RHODOPE

Starry wonder that she was, Caged like sea-bird in his arms, See her pa.s.sion thrill, then pa.s.s From him who, doting on her charms, So became abominable.

Watch her bosom dip and swell, See her nostrils fan and curve At his touch who loved not well, But loved too much, who broke the spell; Watch her proud head stiffen and swerve.

GORGO

Upon the wall with claspt white hands See her vigil keep intent, Argive Helen, lo! she stands Looking seaward where the fires Hem the sh.o.r.e innumerable; Sign of that avenging host, All Achaia's chivalry, Past the tongue of man to tell, Peers and kindred of her sires Come to win back Helen lost.

MYRTILLA

There to her in that gray hour, That gray hour before the sun, Cometh he she waiteth for, Menelaus like a ghost, Like a dry leaf tempest-tost, Stalking restless, her reproach.

PASIPHa.s.sA

There alone, those two, long severed been, Eye each other, one wild heart between.

SITYS

"O thou ruinous face, O thou fatally fair, O the pity of thee!

What dost thou there, Watching the madness of me?"

CHTHONOe

Him seemed her eyes were pools of dark To drown him, yet no word she spake; But gazing, grave as a lonely house, All her wonder thrilled to wake.

RHODOPE

"By thy roses and snow, By thy sun-litten hair, By thy low bosom and slow Pondered kisses, O hear!

"By thy glimmering eyes, By thy burning cheek, By thy murmuring sighs, Speak, Helen, O speak!

"Ruinous Face, O Ruinous Face, Art thou come so early," he said, "So early forth from the wicked bed?"

GORGO

Him she pondered, grave and still, Stirring not from her safe place: He marked the glow, he felt the thrill, He saw the dawn new in her face.

MYRTILLA

Within her low voice wailed the tone Of one who grieves and prays for death: "Lord, I am come to be alone, Alone here with my sorrow," she saith.

PASIPHa.s.sA

"False wife, what pity was thine For hearth and altar, for man and child?

What is thy sorrow worth unto mine?"

She rocked, moaning, "I was beguiled!"

SITYS

Ten years' woe for Troy and Greece By her begun, the slim, the sweet, Ended by her in final peace Of him who loved her first of all; Nor ever swerved from his high pa.s.sion, But through misery and shame Saw her spirit like a flame Eloquent of her sacred fashion-- Hers whose eyes are homes of light, To which she tends, from which she came.

_1912._

[2] _Helen Redeemed_, the first poem in this book, was originally conceived as a drama. Here is a scene from it, the first after the Prologue, which would have been spoken by Odysseus. The action of the play would have begun with the entry of Helen.

GNATHO

Gnatho, Satyr, homing at dusk, Trotting home like a tired dog, By mountain slopes 'twixt the junipers And flamed oleanders near the sea, Found a girl-child asleep in a fleece, Frail as wax, golden and rose; Whereat at first he skipt aside And stayed him, nosing and peering, whereto Next he crept, softly breathing, Blinking his fear. None was there To guard; the sun had dipt in the sea, Faint fire empurpled the flow Of heaving water; no speck, no hint Of oar or wing on the main, on the deep Sky, empty as a great sh.e.l.l, Fainting in its own glory. This thing, This rare breath, this miracle-- Alone with him in the world! His To wonder, fall to, with craning eyes Fearfully daring; next, since it moved not, Stooping, to handle, to stroke, to peer upon Closely, nosing its tender length, Doglike snuffing--at last to kiss In reverence wonderful, lightlier far Than thistledown falls, brushing the Earth.

But the child awoke and, watching him, cried not, Cruddled visage, choppy hands, Blinking eyes, red-litten, astare, Horns and feet--nay, crowed and strained To reach this wonder.

As one a gla.s.s Light as foam, hued like the foam, A breath-bubble of fire, will carry, He in arms lifted his freight, Looking wonderfully upon it With scarce a breath, and humbleness To be so brute ebbed to the flood Of pride in his new a.s.sured worth-- Trusted so, who could be vile?

So to his cave in the wood he bore her, Fleeting swift as a fear thro' the dark trees.

There in the silence of tall trees, Under the soaring shafts, Far beneath the canopied leaf.a.ge, In the forest whisper, the thick silences; Or on the wastes Of sheltered mountains where the spires Of solemn cypress frame the descent Upon the blue, and open to sea-- Here grew Ianthe maiden slim With none to spy but this gnarled man-brute; Most fair, most hid, like a wood-flower Slim for lack of light; so she grew In flowering line of limb And flower of face, retired and shy, Urged by the bland air; unknown, Lonely and lovely, husbanding Her great possessions--hers now, Another's when he cared to claim them.

For thus went life: to lead the herds Of p.r.i.c.king deer she saw the great stags Battle in empty glades, then mate; Thus on the mountains chose the bears, And in the woods she heard the wolves Anguishing in their loves Thro' the dense nights, far in the forest.

And so collected went she, and sure Her time would come and with it her master.

But Gnatho watcht her under his brows When she lay heedless, spilling beauty-- How ever lovelier, suppler, sleeker, How more desirable, how near; How rightly his, how surely his-- Then gnaw'd his cheek and turn'd his head.

For unsuspect, some dim forbidding Rose within him and knockt at his heart And said, Not thine, but for reverence.

And some wild horror desperate drove him, Suing a pardon from unknown G.o.ds For untold trespa.s.s, to seek the sea, Upon whose sh.o.r.e, to whose cool breathing He'd stretch his arms, broken with strife Of self and self; and all that water Steadfast lapt and surged. Came tears To furrow his cheeks, came strength to return To her, and bear with longer breath Her sweet familiarities, blind Obedience to nascent blind desire-- Till again he lookt and burn'd again.

Thus his black ferment boil'd. O' nights He'd dream and revel frenziedly As with the love-stung nymphs. Awake, In a chill sweat, he'd tear at himself, Claw at his flesh and leap in the brook, Drench the red embers of his vice Into a ma.s.s abhorred. Clean then, He'd seek his bed and pa.s.s unscath'd The bower of fern where the sleek limbs Of white Ianthe, mesht in her hair, Lay lax in sleep. But Gnatho now Saw only G.o.d, as on some still peak Snowy and lonely under the stars We look, and see G.o.d in all that calm.

One night of glamour, under a moon That seemed to steep the air with gold, They two sat stilly and watcht the sea Tremulously heaving over a path Of light like a river of molten gold.

Warm blew the breeze to land; she lean'd Her idle head, idly played Her fingers in his belt, and he Embracing held her, yielding, subdued; Sideways saw the curve of her cheek, Downcast lashes, droopt lip Which seem'd to court his pleasure-- Then On waves of fire came racing his needs With zest of rage to possess and tear That which his frenzy, maskt as love, Courted: so he lean'd to her ear, Thrilled in torrents hoa.r.s.e his case-- "Love, I burn, I burn!

Slake me, love!" He raved in whisper.

And she lookt up with her wide full eyes, Saying, "My love!" and yielded herself.

Deep night settled on hill and plain, The moon went out, the concourse of stars Lay strewn above, and with golden eyes Peered on them lockt. Far and faint The great stags belled; far and faint Quested the wolves; the leopards' howling Lent desolation to night; and low The night-jar purr'd. At sea one light Swayed restlessly, and on the rocks Sounded the tireless lapping deep.

Lockt they lay thro' all the silences.

Dawn stole in with whimper of rain And a wailing wind from the sea-- Gray sea, gray dawn and scurrying clouds And scud of rain. The fisher boat, The sands, the headlands fringed with broom And tamarisk were blotted.

Alone, Caged in the mist of earth That beat his torment back to himself, So that in vain he sought for the G.o.ds, And lifted up hands in vain To witness this white wreck p.r.o.ne and still-- Gnatho the Satyr blinkt on his work.