Part 3

To take the jetsom of the tide; Because this brackish turbid sea Throws toward thee things that pleased of yore, And though it wash thy feet no more,

Its murmurs mean: "I yearn for thee." The world may like, for all I care, The gentler voice, the cooler head, That bows a rival to despair,

And cheaply compliments the dead; That smiles at all that's coarse and rash, Yet wins the trophies of the fight, Unscathed, in honour's wreck and crash,

Heartless, but always in the right;. Thanked for good counsel by the judge Who tramples on the bleeding brave, Thanked too by him who will not budge From claims thrice hallowed by the grave.

Thanked, and self-pleased: ay, let him wear What to that noble breast was due; And I, dear passionate Teucer, dare Go through the homeless world with you.

MIMNERMUS IN CHURCH

You promise heavens free from strife, Pure truth, and perfect change of will; But sweet, sweet is this human life, So sweet, I fain would breathe it still; Your chilly stars I can forego, This warm kind world is all I know.

You say there is no substance here, One great reality above: Back from that void I shrink in fear, And child-like hide myself in love: Show me what angels feel. Till then, I cling, a mere weak man, to men.

You bid me lift my mean desires From faltering lips and fitful veins To sexless souls, ideal quires, Unwearied voices, wordless strains: My mind with fonder welcome owns One dear dead friend's remembered tones.

Forsooth the present we must give To that which cannot pass away; All beauteous things for which we live By laws of time and space decay. But oh, the very reason why I clasp them, is because they die.

HERACLITUS

They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead, They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed. I wept, as I remembered, how often you and I Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.

And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest, A handful of grey ashes, long long ago at rest, Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake; For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.

IOLE

I will not leave the smouldering pyre: Enough remains to light again: But who am I to dare desire A place beside the king of men?

So burnt my dear Ochalian town; And I an outcast gazed and groaned. But, when my father's roof fell down, For all that wrong sweet love atoned.

He led me trembling to the ship, He seemed at least to love me then; He soothed, he clasped me lip to lip: How strange, to wed the king of men.

I linger, orphan, widow, slave, I lived when sire and brethren died; Oh, had I shared my mother's grave, . Or clomb unto the hero's side!

That comrade old hath made his moan; The centaur cowers within his den: And I abide to guard alone The ashes of the king of men.

Alone, beneath the night divine-- Alone, another weeps elsewhere: Her love for him is unlike mine, Her wail she will not let me share.

STESICHORUS

Queen of the Argives, (thus the poet spake,) Great lady Helen, thou hast made me wise; Veiled is the world, but all the soul awake, Purged by thine anger, clearer far than eyes.

Peep is the darkness; for my bride is hidden, Crown of my glory, guerdon of my song: Preod is the vision; thou art here unbidden, Mute and reproachful, since I did thee wrong.

Sweetest of wanderers, grievest thou for friends Tricked by a phantom, cheated to the grave? Woe worth the God, the mocking God, that sends Lies to the pious, furies to the brave.

Pardon our falsehood: thou wert far away, Gathering the lotus down the Egypt-water, Wifely and duteous, hearing not the fray, Taking no stain from all those years of slaughter:

Guiltless, yet mournful. Tell the poets truths; Tell them real beauty leadeth not to strife; Weep for the slain, those many blooming youths: Tears such as thine might bring them back to life.

Dear, gentle lady, if the web's unthreaded, Slander and fable fairly rent in twain, Then, by the days when thou wert loved and wedded, Give me, I pray, my bride's glad smile again.

The lord, who leads the Spartan host, Stands with a little maid, To greet a stranger from the coast Who comes to seek his aid.