Classic Poem

When Athens, fallen beneath the Roman sway,
Kept still the relics of her bygone day,
The youth who most adorned her sacred hill
Was named Alcander: by Apollo's will
Votive to those high arts the god has given
To penetrate the ways of earth and heaven:
To whom no less the blind wheel-goddess spared
Her largess lavish; so that few compared
In happiness with him, and one alone
His rival in men's expectation shone
This was Septimius, who, of Roman name,
To Athens o'er the Tyrrhene waters came,
And held in rhetoric renown as high
As the other equalled in philosophy,
Nor lacked there kindliness between the two
From first, which into closest friendship grew
The god of arts from their arts different
Inspired them peace, and benediction sent:
And in his sphere, the intellectual sky
Bade his satellites move in harmony
Long lingered they in youth's fair indolence,
And still would he that noble calm dispense
Which 'tis the due of youth from life to gain
Before dark Care begin her iron reign,
And break the prime: but ah! there came at length
The breaking time: when youth his fiery strength
To match against the awaiting world is moved,
In life's wide lists desirous to be proved.
And first Alcander found it: he in thought
Transfixed would stand, into grave ardour wrought
And musings many: oft would bow his head
Severely pressed, as with a weight of lead,
Pondering what road to take, what thing to do
To tune his studies old to action new,
And be a man amid the world of men
Often he muttered low, oft seized his pen,
Traced and then tore the workings of his brain,
While newborn joy sank into doubt again.
Apollo smiled watching the noble strife,
Thinking to hold his votary through life,
Deeming occasion would but interpose
To crown his favourite son, what'er he chose.
But who can scape desire? who can be free
Of Nature's bonds, how great soe'er he be?
Amid his mind's unrest Alcander saw
Hypatia, and he bowed to nature's law:
Hypatia, fairest of the lovely train
That wandered round Lucina's golden fane,
Drawn by the queen of marriage still more near
Her shrine itself with each new budding year
Into his heart, transported through his eyes
Her lovely image fluttered, there to rise,
The flower of love in wisdom's ordered seat.
For she to him refused not answer meet,
And all sped well, and hindrance was there none;
Ere in short space, the previous rites o'ergone
Of hymeneal, came the day ordained
Whose evening should bring home the bride unstained.
Yet, since fair fortune in the marriage joys
Upbuilds the mind's dominion, not destroys,
Still great Apollo smiled, nor deemed that he
Should lose the subject of his sovereignty:
Nor would he, in respect of those mild hours,
But for the working of malific powers.
Still had he smiled to watch with godlike heart
The flight of yet another human dart
Shot upward toward the seat of entity,
Which all best souls desire; though destiny
Refuse that any reach the traceless shrine.
High gain it is to travel heights divine:
To seek for ever is the joy of thought,
The joy of gods for ever to be sought.
But other thing befell: that shall be told.
Septimius, in the easy weeks that roll'd
From roused Alcander to his marriage day,
Kept unconcerned at first his usual way,
Practising his mimic pleadings with renown
That lightned through the sophist-loving town:
waiting till sails should come to waft him home
To the wide law-courts of Imperial Rome.
Not needing, like his friend, to arbitrate
'twixt past and present at a troublous date,
Since his less lofty science set no bar
Betwixt his mind and the dark human war
Yet Fate to him brought woe, and by the same
Event that to his friend unhindering came
Of purpose high. To him Alcander brought
His own betrothed in proud and happy thought
That he might share his joy, he whom he deemed
His only fellow, and o'er all esteemed.
Septimius saw; and, lo, from liquid eyes
Bright beyond praise, shot through his arteries,
All in a flash, one glance that woke in him
strange trouble, and his senses made to swim,
As if some poison thinned to fire his blood,
Then hurled it through him in a raging flood:
In that one look he read, though 'twas but one
Of any from such eyes that must be thrown,
Piteous appeal, disdain, command, whate'er
Makes man's emotion thrall to beauty's snare.
An unseen power it was that wrought this ill
Blindly enacting destiny's wide will:
For Cupid, who is oft good Hymen's foe,
Hung in the clouds that hour with new-strung bow:
'twas spring time, when his shafts he best may wield
Against the creatures of the air and field.
He laughed to see the finch his mate pursue
Wing-stroke for wing-stroke o'er the bushes new:
The wild cat in the thicket crying loud
Under the sting: the bull, so royal proud,
Tearing the furrow in his savage need:
The horse that sprang, then tried again to feed,
Then raced his pasture's length against the wind.
So dealt he forth his plague on every kind.
'twas he who noting that one look unmeant
In the same flash his own sharp arrow sent.
Cureless was such a wound; but not the less
Septimius strove his torment to repress.
“What caitiff I, “so to himself he said,
“My own best brother's bride that shall be led,
In maddest thoughts to hold! “Then gan he try
Studies and fasts to heal his malady
And struggled sore: sometimes he leaped upright
Crying, “I love her not! in love's despite
I love her not! no plague have I to shun”:
Like to maimed men, who think that they can run,
Minding their former lightness, while they deem
Their real misery some unhappy dream.
But soon again Love with descending frown
Into his pit of horror struck him down,
And all his fancied sanity o'erthrew
The thirling dart again he inly knew,
Again he felt the beat of love and pain,
And shame went through him, and remorse again.
So that at last both strength and heart gan fail:
A fever came to him: his visage pale
And shaking limbs did all his friends aghast.
And thence so swiftly did his body waste,
That on the morn, whose evening would bring bride
To bridegroom's bed, they looked he should have died.
Meantime Alcander, in love's ecstasy,
Observed him little: for with feigned glee
The sick man greeted him whene'er they met.
But on the morn, that was for marriage set,
Speeding to him the first, he found him dressed
In the rich raiment of a wedding guest,
So dressed indeed for welcoming of the day.
But the rich garment served so to display
his ghastliness of feature and of hue,
That the amazed Alcander at the view
Felt sudden awe, and to demand began
Whence 'twas his friend appeared a dying man.
He with evasions wild and stammering strove
To escape confession of unwilling love;
And with a dreary smile to cross the floor
Urged his weak limbs, to win the open door,
And bade him follow to the marriage fest,
Nor be behind his day. But the poor jest
Failed as he spoke it; Love so terribly
Shook him, that it no more might hidden be:
And turning with a deadly look he said,
“Alcander, in my soul's despite and dread
Thy lady so I love, that night nor day
Her image from my thoughts may pass away:
Yea truly in the phantasies of sleep
She doth pursue me: her by day I keep
Still in my ken: the pain that me doth kill
Is sprung of this: I have no other ill.
I cannot name her, lest from me should burst
Wild callings on her name. I am accursed
Of heaven to be a traitor to my friend.
Now slay me here, and of this woe make end.”
The grave Athenian youth this agony
Heard all unmoved: for magnamimity
Anger forbad: concern and pity filled
His large firm eyes, masterly virtue's guild
In consultation with himself he stood,
And argued with his mind against his blood,
Recalling many tractates, ancient codes
Of noble friendship, panegyric odes
By poets made of constancy sublime
Which friend to friend had shown in ancient time:
How one had given his life to save his friend,
How some had shared their fortunes to the end:
How friendship was more precious to the wise
Than Indian gold or eastern merchandise:
How one had written that a mistress fair
Should with a friend be held of no compare,
For that a mistress any day is won
But to repair a friend remaineth none.
These and much more regathering in his mind,
At length he spake: “Septimius, thou art kind
Giving me warrant to confer a boon,
A wedding day is hasting to the noon
But not the bridegroom I, though she the bride,
For whom the flowers fall thick from side to side.
Hypatia name I thine: receive from me
A gift that answers well my thoughts of thee.”
Who that is set in strait 'twixt death and love
But must refuse the bat and take the dove?
Septimius, gazing on that lofty face
Where greatness occupied in passion's place,
Bowed to the boon, though tear arose on tear,
And 'twas remorse to feel his joy so dear.
Some gifts there are, that he who offers makes
Refusal wrong, he honours best who takes
So to make short the story of that day,
When to the nuptial feast they took their way,
He held the bridegroom's room: nor she denied
To yield into his arms a willing bride.
Therewith Apollo smiled upon his son,
Deeming his doubtful victory twice won,
And love removed better than love retrieved,
For the great ends which he in him conceived.
He smiled: but as his smile shot through the cloud
Discovered Cupid fled, sobbing aloud,
Where secretly all-armed above the earth
He flew, and saw the spoiling of his mirth,
And the calm bosom of the Athenian
Handling his vengeful bolts he flew and ran,
And woe betide Apollo's votary,
If him unfenced in wisdom's panoply
He ever mark: such spiteful rage he fed
Finding his former arrow idly sped,
Alcander having plucked it from his breast,
And e'en Septimius' grief too soon redressed
Great Master of the Muses, hast not thou
Felt in thy heart that torturing barb? then how
Safety to mortal man canst thou ensure
And bid life's game be without forfeiture?
Who now so lightsome as Septimius,
When his mad sorrows were concluded thus?
For Rome he sailed, departing with his bride,
Blessing Alcander, who with smiles replied,
And with unruffled brow beheld the prore
Rise to the sea beneath the quickened oar.
Anon in the great city of the hills
Septimius' praised name all hearing fills:
No orator like him the forum swayed,
To him the gathered gowns with awe obeyed;
The offices of state to him stand wide,
The open gates for Fortune's flowing tide:
Lovely Hypatia, who his honour shares,
By her fine wit more high the structure rears;
High suitors throng his ivory chair around,
And all the city to his will he found.
Meanwhile revengeful Love, to exact his due,
With Fortune joined, Alcander to pursue.
When Athensward from the bleak shore he hies,
E'en there the fickle goddess through the skies
Rattled her keys ('twas she indeed who thus,
Combined with Love, upraised Septimius),
And the same hour her favourite downwards thrust
Upon that wheel that turns 'twixt cloud and dust.
A sleety shower blew up, with bitter wind:
Low thunders growled in the clear blue behind.
But angrier were the faces that he met,
When in the town's fair street his feet he set.
The kinsmen of Hypatia, a dark band,
Frowningly met him: nor aside would stand,
Nor scarce give way when he looked pleasantly.
And after him sent shouts of “Villany,”
And “Go thou villain of a filthy trade,”
And “There goes he who hath his bride betrayed
And from a lover rich acquired base gain.”
He pondering the moment in disdain
Of ill construction, soon resumed his road,
Wrapped in high musings, toward his own abode.
But in a little while he found not vain
The menaces of that incensed train.
A suit at law was brought, the vile pretence
That he had sold his bride for recompense
Of money given: doing despite and scorn
To all her kin: such crime was laid and sworn,
And in indictment vast was spread the feud
At legal length: the words the words pursued.
In vain he pled: no eloquence had power
Against the frown of all, and in an hour
He was cast down from fortune and from fame
In such a mulct, that the extremest shame
Alone awaited him, exposed to stand
A slave for purchase at the bidder's hand.
A Thracian merchant bought him, and he went
O'er wintry seas from shame to banishment.
Unhappy man! like the inclement shore
That took him, was the rigorous doom he bore.
O'er the cold hills it was his part to lead
At break of day his master's flock, and feed:
To follow in the snow along the waste
Afoot his horse's heels, while on he paced:
And every season both in frost and heat,
Extremest both the most, his toils repeat:
And for himself to trap the deer and bear,
Or in the frozen river leave his snare
Ere to his tasks he went: that with such pain
Precariously his life he might sustain.
Over his own unfriended head the roof
He reared, which kept the winds of night aloof.
But still Apollo smiled: “Now shall be known,”
Mused he, “the greatness of my favourite son:
Penury, slavery, shall only prove
How fixed in heart the virtue which I move.”
And so indeed it seemed: cramped and constrained,
Steadfast to science still the man remained:
Some loftier moments snatching, he by stealth
Communed with books, the remnants of his wealth,
In secret haunts: and on rough tablets wrought,
Or frizzled skins, the minutes of his thought:
And this contented him; one moment's scope
For days of toil, held him alive thorugh hope.
Hope who still drops her anchor in life's sand,
And to firm hold the atoms loose would band,
That life's tossed ship outride the tempest's rage:
Hope, that to ease turns pain, to youth turns age:
Hope, that in mortal nature so is fixed,
That no damned wretch in misery's mortar mixed,
No sodden villain brought to extreme shame,
Would change to other and not be the same:
Albeit both high and low willingly would
Add to themselves another's share of good,
Desiring this man's fame, and that man's wealth,
Yonder man's beauty, and that other's health;
So they these good upon their own might pile,
But never cease to be themselves the while:
Hope bade him live; and Hope at length bequeathed
As dying givers do, her promise breathed,
Dying to give what could not be outlived,
But, unlike givers, in her death revived:
She died in certainty: but, knowing then
Her gift unlike all other gifts, that men
Die if she live not, dying rose once more
Living, to bid him live, as heretofore.
For, on a day when most he felt his chain,
He found it loose! the everlasting strain
Suddenly ceased; and he was free to fly.
The watchdog slaves, who still beset him nigh,
Were with their master fierce withdrawn away,
Forgetting him some hours that happy day:
He snatched his books and fled: and many a length
Of wild and waste he went, the hilly strength
Of Rhodope and Haemus, where the blast
Blows clearest, or with sudden change o'ercast,
The sky hurls darksome white: where ice and snow
Make alternation, as the wild winds blow.
Long was his flight: he day by day lay hid
In trees and caves; and walked when Hesper bid
With westward course, to reach the Ausonian plains:
And now, descending, the last goal he gains,
And stands in Rome itself, amazed and blind
Amid the mighty concourse of mankind
Beside the Virgin's Fount he sets him down,
Viewing the dwellers of the high-built town:
The innumerous youth who in the Martial space
Hurl dart, toss disk, contend in breathless race;
The civic crowd which in the forum meet,
The slave-borne litters tossing through the street;
The flute-led worshippers who slowly march
To disappear beneath some temple's arch;
The sculptured walls, the bastions gathered high
From side to side across the purple sky.
But on the wanderer of that mighty town
None smiled: none spake him ere the sun went down.
Though hope had sent him there perchance to find
His friend, and her whom he to him resigned.
hungry and spent he leaned against the walls,
And felt how cold the warmth of alien halls,
How hard Rome's pavement to a foot unshod;
Mailed should they be on those proud streets who trod.
Then in the growing darkness he was fain
To seek that haunt of misery and pain,
Which oft, ere dea