can close with, clasp and overcomeThe poisonous impalpabilityThat simulates a form beneath the flowOf those gray garments; I pronounce that pieceWorthy to set up in our Poikilé!And all came,—glory of the golden verse,And passion of the picture, and that fineFrank outgush of the human gratitudeWhich saved our ship and me, in Syracuse,—Ay, and the tear or two which slipt perhapsAway from you, friends, while I told my tale,—It all came of this play that gained no prize!Why crown whom Zeus has crowned in soul before?

That was the truth. Vexed waters sank to smooth:

'T was only when the last of bubbles broke,

The latest circlet widened all away

And left a placid level, that up swam

To the surface the drowned truth, in dreadful change.

So, through the quiet and submission,—ay,

Spite of some strong words—(for you miss the tone)

The grief was getting to be infinite—

Grief, friends fell back before. Their office shrank

To that old solace of humanity!—

"Being born mortal, bear grief! Why born else?"

And they could only meditate anew.

"They, too, upborne by airy help of song.And haply science, which can find the stars,Had searched the heights: had sounded depths as wellBy catching much at books where logic lurked,Yet nowhere found they aught could overcomeNecessity; not any medicine served,Which Thrakian tablets treasure, Orphic voiceWrote itself down upon: nor remedyWhich Phoibos gave to the Asklepiadai;Cutting the roots of many a virtuous herbTo solace overburdened mortals. None!Of this sole goddess, never may we goTo altar nor to image: sacrificeShe hears not. All to pray for is—'Approach!But, oh, no harder on me, awful one,Than heretofore! Let life endure thee still!For, whatsoe'er Zeus' nod decree, that sameIn concert with thee hath accomplishment.Iron, the very stuff o' the Chaluboi,Thou, by sheer strength, dost conquer and subdue;Nor, of that harsh abrupt resolve of thine,Any relenting is there!""O my king!Thee also, in the shackles of those hands,Not to be shunned, the Goddess grasped! Yet, bear!Since never wilt thou lead from undergroundThe dead ones, wail thy worst! If mortals die,—The very children of immortals, too,Dropped 'mid our darkness, these decay as sure!Dear indeed was she while among us: dear,Now she is dead, must she forever be:Thy portion was to clasp, within thy couch,The noblest of all women as a wife.Nor be the tomb of her supposed some heapThat hides mortality: but like the GodsHonored, a veneration to a worldOf wanderers! Oft the wanderer, struck thereby,Who else had sailed past in his merchant-ship,Ay, he shall leave ship, land, long wind his wayUp to the mountain-summit, till there breakSpeech forth, 'So, this was she, then, died of oldTo save her husband! now, a deityShe bends above us. Hail, benignant one!Give good!' Such voices so will supplicate.But—can it be? Alkmené's offspring comes,Admetos!—to thy house advances here!"

"They, too, upborne by airy help of song.

And haply science, which can find the stars,

Had searched the heights: had sounded depths as well

By catching much at books where logic lurked,

Yet nowhere found they aught could overcome

Necessity; not any medicine served,

Which Thrakian tablets treasure, Orphic voice

Wrote itself down upon: nor remedy

Which Phoibos gave to the Asklepiadai;

Cutting the roots of many a virtuous herb

To solace overburdened mortals. None!

Of this sole goddess, never may we go

To altar nor to image: sacrifice

She hears not. All to pray for is—'Approach!

But, oh, no harder on me, awful one,

Than heretofore! Let life endure thee still!

For, whatsoe'er Zeus' nod decree, that same

In concert with thee hath accomplishment.

Iron, the very stuff o' the Chaluboi,

Thou, by sheer strength, dost conquer and subdue;

Nor, of that harsh abrupt resolve of thine,

Any relenting is there!"

"O my king!

Thee also, in the shackles of those hands,

Not to be shunned, the Goddess grasped! Yet, bear!

Since never wilt thou lead from underground

The dead ones, wail thy worst! If mortals die,—

The very children of immortals, too,

Dropped 'mid our darkness, these decay as sure!

Dear indeed was she while among us: dear,

Now she is dead, must she forever be:

Thy portion was to clasp, within thy couch,

The noblest of all women as a wife.

Nor be the tomb of her supposed some heap

That hides mortality: but like the Gods

Honored, a veneration to a world

Of wanderers! Oft the wanderer, struck thereby,

Who else had sailed past in his merchant-ship,

Ay, he shall leave ship, land, long wind his way

Up to the mountain-summit, till there break

Speech forth, 'So, this was she, then, died of old

To save her husband! now, a deity

She bends above us. Hail, benignant one!

Give good!' Such voices so will supplicate.

But—can it be? Alkmené's offspring comes,

Admetos!—to thy house advances here!"

I doubt not, they supposed him decentlyDead somewhere in that winter world of Thrace—Vanquished by one o' the Bistones, or elseVictim to some mad steed's voracity—For did not friends prognosticate as much?It were a new example to the point,That "children of immortals, dropped by stealthInto our darkness, die as sure as we!"A case to quote and comfort people with:But, as for lamentation, ai and pheu,Right-minded subjects kept them for their lord.

I doubt not, they supposed him decently

Dead somewhere in that winter world of Thrace—

Vanquished by one o' the Bistones, or else

Victim to some mad steed's voracity—

For did not friends prognosticate as much?

It were a new example to the point,

That "children of immortals, dropped by stealth

Into our darkness, die as sure as we!"

A case to quote and comfort people with:

But, as for lamentation, ai and pheu,

Right-minded subjects kept them for their lord.

Ay, he it was advancing! In he strode,And took his stand before Admetos,—turnedNow by despair to such a quietude,He neither raised his face nor spoke, this time,The while his friend surveyed him steadily.That friend looked rough with fighting: had he strainedWorst brute to breast was ever strangled yet?Somehow, a victory—for there stood the strength,Happy, as always; something grave, perhapsThe great vein-cordage on the fret-worked front,Black-swollen, beaded yet with battle-dewThe yellow hair o' the hero!—his big frameA-quiver with each muscle sinking backInto the sleepy smooth it leaped from late.Under the great guard of one arm, there leantA shrouded something, live and woman-like,Propped by the heartbeats 'neath the lion-coat.When he had finished his survey, it seemed,The heavings of the heart began subside,The helpful breath returned, and last the smileShone out, all Herakles was back again,As the words followed the saluting hand.

Ay, he it was advancing! In he strode,

And took his stand before Admetos,—turned

Now by despair to such a quietude,

He neither raised his face nor spoke, this time,

The while his friend surveyed him steadily.

That friend looked rough with fighting: had he strained

Worst brute to breast was ever strangled yet?

Somehow, a victory—for there stood the strength,

Happy, as always; something grave, perhaps

The great vein-cordage on the fret-worked front,

Black-swollen, beaded yet with battle-dew

The yellow hair o' the hero!—his big frame

A-quiver with each muscle sinking back

Into the sleepy smooth it leaped from late.

Under the great guard of one arm, there leant

A shrouded something, live and woman-like,

Propped by the heartbeats 'neath the lion-coat.

When he had finished his survey, it seemed,

The heavings of the heart began subside,

The helpful breath returned, and last the smile

Shone out, all Herakles was back again,

As the words followed the saluting hand.

"To friendly man, behooves we freely speak,Admetos!—nor keep buried, deep in breast,Blame we leave silent. I assuredlyJudged myself proper, if I should approachBy accident calamities of thine,To be demonstrably thy friend: but thouTold'st me not of the corpse then claiming care,That was thy wife's, but didst instal me guestI' the house here, as though busied with a griefIndeed, but then, mere grief beyond thy gate:And so, I crowned my head, and to the GodsPoured my libations in thy dwelling-place,With such misfortune round me. And I blame—Certainly blame thee, having suffered thus!But still I would not pain thee, pained enough:So let it pass! Wherefore I seek thee now,Having turned back again though onward bound,That I will tell thee. Take and keep for meThis woman, till I come thy way again,Driving before me, having killed the kingO' the Bistones, that drove of Thrakian steeds;In such case, give the woman back to me!But should I fare,—as fare I fain would not,Seeing I hope to prosper and return,—Then, I bequeath her as thy household slave.She came into my hands with good hard toil!For, what find I, when started on my course,But certain people, a whole country-side,Holding a wrestling-bout? as good to meAs a new labor: whence I took, and hereCome keeping with me, this, the victor's prize.For, such as conquered in the easy work,Gained horses which they drove away: and suchAs conquered in the harder,—those who boxedAnd wrestled,—cattle; and, to crown the prize,A woman followed. Chancing as I did,Base were it to forego this fame and gain!Well, as I said, I trust her to thy care:No woman I have kidnapped, understand!But good hard toil has done it: here I come!Some day, who knows? even thou wilt praise the feat!"

"To friendly man, behooves we freely speak,

Admetos!—nor keep buried, deep in breast,

Blame we leave silent. I assuredly

Judged myself proper, if I should approach

By accident calamities of thine,

To be demonstrably thy friend: but thou

Told'st me not of the corpse then claiming care,

That was thy wife's, but didst instal me guest

I' the house here, as though busied with a grief

Indeed, but then, mere grief beyond thy gate:

And so, I crowned my head, and to the Gods

Poured my libations in thy dwelling-place,

With such misfortune round me. And I blame—

Certainly blame thee, having suffered thus!

But still I would not pain thee, pained enough:

So let it pass! Wherefore I seek thee now,

Having turned back again though onward bound,

That I will tell thee. Take and keep for me

This woman, till I come thy way again,

Driving before me, having killed the king

O' the Bistones, that drove of Thrakian steeds;

In such case, give the woman back to me!

But should I fare,—as fare I fain would not,

Seeing I hope to prosper and return,—

Then, I bequeath her as thy household slave.

She came into my hands with good hard toil!

For, what find I, when started on my course,

But certain people, a whole country-side,

Holding a wrestling-bout? as good to me

As a new labor: whence I took, and here

Come keeping with me, this, the victor's prize.

For, such as conquered in the easy work,

Gained horses which they drove away: and such

As conquered in the harder,—those who boxed

And wrestled,—cattle; and, to crown the prize,

A woman followed. Chancing as I did,

Base were it to forego this fame and gain!

Well, as I said, I trust her to thy care:

No woman I have kidnapped, understand!

But good hard toil has done it: here I come!

Some day, who knows? even thou wilt praise the feat!"

Admetos raised his face and eyed the pair:Then, hollowly and with submission, spoke,And spoke again, and spoke time after time,When he perceived the silence of his friendWould not be broken by consenting word.As a tired slave goes adding stone to stoneUntil he stop some current that molests,So poor Admetos piled up argumentVainly against the purpose all too plainIn that great brow acquainted with command.

Admetos raised his face and eyed the pair:

Then, hollowly and with submission, spoke,

And spoke again, and spoke time after time,

When he perceived the silence of his friend

Would not be broken by consenting word.

As a tired slave goes adding stone to stone

Until he stop some current that molests,

So poor Admetos piled up argument

Vainly against the purpose all too plain

In that great brow acquainted with command.

"Nowise dishonoring, nor amid my foesRanking thee, did I hide my wife's ill fate;But it were grief superimposed on grief,Shouldst thou have hastened to another home.My own woe was enough for me to weep!But, for this woman,—if it so may be,—Bid some Thessalian,—I entreat thee, king!—Keep her,—who has not suffered like myself!Many of the Pheraioi welcome thee.Be no reminder to me of my ills!I could not, if I saw her come to live,Restrain the tear! Inflict on me, diseased,No new disease: woe bends me down enough!Then, where could she be sheltered in my house,Female and young too? For that she is young,The vesture and adornment prove. Reflect!Should such an one inhabit the same roofWith men? And how, mixed up, a girl, with youths,Shall she keep pure, in that case? No light taskTo curb the May-day youngster, Herakles!I only speak because of care for thee.Or must I, in avoidance of such harm,Make her to enter, lead her life withinThe chamber of the dead one, all apart?How shall I introduce this other, couchThis where Alkestis lay? A double blameI apprehend: first, from the citizens—Lest some tongue of them taunt that I betrayMy benefactress, fall into the snareOf a new fresh face: then, the dead one's self,—Will she not blame me likewise? Worthy, sure,Of worship from me! circumspect my ways,And jealous of a fault, are bound to be.But thou,—O woman, whosoe'er thou art,—Know, thou hast all the form, art like as likeAlkestis, in the bodily shape! Ah me!Take—by the Gods—this woman from my sight,Lest thou undo me, the undone before!Since I seem—seeing her—as if I sawMy own wife! And confusions cloud my heart,And from my eyes the springs break forth! Ah meUnhappy—how I taste for the first timeMy misery in all its bitterness!"

"Nowise dishonoring, nor amid my foes

Ranking thee, did I hide my wife's ill fate;

But it were grief superimposed on grief,

Shouldst thou have hastened to another home.

My own woe was enough for me to weep!

But, for this woman,—if it so may be,—

Bid some Thessalian,—I entreat thee, king!—

Keep her,—who has not suffered like myself!

Many of the Pheraioi welcome thee.

Be no reminder to me of my ills!

I could not, if I saw her come to live,

Restrain the tear! Inflict on me, diseased,

No new disease: woe bends me down enough!

Then, where could she be sheltered in my house,

Female and young too? For that she is young,

The vesture and adornment prove. Reflect!

Should such an one inhabit the same roof

With men? And how, mixed up, a girl, with youths,

Shall she keep pure, in that case? No light task

To curb the May-day youngster, Herakles!

I only speak because of care for thee.

Or must I, in avoidance of such harm,

Make her to enter, lead her life within

The chamber of the dead one, all apart?

How shall I introduce this other, couch

This where Alkestis lay? A double blame

I apprehend: first, from the citizens—

Lest some tongue of them taunt that I betray

My benefactress, fall into the snare

Of a new fresh face: then, the dead one's self,—

Will she not blame me likewise? Worthy, sure,

Of worship from me! circumspect my ways,

And jealous of a fault, are bound to be.

But thou,—O woman, whosoe'er thou art,—

Know, thou hast all the form, art like as like

Alkestis, in the bodily shape! Ah me!

Take—by the Gods—this woman from my sight,

Lest thou undo me, the undone before!

Since I seem—seeing her—as if I saw

My own wife! And confusions cloud my heart,

And from my eyes the springs break forth! Ah me

Unhappy—how I taste for the first time

My misery in all its bitterness!"

Whereat the friends conferred: "The chance, in truth,Was an untoward one—none said otherwise.Still, what a God comes giving, good or bad,That, one should take and bear with. Take her, then!"

Whereat the friends conferred: "The chance, in truth,

Was an untoward one—none said otherwise.

Still, what a God comes giving, good or bad,

That, one should take and bear with. Take her, then!"

Herakles,—not unfastening his holdOn that same misery, beyond mistakeHoarse in the words, convulsive in the face,—"I would that I had such a power," said he,"As to lead up into the light againThy very wife, and grant thee such a grace!"

Herakles,—not unfastening his hold

On that same misery, beyond mistake

Hoarse in the words, convulsive in the face,—

"I would that I had such a power," said he,

"As to lead up into the light again

Thy very wife, and grant thee such a grace!"

"Well do I know thou wouldst: but where the hope?There is no bringing back the dead to light."

"Well do I know thou wouldst: but where the hope?

There is no bringing back the dead to light."

"Be not extravagant in grief, no less!Bear it, by augury of better things!"

"Be not extravagant in grief, no less!

Bear it, by augury of better things!"

"'T is easier to advise 'bear up,' than bear!"

"But how carve way i' the life that lies before,If bent on groaning ever for the past?"

"But how carve way i' the life that lies before,

If bent on groaning ever for the past?"

"I myself know that: but a certain loveAllures me to the choice I shall not change."

"I myself know that: but a certain love

Allures me to the choice I shall not change."

"Ay, but, still loving dead ones, still makes weep."

"And let it be so! She has ruined me,And still more than I say: that answers all."

"And let it be so! She has ruined me,

And still more than I say: that answers all."

"Oh, thou hast lost a brave wife: who disputes?"

"So brave a one—that he whom thou behold'stWill never more enjoy his life again!"

"So brave a one—that he whom thou behold'st

Will never more enjoy his life again!"

"Time will assuage! The evil yet is young!"

"Time, thou mayst say, will; if time mean—to die."

"A wife—the longing for new marriage-joysWill stop thy sorrow!""Hush, friend,—hold thy peace!What hast thou said! I could not credit ear!"

"A wife—the longing for new marriage-joys

Will stop thy sorrow!"

"Hush, friend,—hold thy peace!

What hast thou said! I could not credit ear!"

"How then? Thou wilt not marry, then, but keepA widowed couch?""There is not any oneOf womankind shall couch with whom thou seest!"

"How then? Thou wilt not marry, then, but keep

A widowed couch?"

"There is not any one

Of womankind shall couch with whom thou seest!"

"Dost think to profit thus in any wayThe dead one?"

"Dost think to profit thus in any way

The dead one?"

"Her, wherever she abide,My duty is to honor.""And I praise—Indeed I praise thee! Still, thou hast to payThe price of it, in being held a fool!"

"Her, wherever she abide,

My duty is to honor."

"And I praise—

Indeed I praise thee! Still, thou hast to pay

The price of it, in being held a fool!"

"Fool call me—only one name call me not!Bridegroom!""No: it was praise, I portioned thee,Of being good true husband to thy wife!"

"Fool call me—only one name call me not!

Bridegroom!"

"No: it was praise, I portioned thee,

Of being good true husband to thy wife!"

"When I betray her, though she is no more,May I die!"And the thing he said was true:For out of Herakles a great glow broke.There stood a victor worthy of a prize:The violet-crown that-withers on the browOf the half-hearted claimant. Oh, he knewThe signs of battle hard fought and well won,This queller of the monsters!—knew his friendPlanted firm foot, now, on the loathly thingThat was Admetos late! "would die," he knew,Ere let the reptile raise its crest again.If that was truth, why try the true friend more?

"When I betray her, though she is no more,

May I die!"

And the thing he said was true:

For out of Herakles a great glow broke.

There stood a victor worthy of a prize:

The violet-crown that-withers on the brow

Of the half-hearted claimant. Oh, he knew

The signs of battle hard fought and well won,

This queller of the monsters!—knew his friend

Planted firm foot, now, on the loathly thing

That was Admetos late! "would die," he knew,

Ere let the reptile raise its crest again.

If that was truth, why try the true friend more?

"Then, since thou canst be faithful to the death,Take, deep into thy house, my dame!" smiled he.

"Then, since thou canst be faithful to the death,

Take, deep into thy house, my dame!" smiled he.

"Not so!—I pray, by thy Progenitor!"

"Thou wilt mistake in disobeying me!"

"Obeying thee, I have to break my heart!"

"Obey me! Who knows but the favor doneMay fall into its place as duty too?"

"Obey me! Who knows but the favor done

May fall into its place as duty too?"

So, he was humble, would decline no moreBearing a burden: he just sighed, "Alas!Would thou hadst never brought this prize from game!"

So, he was humble, would decline no more

Bearing a burden: he just sighed, "Alas!

Would thou hadst never brought this prize from game!"

"Yet, when I conquered there, thou conqueredst!"

"All excellently urged! Yet—spite of all,Bear with me! let the woman go away!"

"All excellently urged! Yet—spite of all,

Bear with me! let the woman go away!"

"She shall go, if needs must: but ere she go,See if thereisneed!""Need there is! At least,Except I make thee angry with me, so!"

"She shall go, if needs must: but ere she go,

See if thereisneed!"

"Need there is! At least,

Except I make thee angry with me, so!"

"But I persist, because I have my spiceOf intuition likewise: take the dame!"

"But I persist, because I have my spice

Of intuition likewise: take the dame!"

"Be thou the victor, then! But certainlyThou dost thy friend no pleasure in the act!"

"Be thou the victor, then! But certainly

Thou dost thy friend no pleasure in the act!"

"Oh, time will come when thou shalt praise me! Now—Only obey!"

"Oh, time will come when thou shalt praise me! Now—

Only obey!"

"Then, servants, since my houseMust needs receive this woman, take her there!"

"Then, servants, since my house

Must needs receive this woman, take her there!"

"I shall not trust this woman to the careOf servants."

"I shall not trust this woman to the care

Of servants."

"Why, conduct her in, thyself,If that seem preferable!""I prefer,With thy good leave, to place her in thy hands!"

"Why, conduct her in, thyself,

If that seem preferable!"

"I prefer,

With thy good leave, to place her in thy hands!"

"I would not touch her! Entry to the house—That, I concede thee.""To thy sole right handI mean to trust her!""King! Thou wrenchest thisOut of me by main force, if I submit!"

"I would not touch her! Entry to the house—

That, I concede thee."

"To thy sole right hand

I mean to trust her!"

"King! Thou wrenchest this

Out of me by main force, if I submit!"

"Courage, friend! Come, stretch hand forth: Good! Now touchThe stranger-woman!""There! A hand I stretch—As though it meant to cut off Gorgon's head!"

"Courage, friend! Come, stretch hand forth: Good! Now touch

The stranger-woman!"

"There! A hand I stretch—

As though it meant to cut off Gorgon's head!"

"Hast hold of her?""Fast hold.""Why, then, hold fastAnd have her! and, one day, asseverateThou wilt, I think, thy friend, the son of Zeus,He was the gentle guest to entertain!Look at her! See if she, in any way,Present thee with resemblance of thy wife!"

"Hast hold of her?"

"Fast hold."

"Why, then, hold fast

And have her! and, one day, asseverate

Thou wilt, I think, thy friend, the son of Zeus,

He was the gentle guest to entertain!

Look at her! See if she, in any way,

Present thee with resemblance of thy wife!"

Ah, but the tears come, find the words at fault!There is no telling how the hero twitchedThe veil off: and there stood, with such fixed eyesAnd such slow smile, Alkestis' silent self!It was the crowning grace of that great heart,To keep back joy: procrastinate the truthUntil the wife, who had made proof and foundThe husband wanting, might essay once more,Hear, see, and feel him renovated now—Able to do, now, all herself had done,Risen to the height of her: so, hand in hand,The two might go together, live and die.

Ah, but the tears come, find the words at fault!

There is no telling how the hero twitched

The veil off: and there stood, with such fixed eyes

And such slow smile, Alkestis' silent self!

It was the crowning grace of that great heart,

To keep back joy: procrastinate the truth

Until the wife, who had made proof and found

The husband wanting, might essay once more,

Hear, see, and feel him renovated now—

Able to do, now, all herself had done,

Risen to the height of her: so, hand in hand,

The two might go together, live and die.

Beside, when he found speech, you guess the speech.He could not think he saw his wife again:It was some mocking God that used the blissTo make him mad! Till Herakles must help:Assure him that no spectre mocked at all;He was embracing whom he buried once.Still,—did he touch, might he address the true,—True eye, true body of the true live wife?

Beside, when he found speech, you guess the speech.

He could not think he saw his wife again:

It was some mocking God that used the bliss

To make him mad! Till Herakles must help:

Assure him that no spectre mocked at all;

He was embracing whom he buried once.

Still,—did he touch, might he address the true,—

True eye, true body of the true live wife?

And Herakles said, smiling, "All was truth.Spectre? Admetos had not made his guestOne who played ghost-invoker, or such cheat!Oh, he might speak and have response, in time!All heart could wish was gained now—life for death:Only, the rapture must not grow immense:Take care, nor wake the envy of the Gods!"

And Herakles said, smiling, "All was truth.

Spectre? Admetos had not made his guest

One who played ghost-invoker, or such cheat!

Oh, he might speak and have response, in time!

All heart could wish was gained now—life for death:

Only, the rapture must not grow immense:

Take care, nor wake the envy of the Gods!"

"O thou, of greatest Zeus true son,"—so spokeAdmetos when the closing word must come,"Go ever in a glory of success,And save, that sire, his offspring to the end!For thou hast—only thou—raised me and mineUp again to this light and life!" Then askedTremblingly, how was trod the perilous pathOut of the dark into the light and life:How it had happened with Alkestis there.

"O thou, of greatest Zeus true son,"—so spoke

Admetos when the closing word must come,

"Go ever in a glory of success,

And save, that sire, his offspring to the end!

For thou hast—only thou—raised me and mine

Up again to this light and life!" Then asked

Tremblingly, how was trod the perilous path

Out of the dark into the light and life:

How it had happened with Alkestis there.

And Herakles said little, but enough—How he engaged in combat with that kingO' the dæmons: how the field of contest layBy the tomb's self: how he sprang from ambuscade,Captured Death, caught him in that pair of hands.

And Herakles said little, but enough—

How he engaged in combat with that king

O' the dæmons: how the field of contest lay

By the tomb's self: how he sprang from ambuscade,

Captured Death, caught him in that pair of hands.

But all the time, Alkestis moved not onceOut of the set gaze and the silent smile;And a cold fear ran through Admetos' frame:"Why does she stand and front me, silent thus?"

But all the time, Alkestis moved not once

Out of the set gaze and the silent smile;

And a cold fear ran through Admetos' frame:

"Why does she stand and front me, silent thus?"

Herakles solemnly replied, "Not yetIs it allowable thou hear the thingsShe has to tell thee; let evanish quiteThat consecration to the lower Gods,And on our upper world the third day rise!Lead her in, meanwhile; good and true thou art,Good, true, remain thou! Practise pietyTo stranger-guests the old way! So, farewell!Since forth I fare, fulfil my urgent taskSet by the king, the son of Sthenelos."

Herakles solemnly replied, "Not yet

Is it allowable thou hear the things

She has to tell thee; let evanish quite

That consecration to the lower Gods,

And on our upper world the third day rise!

Lead her in, meanwhile; good and true thou art,

Good, true, remain thou! Practise piety

To stranger-guests the old way! So, farewell!

Since forth I fare, fulfil my urgent task

Set by the king, the son of Sthenelos."

Fain would Admetos keep that splendid smileEver to light him. "Stay with us, thou heart!Remain our house-friend!"

Fain would Admetos keep that splendid smile

Ever to light him. "Stay with us, thou heart!

Remain our house-friend!"

"At some other day!Now, of necessity, I haste!" smiled he.

"At some other day!

Now, of necessity, I haste!" smiled he.

"But mayst thou prosper, go forth on a footSure to return! Through all the tetrarchy,Command my subjects that they instituteThanksgiving-dances for the glad event,And bid each altar smoke with sacrifice!For we are minded to begin a freshExistence, better than the life before;Seeing I own myself supremely blest."

"But mayst thou prosper, go forth on a foot

Sure to return! Through all the tetrarchy,

Command my subjects that they institute

Thanksgiving-dances for the glad event,

And bid each altar smoke with sacrifice!

For we are minded to begin a fresh

Existence, better than the life before;

Seeing I own myself supremely blest."

Whereupon all the friendly moralistsDrew this conclusion: chirped, each beard to each:"Manifold are thy shapings, Providence!Many a hopeless matter Gods arrange.What we expected never came to pass:What we did not expect Gods brought to bear;So have things gone, this whole experience through!"

Whereupon all the friendly moralists

Drew this conclusion: chirped, each beard to each:

"Manifold are thy shapings, Providence!

Many a hopeless matter Gods arrange.

What we expected never came to pass:

What we did not expect Gods brought to bear;

So have things gone, this whole experience through!"

Ah, but if you had seen the play itself!They say, my poet failed to get the prize:Sophokles got the prize,—great name! They say,Sophokles also means to make a piece,Model a new Admetos, a new wife:Success to him! One thing has many sides.The great name! But no good supplants a good,Nor beauty undoes beauty. SophoklesWill carve and carry a fresh cup, brimfulOf beauty and good, firm to the altar-foot,And glorify the Dionusiac shrine:Not clash against this crater in the placeWhere the God put it when his mouth had drained,To the last dregs, libation lifeblood-like,And praised Euripides forevermore—The Human with his droppings of warm tears.

Ah, but if you had seen the play itself!

They say, my poet failed to get the prize:

Sophokles got the prize,—great name! They say,

Sophokles also means to make a piece,

Model a new Admetos, a new wife:

Success to him! One thing has many sides.

The great name! But no good supplants a good,

Nor beauty undoes beauty. Sophokles

Will carve and carry a fresh cup, brimful

Of beauty and good, firm to the altar-foot,

And glorify the Dionusiac shrine:

Not clash against this crater in the place

Where the God put it when his mouth had drained,

To the last dregs, libation lifeblood-like,

And praised Euripides forevermore—

The Human with his droppings of warm tears.

Still, since one thing may have so many sides,I think I see how,—far from Sophokles,—You, I, or any one might mould a newAdmetos, new Alkestis. Ah, that braveBounty of poets, the one royal raceThat ever was, or will be, in this world!They give no gift that hounds itself and endsI' the giving and the taking: theirs so breedsI' the heart and soul o' the taker, so transmutesThe man who only was a man before,That he grows godlike in his turn, can give—He also: share the poets' privilege,Bring forth new good, new beauty, from the old.As though the cup that gave the wine, gave, too,The God's prolific giver of the grape,That vine, was wont to find out, fawn aroundHis footstep, springing still to bless the dearth,At bidding of a Mainad. So with me:For I have drunk this poem, quenched my thirst,Satisfied heart and soul—yet more remains!Could we too make a poem? Try at least,Inside the head, what shape the rose-mists take!

Still, since one thing may have so many sides,

I think I see how,—far from Sophokles,—

You, I, or any one might mould a new

Admetos, new Alkestis. Ah, that brave

Bounty of poets, the one royal race

That ever was, or will be, in this world!

They give no gift that hounds itself and ends

I' the giving and the taking: theirs so breeds

I' the heart and soul o' the taker, so transmutes

The man who only was a man before,

That he grows godlike in his turn, can give—

He also: share the poets' privilege,

Bring forth new good, new beauty, from the old.

As though the cup that gave the wine, gave, too,

The God's prolific giver of the grape,

That vine, was wont to find out, fawn around

His footstep, springing still to bless the dearth,

At bidding of a Mainad. So with me:

For I have drunk this poem, quenched my thirst,

Satisfied heart and soul—yet more remains!

Could we too make a poem? Try at least,

Inside the head, what shape the rose-mists take!

When God Apollon took, for punishment,A mortal form and sold himself a slaveTo King Admetos till a term should end,—Not only did he make, in servitude,Such music, while he fed the flocks and herds,As saved the pasturage from wrong or fright,Curing rough creatures of ungentleness:Much more did that melodious wisdom workWithin the heart o' the master: there, ran wildMany a lust and greed that grow to strengthBy preying on the native pity and care,Would else, all undisturbed, possess the land.

When God Apollon took, for punishment,

A mortal form and sold himself a slave

To King Admetos till a term should end,—

Not only did he make, in servitude,

Such music, while he fed the flocks and herds,

As saved the pasturage from wrong or fright,

Curing rough creatures of ungentleness:

Much more did that melodious wisdom work

Within the heart o' the master: there, ran wild

Many a lust and greed that grow to strength

By preying on the native pity and care,

Would else, all undisturbed, possess the land.

And these the God so tamed, with golden tongue,That, in the plenitude of youth and power,Admetos vowed himself to rule thenceforthIn Pherai solely for his people's sake,Subduing to such end each lust and greedThat dominates the natural charity.

And these the God so tamed, with golden tongue,

That, in the plenitude of youth and power,

Admetos vowed himself to rule thenceforth

In Pherai solely for his people's sake,

Subduing to such end each lust and greed

That dominates the natural charity.

And so the struggle ended. Right ruled might:And soft yet brave, and good yet wise, the manStood up to be a monarch; having learnedThe worth of life, life's worth would he bestowOn all whose lot was cast, to live or die,As he determined for the multitude.So stands a statue: pedestalled sublime,Only that it may wave the thunder off,And ward, from winds that vex, a world below.

And so the struggle ended. Right ruled might:

And soft yet brave, and good yet wise, the man

Stood up to be a monarch; having learned

The worth of life, life's worth would he bestow

On all whose lot was cast, to live or die,

As he determined for the multitude.

So stands a statue: pedestalled sublime,

Only that it may wave the thunder off,

And ward, from winds that vex, a world below.

And then,—as if a whisper found its wayE'en to the sense o' the marble,—"Vain thy vow!The royalty of its resolve, that headShall hide within the dust ere day be done:That arm, its outstretch of beneficence,Shall have a speedy ending on the earth:Lie patient, prone, while light some cricket leapsAnd takes possession of the masterpiece,To sit, sing louder as more near the sun.For why? A flaw was in the pedestal;Who knows? A worm's work! Sapped, the certain fateO' the statue is to fall, and thine to die!"

And then,—as if a whisper found its way

E'en to the sense o' the marble,—"Vain thy vow!

The royalty of its resolve, that head

Shall hide within the dust ere day be done:

That arm, its outstretch of beneficence,

Shall have a speedy ending on the earth:

Lie patient, prone, while light some cricket leaps

And takes possession of the masterpiece,

To sit, sing louder as more near the sun.

For why? A flaw was in the pedestal;

Who knows? A worm's work! Sapped, the certain fate

O' the statue is to fall, and thine to die!"

Whereat the monarch, calm, addressed himselfTo die, but bitterly the soul outbroke—"O prodigality of life, blind wasteI' the world, of power profuse without the willTo make life do its work, deserve its day!My ancestors pursued their pleasure, pouredThe blood o' the people out in idle war,Or took occasion of some weary peaceTo hid men dig down deep or build up high,Spend bone and marrow that the king might feastEntrenched and buttressed from the vulgar gaze.Yet they all lived, nay, lingered to old age:As though Zeus loved that they should laugh to scornThe vanity of seeking other endsIn rule, than just the ruler's pastime. TheyLived; I must die."And, as some long last moanOf a minor suddenly is propped beneathBy note which, new-struck, turns the wail that wasInto a wonder and a triumph, soBegan Alkestis: "Nay, thou art to live!The glory that, in the disguise of flesh,Was helpful to our house,—he prophesiedThe coming fate: whereon, I pleaded soreThat he,—I guessed a God, who to his couchAmid the clouds must go and come again,While we were darkling,—since he loved us both,He should permit thee, at whatever price,To live and carry out to heart's contentSoul's purpose, turn each thought to very deed,Nor let Zeus lose the monarch meant in thee.

Whereat the monarch, calm, addressed himself

To die, but bitterly the soul outbroke—

"O prodigality of life, blind waste

I' the world, of power profuse without the will

To make life do its work, deserve its day!

My ancestors pursued their pleasure, poured

The blood o' the people out in idle war,

Or took occasion of some weary peace

To hid men dig down deep or build up high,

Spend bone and marrow that the king might feast

Entrenched and buttressed from the vulgar gaze.

Yet they all lived, nay, lingered to old age:

As though Zeus loved that they should laugh to scorn

The vanity of seeking other ends

In rule, than just the ruler's pastime. They

Lived; I must die."

And, as some long last moan

Of a minor suddenly is propped beneath

By note which, new-struck, turns the wail that was

Into a wonder and a triumph, so

Began Alkestis: "Nay, thou art to live!

The glory that, in the disguise of flesh,

Was helpful to our house,—he prophesied

The coming fate: whereon, I pleaded sore

That he,—I guessed a God, who to his couch

Amid the clouds must go and come again,

While we were darkling,—since he loved us both,

He should permit thee, at whatever price,

To live and carry out to heart's content

Soul's purpose, turn each thought to very deed,

Nor let Zeus lose the monarch meant in thee.

"To which Apollon, with a sunset smile,Sadly—'and so should mortals arbitrate!It were unseemly if they aped us Gods,And, mindful of our chain of consequence,Lost care of the immediate earthly link:Forwent the comfort of life's little hour,In prospect of some cold abysmal blankAlien eternity,—unlike the timeThey know, and understand to practise with,—No,—our eternity—no heart's blood, brightAnd warm outpoured in its behoof, would tingeNever so palely, warm a whit the more:Whereas retained and treasured—left to beatJoyously on, a life's length, in the breastO' the loved and loving—it would throb itselfThrough, and suffuse the earthly tenement,Transform it, even as your mansion hereIs love-transformed into a temple-homeWhere I, a God, forget the Olumpian glow,I' the feel of human richness like the rose:Your hopes and fears, so blind and yet so sweetWith death about them. Therefore, well in theeTo look, not on eternity, but time:To apprehend that, should Admetos die,All, we Gods purposed in him, dies as sure:That, life's link snapping, all our chain is lost.And yet a mortal glance might pierce, methinks,Deeper into the seeming dark of things,And learn, no fruit, man's life can bear, will fade:Learn, if Admetos die now, so much moreWill pity for the frailness found in flesh,Will terror at the earthly chance and changeFrustrating wisest scheme of noblest soul,Will these go wake the seeds of good asleepThroughout the world: as oft a rough wind shedsThe unripe promise of some field-flower,—true!But loosens too the level, and lets breatheA thousand captives for the year to come.Nevertheless, obtain thy prayer, stay fate!Admetos lives—if thou wilt die for him!'

"To which Apollon, with a sunset smile,

Sadly—'and so should mortals arbitrate!

It were unseemly if they aped us Gods,

And, mindful of our chain of consequence,

Lost care of the immediate earthly link:

Forwent the comfort of life's little hour,

In prospect of some cold abysmal blank

Alien eternity,—unlike the time

They know, and understand to practise with,—

No,—our eternity—no heart's blood, bright

And warm outpoured in its behoof, would tinge

Never so palely, warm a whit the more:

Whereas retained and treasured—left to beat

Joyously on, a life's length, in the breast

O' the loved and loving—it would throb itself

Through, and suffuse the earthly tenement,

Transform it, even as your mansion here

Is love-transformed into a temple-home

Where I, a God, forget the Olumpian glow,

I' the feel of human richness like the rose:

Your hopes and fears, so blind and yet so sweet

With death about them. Therefore, well in thee

To look, not on eternity, but time:

To apprehend that, should Admetos die,

All, we Gods purposed in him, dies as sure:

That, life's link snapping, all our chain is lost.

And yet a mortal glance might pierce, methinks,

Deeper into the seeming dark of things,

And learn, no fruit, man's life can bear, will fade:

Learn, if Admetos die now, so much more

Will pity for the frailness found in flesh,

Will terror at the earthly chance and change

Frustrating wisest scheme of noblest soul,

Will these go wake the seeds of good asleep

Throughout the world: as oft a rough wind sheds

The unripe promise of some field-flower,—true!

But loosens too the level, and lets breathe

A thousand captives for the year to come.

Nevertheless, obtain thy prayer, stay fate!

Admetos lives—if thou wilt die for him!'

"So was the pact concluded that I die,And thou live on, live for thyself, for me,For all the world. Embrace and bid me hail,Husband, because I have the victory—Am, heart, soul, head to foot, one happiness!"

"So was the pact concluded that I die,

And thou live on, live for thyself, for me,

For all the world. Embrace and bid me hail,

Husband, because I have the victory—

Am, heart, soul, head to foot, one happiness!"

Whereto Admetos, in a passionate cry:"Never, by that true word Apollon spoke!All the unwise wish is unwished, O wife!Let purposes of Zeus fulfil themselves,If not through me, then through some other man!Still, in myself he had a purpose too,Inalienably mine, to end with me:This purpose—that, throughout my earthly life,Mine should be mingled and made up with thine,—And we two prove one force and play one partAnd do one thing. Since death divides the pair,'T is well that I depart and thou remainWho wast to me as spirit is to flesh:Let the flesh perish, be perceived no more,So thou, the spirit that informed the flesh,Bend yet awhile, a very flame aboveThe rift I drop into the darkness by,—And bid remember, flesh and spirit onceWorked in the world, one body, for man's sake.Never be that abominable showOf passive death without a quickening life—Admetos only, no Alkestis now!"

Whereto Admetos, in a passionate cry:

"Never, by that true word Apollon spoke!

All the unwise wish is unwished, O wife!

Let purposes of Zeus fulfil themselves,

If not through me, then through some other man!

Still, in myself he had a purpose too,

Inalienably mine, to end with me:

This purpose—that, throughout my earthly life,

Mine should be mingled and made up with thine,—

And we two prove one force and play one part

And do one thing. Since death divides the pair,

'T is well that I depart and thou remain

Who wast to me as spirit is to flesh:

Let the flesh perish, be perceived no more,

So thou, the spirit that informed the flesh,

Bend yet awhile, a very flame above

The rift I drop into the darkness by,—

And bid remember, flesh and spirit once

Worked in the world, one body, for man's sake.

Never be that abominable show

Of passive death without a quickening life—

Admetos only, no Alkestis now!"

Then she: "O thou Admetos, must the pileOf truth on truth, which needs but one truth moreTo tower up in completeness, trophy-like,Emprise of man, and triumph of the world,Must it go ever to the ground againBecause of some faint heart or faltering hand,Which we, that breathless world about the base,Trusted should carry safe to altitude,Superimpose o' the summit, our supremeAchievement, our victorious coping-stone?Shall thine, Beloved, prove the hand and heartThat fail again, flinch backward at the truthWould cap and crown the structure this last time,—Precipitate our monumental hopeAnd strew the earth ignobly yet once more?See how, truth piled on truth, the structure wants,Waits justs the crowning truth I claim of thee!Wouldst thou, for any joy to be enjoyed,For any sorrow that thou mightst escape,Unwill thy will to reign a righteous king?Nowise! And were there two lots, death and life,—Life, wherein good resolve should go to air,Death, whereby finest fancy grew plain factI' the reign of thy survivor,—life or death?Certainly death, thou choosest. Here stand IThe wedded, the beloved one: hadst thou lovedHer who less worthily could estimateBoth life and death than thou? Not so should sayAdmetos, whom Apollon made come courtAlkestis in a car, submissive brutesOf blood were yoked to, symbolizing soulMust dominate unruly sense in man.Then, shall Admetos and Alkestis seeGood alike, and alike choose, each for each,Good,—and yet, each for other, at the last,Choose evil? What? thou soundest in my soulTo depths below the deepest, reachest goodIn evil, that makes evil good again,And so allottest to me that I liveAnd not die—letting die, not thee alone,But all true life that lived in both of us?Look at me once ere thou decree the lot!"

Then she: "O thou Admetos, must the pile

Of truth on truth, which needs but one truth more

To tower up in completeness, trophy-like,

Emprise of man, and triumph of the world,

Must it go ever to the ground again

Because of some faint heart or faltering hand,

Which we, that breathless world about the base,

Trusted should carry safe to altitude,

Superimpose o' the summit, our supreme

Achievement, our victorious coping-stone?

Shall thine, Beloved, prove the hand and heart

That fail again, flinch backward at the truth

Would cap and crown the structure this last time,—

Precipitate our monumental hope

And strew the earth ignobly yet once more?

See how, truth piled on truth, the structure wants,

Waits justs the crowning truth I claim of thee!

Wouldst thou, for any joy to be enjoyed,

For any sorrow that thou mightst escape,

Unwill thy will to reign a righteous king?

Nowise! And were there two lots, death and life,—

Life, wherein good resolve should go to air,

Death, whereby finest fancy grew plain fact

I' the reign of thy survivor,—life or death?

Certainly death, thou choosest. Here stand I

The wedded, the beloved one: hadst thou loved

Her who less worthily could estimate

Both life and death than thou? Not so should say

Admetos, whom Apollon made come court

Alkestis in a car, submissive brutes

Of blood were yoked to, symbolizing soul

Must dominate unruly sense in man.

Then, shall Admetos and Alkestis see

Good alike, and alike choose, each for each,

Good,—and yet, each for other, at the last,

Choose evil? What? thou soundest in my soul

To depths below the deepest, reachest good

In evil, that makes evil good again,

And so allottest to me that I live

And not die—letting die, not thee alone,

But all true life that lived in both of us?

Look at me once ere thou decree the lot!"

Therewith her whole soul entered into his,He looked the look back, and Alkestis died.

Therewith her whole soul entered into his,

He looked the look back, and Alkestis died.

And even while it lay, i' the look of him,Dead, the dimmed body, bright Alkestis' soulHad penetrated through the populaceOf ghosts, was got to Koré,—throned and crownedThe pensive queen o' the twilight, where she dwellsForever in a muse, but half awayFrom flowery earth she lost and hankers for,—And there demanded to become a ghostBefore the time.Whereat the softened eyesOf the lost maidenhood that lingered stillStraying among the flowers in Sicily,Sudden was startled back to Hades' throneBy that demand: broke through humanityInto the orbed omniscience of a God,Searched at a glance Alkestis to the soul,And said—while a long slow sigh lost itselfI' the hard and hollow passage of a laugh:

And even while it lay, i' the look of him,

Dead, the dimmed body, bright Alkestis' soul

Had penetrated through the populace

Of ghosts, was got to Koré,—throned and crowned

The pensive queen o' the twilight, where she dwells

Forever in a muse, but half away

From flowery earth she lost and hankers for,—

And there demanded to become a ghost

Before the time.

Whereat the softened eyes

Of the lost maidenhood that lingered still

Straying among the flowers in Sicily,

Sudden was startled back to Hades' throne

By that demand: broke through humanity

Into the orbed omniscience of a God,

Searched at a glance Alkestis to the soul,

And said—while a long slow sigh lost itself

I' the hard and hollow passage of a laugh:

"Hence, thou deceiver! This is not to die,If, by the very death which mocks me now,The life, that 's left behind and past my power,Is formidably doubled. Say, there fightTwo athletes, side by side, each athlete armedWith only half the weapons, and no more,Adequate to a contest with their foe:If one of these should fling helm, sword and shieldTo fellow—shieldless, swordless, helmless late—And so leap naked o'er the barrier, leaveA combatant equipped from head to heel,Yet cry to the other side, 'Receive a friendWho fights no longer!' 'Back, friend, to the fray!'Would be the prompt rebuff; I echo it.Two souls in one were formidable odds:Admetos must not be himself and thou!"

"Hence, thou deceiver! This is not to die,

If, by the very death which mocks me now,

The life, that 's left behind and past my power,

Is formidably doubled. Say, there fight

Two athletes, side by side, each athlete armed

With only half the weapons, and no more,

Adequate to a contest with their foe:

If one of these should fling helm, sword and shield

To fellow—shieldless, swordless, helmless late—

And so leap naked o'er the barrier, leave

A combatant equipped from head to heel,

Yet cry to the other side, 'Receive a friend

Who fights no longer!' 'Back, friend, to the fray!'

Would be the prompt rebuff; I echo it.

Two souls in one were formidable odds:

Admetos must not be himself and thou!"

And so, before the embrace relaxed a whit,The lost eyes opened, still beneath the look;And lo, Alkestis was alive again,And of Admetos' rapture who shall speak?

And so, before the embrace relaxed a whit,

The lost eyes opened, still beneath the look;

And lo, Alkestis was alive again,

And of Admetos' rapture who shall speak?

So, the two lived together long and well.But never could I learn, by word of scribeOr voice of poet, rumor wafts our way,That—of the scheme of rule in righteousness,The bringing back again the Golden Age,Which, rather than renounce, our pair would die—That ever one faint particle came true,With both alive to bring it to effect:Such is the envy Gods still bear mankind!

So, the two lived together long and well.

But never could I learn, by word of scribe

Or voice of poet, rumor wafts our way,

That—of the scheme of rule in righteousness,

The bringing back again the Golden Age,

Which, rather than renounce, our pair would die—

That ever one faint particle came true,

With both alive to bring it to effect:

Such is the envy Gods still bear mankind!

So might our version of the story prove,And no Euripidean pathos plagueToo much my critic-friend of Syracuse.

So might our version of the story prove,

And no Euripidean pathos plague

Too much my critic-friend of Syracuse.

"Besides your poem failed to get the prize:(That is, the first prize: second prize is none.)Sophokles got it!" Honor the great name!All cannot love two great names; yet some do:I know the poetess who graved in gold,Among her glories that shall never fade,This style and title for Euripides,The Human with his droppings of warm tears.

"Besides your poem failed to get the prize:

(That is, the first prize: second prize is none.)

Sophokles got it!" Honor the great name!

All cannot love two great names; yet some do:

I know the poetess who graved in gold,

Among her glories that shall never fade,

This style and title for Euripides,

The Human with his droppings of warm tears.

I know, too, a great Kaunian painter, strongAs Herakles, though rosy with a robeOf grace that softens down the sinewy strength:And he has made a picture of it all.There lies Alkestis dead, beneath the sun,She longed to look her last upon, besideThe sea, which somehow tempts the life in usTo come trip over its white waste of waves,And try escape from earth, and fleet as free.Behind the body, I suppose there bendsOld Pheres in his hoary impotence;And women-wailers in a corner crouch—Four, beautiful as you four—yes, indeed!—Close, each to other, agonizing all,As fastened, in fear's rhythmic sympathy,To two contending opposite. There strainsThe might o' the hero 'gainst his more than match,—Death, dreadful not in thew and bone, but likeThe envenomed substance that exudes some dewWhereby the merely honest flesh and bloodWill fester up and run to ruin straight,Ere they can close with, clasp and overcomeThe poisonous impalpabilityThat simulates a form beneath the flowOf those gray garments; I pronounce that pieceWorthy to set up in our Poikilé!

I know, too, a great Kaunian painter, strong

As Herakles, though rosy with a robe

Of grace that softens down the sinewy strength:

And he has made a picture of it all.

There lies Alkestis dead, beneath the sun,

She longed to look her last upon, beside

The sea, which somehow tempts the life in us

To come trip over its white waste of waves,

And try escape from earth, and fleet as free.

Behind the body, I suppose there bends

Old Pheres in his hoary impotence;

And women-wailers in a corner crouch

—Four, beautiful as you four—yes, indeed!—

Close, each to other, agonizing all,

As fastened, in fear's rhythmic sympathy,

To two contending opposite. There strains

The might o' the hero 'gainst his more than match,

—Death, dreadful not in thew and bone, but like

The envenomed substance that exudes some dew

Whereby the merely honest flesh and blood

Will fester up and run to ruin straight,

Ere they can close with, clasp and overcome

The poisonous impalpability

That simulates a form beneath the flow

Of those gray garments; I pronounce that piece

Worthy to set up in our Poikilé!

And all came,—glory of the golden verse,And passion of the picture, and that fineFrank outgush of the human gratitudeWhich saved our ship and me, in Syracuse,—Ay, and the tear or two which slipt perhapsAway from you, friends, while I told my tale,—It all came of this play that gained no prize!Why crown whom Zeus has crowned in soul before?

And all came,—glory of the golden verse,

And passion of the picture, and that fine

Frank outgush of the human gratitude

Which saved our ship and me, in Syracuse,—

Ay, and the tear or two which slipt perhaps

Away from you, friends, while I told my tale,

—It all came of this play that gained no prize!

Why crown whom Zeus has crowned in soul before?

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