Classic Poem

6. The Gods of Greece.
O full-blooming Moon! how in thy light
Like a flood of molten gold the sea sparkles!
The clearness of day, touched with twilight enchanted,
Broods over the far-spread plain of the sea-sands.
On the clear-blue, starless heavens
Hover the snow-white clouds,
Like to colossal statues of Gods,
Of white, gleaming marble.

No — nevermore — no clouds are there yonder!
'Tis themselves I behold, the great Gods of Hellas,
Who once held sway o'er the world, rejoicing,
But now, expelled and extinguished,
Purposeless wander, shadowy, gigantic,
On the midnight vault of the heavens.

Marvelling, strangely bedazzled, I am watching
This aerial Pantheon,
These solemnly silent, weirdly unresting
Shapes of the giants.
There, there is Kronion, the king of Heaven;
Snow-white fall the locks from his head,
The world-renowned locks which made tremble Olympus,
Quenched is the lightning he grasps in his hand;
Sorrow and misery brood on his features,
And yet the ancient pride still reigns there.
Those were far happier days, O Zeus,
When thou rejoicedst with rapture celestial,
With striplings and nymphs and a thousand offerings!
But even the Gods do not govern for ever;
The younger will drive forth the elder,
As thou thyself didst drive thy hoary father,
And all the brood of thy Titan uncles,
Jupiter I'arricida!
Thee too, I know, O haughty Hera!
Spite of thy jealous terrors and strivings,
Now has another won from thee the sceptre,
And thou art no longer Queen of Heaven;
And fixed is thy large, bright eye,
And those lily arms of thine are powerless;
And never again will thy vengeance
Strike the god-impregnated virgin,
Nor the wonder-working son of the gods.

Thee too I know, O Pallas Athene!
With thy shield and thy wisdom, how didst thou fail
To save the Gods from their downfall?
And thee too I know, Aphrodite,
Golden in old time, in these days silver!
Still, still art thou decked with thy girdle's witchery,
But now thy beauty thrills me with horror;
And shouldst thou vouchsafe me the joy of thine exquisite body,

As to so many heroes, terror would slay me.
A corpse-like Goddess seem'st thou to me,
Venus Libitina!
The terrible Ares yonder
No longer casts eyes of desire upon thee.
And sad is the gaze of Phaebus Apollo,
The stripling. Mute is the lyre
Which made glad music at the banquet of Gods.
Still sadder the gaze of Hephaestus;
Nevermore in sooth will the lamester usurp
Hebe's office, and pour out
The exquisite nectar. Silent and quenched
Is the Gods' irrepressible laughter.

Ye Gods, I have never loved you!
For ever the Greeks were repulsive to me,
And even the Romans also I loathe.
But sacred compassion and shuddering pity
Stream through my heart,
When now I see you there above me,
Gods, but deserted;
Faded, night-wandering shadows,
Feeble as mists which the wind drives before it;
And when I think how craven and windy
Those new Gods are who overcame you, —
Gods new, overbearing, yet doleful,
Malignant, yet wearing the sheepskin of lowliness —
Then am I filled with glowing wrath!

And fain would I break their new-raised temples,
And battle for you, ye Gods of the old times,
For you and your valid ambrosial Right;
And again at your altars exalted,
Fair once more, and fragrant with offerings,
I myself would kneel and worship,
And lift up my arms in entreaty.
Yet thro' all time, ye Gods of the past,
Ye in the struggles of men have ever
Ranged all your strength on the side of the victors;
But Man is of loftier spirit than you,
And now in this struggle of Gods I take part
With the Gods who are vanquished.

Thus I exclaimed. And the bright flush of shame
Sped o'er the pallid shapes in the cloud-land,
And they gazed as in death-throes upon me,
Sorrow-transfigured, and vanished
The Moon hid herself then
Behind vapours that surged up more darkly;
Loudly murmured the sea,
And the eternal stars came forth victorious in Heaven.