OVERTURE

FROM "THRASYMEDES AND EUNOË "

WHO will away to Athens with me? who Loves choral songs and maidens crown'd with flowers,

Unenvious? mount the pinnace; hoist the sail.

I promise ye, as many as are here,
Ye shall not, while ye tarry with me, taste
From unrins'd barrel the diluted wine
Of a low vineyard or a plant ill prun'd,
But such as anciently the Ægean isles
Pour'd in libation at their solemn feasts:
And the same goblets shall ye grasp,
emboss'd

With no vile figures of loose languid boors, But such as gods have liv'd with and have led.

"I have not yet," thought Rhaicos in his heart,

And wanted proof.

"Suppose thou go and help Echion at the hill, to bark yon oak And lop its branches off, before we delve About the trunk and ply the root with axe : This we may do in winter."

Rhaicos went ; For thence he could see farther, and see

more

Of those who hurried to the city-gate. Echion he found there, with naked arm Swart-hair'd, strong-sinew'd, and his eyes intent

Upon the place where first the axe should fall:

He held it upright.

"There are bees about,

Or wasps, or hornets," said the cautious eld, "Look sharp, O son of Thallinos!" The youth

Inclin'd his ear, afar, and warily,

And cavern'd in his hand. He heard a buzz At first, and then the sound grew soft and clear,

And then divided into what seem'd tune, And there were words upon it, plaintive words.

He turn'd, and said, "Echion! do not strike That tree it must be hollow; for some god

Speaks from within. Come thyself near." Again

Both turn'd toward it: and behold! there

sat

Upon the moss below, with her two palms
Pressing it, on each side, a maid in form.
Downcast were her long eyelashes, and pale
Her cheek, but never mountain-ash display'd
Berries of color like her lip so pure,
Nor were the anemones about her hair
Soft, smooth, and wavering like the face
beneath.

"What dost thou here?" Echion, halfafraid,

Half-angry, cried. She lifted up her eyes, But nothing spake she. Rhaicos drew one step

Backward, for fear came likewise over him, But not such fear: he panted, gasp'd, drew

That sad old man!" said she. The old man

went

Without a warning from his master's son, Glad to escape, for sorely he now fear'd, And the axe shone behind him in their eyes. Hamad. And wouldst thou too shed the most innocent

Of blood? No vow demands it; no god wills

The oak to bleed.

Rhaicos. Who art thou? whence? why here?

And whither wouldst thou go? Among the rob'd

In white or saffron, or the hue that most
Resembles dawn or the clear sky, is none
Array'd as thou art. What so beautiful
As that gray robe which clings about thee
close,

Like moss to stones adhering, leaves to trees,

Yet lets thy bosom rise and fall in turn, As, touch'd by zephyrs, fall and rise the boughs

Of graceful platan by the river-side ? Hamad. Lovest thou well thy father's house?

thy age ?

Rhaicos. I have seen lovers and have learn'd to love.

Hamad. But wilt thou spare the tree?
Rhaicos.
My father wants

Rhaicos.

Heard of them I have: Tell me some tale about them. May I sit Beside thy feet? Art thou not tired? The herbs

Are very soft; I will not come too nigh;
Do but sit there, nor tremble so, nor doubt.
Stay, stay an instant: let me first explore
If any acorn of last year be left

Within it; thy thin robe too ill protects
Thy dainty limbs against the harm one small
Acorn may
do. Here 's none. Another day
Trust me; till then let me sit opposite.
Hamad. I seat me; be thou seated, and

Ay; now begins The tale of Hamadryad: tell it through. Hamad. Pray of thy father never to cut down

My tree; and promise him, as well thou mayst,

That every year he shall receive from me More honey than will buy him nine fat sheep, More wax than he will burn to all the gods. Why fallest thou upon thy face? Some thorn

May scratch it, rash young man! Rise up; for shame!

Rhaicos. For shame I cannot rise. O pity me!

now,

I claim my kiss.

Hamad. Do men take first, then claim? Do thus the seasons run their course with them?

Her lips were seal'd; her head sank on

his breast.

'Tis said that laughs were heard within the wood :

But who should hear them? and whose laughs? and why?

Savory was the smell and long past noon, Thallinos in thy house; for marjoram, Basil and mint, and thyme and rosemary, Were sprinkled on the kid's well roasted length,

Awaiting Rhaicos. Home he came at last, Not hungry, but pretending hunger keen, With head and eyes just o'er the maple

plate.

"Thou see'st but badly, coming from the sun,

Rhaicos went daily; but the nymph as oft, Invisible. To play at love, she knew, Stopping its breathings when it breathes most soft,

Is sweeter than to play on any pipe.
She play'd on his : she fed upon his sighs;
They pleas'd her when they gently wav'd
her hair,

Cooling the pulses of her purple veins,
And when her absence brought them out,
they pleas'd.

Even among the fondest of them all, What mortal or immortal maid is more Content with giving happiness than pain? One day he was returning from the wood Despondently. She pitied him, and said

"Come back!" and twin'd her fingers in

the hem

Above his shoulder. Then she led his steps To a cool rill that ran o'er level sand Through lentisk and through oleander; there Bath'd she his feet, lifting them on her lap When bath'd, and drying them in both her hands.

He dar'd complain; for those who most are lov'd

Most dare it; but not harsh was his complaint.

"O thou inconstant !" said he, "if stern law Bind thee, or will, stronger than sternest law,

O, let me know henceforward when to hope The fruit of love that grows for me but

here."