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For sidling up she said, "Canst thou live Staking their lives to win to earthly bliss 300 twice,

The lonely maid, the friend of Artemis?" Fair son? Canst thou have joyful youth again,

"O King,” he said, "thou sayest the That thus thou goest to the sacrifice,

word indeed; Thyself the victim? Nay, then, all in Nor will I quit the strife till I have won vain

270 My sweet delight, or death to end my need. Thy mother bore her longing and her pain, And know that I am called Milanion, 305 And one more maiden on the earth must Of King Amphidamas the well-loved son; dwell

So fear not that to thy old name, 0 King, Hopeless of joy, nor fearing death and hell. Much loss or shame my victory will

bring.” “O fool, thou knowest not the compact then

“Nay, Prince," said Schøneus, "welcome That with the three-formed goddess she to this land has made

275 Thou wert indeed, if thou wert here to To keep her from the loving lips of men, try And in no saffron gown to be arrayed, Thy strength 'gainst some one mighty of And therewithal with glory to be paid,

his hand; And love of her the moonlit river sees Nor would we grudge thee well-won masWhite 'gainst the shadow of the formless trees.

280 But now, why wilt thou come to me to

310

tery.

die,

“Come back, and I myself will pray for And at my door lay down thy luckless thee

head, Unto the sea-born framer of delights, Swelling the band of the unhappy dead, To give thee her who on the earth may be The fairest stirrer-up to death and fights, “Whose curses even now my heart doth To quench with hopeful days and joyous fear?

316 nights

285 Lo, I am old, and know what life can be, The flame that doth thy youthful heart | And what a bitter thing is death anear. consume:

O son! be wise, and hearken unto me; Come back, nor give thy beauty to the And if no other can be dear to thee, 320 tomb.”

At least as now, yet is the world full

wide, How should he listen to her earnest And bliss in seeming hopeless hearts may speech,

hide: Words such as he not once or twice had said

"But if thou losest life, then all is lost. Unto himself, whose meaning scarce could “Nay, King,” Milanion said, "thy words reach

290

are vain. The firm abode of that sad hardihead? Doubt not that I have counted well the He turned about, and through the market- cost.

325 stead

But say, on what day wilt thou that I Swiftly he passed, until before the throne

gain In the cleared space he stood at last alone. Fulfilled delight, or death to end my pain?

Right glad were I if it could be to-day, Then said the king, “Stranger, what dost And all

my

doubts at rest forever lay." thou here?

295 Have any of my folk done ill to thee? “Nay,” said King Schoeneus, "thus it shall Or art thou of the forest men in fear?

not be,

330 Or art thou of the sad fraternity

But rather shalt thou let a month go Who still will strive my daughter's mates by, to be,

And weary with thy prayers for victory

seas

What god thou know'st the kindest and Pass through a close, set thick with myrtlemost nigh.

trees,

365 So doing, still perchance thou shalt not die; Through the brass doors that guard the And with my good-will wouldst thou have holy place, the maid,

335 And, entering, hear the washing of the For of the equal' gods I grow afraid.

That twice a day rise high above the base, “And until then, O Prince, be thou my And, with the southwest urging them, guest,

embrace And all these troublous things awhile for- The marble feet of her that standeth there, get."

That shrink not, naked though they be “Nay," said he, "couldst thou give my and fair.

371 soul good rest, And on mine head a sleepy garland set, 340 Small is the fane through which the seaThen had I 'scaped the meshes of the net,

wind sings Nor shouldst thou hear from me another | About Queen Venus' well-wrought image word;

white; But now, make sharp thy fearful heading But hung around are many precious things, sword.

The gifts of those who, longing for delight,

Have hung them there within the goddess “Yet will I do what son of man may do, sight,

376 And promise all the gods may most desire, And in return have taken at her hands That to myself I may at least be true; 346 The living treasures of the Grecian lands. And on that day my heart and limbs so tire,

And thither now has come Milanion, With utmost strain and measureless desire, And showed unto the priests' wide-open That, at the worst, I may but fall asleep eyes

380 When in the sunlight round that sword Gifts fairer than all those that there have shall sweep.”

350

shown,

Silk cloths, inwrought with Indian fanHe went with that, nor anywhere would tasies, bide,

And bowls inscribed with sayings of the But unto Argos restlessly did wend;

wise And there, as one who lays all hope aside, Above the deeds of foolish living things, Because the leech has said his life must end, And mirrors fit to be the gifts of kings. 385 Silent farewell he bade to foe and friend, And took his way unto the restless sea, 356 | And now before the Sea-born One he For there he deemed his rest and help stands, might be.

By the sweet veiling smoke made dim and

soft;

And while the incense trickles from his Upon the shore of Argolis there stands hands, A temple to the goddess that he sought, And while the odorous smoke-wreaths That, turned unto the lion-bearing lands, hang aloft, Fenced from the east, of cold winds hath Thus doth he pray to her: “O Thou, who no thought,

361 oft Though to no homestead there the sheaves Hast holpen man and maid in their disare brought,

tress, No groaning press torments the close- Despise me not for this my wretchedness!

clipped murk, Lonely the fane stands, far from all men's “O goddess, among us who dwell below, work.

Kings and great men, great for a little I just.

while, 3 marc, what remains of grapes or other fruit after the juice has been pressed out.

Have pity on the lowly heads that bow,

390

3

2 Africa.

396

Nor hate the hearts that love them with: “O fairest, hear me now, who do thy will, out guile;

Plead for thy rebel that she be not slain, Wilt thou be worse than these, and is thy But live and love and be thy servant smile

still:

430 A vain device of him who set thee here, Ah! give her joy and take away my pain, An empty dream of some artificer? And thus two long-enduring servants

gain. “O great one, some men love, and are An easy thing this is to do for me, ashamed;

400

What need of my vain words to weary Some men are weary of the bonds of love; thee? Yea, and by some men lightly art thou blamed,

“But none the less this place will I not That from thy toils their lives they cannot leave

435 move,

Until I needs must go my death to meet, And ʼmid the ranks of men their manhood Or at thy hands some happy sign reprove.

ceive Alas! O goddess, if thou slayest me 405 That in great joy we twain may one day What new immortal can I serve but thee? greet

Thy presence here and kiss thy silver feet, "Think then, will it bring honor to thy Such as we deem thee, fair beyond all head

words,

440 If folk say, 'Everything aside he cast, Victorious o'er our servants and our lords." And to all fame and honor was he dead, And to his one hope now is dead at last, Then from the altar back a space he drew, Since all unholpen he is gone and past: 411 But from the Queen turned not his face Ah! the gods love not man, for certainly away, He to his helper did not cease to cry.' But 'gainst a pillar leaned, until the blue

That arched the sky, at ending of the day, “Nay, but thou wilt help: they who died Was turned to ruddy gold and changing before

gray, Not single-hearted, as I deem, came here; And clear, but low, the nigh-ebbed windTherefore unthanked they laid their gifts before

416

In the still evening murmured ceaselessly. Thy stainless feet, still shivering with their fear,

And there he stood when all the sun was Lest in their eyes their true thought might down; appear,

Nor had he moved when the dim golden Who sought to be the lords of that fair light,

450 town,

Like the far luster of a godlike town, Dreaded of men and winners of renown. 420 Had left the world to seeming hopeless

night; “O Queen, thou knowest I pray not for Nor would he move the more when wan this:

moonlight Oh, set us down together in some place Streamed through the pillars for a little Where not a voice can break our heaven of while, bliss,

And lighted up the white Queen's changeWhere naught but rocks and I can see her less smile.

face, Softening beneath the marvel of thy Naught noted he the shallow flowing sea, grace,

425 As step by step it set the wrack' a-swim; Where not a foot our vanished steps can The yellow torchlight nothing noted he track,

Wherein with fluttering gown and halfThe golden age, the golden age come bared limb back!

1 sea-weed cast ashore by the waves.

440

less sea

455 500

The temple damsels sung their midnight And still grew greater, till Milanion hymn;

Saw naught for dazzling light that round And naught the doubled stillness of the him shone.

490 fane When they were gone and all was hushed

But as he staggered with his arms outagain.

spread,

Delicious unnamed odors breathed around; But when the waves had touched the For languid happiness he bowed his head, marble base,

And with wet eyes sank down upon the

ground, And steps the fish swim over twice a day, The dawn beheld him sunken in his Nor wished for aught, nor any dream he

found place

495 465 Upon the floor; and sleeping there he lay, or make him ask more knowledge of his

To give him reason for that happiness, Not heeding aught the little jets of spray

bliss. The roughened sea brought nigh, across him cast,

At last his eyes were cleared, and he could For as one dead all thought from him had

see passed.

Through happy tears the goddess face to

face Yet long before the sun had showed his with that faint image of divinity, head,

470 Whose well-wrought smile and dainty Long ere the varied hangings on the changeless grace wall

Until that morn so gladdened all the place; Had gained once more their blue and

green Then he unwitting cried aloud her name, and red,

And covered. up his eyes for fear and He rose as one some well-known sign doth shame.

call When war upon the city's gates doth fall, But through the stillness he her voice And scarce like one fresh risen out of could hear

505 sleep,

475

Piercing his heart with joy scarce bearHe 'gan again his broken watch to keep.

able,

That said, "Milanion, wherefore dost Then he turned round; not for the sea

thou fear? gull's cry

I am not hard to those who love me well; That wheeled above the temple in his List to what I a second time will tell, flight,

And thou mayest hear perchance, and Not for the fresh south-wind that lovingly

live to save

510 Breathed on the new-born day and dying The cruel maiden from a loveless grave. night,

480

"See, by my feet three golden apples lie, But some strange hope 'twixt fear and

Such fruit among the heavy roses falls, great delight

Such fruit my watchful damsels carefully Drew round his face, now flushed, now

Store up within the best loved of my pale and wan,

515 And still constrained his eyes the sea to

Ancient Damascus, where the lover calls scan.

Above my unseen head, and faint and

light Now a faint light lit up the southern

The rose-leaves flutter round me in the sky,

night. Not sun or moon, for all the world was gray,

485 “And note that these are not alone most But this a bright cloud seemed, that drew fair anigh,

With heavenly gold, but longing strange Lighting the dull waves that beneath it lay they bring

520 As toward the temple still it took its way, Unto the hearts of men, who will not care,

walls,

the race,

Beholding these, for any once-loved thing But little ere the noontide did he rise, Till round the shining sides their fingers And why he felt so happy scarce could cling.

tell

555 And thou shalt see thy well-girt swiftfoot Until the gleaming apples met his eyes. maid

Then, leaving the fair place where this By sight of these amid her glory stayed. befell,

Oft he looked back as one who loved it “For bearing these within a scrip with well, thee,

526 Then homeward to the haunts of men 'gan When first she heads thee from the starting- wend place

To bring all things unto a happy end. 560 Cast down the first one for her eyes to see, And when she turns aside make on apace, And if again she heads thee in the race Now has the lingering month at last gone Spare not the other two to cast aside 531 by, If she not long enough behind will bide. Again are all folk around the running

place. "Farewell, and when has come the happy Nor other seems the dismal pageantry time

Than heretofore, but that another face That she Diana's raiment must unbind, Looks o'er the smooth course ready for And all the world seems blessed with

565 Saturn's clime,

535 For now, beheld of all, Milanion And thou with eager arms about her Stands on the spot ke twice has looked twined

upon. Beholdest first her gray eyes growing • kind,

But yet—what change is this that holds Surely, O trembler, thou shalt scarcely the maid? then

Does she indeed see in his glittering eye Forget the Helper of unhappy men.” More than disdain of the sharp shearing

blade,

570 Milanion raised his head at this last Some happy hope of help and victory? word,

540

The others seemed to say, “We come to For now so soft and kind she seemed to be No longer of her godhead was he feared; Look down upon us for a little while, Too late he looked, for nothing could he That, dead, we may bethink us of thy

smile.” But the white image glimmering doubtfully In the departing twilight cold and gray, But he—what look of mastery was this 575 And those three apples on the steps that He cast on her? Why were his lips so red? lay.

546 Why was his face so flushed with happi

ness? These then he caught up, quivering with So looks not one who deems himself but delight,

dead, Yet fearful lest it all might be a dream, E'en if to death he bows a willing head; And though aweary with the watchful So rather looks a god well pleased to find night,

Some earthly damsel fashioned to his And sleepless nights of longing, still did mind.

581 deem

550 He could not sleep; but yet the first sun- Why must she drop her lids before his gaze, beam

And even as she casts adown her eyes That smote the fane across the heaving Redden to note his eager glance of praise, deep

And wish that she were clad in other Shone on him laid in calm untroubled guise?

585 sleep.

Why must the memory to her heart arise

die;

see

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