And into the guarded place bright poured the day.

  The Strong Man entered, but his fellow stayed,

  Leaning against a tree-trunk as they deemed.

  They faltered now, and yet all things being weighed

  Went on again; and thought they must have dreamed

  Of the old man, for now the sunlight streamed

  Full on the tree he had been leaning on,

  And him they saw not go, yet was he gone:

  Only a slim green lizard flitted there

  Amidst the dry leaves; him they noted nought,

  But trembling, through the doorway ‘gan to peer,

  And still of strange and dreadful saw not aught,

  Only a garden fair beyond all thought.

  And there, ‘twixt sun and shade, the Strong Man went

  On some long-sought-for end belike intent.

  They ‘gan to follow down a narrow way

  Of green-sward that the lilies trembled o’er,

  And whereon thick the scattered rose-leaves lay;

  But a great wonder weighed upon them sore,

  And well they thought they should return no more,

  Yet scarce a pain that seemed; they looked to meet

  Before they died things strange and fair and sweet.

  So still to right and left the Strong Man thrust

  The blossomed boughs, and passed on steadily,

  As though his hardy heart he well did trust,

  Till in a while he gave a joyous cry,

  And hastened on, as though the end drew nigh;

  And women’s voices then they deemed they heard,

  Mixed with a noise that made desire afeard.

  Yet through sweet scents and sounds on did they bear

  Their panting hearts, till the path ended now

  In a wide space of green, a streamlet clear

  From out a marble basin there did flow,

  And close by that a slim-trunked tree did grow,

  And on a bough low o’er the water cold

  There hung three apples of red-gleaming gold.

  About the tree, new risen e’en now to meet

  The shining presence of that mighty one,

  Three damsels stood, naked from head to feet

  Save for the glory of their hair, where sun

  And shadow flickered, while the wind did run

  Through the grey leaves o’erhead, and shook the grass

  Where nigh their feet the wandering bee did pass.

  But ‘midst their delicate limbs and all around

  The tree-roots, gleaming blue black could they see

  The spires of a great serpent, that, enwound

  About the smooth bole, looked-forth threateningly,

  With glittering eyes and raised crest, o’er the three

  Fair heads fresh crowned, and hissed above the speech

  Wherewith they murmured softly each to each.

  Now the Strong Man amid the green space stayed,

  And, leaning on his club, with eager eyes

  But brow yet smooth, in voice yet friendly said:

  “O daughters of old Hesperus the Wise,

  Well have ye held your guard here; but time tries

  The very will of gods, and to my hand

  Must give this day the gold fruit of your land.”

  Then spake the first maid — sweet as the west wind

  Amidst of summer noon her sweet voice was:

  “Ah, me! what knows this place of changing mind

  Of men or gods; here shall long ages pass,

  And clean forget thy feet upon the grass,

  Thy hapless bones amid the fruitful mould;

  Look at thy death envenomed swift and cold!”

  Hiding new flowers, the dull coils, as she spake,

  Moved near her limbs: but then the second one,

  In such a voice as when the morn doth wake

  To song of birds, said, “When the world foredone

  Has moaned its last, still shall we dwell alone

  Beneath this bough, and have no tales to tell

  Of things deemed great that on the earth befell.”

  Then spake the third, in voice as of the flute

  That wakes the maiden to her wedding morn:

  “If any god should gain our golden fruit,

  Its curse would make his deathless life forlorn.

  Lament thou, then, that ever thou wert born;

  Yet all things, changed by joy or loss or pain,

  To what they were shall change and change again.”

  “So be it,” he said, “the Fates that drive me on

  Shall slay me or shall save; blessing or curse

  That followeth after when the thing is won

  Shall make my work no better now nor worse;

  And if it be that the world’s heart must nurse

  Hatred against me, how then shall I choose

  To leave or take? — let your dread servant loose!”

  E’en therewith, like a pillar of black smoke,

  Swift, shifting ever, drave the worm at him;

  In deadly silence now that nothing broke,

  Its folds were writhing round him trunk and limb,

  Until his glittering gear was nought but dim

  E’en in that sunshine, while his head and side

  And breast the fork-tongued, pointed muzzle tried.

  Closer the coils drew, quicker all about

  The forked tongue darted, and yet stiff he stood,

  E’en as an oak that sees the straw flare out

  And lick its ancient bole for little good:

  Until the godlike fury of his mood

  Burst from his heart in one great shattering cry,

  And rattling down the loosened coils did lie;

  And from the torn throat and crushed dreadful head

  Forth flowed a stream of blood along the grass;

  Bright in the sun he stood above the dead,

  Panting with fury; yet as ever was

  The wont of him, soon did his anger pass,

  And with a happy smile at last he turned

  To where the apples o’er the water burned.

  Silent and moveless ever stood the three;

  No change came o’er their faces, as his hand

  Was stretched aloft unto the sacred tree;

  Nor shrank they aught aback, though he did stand

  So close that tresses of their bright hair, fanned

  By the sweet garden breeze, lay light on him,

  And his gold fell brushed by them breast and limb.

  He drew adown the wind-stirred bough, and took

  The apples thence; then let it spring away,

  And from his brow the dark hair backward shook,

  And said: “O sweet, O fair, and shall this day

  A curse upon my life henceforward lay —

  This day alone? Methinks of coming life

  Somewhat I know, with all its loss and strife.

  “But this I know, at least: the world shall wend

  Upon its way, and, gathering joy and grief

  And deeds done, bear them with it to the end;

  So shall it, though I lie as last year’s leaf

  Lies ‘neath a summer tree, at least receive

  My life gone by, and store it, with the gain

  That men alive call striving, wrong, and pain.

  “So for my part I rather bless than curse,

  And bless this fateful land; good be with it;

  Nor for this deadly thing’s death is it worse,

  Nor for the lack of gold; still shall ye sit

  Watching the swallow o’er the daisies flit;

  Still shall your wandering limbs ere day is done

  Make dawn desired by the sinking sun.

  “And now, behold! in memory of all this

  Take ye this girdle that shall waste and fade

  As fadeth not your fairness and your bliss,

  That when hereafter ‘mid the blossoms laid

  Ye talk of days and men now nothing made,

  Ye may remember how the Theban man,

  The son of Jove, came o’er the waters wan.”

  Their faces changed not aught for all they heard;

  As though all things now fully told out were,

  They gazed upon him without any word:

  Ah! craving kindness, hope, or loving care,

  Their fairness scarcely could have made more fair,

  As with the apples folded in his fell

  He went, to do more deeds for folk to tell.

  Now as the girdle on the ground was cast

  Those fellows turned and hurried toward the door,

  And as across its broken leaves they passed

  The old man saw they not, e’en as before;

  But an unearthed blind mole bewildered sore

  Was wandering there in fruitless, aimless wise,

  That got small heed from their full-sated eyes.

  Swift gat they to their anxious folk; nor had

  More time than just to say, “Be of good cheer,

  For in our own land may we yet be glad,”

  When they beheld the guests a-drawing near;

  And much bewildered the two fellows were

  To see the old man, and must even deem

  That they should see things stranger than a dream.

  But when they were aboard the elder cried,

  “Up sails, my masters, fair now is the wind;

  Nor good it is too long here to abide,

  Lest what ye may not loose your souls should bind.”

  And as he spake, the tall trees left behind

  Stirred with the rising land-wind, and the crew,

  Joyous thereat, the hawsers shipward drew.

  Swift sped the ship, and glad at heart were all,

  And the Strong Man was merry with the rest,

  And from the elder’s lips no word did fall

  That did not seem to promise all the best;

  Yet with a certain awe were men oppressed,

  And felt as if their inmost hearts were bare,

  And each man’s secret babbled through the air.

  Still oft the old man sat with them and told

  Tales of past time, as on the outward way;

  And now would they the face of him behold

  And deem it changed; the years that on him lay

  Seemed to grow nought, and no more wan and grey

  He looked, but ever glorious, wise and strong,

  As though no lapse of time for him were long.

  At last, when six days through the kindly sea

  Their keel had slipped, he said: “Come hearken now,

  For so it is that things fare wondrously

  E’en in these days; and I a tale can show

  That, told by you unto your sons shall grow

  A marvel of the days that are to come:

  Take heed and tell it when ye reach your home.

  “Yet living in the world a man there is

  Men call the Theban King Amphitryon’s son,

  Although perchance a greater sire was his;

  But certainly his lips have hung upon

  Alcmena’s breasts: great deeds this man hath won

  Already, for his name is Hercules,

  And e’en ye Asian folk have heard of these.

  “Now ere the moon, this eve in his last wane,

  Was born, this Hercules, the fated thrall

  Of King Eurystheus, was straight bid to gain .

  Gifts from a land whereon no foot doth fall

  Of mortal man, beyond the misty wall

  Of unknown waters; pensively he went

  Along the sea on his hard life intent.

  “And at the dawn he came into a bay

  Where the sea, ebbed far down, left wastes of sand,

  Walled from the green earth by great cliffs and grey;

  Then he looked up, and wondering there did stand,

  For strange things lay in slumber on the strand;

  Strange counterparts of what the firm earth hath

  Lay scattered all about his weary path:

  “Sea-lions and sea-horses and sea-kine,

  Sea-boars, sea-men strange-skinned, of wondrous hair;

  And in their midst a man who seemed divine

  For changeless eld, and round him women fair,

  Clad in the sea-webs glassy green and clear,

  With gems on head and girdle, limb and breast,

  Such as earth knoweth not among her best.

  “A moment at the fair and wondrous sight

  He stared, then, since the heart in him was good,

  He went about with careful steps and light

  Till o’er the sleeping sea-god now he stood;

  And if the white-foot maids had stirred his blood

  As he passed by, now other thoughts had place

  Within his heart when he beheld that face.

  “For Nereus now he knew, who knows all things;

  And to himself he said, ‘If I prevail,

  Better than by some god-wrought eagle-wings

  Shall I be holpen;’ then he cried out: ‘Hail,

  O Nereus! lord of shifting hill and dale!

  Arise and wrestle; I am Hercules!

  Not soon now shalt thou meet the ridgy seas.’

  “And mightily he cast himself on him;

  And Nereus cried out shrilly; and straightway

  That sleeping crowd, fair maid with half-hid limb,

  Strange man and green-haired beast, made no delay,

  But glided down into the billows grey,

  .And, by the lovely sea embraced, were gone,

  While they two wrestled on the sea strand lone.

  “Soon found the sea-god that his bodily might

  Was nought in dealing with Jove’s dear one there;

  And soon he ‘gan to use his magic sleight:

  Into a lithe leopard, and a hugging bear

  He turned him; then the smallest fowl of air

  The straining arms of Hercules must hold,

  And then a mud-born wriggling eel and cold.

  “Then as the firm hands mastered this, forth brake

  A sudden rush of waters all around,

  Blinding and choking: then a thin green snake

  With golden eyes; then o’er the shell-strewn ground

  Forth stole a fly the least that may be found;

  Then earth and heaven seemed wrapped in one huge flame,

  But from the midst thereof a voice there came:

  “‘Kinsman and stout-heart, thou hast won the day,

  Nor to my grief: what wouldst thou have of me?’

  And therewith to an old man small and grey

  Faded the roaring flame, who wearily

  Sat down upon the sand and said, ‘Let be!

  I know thy tale; worthy of help thou art;

  Come now, a short way hence will there depart

  “‘A ship of Tyre for the warm southern seas,

  Come we a-board; according to my will

  Her way shall be.’ Then up rose Hercules,

  Merry of face, though hot and panting still;

  But the fair summer day his heart did fill

  With all delight; and so forth went the twain,

  And found those men desirous of all gain.

  “Ah, for these gainful men — somewhat indeed

  Their sails are rent, their bark beat; kin and friend

  Are wearying for them; yet a friend in need

  They yet shall gain, if at their journey’s end,

  Upon the last ness where the wild goats wend

  To lick the salt-washed stones, a house they raise

  Bedight with gold in kindly Nereus’ praise.”

  Breathless they waited for these latest words,

  That like the soft wind of the gathering night

  Were grown to be: about the mast flew birds

  Making their moan, hovering long-winged and white;

  And now before their straining anxious sight

  The old man faded out into the air,

  And from his place flew forth a sea-mew fair.

  Then to the Mighty Man, Alcmena’s son,

  With yearning hearts they turned till he should speak,

  And he spake softly: “Nought ill have ye done

  In helping me to find what I did seek:

  The world made better by me knows if weak

  My hand and heart are: but now, light the fire

  Upon the prow and worship the grey sire.”

  So did they; and such gifts as there they had

  Gave unto Nereus; yea, and sooth to say,

  Amid the tumult of their hearts made glad,

  Had honoured Hercules in e’en such way;

  But he laughed out amid them, and said, “Nay,

  Not yet the end is come; nor have I yet

  Bowed down before vain longing and regret.

  “It may be — who shall tell, when I go back

  There whence I came, and looking down behold

  The place that my once eager heart shall lack,

  And all my dead desires a-lying cold,

  But I may have the might then to enfold

  The hopes of brave men in my heart? — but long

  Life lies before first with its change and wrong.”

  So fair along the watery ways they sped

  In happy wise, nor failed of their return;

  Nor failed in ancient Tyre the ways to tread,

  Teaching their tale to whomsoe’er would learn,

  Nor failed at last the flesh of beasts to burn

  In Nereus’ house, turned toward the bright day’s end

  On the last ness, round which the wild goats wend.

  HE made an end, and gazed about the place,

  With rest enow upon his ancient face,

  And smiling; but to some the tale did seem

  Like to the middle of some pleasant dream,

  Which, waked from, leaves upon the troubled mind

  A sense of something ill that lurked behind,

  If morn had given due time to dream it out.

  Yet as the women stirred, and went about

  The board with flask and beaker, and the scent

 

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