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ANDROMEDA
Over the sea,
past Crete, on the Syrian shore to the southward,
Dwells in the
well-tilled lowland a dark-haired æthiop people,
Skillful with
needle and loom, and the arts of the dyer and carver,
Skillful, but
feeble of heart; for they know not the lords of Olympus,
Lovers of
men; neither broad-browed Zeus, nor Pallas Athené,
Teacher of
wisdom to heroes, bestower of might in the battle;
Share not the
cunning of Hermes, nor list to the songs of Apollo.
Fearing the
stars of the sky, and the roll of the blue salt water,
Fearing all
things that have life in the womb of the seas and the
rivers,
Eating no
fish to this day, nor ploughing the main, like the
Pheonics,
Manful with
black-beaked ships, they abide in a sorrowful region,
Vexed with
the earthquake, and flame, and the sea-floods, scourge of
Poseidon.
Whelming the
dwellings of men, and the toils of the slow-footed oxen,
Drowning the
barley and flax, and the hard-earned gold of the
harvest,
Up to the
hillside vines, and the pastures skirting the woodland,
Inland the
floods came yearly; and after the waters a monster,
Bred of the
slime, like the worms which are bred from the slim of the
Nile-bank,
Shapeless, a
terror to see; and by night it swam out to the seaward,
Daily
returning to feed with the dawn, and devoured of the
fairest,
Cattle, and
children, and maids, till the terrified people fled
inland.
Fasting in
sackcloth and ashes they came, both the king and his
people,
Came to the
mountains of oaks, top the house of the terrible
sea-gods,
Hard by the
gulf in the rocks, where of old the world-wide deluge
Sank to the
inner abyss; and the lake where the fish of the goddess,
Holy,
undying, abide; whom the priests feed daily with
dainties.
There to the
mystical fish, high-throned in her chamber of cedar,
Burnt they
the fat of the flock; till the flame shone far to the
seaward.
Three days
fasting they prayed: but the fourth day the priests of the
goddess,
Cunning in
spells, cast lots, to discover the crime of the people.
All days long
they cast, till the house of the monarch was taken,
Cepheus, king
of the land; and the faces of all gathered blackness.
Then one more
they cast; and Cassiopœ was taken,
Deep-bosomed
wife of the king, whom oft far-seeing Apollo
Watched
well-pleased from the welkin, the fairest of æthiop
women:
Fairest, save
only her daughter; for down to the ankle her tresses
Rolled,
blue-black as the night, ambrosial, joy to beholders.
Awful and
fair she arose, most like in her coming to Here,
Queen before
whom the Immortals arise, as she comes on Olympus,
Out of the
chamber of gold, which her son Hephætos was wrought her.
Such in her
stature and eyes, and the broad white light of her
forehead.
Stately she
came from her place, and she spoke in the midst of the
people.
‘Pure are my
hands from blood: most pure this heart in my bosom.
Yet one fault
I remember this day; one word have I spoken;
Rashly I
spoke on the shore, and I dread lest the sea should have heard
it.
Watching my
child at her bath, as she plunged in the joy of her
girlhood,
Fairer I
called her in pride that Atergati, queen of the ocean.
Judge ye if
this be my sin, for I know none other.’ She ended;
Wrapping her
head in her mantle she stood, and the people were
silent.
Answered the
dark-browed priests, ‘No word, once spoken, returneth,
Even if
uttered unwitting. Shall gods excuse our rashness?
That which is
one, that abides; and the wrath of the sea is against
us;
Hers, and the
wrath of her brother, the Sun-god, lord of the
sheepfolds.
Fairer than
her hast though boasted thy daughter? Ah folly! for
hateful,
Hateful are
they to the gods, whoso, impious, liken a mortal,
Fair though
he be, to their glory; and hateful is that which is
likened,
Grieving the
eyes of their pride, and abominate, doomed to their
anger.
What shall be
likened to gods? The unknown, who deep in the
darkness
Ever abide,
twyformed, many-handed, terrible, shapeless.
Woes to the
queen; for the land is defiled, and the people accursed.
Take though
her therefore by night, though ill-starred Cassiopœia,
Take her with
us in the night, when the moon sinks low to the
westward;
Bind her
aloft for a victim, a prey for the gorge of the monster,
Far on the
sea-girt rock, which is washed by the surges forever;
So may the
goddess accept her, and so may the land make atonement,
Purged by her
blood from its sin: so obey thou the doom of the
rulers.’
Bitter in
soul they went out, Cepheus and Cassiopœia,
Bitter in
soul; and their hearts whirled round, as the leaves in the
eddy.
Weak was the
queen, and rebelled: but the king, like a shepherd of
people,
Willed not
the land should waste; so he yielded the life of his
daughter.
Deep in the
wane of the night, as the moon sank low to the westward,
They by the
shade of the cliffs, with the horror of darkness around
them,
Stole, as
ashamed, to a deed which became not the light of the
sunshine,
Slowly, the
priests, and the queen, and the virgin bound in the
galley.
Slowly they
rowed to the rocks; but Cepheus far in the palace
Sate in the
midst of the hall, on his throne, like a shepherd of
people,
Choking his
woe, dry-eyed, while the slaves wailed loudly around
him.
They on the
sea-girt rock, which is washed by the surges forever,
Set her in
silence, the guiltless, aloft with her face to the
eastward.
Under a crag
of the stone, where a ledge sloped down to the water;
There they
set Andromeden, most beautiful, shaped like a goddess,
Lifting her
long white arms wide-spread to the walls of the basalt,
Chaining
them, ruthless, with brass; and they called on the might of the
Rulers.
‘Mystical
fish of the seas, dread Queen whom æthiops honour,
Whelming the
land in thy wrath, unavoidable, sharp as the sting-ray,
Thou, and thy
brother the Sun, brain-smiting, lord of the sheepfold,
Scorching the
earth all day, and then resting at night in thy bosom,
Take ye this
one life for many, appeased by the blood of a maiden,
Fairest, and
born of the fairest, a queen, most priceless of victims’
Thrice they
spat as they went by the maid: but her mother delaying
Fondled her
child to the last, heart-crushed; and the warmth of her
weeping
Fell on the
breast of the maid, as her woe broke forth into wailing.
‘Daughter! my
daughter! forgive me! O curst not the murderess! Curst
not!
How have I
sinned, but in love? Do the gods grudge glory to
mothers?
Loving I bore
thee in vain in the fate-cursed bride-bed of Cepheus,
Loving I fed
thee and tended, and loving rejoiced in they beauty,
Blessing they
limbs as I bathed them, and blessing thy locks as I combed
them’
Decking thee,
ripening to woman, I blest thee: yet blessing I slew
thee!
How have I
sinned, but in love? O swear to me, swear to they
mother.’
Tearless,
dumb with amaze, the maid was alone in the darkness.
All through
the long, long hours, she there stood helpless and
hopeless,
Wide eyed,
downward gazing, in vain at the black, blank darkness.
Feebly at
last she began, while wild thoughts bubbled within her.
‘Guiltless am
I why thus then? Are gods more ruthless than
mortals?
Have they no
mercy for youth? No love for the souls who have loved
them?
Even as I
loved thee, Dread sea, as I played by thy border,
Blessing the
wave as it cooled me, the wind as it breathed on my
forehead;
Bowing my
head to thy tempest, and opening my heart to thy
children,
Silvery fish
wreathed shall and the strange lithe things of the water
Tenderly
casting them back, as thy gasped on the beach in the
sunshine
Home to their
mother in vain while mine sits childless in anguish.’
Awed by her
own rash words, she was still and her eyes to the
seaward
Looked for an
answer of wrath. Far off in the heart of the
darkness
Bright white
mists rose slowly; beneath them the wandering ocean
Glimmered and
glowed to the deepest abyss, and the knees of the
maiden,
Trembled and
sank, as afar, like a dawn in the midnight,
Rose from
their seaweed chamber, the choir of the mystical
sea-maids.
Onward toward
her they came, and her heart beat loud at their coming
Watching the
bliss of the gods as they wakened the cliffs with their
laughter.
Onward they
came in their joy, and before them the roll of the
surges
Sank as the
breeze sank dead, into smooth green foam-flecked marble,
Awed, and the
crags of the cliff and the pines of the mountains were
silent.
Onward they
came in their joy and around them the lamps of the
sea-nymphs
Myriad fiery
balls, came panting and heaving, and rainbows
Crimson and
azure and emerald, were broken in star-showers lighting,
Far through
the win dark-depths of the crystal the gardens of
Nereus,
Coral and
sea-fan and tangle, the blooms and the palms of the
ocean.
Onward they
came in their joy, more white than the foam which they
scattered,
Laughing and
singing, and tossing and twining, while eager, the
Tritons
Blinded with
kisses their eyes, unreproved, and above them in worship
Hovered the
terns, and the seagulls swept past them on silvery
pinions
Echoing
softly their laughter; around them the wantoning
dolphins
Sighed as
they plunged, full of love; and the great sea-horses which bore
them
Curved up
their crests in their pride to the delicate arms of the
maidens,
Pawing the
spray into gems, till a fiery rainfall, unharming
Sparkled and
gleamed on the limbs of the nymphs, and the coils of the
mermen.
Onward they
went in their joy, bathed round with the fiery coolness,
Needing nor
sun nor moon, illumined self-lighted, immortal: but
others,
Pitiful,
floated in silence apart; in their bosoms the sea-boys,
Slain by the
wrath of the seas, swept down by the anger of Nereus;
Hapless, whom
never again on strand or on quay shall their mothers
Welcome with
garlands and vows to the temple, but wearily pining
Gaze over
island and bay for the sails of the sunken, they
heedless
Sleep in soft
bosoms for ever, and dream of the surge and the
sea-maids.
Onward they
passed in their joy; on their brows neither sorrow nor
anger;
Self-sufficing,
as gods, never heeding the woe of the maiden.
She would
have shrieked for the mercy: but sham made her dumb; and their
eyeballs
Stared on her
careless and still, like the eyes in the house of the
idols.
Seeing they
saw not, and passed, like a dream, on the murmuring
ripple.
Stunned by
the wonder she gazed, wide-eyes, as the glory departed.
‘On fair
shapes! far fairer than I! Too fair to be ruthless!
Gladden mine
eyes once more with your splendour, unlike to my
fancies;
You, then,
smile in the sea-gleam, and laughed in the plash of the
ripple.
Awful I
deemed you and formless; inhuman, monstrous as idols;
Lo, when ye
came, ye were women, more loving and lovelier, only;
Like in all
else; and I blest you: why blest ye not me for my
worship?
Had you no
mercy for me, thus guiltless? Ye pitied the
sea-boys:
Why not me,
then more hapless by far? Does your sight and your
knowledge
End with the
marge of the waves? Is the world in which ye dwell in not our
world?’
Over the
mountain aloft ran a rush and a roll and a roaring;
Downward the
breeze cam indignant, and leapt with a howl to the
water,
Roaring in
cranny and crag, till the pillars and clefts of the
basalt
Rang like a
god-swept lyre, and her brain grew made with the noises;
Crashing and
lapping of waters, and sighing and tossing of weed-beds,
Gurgle and
whisper and hiss of the foam, while thundering surges
Boomed in the
waver-worn halls, as they champed at the roots of the
mountain.
Hour after
hour in the darkness the wind rushed fierce to the
landward,
Drenching the
maiden with spray; she shivering, weary and drooping,
Stood with
her heart full of thoughts, till the foam-crests gleamed in the
twilight,
Leaping and
laughing around, and the east grew red with the dawning.
Then on the
ridge of the hills rose the broad bright sun in his
glory,
Hurling his
arrows abroad on the glittering crests of the surges,
Gilding the
soft round bosoms of wood, and the downs of the
coastland;
Gilding the
weeds at her feet, and the foam-laced teeth of the
ledges,
Showing the
maiden her home through the veil of her locks, as they
floated
Glistening,
damp with the spray, in the long black cloud to the
landward.
High in the
far-off glens rose thing blue curls from the homesteads;
Softly the
low of the herds, and the pipe of the outgoing herdsman
Slid to her
ear on the water, and melted her heart into weeping.
Shuddering,
she tried to forger them; and straining her eyes to the
seaward,
Watched for
her doom, and she wailed but in vain, to the terrible
Sun-god.
‘Dost though
not pity me, Sun, though thy wild dark sister by
ruthless;
Dost thou not
pity me here, as though seest me desolate, weary,
Sickened with
shame and despair, like a kid torn young from its
mother?
What is my
beauty insult thee, then blight it: but me – Oh spare
me!
Spare me yet,
ere he be here fierce, tearing, unbearable! See
me,
See me, how
tender and soft, and thus helpless! See how I
shudder,
Fancying only
my doom. Wilt though shin thus bright, when it takes
me?
Are there no
deaths save this, great Sun? No fiery arrow,
Lightning, or
deep-mouthed wave? Why thus? What music in
shrieking,
Pleasure in
warm live limbs torn slowly? And dar’st thou behold
them!
Oh, thou hast
watched worse deeds! All sights are alike to thy
brightness!
What if
though waken the birds to their song, dost thou waken son
sorrow;
Waken no sick
to their pain; no captive to wrench at his fetters?
Smile on the
garden and fold, and on maidens who sing at the milking;
Flash into
tapestries chambers, and peep in the eyelids of lovers,
Showing the
blissful their bliss – Dost love, then, the place where thou
smiles?
Lovest thou
cities aflame, fierce blows, and the shrieks of the
widow?
Lovest thou
corpse-strewn fields, as thou lightest the path of the
vulture?
Lovest thou
these, that thou gazes so gay on my tears, and my
mother’s,
Laughing
alike at the horror of one, and the bliss of another?
What dost
thou care, in thy sky, for the joys and the sorrows of
mortals?
Colder art
thou than the nymphs; in they broad bright eye is no
seeing.
Hadst thou a
soul as much soul as the slave sin the house of my
father,
Wouldst thou
not save? Poor thralls! they pitied me, clung to me
weeping,
Kissing my
hands and my feet – What are gods, more ruthless than
mortals?
Worse than
the souls which they rule? Let me dies: they war not
with ashes!’
Sudden she
ceased, with a shriek: in the spray, like a hovering
foam-bow,
Hung, more
fair than the foam-bow, a boy in the bloom of his
manhood,
Golden-haired,
ivory-limbed, ambrosial; over his shoulder
Hung for a
veil of his beauty the gold-fringed folds of the
goat-skin,
Bearing the
brass of his shield, as the sun flashed clear on its
clearness.
Curved on his
thigh lay a falchion, and under the gleam of his helmet
Eyes more
blue than the main shone awful, around him Athené
Shed in her
love such grace, such state, and terrible daring.
Hovering over
the water he came, upon glittering pinions,
Living, a
wonder, outgrown from the tight-laced gold of his
sandals;
Bounding from
billow to billow, and sweeping the crests like a
sea-gull;
Leaping the
gulfs of the surge, as he laughed in the joy of his
leaping.
Fair and
majestic he sprang to the rock; and the maiden in wonder
Gazed for a
while, and then hid in the dark-rolling wave of her
tresses,
Fearful, the
light of her eyes; while the boy (for her sorrow had awed
him)
Blushed at
her blushes, and vanished, like mist on the cliffs at the
sunrise.
Fearful at
length she looked forth: he was gone: she, wild with
amazement,
Wailed for
her mother aloud: but the wail of the wind only
answered
Sudden he
flashed into sight, but her side; in his pity and anger
Moist were
his eyes; and his breath like a rose-bed, as bolder and
bolder,
Hovering
under her brows, like a swallow that haunts by the
house-eaves,
Deicate-handed,
he lifted the veil of her hair; while the maiden
Motionless,
frozen with fear, wept loud; till his lips unclosing
Poured from
their pearl-strung portal the music wave of his wonder.
‘Ah, well
spoke she, the wise one, the grey-eyed Pallas Athené, -
Known to
Immortals alone are the prizes which lie for the heroes
Ready
prepared at their feet; for requiring a little, the
rulers
Pay back the
loan tenfold to the man who, careless of pleasure,
Thirsting for
honour and toil, fares forth on a perilous errance
Led by the
guiding of gods, and strong in the strength of
Immortals.
Thus have
they led me to thee: from afar, unknowing, I marked
thee,
Shining, a
snow-white cross on the dark-green walls of the
sea-cliff;
Carven in
marble I deemed thee, a perfect work of the craftsman.
Likeness of
Amphitrité, or far-famed Queen Cythereia.
Curious I
came, till I saw how thy tresses streamed in the
sea-wind,
Glistening,
black as the night, and thy lips moved slow in thy
wailing.
Speak again
now – Oh speak! For my soul is stirred to avenge
thee;
Tell me what
barbarous horde, without law, unrighteous and heartless,
Hateful to
gods and to men, thus have bound thee, a shame to the
sunlight,
Scorn and
prize to the sailor: but my prize now; for a
coward,
Coward and
shameless were he, who so finding a glorious jewel
Cast on the
wayside by fools, would not win it and keep it and wear
it,
Even as I
will thee; for I swear by the head of my father,
Bearing thee
over the sea-wave, to wed thee in Argos the fruitful,
Beautiful,
meed of my toil, no less than this head which I carry,
Hidden here
fearful – Oh speak!’ But the maid,
still dumb with amazement,
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