POLYCRATES AND THE RING.

A POEM

BY

GEORGE DENISCRE FABER.

BLI

POLYCRATES AND THE RING.

"Le génie n'est autre chose qu'une grande aptitude à la patience."

Bufon.

In Samos' isle, long ages past away,
Polycrates the tyrant ruled the land;

Thousands he held beneath his sovereign sway,
Wielding the sceptre in a monarch's hand.
None dared to disobey his royal word;
Revolt was crushed by the down-cleaving sword.

With boundless riches was his palace decked;
Their choicest gifts the gods had scattered there
In sweet and rich profusion; nought he recked
Of aught that gods or foeman's might could dare.

Richer than richest, strongest 'mid the strong,
He ruled with justice and repressed the wrong.

Now so it chanced upon a May morning,

Th' accustomed crowd throng'd through the palace gate, To make a due obeisance to their king,

And pay just rev'rence to his royal state;

Pacing full slowly through the vaulted halls,

Past marble arch, past statued pedestals;

Until at length they come unto a room,

Where sat the king upon a golden throne;
Around him reigned a strange and mellow gloom;
A sweet, soft ray o'er all his visage shone;

While through the lattice streamed a mellow ray
That softened all the sunny glare of day.

Upon his head was set a priceless crown,

Lit up with emeralds of matchless hue;
While folds of regal vesture streamed adown,
Veiling his shoulders in æthereal blue.

His fingers grasped a sceptre wrought of gold,
Studded with pearls, right kingly to behold.

Then each in turn they knelt before his feet,
And told their story to his royal ear.
Unmoved he sat upon his high- throned seat,
Th' attentive crowd around him circling near.
No murmur brake the silence of the ring;
No voice was heard, save only of the king.

They told of laurels gained in bloody war;
Of booty captured from the flying foe;
Bringing the tale of victory from afar,

How sword met sword, how blow was paid for blow:
How the world rang with Samos' battle cry,
'Glory to Samos: death or victory.'

And last of all a stranger, fair to see,

Passed through the crowd that still was circling round,

And gat him to the throne right reverently,

And lowly bowing, knelt upon the ground;

Then rose, and standing forth, in accents clear

He spake his message to the royal ear.

"The great Amasis, he who rules the land,
Where the Nile's waters fructify the plain;
Who holds a countless people 'neath his hand,
Countless as sand beside the rolling main;
Bids thee now listen to his warning voice,
And timely choose, ere fruitless be the choice.

"All nations awestruck listen to thy word,
And trembling learn the story of thy fame,
And quake beneath the gleaming of thy sword,
And by submission magnify thy name;

And see thy crimson banner's pride unfurl'd;
Thy legions marching, conquerors through the world.

"No dark sedition's plots distract thine isle,
But peace and harmony are lords supreme.
Gone are the plague-spots of corruption's guile,
And all is happiness, as in a dream.

No murderer's fury thirsteth for thy life;
And peace stamps out the dying spark of strife.

"Thy palace gleams with treasures from the East,
Borne by swift ships wind-tossed across the sea;
And gems on which the daintiest eye might feast,
Till dimmed by their resplendent brilliancy;

And statues chiselled by a sculptor's art,
Where all is human save the unbeating heart.

"Beware-no rivalry the gods can brook,

Nor bear that man should stand 'twixt god and man. Beware the gods can blast thee with a look, And send thee forth a spectre, pale and wan; Or hurl thee headlong from thy royal state, Poor as the beggar crouching at thy gate.

*Lucan ix 155.