And all the pleasure of the lovely place.

  But at the last, turning about his face

  Unto the sunny garden’s other side,

  He saw where, down a grassy path and wide,

  The Queen came, with her head bent down to earth,

  As though mid thoughts she were that slew her mirth;

  Slowly she went, with two maids following her,

  Who in their delicate slim hands did bear,

  The one a cithern and some verse-book old,

  The other a white osier maund, to hold

  Some of such flowers as still in fear and doubt

  Against the sickness of the year held out.

  But as they went, nigh to the Prince they drew,

  And soon the maidens’ eyes his beauty knew,

  And one at other glanced, smiling and glad,

  For soft love of him in their hearts they had;

  Yet nought they said, nor did the Queen turn round,

  But kept her eyes still bent upon the ground.

  So in their walk they came to where there stood

  A thin-leaved apple-tree, where, red as blood,

  Yellow as gold, a little fruit hung yet,

  The last rays of the fainting sun to get;

  And a tall clump of autumn flowers, cold-grey,

  Beneath it, mocked the promise of the day,

  And to them clung a hapless bee or twain,

  A butterfly spread languid wings in vain

  Unto the sun, that scarce could heat her now.

  There the Queen stayed awhile her footsteps slow,

  And to the flowers wandered her slender hand;

  But with her eyes cast down she still did stand,

  And pondered.

  Full of melody and peace

  About her was the lingering year’s decease;

  Strange spicy scents there were that yet were sweet,

  Green was the grass about her gold-shod feet,

  And had no memory of the dawn’s white rime;

  Loud was the birds’ song in that windless time,

  Strange the sharp crying of the missel-thrush

  Within the close heart of the hawthorn-bush,

  Strange the far-off rooks’ sweet tumultuous voice

  That in the high elms e’en now must rejoice

  And know not why — peace e’en if end of peace.

  The while her burning heart did never cease

  To give words to such longings, as she knew

  To swift destruction all her glory drew.

  “Ah! mine, mine, mine!” she thought, “ah! mine a while!

  Ah! mine a little day, if all be vile

  The coming years can bring unto my heart!

  Ah! mine this eve, if we to-morn must part!

  Mine, that a sweet hour I may know at last

  How soon soever all delight is passed!

  Ah! mine, mine, mine, if for a little while!”

  So stood she, that her parted lips did smile

  As if of one that memories make half sad,

  Her breast heaved, as no stronger wish she had

  Than for some careless lover, lightly won,

  And soon forgot, to lay his lips thereon;

  The flower-stem that her finger-tips did hold

  Was crushed not, and within her shoe of gold

  Lightly her foot was laid upon the grass;

  No tremors through her dainty limbs did pass,

  And healthy life alone did paint her cheek:

  For if indeed at first she had felt weak,

  Ere well she knew what she was bent upon,

  Now at the last, when every doubt was gone,

  She would not show the net unto the prey

  Until she deemed that in her toils he lay.

  She raised her eyes at last with a light sigh,

  Despite herself, a flush passed suddenly

  Over her face, and then all pale she grew;

  For now withal Bellerophon she knew,

  Though at that very point of time the sun

  Along his upraised steel-clad arm had run,

  And made an earthly sun that dazzled her.

  Yet cast she back her trembling hope and fear

  Into her heart, and as before she went

  Slowly, with head a little downward bent,

  But when she had gone on a few yards space,

  Once more unto the Prince she raised her face;

  Then stopped again, and turning round, she said,

  From lips wherein all passion now seemed dead:

  “Damsels, go home again; thou, Mysian, go

  Unto the little treasury thou dost know

  Anigh my bower, and taking this gold key,

  Draw forth that ancient prophet’s book for me

  Which shows the stars: for that I fain would show

  To Prince Bellerophon, who bides me now

  Ere he goes forth to bring the island folk

  Once more beneath King Prœtus’ equal yoke.

  And thou, Leucippe, bide our coming there,

  And bid our folk set forth a feast as fair

  As may be done; for we within a while

  May need thy cithern dull thoughts to beguile.”

  E’en as they turned she passed on carelessly

  Toward the Prince, nor looked aback to see

  That they were gone; but he indeed had heard

  Through the calm air her clearly-spoken word,

  And saw the maidens go, and felt as one

  Who bideth, when the herald’s speech is done,

  The word that bids the grinded spears fall down.

  But she, with slim hand folded in her gown,

  Went o’er the dewy grass to where he stood,

  And in despite the fire within her blood

  Was calm, and smiled on him, till nigh he thought

  That surely all his fear was vain and nought.

  He bowed before her as she drew anear,

  But she held out her right hand, and in clear

  Sweet tones she cried, “O fair Bellerophon,

  Would that the victory were already won,

  And thou wert back again at this thy home

  We have made glad for thee: behold! I come

  To say farewell — yet come a little way —

  For something else indeed I had to say.”

  And still she held his hand, but yet durst not

  Clasp as she would the treasure she had got.

  Then to a place together did they pass,

  Where yew-trees hemmed around a plot of grass,

  And kept it scarce touched by the faint sun’s rays —

  A place well made for burning summer days,

  But cheerless now. There on a marble seat

  She bade him sit; while she with restless feet

  Paced to and fro, while from the yew-twigs close,

  With his scared cry the creeping blackbird rose.

  But he, with eyes cast down upon the ground,

  Deemed that his battle easier would be found

  Than this.

  And so at last she stayed by him

  And cried: “The cup is full unto the brim;

  For now thou goest where thou mayst be slain:

  I speak then — and, alas! I speak in vain —

  Thy cold eyes tell me so — How shall I move

  Thy flinty heart my curse has made me love?

  For what have other women done, when they

  Were fair as I, and love before them lay?

  Was not a look enough for them, a word

  Low murmured, midst the hum of men scarce heard?

  What have I left undone that they have done?

  What askest thou of me, O heart of stone?”

  Choked by her passion here awhile she stayed,

  And he from off the bench sprang up dismayed,

  And turned on her to speak; but she withal

  Before him on her knees made haste to fall,

  And cried out loud and shrilly: “Nay, nay, nay —

  Say not the word thou art about to say;

  Let me depart, and things be still as now;

  So that my dreams sweet images may show,

  As they have done — that waking I may think,

  ‘If he, my love, from looks of love did shrink,

  That was because I had not prayed him then

  To be my love alone of living men;

  Because he did not know that I, a Queen,

  Who hitherto but loveless life have seen,

  Could kneel to him, and pray upon my knees

  To give me my first pleasure, my first peace’

  Thou knewest not — nay, nay, thou know’st not now —

  Thou with the angry eyes and bended brow! —

  Surely I talk my mother-tongue no more,

  Therefore thou knowest not that I implore

  Thy pity, that I give myself to thee,

  Thy love, thy slave, thy castaway to be-

  Hear’st thou? thy castaway! when in a while

  Thou growest weary of my loving smile!

  Oh, take me, madman! In a year or twain

  I will not thwart thee if thou lov’st again,

  Nor eye thee sourly when thou growest cold;

  — Or art thou not the man that men call bold,

  And fear’st thou? Then what better time than this

  For we twain to begin our life of bliss?

  Thy keel awaits thee, and to thee alone,

  Not to the wretched dastard on the throne,

  Thy men will hearken — Nay, thou shalt not speak,

  My feeble reed of hope thou shalt not break! —

  Let me be gone, thou knowest not of love,

  Thou semblance of a man that nought can move!

  It O wise, wise man, I give thee good farewell:

  Gather fresh wisdom, thinking of my hell.”

  She sprang up to her feet and turned away

  Trembling, and no word to her could he say

  For grief and pity; and the Queen did go

  A little way with doubtful steps and slow,

  Then turned about, and once again did stand

  Before his troubled face, hand laid in hand,

  And sobbing now as if her heart would break;

  But when from his grieved soul he fain would speak,

  Again from midst her tears she cried, “No, no —

  Do I not know what thou wouldst bid me do?

  And yet forgive me! — thou art wise and good.

  Surely some evil thing has turned my blood,

  That even now I wished that thing to slay

  That I of all things only till this day

  Have loved. Ah, surely thou wilt not be slain!

  Come back, and I will tell thee once again

  How much I love thee, and will not forget

  To say such things as might have moved thee yet,

  Could I have told thee now, couldst thou have seen

  These lips that love thee as they might have been.

  — Farewell, I durst not pray thee for one kiss!”

  Nearer she drew to him as she spake this,

  Yet, when she ended, turned about again,

  And still, as hoping all was not in vain,

  Lingered a little while, and then at last,

  With raging heart, swiftly therefrom she passed.

  But, she clean vanished now, Bellerophon

  Went slowly toward the palace, all alone,

  And pondering on these things: and shamed he felt,

  E’en as a just man who in sleep has dealt

  Unjustly; nor had all her prayers and tears

  Moved love in him, but rather stirred his fears,

  For ever was he wise among wise men;

  And though he doubted not her longing, when

  She turned and spake soft words, he knew that she

  So spake midst hope of what things yet might be,

  And yet had left another kind of word,

  Whereby a friendless man might well be feared;

  Lonely he felt thereat, as one accurst,

  With whom all best things still must turn to worst,

  And e’en sweet love curdle to bitter hate.

  Yet was he one not lightly crushed by fate,

  And when at last he had his helmet on,

  And heard the folk cry out ‘Bellerophon,’

  As toward the ship he passed, kind the world seemed,

  Nor love so far away indeed he deemed

  When he some gentle maiden’s kind grey eyes

  Fixed on his own he did at whiles surprise,

  Or when his godlike eyes, on some maid turned

  More fair than most, set fire to thoughts that burned

  On breast and brow of her. So forth he passed,

  And reached the border of the sea at last,

  And there took ship, and hence is gone a space.

  But for the Queen, when she had left that place,

  About the pleasance paths did she go still,

  So ‘wildered in her mind because her will

  Might not be done, that at the first she knew

  No more what place she might be passing through

  Than one who walks in sleep. Yet hope and sham

  Twain help, at last unto her spirit came;

  Yea, her bright gown, soiled with the autumn grass,

  Told her the tale of what had come to pass,

  And to her heart came hatred of the spot

  Where she had kneeled to one who loved her not,

  And even therewith his image did she see

  As he had been; then cried she furiously:

  “Ah, fool! ah, traitor! must I love thee then,

  When in the world there are so many men

  My smile would drive to madness? — for I know

  What things they are that men desire so,

  And which of all these bear I not with me?

  Hast thou not heart and eyes to feel and see?

  Then shalt thou die, then shalt thou die, at least,

  Nor sit without me at life’s glorious feast,

  While I fall ever unto worse and worse —

  Ah me! I rave! — what folly now to curse

  That which I love, because its loveliness

  Alone has brought me unto this distress!

  I know not right nor wrong, but yet through all

  Know that the Gods a just man him would call;

  Nay, and I knew it, when I saw him first,

  And in my heart sprang up that glorious thirst —

  And should he, not being base, yield suddenly,

  And as the basest man, not loving me,

  Take all I gave him, and cast all his life

  Into a tangled and dishonoured strife?

  Nay, it could never be — but now, indeed,

  Somewhat with pity of me his heart may bleed,

  Since he is good; and he shall think of me,

  And day by day and night by night shall see

  The image of that woman on her knees,

  Whom men here liken to the goddesses.

  And certainly shall he come back again:

  Nor shall my next speech to him be so vain.”

  She smiled, and toward the house made swiftly on

  In triumph, even as though the game were won:

  For, now his face was gone, she, blind with love,

  Deemed but his honour she had got to move

  From its high place, before his heart should fall

  A prey unto her; e’en as when the wall

  By many a stroke of stones is battered down,

  And all may work their will upon the town.

  NOW of Bellerophon must it be said

  That, what by wisdom, what by hardihead,

  His task was done, and great praise gained thereby;

  So he at last, midst shouts and minstrelsy,

  In the first days of spring, passed up once more

  Unto the palace from the thronging shore.

  Him Prœtus met half-way, and, in the face

  Of all the people, in a straight embrace

  Held him awhile, and called him his dear son,

  Praising the Gods for all that he had done;

  Then hand in hand did they go up the street,

  And on their heads folk cast the spring-flowers sweet,

  And bands of maids met them with joyous song

  And gracious pageants as they went along:

  And all this for the brave Corinthian’s sake —

  Such joy did his return in all hearts make.

  But though the man, once from his home driven forth,

  Was so much loved and held of so much worth,

  And though he throve thereby, and seemed to be

  Scarcely a man but some divinity

  To people’s eyes, yet in his soul no less

  There lingered still a little heaviness,

  And therefrom hardly could he cast away

  The memory of that sunny autumn day

  And of the fear it brought; and one more fear

  He had besides, and as they drew anear

  The palace, therewith somewhat faltering,

  He needs must turn a while, and of the King

  Ask how the Lycian fared: the King laughed low,

  And said:

  “Nay, surely she is well enow,

  As her wont is to be, for, sooth to say,

  She for herself is ever wont to pray,

  And heedeth nothing other grief and wrong:

  And be thou sure, my son, that such live long

  And lead sweet lives; but those who ever think

  How he and she may fare, and still must shrink

  From sweeping any foe from out the way,

  These — living other people’s lives, I say,

  Besides their own, and most of them forlorn —

  May hap to find their lives of comfort shorn

  And short enow — let pass, for as to me,

  I weep for others’ troubles certainly,

  But for mine own would weep a little more,

  And so I jog on somehow to the shore

  Whence I shall not return — Thou laughest — well,

  I deem I was not made for heaven or hell,

  But simply for the earth; but thou, O son,

  I deem of heaven, and all hearts hast thou won —

  Yea, and this morn the Queen is merrier,

  Because she knoweth that thou art anear.”

  The Prince smiled at his words and gladder felt,

  Yet somewhat of his old fear by him dwelt

  And shamed him midst his honour. But withal,

  With shouts and music, entered they the hall,

  And there great feast was made; but ere the night

 

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