The Classic and the Beautiful from the Literature of Three Thousand Years

I ask not a life for the dear ones
All radiant, as others have done,
But that life may have just enough shadow
To temper the glare of the sun;

I would pray God to guard them from evil,
But my prayer would bound back to my-

self.

Ah! a seraph may pray for a sinner, But a sinner must pray for himself.

The twig is so easily bended,

I have banished the rule and the rod; I have taught them the goodness of knowledge:

They have taught me the goodness of God. My heart is a dungeon of darkness,

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Where I shut them from breaking a rule; Their own liege lord and master born, that I

-ha, ha!-must die.

While from the rich, dark tracery along the vaulted wall

Lights gleamed on harness, plume and spear o'er the proud old Gothic hall.

Fast hurrying through the outer gate the

mailed retainers poured,

On through the portal's frowning arch, and thronged around the board;

While at its head, within his dark carved

oaken chair of state,

Armed cap-a-pie, stern Rudiger with girded

falchion sate.

Fill every beaker up, my men! men! Pour forth Whilst Lou and I shot flitting glances

the cheering wine;

There's life and strength in every drop:

thanksgiving to the vine!

Are ye all there, my vassals true? Mine eyes are waxing dim.

Fill round, my tried and fearless ones, each goblet to the brim.

"Ye're there, but yet I see you not. Draw forth each trusty sword,

And let me hear your faithful steel clash once

around my board.

Full of vague, unspoken dread.

Had we hither come for quiet,

Hither fled the city's noise, But to change it for the tumult

Of those horrid country-boys?

Waking one with wild hallooing

Early every summer day, Shooting robins, tossing kittens,

Frightening the wrens away,

I hear it faintly louder yet! What clogs Stumbling my heavy breath?

Stumbling over trailing flounces, Thumbing volumes gold and blue,

Up, all, and shout for Rudiger, 'Defiance Clamoring for sugared dainties, unto Death!'"

Tracking earth the passage through,—

Bowl rang to bowl, steel clanged to steel, and These and other kindred trials.

Ho, cowards, have ye left me to meet him I wrote those lines one happy summer;

here alone?

To-day I smile to read them o'er,

PRIAM PETITIONS ACHILLES FOR THE BODY OF HIS SON.

FROM THE GREEK OF HOMER.

LD man, a god hath hither
been thy guide:

As when a man, by cruel fate pursued,
In his own land hath shed another's blood,

Hermes I am, and sent to And, flying, seeks beneath some wealthy house
A foreign refuge, wondering, all behold,

thee from Jove,

Father of all, to bring thee On godlike Priam so with wonder gazed
Achilles; wonder seized th' attendants all,

safely here.

I now return, nor to Achilles' And one to other looked. Then Priam thus To Peleus' son his suppliant speech addressed:

eyes

Will I appear: beseems it

not a god

To greet a mortal in the sight "Think, great Achilles, rival of the gods,
Upon thy father, e'en as I myself
Upon the threshold of unjoyous age;
And haply he from them that dwell around
May suffer wrong, with no protector near
To give him aid; yet he, rejoicing, knows
That thou still livst, and day by day may
hope

of all.
But go thou in and clasp Achilles' knees,
And supplicate him for his father's sake,
His fair-haired mother's and his child's, that so
Thy words may stir an answer in his heart."

Thus saying, Hermes to Olympus' heights
Returned; and Priam from his chariot sprang,
And left Idæus there, in charge to keep
The horses and the mules, while he himself
Entered the dwelling straight where wont to

sit

Achilles, loved of heaven. The chief he found
Within, his followers seated all apart;
Two only in his presence ministered,
The brave Automedon and Alcimus,
A warrior bold; scarce ended the repast
Of food and wine; the table still was set.
Great Priam entered unperceived of all,
And, standing by Achilles, with his arms
Embraced his knees, and kissed those fearful
hands,

To see his son returning safe from Troy;
While I, all hapless, that have many sons-
The best and bravest through the breadth of
Troy-

Begotten, deem that none are left me now.
Fifty there were when came the sons of
Greece,

Nineteen the offspring of a single womb;
The rest the women of my household bore.
Of these have many by relentless Mars
Been laid in dust; but he, my only one,
The city's and his brethren's sole defence-
He, bravely fighting in his country's cause,
Hector, but lately by thy hand hath fall'n.
On his behalf I venture to approach

Blood-stained, which many of his sons had The Grecian ships; for his release to thee
To make my prayer, and priceless ransom pay.

slain.

Then thou, Achilles, reverence the gods,
And for thy father's sake look pitying down
On me, more needing pity, since I bear
Such grief as never man on earth hath
borne,

Who stoop to kiss the hand that slew my son."

Thus, as he spoke, within Achilles' breast
Fond mem'ry of his father rose; he touched
The old man's hand and gently put him by.
Then wept they both, by various mem'ries
stirred :

One, prostrate at Achilles' feet, bewailed
His warrior son; Achilles for his sire

And for Patroclus wept-his comrade dear; And through the house their weeping loud was heard.

But when Achilles had indulged his grief And eased the yearning of his heart and limbs,

Uprising, with his hand the aged sire,
Pitying his hoary head and hoary beard,
He raised, and thus with gentle words ad-
dressed:

To live in woe, while they from cares are free.

Two coffers lie beside the door of Jove
With gifts for man-one good, the other ill;
To whom from each the lord of lightning
gives,

Him sometimes evil, sometimes good, befalls;
To whom the ill alone, him foul disgrace
And grinding misery o'er the earth pursue:
By god and man alike despised he roams.
Thus from his birth the gods to Peleus gave
Excellent gifts; with wealth and substance
blessed

Above his fellows; o'er the Myrmidons
He ruled with sovereign sway; and Heaven
bestowed

On him, a mortal, an immortal bride.
Yet this of ill was mingled in his lot-
That in his house no rising race he saw
Of future kings; one only son he had-
One doomed to early death. Nor is it

mine

To tend my father's age, but far from home. Thee and thy sons in Troy I vex with war. Much have we heard, too, of thy former wealth;

Above what Lesbos northward, Macar's seat,

How couldst thou venture to the Grecian Contains, and Upper Phrygia, and the shores

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The Classic and the Beautiful from the Literature of Three ..., Volume 2