LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. I 
 
 Ji^ni ! 
 
 Shelf ._AA-S 7 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, 
 
N]j> FYTHIAS. 
 
THE STORY 
 
 DAMON AND PYTHIAS, 
 
 "Bkuold how good and how plkasant it is 
 kor brethren to dwell togetukk in unity." 
 
 BOSTOX: 
 
 ALFRED MUDGE & SOX, PRtXTERS, 
 
 34 School Stkeet. 
 
 1878. 
 
 t 
 

 copyright, 
 By LABAN M. T. hill. 
 
 1878. ' 
 
 I 
 
TO THE MEMBERS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ORDER OF THE KXIGHTS OF PYTHIAS 
 
 Ilf TESTIMONY OF THE FKATEKNAT^ "KKGA KD OK 
 TIIK AUTHOR. 
 
THE STOEY OF DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Pal^emox, tlie Pythagorean, pursuing his homeward 
 voyage, sails by night along the coast of Sicily, and in the 
 morning arrives at his destination. — Palasmon in Syra- 
 cuse. — He relates how the Syracusans defeated the great 
 expedition sent against them by the Athenians. — Necrop- 
 olis. — The siege and fall of Acragas described. — Alarm 
 of the Sicilians. — The popular assembly is convened at 
 Syracuse. — The speech of Dionysius ; its effect on the 
 common people. — They take the lives of their military 
 commanders, and then imprudently put Dionysius among 
 the Board of Generals. 
 
 The scene of each Canto is in Sicily. The narrative pro- 
 ceeds in the assumed authorship of Falcemon, icho is repre- 
 sented as being a member of the secret Brotherhood to which 
 Damon and Pythias belonged and an eye-witness of the 
 events described. 
 
 I. 
 
 The shades of evening fall upon the deep, 
 On yonder fading headland, and the strand. 
 Fast mingling with its fringe of springing surf, 
 As onward rolls the dusky car of Night. 
 
6 DAMOK AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 O'er all comes darkness save the lofty mount 
 Beyond Catana,^ that 'mid pitchy cloud 
 And glowmg ashes lifts its gloomy flames, 
 Licking the vaulted sky with sullen roar 
 Which louder than the moaning surge is heard. 
 
 Like Pythia's fire this Pharos ever burns,- 
 A beacon to the wary mariner. 
 
 The breath of Boreas fills the swelling sail 
 As to the south our creaking prow is turned ; 
 And 'mid the silent watches of the night. 
 We plough with swifter course the watery waste, 
 While to our destined port we nearer draw. 
 Above, Orion, sheathed in gold,^ pursues 
 His way, the glittering sword upon his thigh, 
 Upon his mightful arm, the lion's hide ; 
 The weeping Hyades,'* in endless grief 
 
 ^ ^tna: see Appendix A. 
 
 2 The priestess of the celebrated oracle of the Pythian Apollo 
 at Delphi was called The Pythia. On the Pythian altar, placed 
 before the statue of the god in the most sacred recess of the 
 temple, bnrnt an eternal fire. 
 
 3 ** Armatumque auro circumspicit Oriona." — Yirfjil: yEn., 
 Ill, 517. 
 
 4 Hijades. The seven stars in the head of the Bull. The story 
 is that the daughters of Atlas, King of Mauritania, were so af- 
 flicted by the loss of their brother, Hyas, who had been killed in 
 the chase, that they died of grief. They were five or seven in 
 number. After their death they were changed into the constel- 
 lation. The setting of the Hyades at both morning and even- 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 7 
 
 And radiant beauty, mourn a brother's fate ; 
 
 Brightly on Ev^ening's brow fair Hesperus gleams ; 
 
 The Dioscuri, 1 saving from the storm 
 
 The voyager upon Poseidon's realm ; 
 
 The greater Arctus, guide of Grecian keels, 
 
 The lesser, by Phoenician helmsmen sought ; ^ 
 
 Selene's silver disk, full-orbed and clear, 
 
 ing twilight "svas to the Greeks and Romans a sure sign of rainy 
 weather, these two periods falling respectively in April and 
 Kovember. To this the derivation of the word — from vetv, to 
 rain — refers. Demoustier thus neatly tells the fable : — 
 " . . . . Les Hyades plenrent leur frire 
 Qn'un monstre dovorant ravit a leur amour. 
 Le roi des cieux, toucha de leur douleur amere 
 En vain les transporta dans son brillant sijour." 
 
 Lettres a Emilie^ 
 
 1 Dioscuri. A collective surname of Castor and Pollux, the 
 tutelary gods of hospitality and navigation. In astronomy, the 
 constellation of the Gemini. Among other appellations these 
 deities had acquired that of ''sailor-helpers," 'apiayovavTai, 
 Poseidon (Neptune) had given them, as the reward of their 
 brotherly love, command over the winds and waves. They 
 appeared after storms at the extremities of the masts and yards 
 of ships, — a phenomenon nowadays called "the fire of St. 
 Elmo." St. Ermo, however, seems to have been the older 
 Italian name. See the once famous dithyramb, Bacco in Tos- 
 cana, of Redi, in which he describes the constellation as 
 
 *' L'oricrinite stelle di Santermo." 
 
 2 According to Ovid, the Greek navigator steered by the 
 greater, the Phoenician by the lesser. Bear: — 
 
 ** Esse duas Arctos; quarum Cynosura petatur 
 Sidoniis, Helicen Graia carina notet." 
 
8 DAMOy AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 In tremulous vista, mirrored on the flood ; 
 And countless clusterings of dazzling ra}^ — 
 Await the lingering dawn and cheer our path. 
 
 Purpling the sombre bourn of sea and sky, 
 The first faint glow of rosy morning springs. 
 Night's splendors pass away, the heavens pale, 
 And Amphitrite's ^ breast no more is gemmed 
 With gold, reflected from the canopy 
 Above. In chariot drawn by tireless steeds, 
 Eos, all- welcome Goddess of the Dawn, 
 Chases the wavering shadows to their grave 
 And clothes the orient slope with saffron hue. 
 Until, emerging from the watery verge. 
 The God of Day begins his upward course. 
 North, east, and south the mounds of ocean gleam, 
 Stretching away bej^ond the range of sight ; 
 But westward, on Trinacria's^ shore, appears 
 The golden shield^ that marks our journe3''s end. 
 
 ^ Ampliitrit6 was the wife of Poseidon, and so, by metonymy, 
 the sea. 
 
 2 Trinacria was an epithet of Sicily, and referred, of course, 
 to the three principal x)romontories of the island (rpii?, a<pa.i). 
 
 3 In that quarter of Syracuse called Ortj^j^ia stood a lofty 
 temple dedicated to Athena, on the top of which was a sliield, 
 visible from afar at sea. 
 
 Sailors on the point of leaving the port were accustomed to 
 take from an altar in the temple of the Olympian Hera a cup 
 containing certain offerings; these they tlirewinto the sea when 
 they lost sight of the landmark on the temple of Athena. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 II. 
 
 Beloved S^Tacuse !^ again thy walls 
 
 Enclose the weary wanderer from afar, 
 
 Who, homeward turning, seeks his native land. 
 
 Again, with eager steps, I press the soil 
 
 That bare me, and, with tearfal eyes, would fain 
 
 Behold the friends of youth now passed away. 
 
 Some 'mid the winds and waves have read their doom ; 
 
 Others, beneath war's hurtling tempest fell, 
 
 Careless of life if for their country spent ; 
 
 Or, bowed with 3^ears, in peaceful rest were laid. 
 
 How does my heart, O Philadelphus, mourn 
 
 For those who nevermore may know its faith ! 
 
 Again I view the towering citadel 
 
 That frowns above Ort3'gia's sea- worn bounds ; 
 
 The massive ramparts whose high battlements 
 
 Protect our firesides from the invading foe ; 
 
 The statues, groves, and altars of the gods ; 
 
 The stately temple of Olympian Zeus, 
 
 And many scenes, forgotten, but recalled 
 
 As with attentive gaze I onward move. 
 
 '•Not all things unto all men should be told " ;2 
 
 But unto thee, my friend, I freely show 
 
 Such pleasure and such grief as may betide. 
 
 ^ See Appendix B. 
 
 2 One of the prudential maxims of the Pythagoreans. 
 
10 DAMON' AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 III. 
 Around me stand memorials of the days, 
 When, like a torrent from the mountain-side, 
 The strangers from be^'ond the ocean bore 
 The whetted steel, — En3^o, Ares,^ both 
 Approving, — and with spear and iron sleet, 
 The mighty, climbing billow of their host 
 Sought to overthrow our city from its base. 
 When from Athense their armada sailed ^ 
 To compass and to waste our fatherland, 
 The loud-tongued trumpet sounded, and 'tis said 
 The herald's voice invoked the gods in praj'er, — 
 As if high heaven could smile on impious deeds ! 
 Then was the paean chanted, while the chiefs 
 Libations made, in gold and silver cups. 
 Their passage to Corcyra straight thej^ took, 
 And at Corc3Ta joining their allies, 
 A thousand vessels bore them on their wa}", — 
 Transports and triremes huge that vexed the flood, 
 
 1 EmjOf Ares. The former, answering to the Roman BeUona, 
 was the Greek Goddess of War; the latter — 
 
 " Gore-tainted, homicide, town-batt'rer Mars *' — 
 seems to have been the god not only of war, but also of general 
 slaughter and destruction. 
 
 2 The Athenian expedition against Syracuse, to which further 
 reference is hereafter made in the third canto of this poem, 
 sailed from the Piraeeus, the harbor of Athens, about mid- 
 summer, B. C. 415. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 11 
 
 And groaned beneath the enginery of death ; 
 
 A swimming host of dreadful citadels, 
 
 Such as the ocean never saw before.^ 
 
 They passed Italians shore, and on the land, 
 
 'Neath waving plumes stirred by the breath of War, 
 
 And on the dark-blue wave, with brazen beaks, 
 
 Closed round our sacred temples and our homes. 
 
 As in the hateful bonds of servitude 
 
 They sought to lead a race in freedom born. 
 
 From 3^onder heights, outreaching to the main 
 
 On either side, circumvallations sprang. 
 
 Within the ever-narrowing folds begirt 
 
 The brave defenders seemed a hope forlorn, 
 
 While, life in hand, they met death's gloomy hour 
 
 As men who for their country gladly die. 
 
 Each in the common weal beheld his own. 
 
 And stood unmoved against the thickening storm. 
 
 Suns flamed and set, and seasons came and passed. 
 
 As, in unequal strife, w^e faced the foe. 
 
 And many a soul, 'mid deeds of deathless fame. 
 
 Went to the unseen, all-receiving shore. 
 
 Still round our crumbling ramparts, far and near, 
 
 Forests of horrent steel uprising marked 
 
 The hostile ranks whose number none might count ; 
 
 1 " Ein schwimmend Heer furchtbarer CitadeUen, 
 (Der Ocean sail ihresgleichen nie.) " 
 
 Schiller : Die uniiherwindliche Flotte, 
 
12 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 And the broad field of ocean to its rim 
 Was whitened with their sails. 
 
 Thus like our fount 
 Of Arethusa,^ ever famed in song, 
 With flow unfailing and with waters clear, 
 Girdled with billows on j^on rocky marge, 
 Were we environed by the clouds of war. 
 At last the God our earnest prayer fulfilled, 
 And late, but surely, sent us welcome aid. 
 G3"lippus came, a man well versed in rules 
 Of strateg}^, an army in himself. 
 And with him foreign help, both ships and troops. 
 
 Thus was our city saved ; for with new hope 
 We quicklj" sought the triremes and the camp 
 Of our beleag'rers. They, in boastful pride 
 Of numbers, little recked the sudden danger ; 
 For then and afterwards, by land and sea. 
 The spoils, the crown of victor}^, were ours. 
 Then might j^ou see the brave Demosthenes, 
 Who from Athense sailed to their rehef. 
 And Nicias, great only in reverse, — 
 The ill-assorted leaders of our foes, — 
 Urge on their followers to heroic deeds. 
 
 We who were late besieged, now, in our turn. 
 Became besiegers, and our cause so pressed 
 
 1 Arethusa, See description of Syracuse in Appendix B. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS, 13 
 
 That soon the hostile multitudes were made 
 The abject prey of slavery to the spear. 
 
 Such gi'and events, the spoils of history, 
 Took place, as you and other Brothers know, 
 Whilst I, an exile from my native home, 
 Repined in loneliness on foreign shores. 
 
 IT. 
 
 I passed from crowded life and stood amid 
 
 The stillness of Necropolis, where rest. 
 
 No more disturbed by War's loud clarion, 
 
 Such as untimely, 3'et with glory, fell 
 
 Upon the battle-field for Fatherland. 
 
 The simple mounds of earth and heaps of stones. 
 
 Columns and tablets, and the sumptuous wealth 
 
 Of heroa,^ and deep, sepulchral vaults, 
 
 Were, all alike, ingarlanded with flowers, 
 
 The yearly offering of sorrowing friends. 
 
 Near b}', with teeming life and happy homes, 
 
 I saw the queenly cit}^ that they saved ; 
 
 Beyond, the harbors and the dark-blue sea 
 
 O'er which the hostile armament advanced. 
 
 Around me, moving in the cooling breeze 
 
 That inland soughed, with ocean's fragrance fraught. 
 
 1 Heroa, These were mausolea, sometimes small temples, 
 dedicated to heroes. 
 
14 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 The sad, funereal cypress waved its boughs ; 
 
 The oiive, with its pale-green foliage, 
 
 And Median trees, weighed down with golden fruit, 
 
 Joined in a lowly threnody, and seemed, 
 
 If such have song, to mourn the fallen brave. 
 
 As when the sleepless Eviad looks forth 
 
 And in the moonlight, from her mountain height, 
 
 Beholds Thrace white with snow, and Rhodope 
 
 Thronged with its troops of Maenad votaries, 
 
 And, lost in speechless wonder, is inspired ;i 
 
 So, in this sacred Presence, whilst I gazed 
 
 Upon their place of life and strife and rest, 
 
 I felt my spirit moved by Power unknown. 
 
 And seemed to hear a voice divine that said, — 
 
 Here is entombed the sacred dust of those 
 Who, in fulfilment of their country's call. 
 Took life in hand and, that the State might live, 
 Sought death and gained an immortalit3\ 
 
 Weep not for them ! For these memorial stones 
 But speak the glory of the land that bore 
 
 1 " Non secus in jugis 
 Exsomnis stupet Euias 
 Hebrum prospiciens et nive candidam 
 
 Thracen ac pede barbaro 
 Liistratam ilhodopen, ut mihi devio 
 
 Kipas et vacuum nemus 
 l^Iirari libet." 
 
 Horace: OcZ. IZJ, XXV, 8. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 15 
 
 Such heroes. A republic saved, not they, 
 Requires thy tears, — surviving through such loss. 
 
 The orb of nations evermore shall be 
 Their monument^ wherever Freedom lifts 
 Her awful brow, and love of country fills 
 With holy flame the breast of humankind. 
 
 Weep not for them ! They sleep in soft repose, 
 In blest assurance of an endless fame ; 
 Admire their deeds, envy their glorious death. 
 And, like them, in thy country's need, fail not I 
 
 V. 
 
 Stranger than tongue can tell ! Oh, utter woe \ 
 But 3'ester-eve hundreds of thousands thronged 
 A mighty city ; and the ramparts, towers, 
 And massive fortresses were thickly manned 
 With brave defenders ; and the air was filled 
 With mingled sounds of proud, of martial life, 
 Of chariot crowding chariot, of the voice. 
 Loud and imperious, of command, the blare 
 Of brazen trumpets, clash of arms, and tramp 
 Of faithful squadrons. From without there came 
 The hoarse remurmuring of besieging hosts, 
 Vainl}' advancing to the desperate charge, 
 And the earth-shaking impact, as the wallfe 
 Withstood the shock of hostile batteries. 
 
16 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Now, as the gray of eaii}^ twilight vi.^lds 
 
 To morning" red, how changed is all the scene ! 
 
 Throughout the vast-expanded maze of streets 
 
 No living form appears ; and desolate 
 
 Seems every home ; and, as amid the waste 
 
 Of barren desert, awful silence reigns. 
 
 Wh}' do the sentinels no longer hold 
 
 Their stations on the threatened battlements ? 
 
 Wh}' are the bulwarks reft of their defence, 
 
 And e'en the citadel upon the hill? 
 
 Why is nought heard within the steadfast gates, 
 
 Save the faint murmur of the foemen's camp, 
 
 As springing daylight wakes them to their task ? 
 
 The catapults, halistce^^ and huge frames 
 Of battering-engines that are ranged without, 
 Loom up like spectres through the misty air 
 To call on those within, now, now to haste 
 
 1 The balistce — the Roman military term — were adapted to 
 project heavy stones against battlements ; while the catapult 
 discharged darts and other light missiles. 
 
 The extreme range attained by the halista was about a quar- 
 ter of a. mile. The more powerful machines of this sort could 
 throw stones weighing three hundred- weight. 
 
 The use of such engines seems to have been very ancient. We 
 read of Uzziah (or Azariah), King of Judah (B. C. 810), that 
 ** he made in Jerusalem engines invented by cunning men, to 
 be on the towers and on the bulwarks, to shoot arrows and great 
 stones withal." — 2 Chronicles xxvi, 15. 
 
DAMON AXD PYTHIAS, 17 
 
 And save the cit}' from impending fate. 
 In vain ! It seems a cit}' of the dead. 
 
 But look ! TThat giant form surmounts the wall ? 
 
 What bold besieger in relief against 
 
 The brightening sk}' ? His face is swart and burned 
 
 B}^ Lj'bian suns. His glittering vestments show 
 
 Barbaric splendor as of Afric's clime. 
 
 He gazes on the scene of loneliness 
 
 And, quickly turning, shouts in unknown tongue 
 
 To those without. Up climb two savage Gauls ; 
 
 And then, with warlike cry and lifted spear, 
 
 Iberians, Lusitanians, Cantabri, 
 
 Campanians, dusky^ Lybians, and the hordes 
 
 Of every region and of ever}' race, 
 
 Swarm through the open portals and invade 
 
 The silent ways, and, as the lightning rush 
 
 Of torrent bursting from some alpine cliff, 
 
 Overthrow before them all that can oppose, 
 
 And with swift desolation waste the town. 
 
 The gathered wealth of nations is their spoil. 
 Unawed by sacred things, with step profane. 
 They violate the temples of the gods. 
 The image of divinity within 
 Confronts them as they enter ; but alas ! 
 The steel, stern-hearted, thirsting for its prey, 
 Pollutes the holy places with the blood 
 
18 DAMOX AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Of helpless thousands hid in refuge vain, 
 
 Thej^ spare nor age nor sex ; but everj'where 
 
 Are plunder, rapine, and the cries of death, 
 
 With mutilated bodies of the slain. 
 
 Such was the fall of Acragas ;^ and thus 
 
 The Carthaginian army, that beneath 
 
 The ensigns of Himilco, — Hannibal 
 
 Its other chief, — three hundred thousand strong, 
 
 Crossed o'er from Lybia in certain hope 
 
 Of making conquest of Trinacria, 
 
 Sees half its work accomplished. 
 
 Far away. 
 Slow moving on the wearj' road which leads 
 To Gela, throngs with slow and painful step 
 A countless host that in the midnight hour 
 Left the doomed city, and, in fearful flight, 
 Abandoned all in hope of saving life. 
 On, on they move, that population vast 
 Of wretched exiles, not the strong alone, 
 But gentle dames who sigh at thought of toil, 
 With tender nursehngs cursed by Ate's breath ; 
 The halt, the wounded, and those bowed with age 
 Or sickness. Common woe unites the mass ; 
 The helper and the holpen are as one 
 The fair morn spreading on the mountain-tops 
 Is unto them as evening's gathering gloom. 
 
 1 See Appendix C. 
 
DAMON AIs'D PYTHIAS, 19 
 
 When will they e'er again behold their homes ? 
 
 In what far region will the lot be cast ? 
 
 What Power invoked, attend their wa^^faring? 
 
 Onward, for miles and miles, the unnumbered throng 
 
 Extends, funereal as the gloomy shades 
 
 Descending to the hateful Stygian flood ; 
 
 While here and there, half seen through the dense 
 
 cloud 
 Of swirling dust, appears the gleam of arms. 
 Close in the rear, to cover the long line 
 From the pursuit of a victorious foe. 
 Thousands of hoplites^ march in serried ranks. 
 
 Now there were portion of a numerous force 
 
 That SjTacusse earl}^ sent to help 
 
 Her sister city ; guessing well that should 
 
 So rich a prize fall to the invader's spoil, 
 
 Her own fair homes would next become his aim. 
 
 Returning to my native land, I saw 
 
 The mustering of this army of relief, 
 
 And, led by love of country, joined its ranks ; 
 
 Then, honored with the post of chili arch, '^ 
 
 Took part in all the fortunes of the war ; 
 
 So did I witness much whereof I write. 
 
 1 Hoplites. These were heavy-armed foot-soldiers, who fought 
 with a long spear and a large shield, o-nXov, whence the name. 
 
 2 The chiliarch commanded ahont a thousand (1,024) men. 
 
20 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 And why did the great cit}^ fall? By art 
 Aiivd nature she had seemed so doubl}' strong 
 That to assail her walls were hopeless task ; 
 Her sons were numberless as are the sands 
 Upon the shore ; e'en as the ruddy stream 
 Of Tagus or Pactolus ^ was their wealth ; 
 And as their wealth, so their magnificence. 
 Truly Empedocles,^ our Brother, said, 
 " They built as if they were to live for aye ; 
 They lived as though to-morrow were life's end.'* 
 She had most timely warning. Both by land 
 And sea she gathered strength to meet the shock ; 
 Her granaries were filled ; her troops were brave 
 And man3^ With her, from the first assault, 
 Had been good fortune by the help of God : 
 The enemy's fierce onset was repulsed ; 
 Then the besieged, outsallying from the ports, 
 Drove back the foe and fired the battering-train ; 
 
 1 The Pactolus was a river of Lydia, whoso waters were 
 believed to flow with golden sands. The Tagns, Po, Hebrus 
 and Ganges had the same repute. 
 
 '^ Empedocles was a Pythagorean philosopher of Acragas, born 
 about B. C. 450. Distinguished also as a physician and poet. 
 After the capture of Acragas by the Carthaginians he went to 
 the Peloponnesus and there died. The Agrigentines appear to 
 have deserved the full force of his hon mot. According to 
 Diodorus, their luxury was such that in the height of the Car- 
 thaginian siege a public decree was made that no one on guard 
 at night should have more than one bed, one tent, one woollen 
 blanket, and two pillows. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS, 21 
 
 And when the Carthaginians broke down 
 
 The sepulchres in which reposed the dead, 
 
 And sought to use in structure of their works 
 
 The marble of the lofty monument 
 
 Wherein the body of King Theron slept, 
 
 A thunderbolt from heaven rent the tomb ! ^ 
 
 Forthwith religious terror filled the camp, 
 
 The shades of those disturbed appeared by night ; 
 
 And then a fatal pestilence destro3'ed 
 
 Thousands on thousands of their wicked host. 
 
 Xow, too, were seen afar in crimson ranks 
 
 Our army of relief from Syracuse,^ 
 
 Driving before them the barbarian hordes. 
 
 Amid resounding shouts of '-^ XaioErE^''^ 
 
 We pressed within the gates and joined our friends. 
 
 Thus far all things were faring well. But now, 
 Alas ! the sun of our prosperity, 
 Before so bright, moved in its downward course. 
 The valor of our troops and the allies, 
 
 1 Such is the not iraprohable statement of Diodorus. After- 
 wards Himilco forbade the further demolition of the sepulchres, 
 and according to the custom of his country, sacrificed a boy 
 to Cronus (Saturn), und cast into the sea a number of human 
 victims as offerings to Poseidon. 
 
 2 This army, with reinforcements from Gela and Camarina, 
 consisted of 80,000 infantry and 5,000 cavalry. A fleet of fifty 
 galleys proceeded along the coast to co-operate with the land 
 forces. 
 
 3 Greek, — '' Welcome." 
 
22 DAMOK AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 So often tried on many a hard-fought field, 
 Was worthy of no cause less high than this ; 
 The cause itself, of champions not less true. 
 But what availed our cause, and what availed 
 Its gallant votaries, while treachery 
 And traitorous strategy, that futile made 
 Our strength, prevailed, and stern necessity, 
 That mocks the plans of man, through instruments. 
 Venal and base, yet powerful to command, 
 Had willed our fall ? 
 
 Until the latest hour, 
 Amid disasters that in baleful train 
 Quick followed one another, and ths strange 
 Inaction of our generals, we hoped 
 For victory. Our hope, alas ! was vain. 
 But why recount the story of our fall ? 
 How, at our coming, every chief, save one, 
 Of Acragas, convict of having sought 
 To palter with the enemy, was swept 
 Away, his just reward to claim in death ; ^ 
 
 1 The principal charge against the Agrigentine generals was 
 that they had refused to attack the Carthagenian fugitives at 
 the time of the victorious Syracusan advance. 
 
 According to Diodorus, the Agrigentines having met in assem- 
 bly immediately after the arrival of the Syracusans, were ad- 
 dressed by one Menes, a Camarinosan officer, who arraigned 
 the commanders of Acragas with violence, so exasperating the 
 people that the accused could not be heard in their own belialf. 
 Four of them were at once stoned to death by the enraged mul- 
 titude; the fifth, Arg3ius, was spared on account of his youth. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 23 
 
 How all the leaders Syracusse sent, 
 
 Among whom was Daphnasus, were believed 
 
 To be corrupted with barbaric gold 
 
 And secretl}^ our overthrow to plot ; 
 
 How futile were the means whereby they feigned 
 
 To battle with the bold invader's ranks ; 
 
 How much b}^ conflicts ill-advised they lost, 
 
 And how b^^ inactivity, much more ; 
 
 How by the hostile squadron prize was made 
 
 Of vessels bringing food for our relief, 
 
 And famine drove us from the fated walls. 
 
 Let other lips than mine the tale repeat 
 Of those dark days ; the memoiy alone 
 Were sad enough to patriotic heart 
 Without relation, though events more sad 
 And still more hurtful to the public weal 
 Were nigh at hand. 
 
 Onward the unnumbered throng 
 Slow moves o'er loft}^ mountain and the waste 
 Of sultry plain. No rest and no delay 
 For the outwanderers, as with feebler step, 
 Weary and wayworn, smitten by the breath 
 Of the sirocco, — laden with the heat 
 O'er the broad ocean borne from sun- trod realms 
 Of Afric deserts, — and b}" thirst consumed, 
 And famine, Gela's sheltering walls they seek, 
 And Syracuse. 
 
24 DAMON AXD PYTHIAS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Ah ! what a panic fear 
 Was spreading now throughout Trinacria ! 
 What multitudes were surging through our gates 
 Haply to find a refuge from the storm 
 Without I How many even left our shores 
 And in Italia secure remained 
 Until the tempest should be overpast ! 
 What indignation justly filled the breast 
 Of every Sj'racusan when he heard 
 The dark recital of calamity 
 And learned the conduct of the faithless chiefs ! 
 How quickly uprose all, and, grasping sword 
 And spear, with dauntless hearts prepared to meet 
 Amain the merciless and savage foe ! 
 
 But what to do ? And who should lead us forth ? 
 
 On this seemed hinging our republic's fate. 
 
 And so the crier proclamation made 
 
 That the whole body of our citizens 
 
 Should meet together in ecclesia^^ 
 
 And, duly hearing, in their sovereign power 
 
 Whate'er the public good required decree. 
 
 1 The ecclesia was a general assembly of the citizens, in whicls 
 they met in their sovereign power to debate and determine upoR 
 such matters of public interest as might come before them 
 These assemblies were either ordinary or extraordinary. The 
 present ecclesia was specially convened. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 25 
 
 VII. 
 A silence as of darkest midnight stilled 
 The vast assembly ; for the destiny 
 Of thousands upon thousands seemed to rest 
 Upon some word unspoken ; while the past, 
 The present, and the future of the State 
 Were waiting for the moment when the voice 
 Of some true patriot, gifted with the power 
 Of knowledge and the power of eloquence. 
 Should be uplifted, and with trumpet-sound 
 Proclaim, whether for weal or woe, the truth. 
 For here were met the wisest and the best 
 Of Sjracusse, — veterans well versed 
 And tried in dark and complicate affairs, 
 The sages who had always guided well 
 In times of danger. Who of these grave men 
 Would foremost claim respectful audience ? 
 
 Long, long we waited ; then, at last, we saw. 
 Slowly uprising, one before unknown, — 
 Unknown at least to me ; almost unknown 
 To all, save two or three who greeted him. 
 And in acclaim hailed Dionysius.^ 
 " But stop ! Shall he, a youth, a stripling, speak 
 Before his elders? He, a beggar scribe. 
 Fresh from the public office, counsel those 
 
 1 See Appendix D. 
 
26 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Who roll in wealth and power imperial ? " 
 Listen ! He mounts the bema^^ and, with eye 
 That flashes like the noonday bright, begins : — 
 
 ' ' Syracusans ! If learning, wealth, age, rank, 
 
 Or glorious service in the commonwealth. 
 
 Or Eloquence divine, with golden mouth, 
 
 Could add unto the words of him who speaks 
 
 The simple truth, and faithfall}^ proclaims 
 
 Our perils and the duties of the hour, 
 
 I, with becoming modesty, would sit 
 
 In silence. But the knowledge of our ills,' 
 
 And of their guiltj^ causes, is not far 
 
 To seek. Nor were it difficult to tell 
 
 What patriotic duty bids us do ; 
 
 Nor matters it by whom, or in what words. 
 
 So that in drastic shape the truth appear. 
 
 " Menaced by self-same dangers, all alike, 
 Whether in council or on battle-field. 
 Must labor for our threatened fatherland. 
 Unmindful of false titles that too oft. 
 Amid the easj^, sluggish flow of peace, 
 Have marred our democratic polity. 
 Then I, among the 3'oungest and the least 
 Of those here gathered, Dionj'sius, 
 
 1 The hema was a raised platform from which the speakers 
 addressed the assembly. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 27 
 
 Son of Hermocrates and citizen 
 
 Of Sj'racusae. and, as such, 3'our peer, 
 
 May claim with deference the right to speak, 
 
 Both for myself and for the common folk. 
 
 Such things as long ago should have been said. 
 
 '' Still lives our commonwealth, illustrious 
 
 In honor, dignit}', and in the fame 
 
 Of her ancestral freedom ; but alas ! 
 
 Her life seems bounded by the speeding hour, 
 
 Except your instant foresight, wisdom, will. 
 
 Swiftly transferred to action, shall avail. 
 
 The blood}" ensigns of the cruel foe, 
 
 From victory to victory advanced, 
 
 And coming ever nearer to our gates. 
 
 Are raised above the great metropolis 
 
 Of Acragas, which next to Syracuse 
 
 Was the most famous in Trinacria. 
 
 Selinus, Himera, and Acragas, 
 
 Each in its turn, have fallen ! We almost 
 
 Alone survive the ruin of our land. 
 
 Against our walls, our homes, and sacred fanes, 
 
 Will now advance the grim barbarian hordes. 
 
 Unsparing, merciless, of humankind 
 
 The offscouring, the refuse, and reproach. 
 
 Those horrid scenes of ruin, rapine, death. 
 
 Of sacrilege and crimes too great to name, 
 
 Which, making desolate our sister-towns. 
 
28 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Seern as the memory of some hideous dream, 
 
 Ilavmg no counterpart in real things, 
 
 Ma}^ soon, too soon, be witnessed bj^ ourselves. 
 
 Act instantl3% O men of Syracuse ! 
 
 From such dread fate our common country save ! 
 
 With noble purpose, living to be free, 
 
 Oar lives to jield before our liberties, 
 
 Let us go forth to meet the hostile wave 
 
 Already curving to its thunderous fall ! 
 
 '' But lo ! there sit the authors of our ills ! 
 
 Within this solemn gathering I behold 
 
 The very men who caused these fearful woes ! 
 
 The very chiefs, with sinful gold corrupt. 
 
 Who come with blood-stained hands from Acragas, 
 
 And dare obtrude themselves within this presence ! 
 
 There are the dark-souled traitors whose misdeeds 
 
 Call now for retribution swift and sure ! 
 
 " They enter here and tarrj^ with the brand 
 Of wicked, heinous crime upon their brows. 
 The death of those, our fellow-citizens, 
 Who fell as victims of this treacher^^ ; 
 The utter desolation of the host 
 Which, hopeless of relief, has left the homes 
 Of Acragas to crowd within our gates ; 
 This terror and despair ; the storm of war 
 That beats upon our walls ; this urgent need 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. . 21) 
 
 Of meeting in assembly to avert 
 
 The greatest danger in our historj^, — 
 
 For all this let them answer with their lives ! 
 
 For treason less than this the citizens 
 
 Of Acragas in fury stoned to death 
 
 Their own commanders. Then shall these escape 
 
 The fearful doom that justly waits a traitor ? 
 
 Ay ! now and here, O men of Syracuse, 
 
 Fulfil the call of our outraged State ! 
 
 For long delays of law wait not, wait not 
 
 For process and slow hearing, but forthwith, 
 
 No more respecting legal forms, proceed 
 
 To execute our vengeance and destroy 
 
 These foul betrayers of the countrj-'s cause ! 
 
 Seize them, and kill them ! Let them not escape ! " 
 
 As, when the storm-clouds hurry o'er the main, 
 The pleasant, sheening day is swept away ; 
 And dark sea- waves are whitened b}^ the blast 
 And lifted to the skies, and hurricanes 
 Yt'helm in the roaring surge the laboring bark 
 That erst in steady course was voj' aging on. 
 So as the words to vengeance urging fell 
 Upon our common people, always quick 
 The swiftest means to grasp, albeit rude, 
 To right the public wrongs, and here alert 
 And eager that some one among themselves 
 Should boldly utter what their hearts desired, 
 
30 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 They rose with outcries, and in haste of hate 
 Assailed the guilty generals, and strove 
 To take their lives. The Archons and all such 
 As ranked among the Great Ones of the State, — 
 Save two or three, the friends of him who spake, — 
 The kinsmen and the opulent compeers 
 Of the accused, opposing force to force, 
 Yet with unequal strength, resistance made. 
 Threatenings of vengeance, shouts of death were 
 
 heard ; • 
 Contending throngs commingled in a strife 
 That, 'mid the rage of swelling conflict, armed 
 The maddened hand of brother against brother, 
 The son against the son of Syracuse. 
 What frenz}^ in our nation's histor}" 
 Before unknown ! What wild delirium 
 Of passion ! Solemn augury of days 
 That were too soon to come ! As messenger 
 Divinely sent to mark the end of life 
 And shadow forth the crossing of the stream 
 Whose sluggish flow may never be repassed, 
 This woe unspeakable arose, the hope 
 And promise of our State to scofl* and mock. 
 
 At last the tumult and contention ceased, 
 Reason held swa}^ ; but of the generals, — 
 So sudden was their doom, — but two remained ; 
 The others, eight in number, quickly made 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS, 31 
 
 Full exi^iation of all crimes, in death, 
 Even as Dionysius had required. 
 
 Forthwith the Archons who presided, bound 
 
 B}^ oath of office to maintain the laws. 
 
 To punish the infraction then and there, 
 
 As best they could, amid the general strife. 
 
 Declared of Dionysius the offence 
 
 As a disturber of the public peace ; 
 
 And in consideration of his crime 
 
 Imposed on him a penalty to pay — 
 
 Because their power no farther might extend — 
 
 Of seven gold talents to the public use. 
 
 Then uprose one Philistus,^ who in wealth 
 Held rank among the foremost in the State, 
 And said : — 
 
 " Archons and men of Sj'racuse ! 
 I here produce and pay the fine imposed. 
 
 ^ Philistus was born at Syracuse in the year B. C. 431, and 
 was accordingly of the same age as Dionysius. He studied at 
 Athens under Isocrates. At first in high favor witli Dionysius, 
 he was afterwards banished by him. Having been recalled 
 from banishment by Dionysius the Younger, he lost his life in 
 defending him against Dion (358). 
 
 Philistus wrote a history of Syracuse, including the events of 
 the reign of Dionj^sius the Elder. He also wrote a life of Dio- 
 nysius the Younger. Cicero and Quint ilian rank him with 
 Thucydides, but his works are lost. This is the more unfor- 
 tunate because the two Dionysii are sovereigns of whom we 
 know little save from their enemies. 
 
32 DAMOX AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 It were unjust that he who freely spake 
 
 So truthfull}^ upon the grave offence 
 
 Of traitors, recreant to their solemn trust, 
 
 Who wafted them unto a traitor's doom 
 
 By zealous words which showed his reckless love 
 
 Of freedom and his hate of treachery. 
 
 Should so be silenced. From m}" ample means 
 
 Into the public treasury- 1 pay 
 
 That which to him in povert}' is denied. 
 
 Let him continue ! Let him frankly tell 
 
 The dangers and the duties of the hour. 
 
 May the great gods inspire him, without fear 
 
 To give wise counsel in the times of need, 
 
 And to his thoughts a ready utterance lend ! 
 
 Let him go boldlj^ on, as he began. 
 
 This let him do, and though such penalties 
 
 Should fall upon him through the livelong day, 
 
 Till sinks the sun beyond those western hills, 
 
 I — I engage to pay them to the State." 
 
 And then was Dionysius by these words 
 Urged on to speak in boldness what he would. 
 And in unseeml}' phrase, 3'et well adapt 
 To gain the sympathy and stir the souls 
 Of those who listened to his bitter words. 
 Showered as swift arrows on our many faults 
 Of statecraft and of public management. 
 He sought approval of the doom of them 
 That fell as victims of the people's rage. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 33 
 
 And then, in energetic speech, alleged 
 The causing cause of our calamities : — 
 
 That our impending woes were but the fruit 
 
 Of false administering of our affairs 
 
 By wealthy men, and by autocrat ors, 
 
 Who, in subversion of true policy, 
 
 And to perpetuate long-settled power. 
 
 Forever sought the Commons to exclude 
 
 From any portion in the public charge ; 
 
 And thus, while private fortunes were enlarged, 
 
 Matters of highest moment, which required 
 
 The help of all, received the aid of none ; 
 
 And thus disasters overwhelmed the State. 
 
 Striving were these men for plutocracy, 
 
 Denying to the honorable poor 
 
 Official station or regard or name. 
 
 From this had sprung the source of gravest ills. 
 
 That they alone should be put in command 
 
 And fill the offices of peace and war, 
 
 Who were distinguished, not by wealth or rank, 
 
 But by devotion to the common weal. 
 
 The ii»}h and titled, conscious of their power. 
 
 And holding all beneath them in contempt. 
 
 Would at the pubUc cost new treasures gain, 
 
 And recklessly conduct affairs of State, 
 
 While men of little fortune, yet inspired 
 
 With patriotic purpose, — having nought 
 
34 DAMOK AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 To shield them in wrong-doing, or promote 
 Their welfare, or make glorious their name. 
 Save a repute for honesty and zeal, — 
 Would well and faithfully perform the trust. 
 He sought not for preferment, hut should they, 
 The common people, of whom he was one, 
 Or such as he had blamed, in time require 
 His aid in conduct of the State's defence, 
 Then or thereafter, he would welcome death 
 Before defeat or treason to his charge. 
 
 These reasonings, with others of such sort 
 As well might please the many, were set forth 
 By Dionysius. After him his friends 
 Philistus and one Hipparinus spake. 
 
 And then the populace in wild acclaim. 
 Thrusting aside the warnings Prudence gave. 
 At once raised Dionysius to the Board 
 Of Generals, and him, with others, put 
 In joint authority o'er all the troops. 
 
 Thus from the surge of desolating war, 
 
 Bursting with dreadful force upon the land. 
 
 And from the bitter strife within our gates. 
 
 And slaying of our fellow-citizens, — 
 
 As from Medusa's blood the winged steed, 
 
 As Aphrodite from the foaming wave. 
 
 This man, before unknown, had sprung to power. 
 
DAMON AND PY2HIAS. 35 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 CAI.LISTE, the home of Pythias, described. An interview 
 between Pythias and Dione, his wife, on the eve of the 
 former's departure for Syracuse. — Dionysius artfully gains 
 the good- will of the Sj^racusans, and, finally, after pro- 
 curing the removal of his associates in command, is ap- 
 pointed generalissimo. Thereupon, having obtained for- 
 mal authority to keep a body-guard, he leads the Syracusan 
 army against the Carthaginians — The treasonable pur- 
 pose of Dionysius, to make himself tyrant, discovered; 
 sudden return of Damon, Pythias, and others to Sj'racuse. 
 They exclude Dionysius, from the city. Attempt of the 
 latter to enter by force. A midnight battle at the gate of 
 Achradina. The assailants, having destroyed this gate by 
 fire, occupy the town and overcome all resistance. Py- 
 thias, after conducting a most heroic defence, is wounded 
 and thought to be slain. Damon is captured, condemned 
 to death, and committed to the prison of Lithotomise. — 
 Dionysius, Tyrant of Syracuse. 
 
 I. 
 
 Far from our city's turmoil and its wealth 
 Of splendor, on the margin of a stream 
 Whose tranquil flow, pure, liquid silver, glides^ 
 
 1 ** S'alcun giammai tra frondeggianti rive 
 Puro vide stagnar liquido argento." 
 
 Tasso : G. i., Canto XIII, LX. 
 
36 DAMOK AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Unto the shore that greets the rudd}' glow 
 
 Of sprhigmg morn, to find its ocean-grave, 
 
 Stands a fair cottage, the abode of peace 
 
 And happiness. Calliste was it named. 
 
 And truly does it seem to be a home 
 
 Of beauty ; as that far-off, shining isle 
 
 B}' Delos crowned, amid the JEgean main.^ 
 
 With many a tendril o'er its whited walls 
 
 Cluster the purple honors of the yine ; 
 
 And mingling with their shade, the laurel wayes 
 
 Aboye the doorway and the rudely caryed 
 
 Apollo, emblem of the radiant god.^ 
 
 Here bloom soft hyacinths and yiolets pale, 
 
 The tamarisk and saffron marigold ; 
 
 And, pure and calm, beneath the chequered woof 
 
 Which glooms the streamlet's marge, the lily sleeps. 
 
 Here daffodils retain a tear for Him^ 
 
 Whom, robed in fatal beaut}'. Echo sought 
 
 In hopeless loye ; while murmuring wood and fount 
 
 Recall the memory of her yanished form. 
 
 The crimson glory of the scented rose 
 
 Is scattered o'er the greensward, and the gold 
 
 1 The island of CaHiste ("most heautifuV^)^ known later as 
 Thera. 
 
 2 In front of a Greek house not infrequently stood some em- 
 blem of Apollo Agyieus; The laurel was sacred to him. 
 
 8 Narcissus. 
 
DAMOJ^ Ay^D PYTHIAS. 37 
 
 Laburnum and althea's purple hue, 
 
 And thyme to which the wanderhig bees oft roam 
 
 From Hybla's lofty height. ^ 
 
 On either side 
 The streamlet, from its brink, where wildly flowers 
 The oleander, to the distant plain 
 Which bears lentiscus, with its fragrant bole 
 O'ershadowed b}^ the palm-tree's giant leaves, 
 And rocky crag where the lone cactus grows, — 
 A bosky canop}^, forever crowned 
 With deathless verdure,^ clothes the gladsome earth 
 In varied charms, and makes, beneath its bowers, ■ 
 A milder sunlight and a sky more blue. 
 
 And 'mid thick, arching foliage, in relief. 
 Glimmers the yellow of the ripening fruit, — 
 Fruit such as, warded by Night's daughters, erst 
 Shone bright in garden of Hesperides.^ 
 
 Lo ! To the westward, seen o'er yon dark glen. 
 The vast, majestic domes of mountains rise, 
 
 1 There were three Hyblas in ancient Sicily; one (now Pateriio) 
 in the east part of the island, northwest of Catana; Hybla minor 
 or Hersea, southeast of Catana, celebrated for its honey, which 
 rivalled that of Mt. Hymettus, — to-day, Calatagirone; and Hybla 
 parva, afterwards Megara, on the southeast coast near Syracuse. 
 Hj'bla minor is here referred to. 
 
 2 The islands of the Hesperides were placed on the western 
 confines of the world. Here the daughters of Hesperis, three 
 
38 DAMO:^ AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Reaching to heaven and bordering on the stars. 
 When, midwaj", drives athwart their dizzy slope 
 The racking mist, their massive tops do seem 
 In fancy to the startled ej^e of him 
 Who gazes, always to fall, j'et falling not. 
 There, since the world began, have ever stood 
 Those everlasting ramparts, reared by hand 
 Of Nature. 
 
 As slow sinks the orb of day 
 Bej'ond their summits, tlie empurpled clouds 
 Long glowing, bathed in saddened light, appear 
 As the last smile of one beloved, who dies.^ 
 
 And thither look, where, miles on miles away, 
 Yet seeming near in this pellucid air. 
 Looms Etna's grisl}^ and stupendous form.^ 
 
 or seven in number, guarded the golden apples which Giea gav^e 
 to Hera on the day of her marriage with Zeus. 
 
 Ovid represents that the leaves and branches of the garden, 
 as well as its fruit, were of gold : — 
 
 " Arborese frondes, auro radiante nitentes 
 Ex auro ramos, ex auro poma ferentes.'* 
 One of the twelve labors imposed on Hercules was to obtain 
 these golden apples. 
 
 1 ** Oui, dans ces jours d'automne ou la nature expire 
 A ses regards voile's je trouve plus d'attraits; 
 C'est r adieu d'un ami, c'est le dernier sourire 
 Des levres que la mort va fermer pour jamais/' 
 
 Lamartine: L'Automne, 
 2 See Appendix A. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 39 
 
 Alone it stands, and frowns o'er land and sea. 
 The fertile, swelling fields, which gird its base 
 And, fearful, clamber on its rock-bound sides, 
 Shrink back from bleak and thunder-rifted heights, 
 Crusted and iron-like, worn by fire and ice. 
 By wind and tempest, through the centuries. 
 
 Ever above it whirls a rolling dun 
 Of smoke, winnowed and stoim-tossed by the gale ; 
 Ever, 'mid darkness, plumed by spires of flame. 
 It towers a beacon to the coming dawn. 
 
 Now greater shadows mark the evening hour, 
 While yet the sun, unwillmg to depart. 
 Lingers in cloudland and upon the hills. 
 The painted birds no longer charm the ear 
 Of him who tarries in this blest retreat. 
 With chant and carol blithe and liquid trill. 
 Only the lonely nightingale is heard. 
 
 II. 
 
 Ah ! who is she that o'er the threshold comes, 
 
 And, on the pearly ashes of the day 
 
 Bereft of all its life of sunshine, looks 
 
 In thoughtful sadness toward the fading west ? 
 
 Is it a tear, betraying silently 
 
 Some grief tmtold, that gathers 'neath her brow? 
 
40 DAMON AND PYTHIAS, 
 
 Does one so lovely mourn amid these scenes 
 Of beaut}^, thereof she, the fairest gem, 
 Seems as the living utterance and the soul? 
 
 Deep-crimson cheeks to which the rose is pale, 
 
 And coral lips to mock Love's burning sigh, 
 
 A wealth of waving tresses, half embraced 
 
 By fillet wrought of blue inlaced with gold, 
 
 Bright eyes, full orbed, whose dark 3^et lustrous 
 
 depths 
 Reveal the fate of all on whom they gaze, 
 A j'outhful form, of ravishing contour. 
 Unfolded by Sicilia's genial skies, 
 Commingle in the rounded charms of her, 
 The matchless pride of him whose own she is. 
 
 And he, whose bride she is, now comes without 
 
 And stands beside her. In his noble form 
 
 Are gracefulness and glow of manh^ strength, 
 
 And martial port that fittingly beseems 
 
 The knightly hero of the battle-field. 
 
 And in his heart burns bright a quenchless flame. 
 
 Whence, full displayed in word and deed, doth spring 
 
 The never-failing tenderness wherewith 
 
 He worships her, the worshipper of him. 
 
 Here hath she found her longing soul's desire ; 
 
 And to its cherished presence closer clings 
 
 Than doth the mantling ivy to the oak. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 41 
 
 With mutual gaze, bespeaking mutual love, 
 Together, hand in hand, the}" wend their way 
 To rustic seat that by the streamlet's marge 
 Invites to pleasing rest. And there embraced 
 By his fond arms, she says with tearful sigh : — 
 
 '•And must to-morrow, P3'thias, bring the hour 
 When thou wilt leave me, — homeless, save with thee ? 
 Shall these affairs of state forever rend 
 The happy tissues of our household joj^s ? 
 This night were an El}' slum to me, — 
 Ay ! every fleeting moment, crowned with bliss. — 
 Save that o'er-envious time too soon doth speed 
 Our parting." 
 
 '' Sad to me, Dione, is 
 The rayless sunlight that looks not on thee 
 Beside me ; hard it is to part from her 
 For whom my soul in absence maketh moan. 
 Thou, best-beloved, art the guiding star 
 To me of life and being. Thy fair form 
 Preserves its imaged throne on battle-field, 
 By camp-fire, and amid the toilsome march 
 Through desert waste, in dreams and everywhere. 
 But now once more this sorrow comes. Again, 
 As shrills the loud-tongued trumpet, must I hence. 
 But, that performed which sacred duty bids, 
 I '11 haste to lay my laurels at thy feet. 
 My heart distraught by separation, yet 
 
42 DAMON AND PYTHIAS, 
 
 Unmoved by change of time or place, is thine. 
 
 And thou, Dione, as in the happy hour 
 
 When we came one, wouldst not forsake ih.j choice ? " 
 
 '^ Ah ! Pythias, ever}^ bliss that home can give 
 Without thee is in vain , for that thou art 
 Mj' all in all of everj^ inmost ]oj. 
 For such as thou I sighed e'er I had found 
 Thee : but when found, that all my former life 
 Was passed without the fulness of thy love. 
 That which thou art to me, mj soul knows well, — 
 ' Faithful — as is the shepherd's watchful pride, 
 True — as the helm the bark's protecting guide, 
 Firm — as the shaft that props the towering dome, 
 Sweet — as to shipwrecked seamen land and home, 
 Lovelj^ — as child, a parent's sole delight. 
 Radiant — as morn that breaks a stormy night. 
 Grateful — as streams, that in some deep recess 
 With rills unhoped the panting traveller bless. 
 Is he that links to mine his chain of life. 
 Names himself lord and deigns to call me wife.'"^ 
 
 ''Forever, fair Dione, may high heaven 
 Preserve thee in its charge ! For aj^e 
 
 1 ^schylus : Agamemnon, 896-901 (Dindorf s text). 
 
 This paraphrase was originally published in England in the 
 Quarterly Eeview. The name of the author is unknown. The 
 annotator trusts that the beauty of the lines may, to some ex- 
 tent, tend to justify the anomaly of their insertion here. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 43 
 
 May the firm bond of mutual love unite 
 
 Our hearts in one ! No greater boon I ask, 
 
 Nor greater blessing could the God bestow. 
 
 Though hard the fate that I must from thee part, 
 
 Leaving these happy scenes for war and strife, 
 
 Yet comes the hour — such is my heartfelt prayer — 
 
 When every danger threatening to the State 
 
 Shall in the past be merged, and soon again 
 
 Our days with J03" be crowned, our nights with bliss. 
 
 But while the foe is hurrying to our gates 
 
 The patriot son of Syracuse must stand 
 
 As watchful sentinel at duty's post. 
 
 To-morrow, then, a sad farewell to thee, 
 
 And to our children, sunlight of our home, 
 
 Whose prattluig child-life, happy as their dreams, 
 
 Knows not the cloud that makes our pathway dark. 
 
 Remember me in absence, who shall e'er 
 
 Within my heart of hearts remember them 
 
 Without whose love that heart would cease to beat/' 
 
 ni. 
 
 But now, my Philadelphus, came the hour 
 When hapless after-wit might hope in vain 
 To wrestle with a peril to the State 
 More fearful than the murky cloud of war 
 Still battening o'er the spoils of Acragas. 
 Sa^d hour for Syracusan liberty ! 
 
44 DAMOj^ AJ^'D PYTHIAS. 
 
 Not to her freeborn sons upon the foe 
 Advancing, pointed ruthlessl}' and stern 
 Its index-finger, but on men bowed down 
 Beneath a t^Tanny whose giant strength 
 O'ermastered both their fortunes and their lives. 
 
 Fools ! they that saw not danger ever clear ; 
 And worse than folly ! that to him who wrought 
 Their ruin they had rashly given that 
 Whereby his horrid treason was made sure. 
 
 IIow well do I recall the glorious daj^ 
 
 When our new leaders in command brought forth, 
 
 With martial pomp, the flower of S3Tacuse ! 
 
 As w^ere reviewed the endless, glittering ranks 
 
 Filled with heroic purpose and inspired 
 
 With hope of victor}", proud swelled the breasts 
 
 Of those who gazed, and all to come seemed bright. 
 
 The humble artisan, returning home. 
 
 Greeted his household with a happier smile ; 
 
 The child in mimic war-play was more brave ; 
 
 The veteran, bent with j'ears, was 3'oung again 
 
 In pleasant reminiscence of the past : 
 
 The mother clasped her babe, now reassured 
 
 That freedom and not bondage was its lot. 
 
 How fair the mocking fabric ! soon, too soon, 
 To crumble, perish, and to fade away ; 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS, 45 
 
 As when in dreams the fainting traveller views 
 A waving verdure and pure living streams, 
 And wakes amid the boundless desert waste. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Three months have passed since that tumultuous day 
 
 When Dionysius was so quickly raised 
 
 To sit among his elders in the Board 
 
 Of Generals. But since he took command 
 
 He has, despite his boastful promises, 
 
 Done nought except to aggrandize his power. 
 
 Increase his following, and make clear the way 
 
 For that which only when too late is known. 
 
 No sooner, aided by the popular breeze 
 Of favor quick excited by his art, 
 Was he securely fixed in leadership. 
 Than all the exiles who aforetime sought 
 Under Hermocrates ^ to overthrow 
 Our democratic sj^stem, were recalled. 
 These were his old-time comrades and allies, 
 Ingrained with hatred of our polit3\ 
 
 But Dionysius making fair pretence 
 That they, subordinate to his control, 
 
 1 Not the Hermocrates previously mentioned. Dionysius af- 
 terwards married the daughter of the one here named. 
 
46 DAMON A^D PYTUIAS. 
 
 Would help to serve against the common foe, 
 
 The people let them come within the gates. 
 
 Then boldly from the outset he jproclaimed, 
 
 Both in our public meetings and without, 
 
 That his associates in joint command. 
 
 Men older than himself and better tried, 
 
 Were traitors to the cause, and so refused 
 
 To meet in conference with them or lend aid 
 
 In any of their plans of strategy. 
 
 Such crimination, oft repeated, gained 
 
 An easy credit with the multitude. 
 
 Who now, in verj^ truth, believed that he 
 
 Alone was faithful to the jDublic trust. 
 
 On all save him they looked with scorn ; on him 
 
 With pride as one that owed his rank to them, 
 
 Their spokesman and the champion of their rights, 
 
 A man most watchful of their interests, 
 
 The hope and mainstay of our liberties. 
 
 So each ensuing day made him more great, 
 
 And more bemasked his crafty purposes. 
 
 Erelong with separate command he marched 
 
 To Gela and there tarried for a while. 
 
 Near bj^ was camped the enemy in force ; 
 
 Yet not against the foe was his advance. 
 
 Two factions were there of Geloans, — one, 
 Of wealthy men composed ; the other, ranged 
 In bitter opposition, of the poor. 
 
DAMON AND P YTIIIAS. 4 7 
 
 But Dionysius took the part of those 
 Of no estate, and through a form of vote 
 Condemnatory of the richer class, 
 Whom he accused of treason, put to death 
 The sons of fortune and confiscate made 
 Their property. The money so acquired 
 He lavishly bestowed throughout his camp 
 And on the common people of the town. 
 
 On every side his praise was loudly told ; 
 The glad Geloan Demos voted thanks 
 In commendation of his services. 
 And swiftly sent the vote to Syracuse 
 By special envoys. 
 
 *T was a stated day 
 Of yearly festival in Syracuse, 
 When Dionysius, as if triumphing. 
 Returned in fitting time to meet the wild 
 And heartfelt greeting of the populace, 
 Elated by the words that Gela sent. 
 
 From out the theatre a countless throng 
 
 Was pouring down the hillside as he came. 
 
 With loud huzzas they welcomed him. They pressed 
 
 Around and eagerly besought how fared 
 
 Himilco and the Carthaginians. 
 
 To every one his answer was the same : — 
 
48 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 '' Speak not to me of foreign foes ; j'our foes 
 Within, those chieftains whom with me 3^ou placed 
 To lead j'our armies, are more deadly far 
 Than such as muster in the open field. 
 To me through secret envoy was it told 
 By him whose ensigns soon are to advance. 
 Against oar walls, that as my i3rice of guilt, 
 Vrauld I but let m}^ colleagues do their will, 
 A greater portion should be mine than theirs. 
 Crushed both by this and other cogent proof 
 That mj' associates would betray the State, 
 I scorn to sta}' within their fellowship. 
 To-morrow, at the public gathering, 
 To you and them I yield my public trust." 
 
 Nor idle was his threat ; for on the daj^ 
 Ensuing, this grave charge, with mau}^ more, 
 Was made b}" him before the citizens 
 For common counsel in assembly" met. 
 Filled was the multitude with bitter rage 
 Against the men he charged with treachery ; 
 But outciies of expostulation, fear, 
 Quick followed, when the chief they held to be 
 Their only refuge, faithful to his word. 
 Yielded to them, its givers, his command. 
 
 This might not be ! With acclamations loud, 
 Thrusting from place the other generals, 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS, 49 
 
 In him alone they vested leadership, 
 
 And granted him therein fall power to act. 
 
 Thereon he moved the passing of a vote 
 
 Whereby the soldiers should be doubl}- paid ; 
 
 And this, not without gain to him, secured, 
 
 He summoned our whole military strength 
 
 To be prepared to march in his command 
 
 Leontini ; for what purpose none 
 
 Could tell. Xot all went forth ; but those alone 
 
 Who seemed more friendl}^ to himself. With them 
 
 He i^itched his camp beneath the Leontine walls 
 
 And near the citadel. When came the noon 
 
 Of night, his trusty intimates and he, 
 
 With outcries loud and hurr3'ings to and fro. 
 
 Excited through the ranks a false alarm ; 
 
 And while the ^rmj. doubtful and confused. 
 
 Was filled with fear, he and his friends retired, 
 
 As if for safety, to the citadel. 
 
 Thence issuing at the dawn, he wide proclaimed 
 
 That enemies within the camp had sought 
 
 His life and failed by reason of his flight ; 
 
 And wounds he showed in token of his words. 
 
 Those in collusion with him told the same. 
 
 Then feigning that the troops about him formed — 
 
 As only all within his lev}' might — 
 
 A lawfully sufficient gathering, 
 
 Together with the rabble of the town, 
 
50 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 To act as an assembl}^ of the State, 
 Of them he boldty asked, and had conferred 
 By formal vote, the power to keep retained 
 Six hundred veterans as a body-guard. 
 Enlisting twice the number, he delayed 
 No longer, but with his whole force returned 
 To S^Tacuse. There he remained secure 
 Behind Ortygia's massive battlements =^ 
 
 From us who had opposed the grant of power 
 To him alone, now murmurings were heard 
 Against him. Ever growing seemed his strength 
 Beyond due bounds. At first a 3'outh unknown, 
 He sprang at once to take the foremost rank 
 Within the people's gift. Aforetime poor. 
 He now was rich m Gela's blood-stained spoils. 
 He shared before with others his command ; 
 These gone, his sway was sole and absohite. 
 He had marched forth as well became his rank, 
 But now had he returned in kingl}^ pomp. 
 
 1 Diodorus must be in error when he states that Dionysius 
 began to rule immediately after his return from Leontini. This 
 is obvious from the historian's subsequent statement that the 
 Syracusan assembly, the ccdesiaf was in full operation at 
 this period, and that to this body Dionysius was compelled to 
 appeal in order to get rid of Daphnseus and Demarchus, the 
 most powerful of his adversaries. One or two other facts men- 
 tioned by Diodorus make it apparent that the tyranny was not 
 established until after the defeat of the Syracusans at Gela. 
 
DAMOX AXD PYTHIAS, 51 
 
 Much had he promised, nought had he performed. 
 
 Ilimilco was approaching. Why did he 
 
 Who was the common people's trusted chief 
 
 Supinely wait our rain, and avoid 
 
 To meet him on the battle-field, or there 
 
 Where Gela tottered to her fall, unless. 
 
 Not guiltless of the crime on others charged, 
 
 Vassal of hostile gold, he only strove 
 
 His country's life, as t^'rant, to outlive? 
 
 Such words were uttered now not secretly. 
 
 But openly, throughout the public ways. 
 
 The dread of some disaster, diml}^ seen 
 
 Yet terrible, was ever in our breasts ; 
 
 We knew not when or whence it was come, — 
 
 Whether from him whom we had armed with power, 
 
 Or from the swarthy foe in open field. 
 
 But suddenty throughout the walls is heard 
 The stirring din of warlike preparation. 
 For Dion3^sius, conscious that the hour 
 Supreme of his ambition must delay. 
 Yet fearful of inaction, gives the word, 
 Commanding all our forces, both b}' land 
 And sea, to put themselves in readiness 
 To move at once on Gela and engage 
 The enemy. 
 
 Straightway by day and night 
 Oar armorers and shipwrights ply their task. 
 
52 DAMON AND PYTHIAS, 
 
 Soon, everj^thing prepared, a mighty host, 
 'Mid cheering loud and far prolonged, goes forth 
 In proud array and discipline complete, 
 The chieftain with his life-guard in the van. 
 
 And as they march, the brazen trumpet rings 
 Its thrilling voice across the slumbering sea ; 
 Then from the crowded docks, in majesty, 
 'Mid tears, and prayers, and longings of the heart. 
 Seaward to Cape Pachjmus, moves our fleet. 
 
 But happier they than we who here remain 
 
 To keep our vigil on the battlements. 
 
 To us is weary waiting, — unto them, 
 
 The glor}^ and the crown of victory, 
 
 Or blissful death, if death can him befall 
 
 Who lives forever in his country's praise. 
 
 So do the sequent hours flow sadly on. 
 
 And still no tidings of the absent ones. 
 
 Until has passed that day foredoomed by fate, — 
 
 The last of Syracusan liberty. 
 
 The day is ended. Gathering shadows meet, 
 And darkling flow o'er fading earth and sky ; 
 And in the deep-blue offing, sunlit sails, 
 Which latel}' gleamed afar, are lost to view. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 53 
 
 The cloud low down, that seemed a wave-worn cape, 
 Now vanishes, enwrapped in thickening gloom. 
 Whilst ocean mingles with the vault of heaven. 
 The lofty mountain-tops, that erst were crowned 
 With tinted aureoles of splendor, wrought 
 Of ever-changing, ever-dying light. 
 Soon in their desolation dimly show 
 Sombre and cold against the narrow west. 
 
 The day is ended. All its wondrous sheen 
 Of beauty and of glory is o'erpast 
 To regions that bej^ond Hesperides 
 Welcome the dayspring as we mourn its loss ; 
 And Chaos' daughter, lonel}^ Night, assumes 
 Her silent sceptre and her ebon throne. 
 
 How still the crowded city ! From its homes, — 
 The regal palace and the humble cot, — 
 The busy marts of trade, the holy fanes 
 Whence mount the incensed wreaths of sacrifice, 
 Fewer and fainter come the sounds of life, 
 And voices rare are heard as in a dream. 
 
 As on the dizzy battlement I stand 
 
 W^here grim Ortygia frowns along the deep, 
 
 Round me is imaged an eternal rest. 
 
 Save where the ghostly sentry walks his path, 
 
 And far below, where moans the tideless sea, 
 
54 DAMOy AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 A black and tossing waste, heaving its surge 
 
 Against the massive wall and shingled strand. 
 
 What fantasy; wrought of the mournful hour, 
 
 Dwells wraith-like in my soul's inmost. recess. 
 
 Giving foreboding of the i^resence nigh 
 
 Of whelming danger to our threatened State ? 
 
 Awe is within me ! For endued I seem 
 
 As one who, slumbering, in vision drear 
 
 Beholds the spectral imager}^ of that 
 
 Of evil which or is or is to be. 
 
 And when I see the flaming daylight dead, 
 
 It is a mj'stic tj'pe of mortal woes 
 
 Whose stern fulfilment is e'en now at hand, — 
 
 The laws o'erthrown, a despot put in power, 
 
 Vanished the orb of Freedom (as the sun 
 
 Of Heraclitus) , nevermore to shine, — 
 
 Unless, perchance, through flow of patriot blood, 
 
 Our children may regain what we have lost. 
 
 But now slow mounts and peers athwart the flood 
 The gibbous moon. In ever-broadening path 
 Its silvery beams all-tremulous are flashed 
 Across the billows as they rise and fall. 
 Higher it sails, and, weltering no more 
 In ocean's verge, sheds far and wide its rays. 
 Again the waste of waters gleams in light. 
 Ploughed b}^ the winged messengers of peace ; 
 The mountain-tops stand forth like glittering snow ; 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 55 
 
 And Syracuse with her wide-spread maze 
 Of streets, her groves and coiisacrated fanes, 
 And massive walls, crowned with aerial towers, 
 Once more is seen as in the noonday bright. 
 
 Rising majestic toward the eastern marge, 
 Athena's temple comes again to view ; 
 Borne to the sk}^ above her marbled shrine, 
 In splendid and colossal effigy, 
 The goddess looks forth o'er the rolling main 
 And holds aloft her rounded, golden shield. 
 First landmark of the inbound mariner. 
 Last gazed upon by him that leaves our shore. 
 
 How gladsome is the scene ! On distant plains 
 Our brethren battle for the common cause ; 
 But here is peacefulness. The life renewed 
 Of whatsoe'er was beautiful before, 
 Ma}^ well relieve the burden of my soul. 
 
 But hark ! what sound is heard far, far away 
 
 Upon the road to Gela? Ever comes 
 
 A dull vibration borne upon the breeze. 
 
 Be stilled the tumult of m}' wildered heart ! 
 
 For now, the earth, as throbbing 'neath the shock 
 
 Of numberless and onward-rushing hoofs. 
 
 Gives forth reverberations loud and clear, 
 
 To which the ocean waves in s^'mphony 
 
 Make echoing response. 
 
56 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Now I discern 
 A dim, mysterious line, — has it no end? — 
 That always nearer sweeps upon its way 
 To Syracuse. To arms ! I see the gleam 
 Of burnished steel on which the moonbeams flash, 
 And horsemen, clad in warlike panopl3^ 
 To arms ! to arms ! no friendly train would fly 
 In furious speed against our welcome walls. 
 Fast man the battlements in breathless haste, 
 And wait their coming as they swiftly spur 
 Their foaming steeds ! Each one be at his post ! 
 For onward, ever onward they career. 
 And to Ortygia now they hold their course. 
 They come ! the}^ come ! the}^ seek our landward 
 
 gate. 
 They shout to us within ; the night-guard opes 
 The portal ! treacherj'? But, no ! the flower, 
 The f)ride of S3Tacusan knights appear, — 
 Philetus, Pj'thias, Damon, Eumenes, — 
 Than whom the earth bears not more candid souls, 
 Nor more heroic on the blood-stained field, — 
 Dicseus, Agathon, Androsthenes, 
 Nicoteles, and yet three hundred more 
 That late went forth. They stay not, but surmount 
 The wall and crowd upon the battlements. 
 Then Pj'thias, first of all the surging throng 
 Attending, cries to me, his flaming blade 
 In hand, "Palaemon, wake the slumbering town 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 57 
 
 With voice to blanch the bloodless lips of death ! 
 Secure and guard the gates ! Quick, help us hold 
 The ramparts ! For our homes, our children, wives, 
 And liberty, the hour of peril 's nigh ! 
 Call ever}' manful patriot to our aid. 
 And bid him stand unmoved at dut^-'s post ! 
 'Twere now no wondrous thing that they who sleep 
 In yonder sacred resting-place should start 
 From out their graves, — should rise to our relief 
 And meet the coming of their traitor son." 
 
 " Treason, my Pythias? " " Ay 1 a treason foul, 
 
 Embodied in the person of our chief; 
 
 Oar army is o'erthrown. B}^ Gela's walls 
 
 We fought : betrayed by him, we fought in vain. 
 
 Conspiring with the enemy, he planned 
 
 Our ruin for his selfish ends. Not all 
 
 Was lost when night fell on the field ; still did 
 
 We hope the morrow would bring victory. 
 
 'T was then he met his satellites ; with them 
 
 He formed the purpose to return ; to them. 
 
 As later known from spies who overheard. 
 
 He openly proclaimed his dark design 
 
 To make himself the lord of S^Tacuse. 
 
 Gela and Camarina are no more ! ^ 
 
 1 Dionysius had abandoned both of these cities to the Cartha- 
 ginians. Their inhabitants accompanied the Syracnsau army 
 in its retreat. 
 
58 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Our arm}', part corrupted by his gold, 
 The rest in cloabt, was ordered to retreat ; 
 And now it crowds the roads, — a woful wreck. 
 Slow drifting to our walls. 
 
 " With minds as one, 
 This treason to forefend, these gallant knights 
 Have ridden swiftly here, first messengers 
 Of the defeat and of the purposed crime ; 
 And Dionj'sius, with his bod3'-guard 
 And mercenar}" horde, comes close behind, 
 In hope to take the city by surprise. 
 I charge thee, O Patemon, by the tie 
 Of Brotherhood that knits our hearts in one, — 
 And others, whom I see, — till death to stand 
 And shield our freedom from its traitorous foe ! 
 All I adjure b}^ love of Fatherland. 
 Let some alarm the town ! let others watch 
 The city gates and Achradina's wall ! 
 I hasten to the Agora. Let each 
 His duty find. Whether to live, or die 
 For cause so just upon the battle's ridge, 
 What matters it to patriotic souls ? 
 
 '' If any false there be in such an hour. 
 In flood of darkness may the nether world 
 Him overwhelm ! " ^ 
 
 1 The statement of Diodorus that the knights, while awaiting 
 the arrival of Dionysius, were guilty of committing grave ex- 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 59 
 
 As when from cloudless sky, 
 Whilst all things sleep beneath a noontide sun, 
 And not a breath disturbs the pendent leaf, 
 Out flashes quick the riving bolt of Zeus, 
 And rolls the billowing thunder, peal on peal. 
 And man and beast affrighted, trembling stand. 
 Or sink to earth, — so when we hear these words 
 Proclaiming that the fatal hour is come, 
 Lost in amazement, we are reft of speech 
 And filled with unknown dread. 
 
 But swiftly mounts 
 The love of liberty to fire our hearts 
 With its immortal flame ; and, steeled with strength 
 Beyond his own, springs each one to his post. 
 The walls are manned ; the portals are made fast ; 
 
 cesses in Ortygia, is in the highest degree improbable. They 
 had been '' prompted as it were by an instinct of divine prov- 
 idence " — such is the language of Diodorus — to rise against 
 Dionysius, and had ridden swiftly to Syracuse in order to pre- 
 pare to hold the city against him. That after their arrival they 
 should have forgotten the purpose of their coming, and should 
 have neglected to improve the brief interval allowed them for 
 putting the town in a proper condition for its defence is incred- 
 ible. It is very likely that acts of criminal violence were com- 
 mitted during the excitement following their return. But that 
 the knights were responsible for such acts must seem unlikely 
 to esrery intelligent reader of history. Diodorus, no doubt, took 
 the statement in question from the narrative of Philistus, — an 
 historian who is said in all respects to have reflected the opin- 
 ions and prejudices of Dionysius. 
 
60 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 The city through its length and breadth is roused. 
 
 Armed knio^hts are hurrvino; to and fro. Throug:hout 
 
 The wider streets and in the market-place 
 
 Great throngs of citizens and women, pale 
 
 With fear, are met together, and await. 
 
 With sad and anxious heart, the dread event. 
 
 And yet the slow-paced moments, seeming hours, 
 
 Creep on, and Dionj^sius cometh not. 
 
 In peacefulness, as if in mockery. 
 
 Far toward the zenith climbs the silvery moon. 
 
 Her flood of glory overflows the land 
 
 And sparkling wave, but shows not 3'et his coming . 
 
 Softly the gentle land-breeze swells and dies. 
 
 Fraught with aroma of a thousand flowers ; 
 
 But to our waiting, wearied hearts it bears 
 
 No whispering of the coming of his host. 
 
 Still onward goes the work of preparation. 
 
 But now the shadow of the gnomon' hath, 
 
 Methinks, alread}" marked the midnight hour. 
 
 Standing on Achradina's heights, I hear 
 
 As from afar on the Geloan road 
 
 A clattering sound like that of cavalry 
 
 ^ The gnomon (yvcG/xwi/), or sun-dial, was at this period the 
 usual instrument by means of which the ancients measured the 
 time of day and night. It consisted of a pillar standing per- 
 pendicular in a place exposed to the sun, and by its shadow 
 divided the day into twelve parts. The clepsydra, or water-clock, 
 came into common use at a later period. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 61 
 
 When swift it speeds along a flinty way. 
 
 Now, now, in very truth the foe draw nigh ! 
 
 For from the gloom 'neath yonder beetling cliif, 
 
 With waving plume and sudden flash of steel, 
 
 Rush into view the foremost of their van, 
 
 And bold outriders shout and cheer them on. 
 
 Others succeed, and all sweep quickly forward 
 
 To Achradina's gate, and loudl}^ cry 
 
 To open unto Dionj^sius. But 
 
 Their outcries are in vain ; the oaken port, 
 
 Its brazen hinges guarded by stout arms 
 
 And hearts of steel, yields never to their call. 
 
 So are they well assured the truth is known, 
 
 And that by force alone the}^ can prevail. 
 
 In desperate charge they seek to storm the wall ; 
 
 And then the roar of maddening strife doth pierce 
 
 The startled ear of night. 
 
 The clash of steel, 
 The high-raised voices of command ; the cries 
 Of combatants, the groans of those who sink 
 Beneath the sword or from the parapet 
 Are headlong hurled ; the cruel grief and fear 
 Of friends within. Death's image, ever nigh 
 In ever varied, ever ghastly shape. 
 Do weave a horror that no words can paint, 
 And such as may forevermore affright 
 The dreams of him whose ej^es have seen its form. 
 The din of conflict louder, louder swells. 
 
62 DAMOX AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Onward dark Treason goads her craven slaves, 
 
 Bravely the sons of Freedom beat them back. 
 
 There Dionj^sius shines resplendently 
 
 In glittering armor ; as a lioness 
 
 In Afric wilds, robbed of her tender whelps, 
 
 He rages in the thickest of the fight. 
 
 Here Pythias, chosen leader of our band, 
 
 Stands forth all-radiant in the battle-flame. 
 
 All-glorious in the justice of his cause. 
 
 Long is the contest waged, and victory 
 
 Seems ours. The}' yield, withdrawing from the wall, 
 
 But onl}^ for a time. Once more the foe 
 
 The assault renew, and, prompted by their chief. 
 
 Seek, by a novel warfare, to prevail. 
 
 Near hy are ready gathered from the fens 
 Great stores of reeds, inflammable and dr}'. 
 Such as are burned within the neighboring kilns. 
 Of these they bear great masses to the gate. 
 And build them from its base in towering pyre ; 
 To this the}^ put the torch. A blaze upsprings, 
 And, roaring skj^ward, quick enwraps the wall 
 In furious folds of fire and volumed smoke. 
 The patriot band, unshaken by the spear, 
 Is backward driven from the seething storm. 
 Our ranks are formed anew and take their stand 
 To wait the deadlj^ onset that is nigh. 
 The trusty portal, charred hy raging heat 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 63 
 
 And fretted by the cankerous fires that burst 
 From all its surface, wastes 'neath crackling flames 
 Throughout ; its melting fastenings bend and jield 
 As fiercer knocks the all-devouring fiend. 
 
 New-comers swell the hostile ranks. The night 
 Is near its end. 
 
 At once, with thunder- sound, 
 In ruin vast, falls Achradina's gate, 
 And by its smothering embers griml}^ shows. 
 To those without, our small but faithful band. 
 We close our ranks. " Strike ! strike for liberty ! " 
 Cries Pythias ; while through the yawning breach, 
 In countless, overpowerino; numbers, rush 
 The foe. 
 
 O'erwhelmed by numbers, crowded back 
 Into the Agora, begirt around 
 By levelled steel, seven knights alone resist 
 Of those who mustered at the midnight hour. 
 Now lies their chief as lifeless 'mid the slain ; 
 Their comrades brave no more can lend them aid. 
 Yet still they battle, ever choosing death 
 Before a tyrant's chains. 
 
 Felled to the earth 
 B}^ wounds, and then a helpless captive led, 
 I see the closing scene in the most sad, 
 
64 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Terrific drama. I behold the blow 
 Last struck for Sj'racusan liberty, 
 And o'er the citj^'s latest champion rise, 
 In blood-bought triumph, Dion3'sius' power. 
 
 And only these resist? Alas ! 't is so. 
 But one by one thej^ fall, till Damon, left 
 Alone, begirt by enemies, stands o'er 
 His country's grave. 
 
 " Yield quickl}- or 3'ou die ! " 
 The}^ shout. His answer is in deeds, not words : 
 And b}^ his blade, swift-flashing as the light. 
 Two more are wafted to the shadowy realm. 
 But look ! he sinks ! Ah ! no ; not jet that soul 
 Heroic goes to its reward. He lives. 
 But higher, higher mount the paeans wild 
 Of foemen, loud proclaiming victor}'. 
 And with the shouts the trumpet harshl}^ blends. 
 Now, now, in yqvj truth his hour is come ! 
 He falls, and o'er his lowly, senseless form 
 A score of arms upraise the murderous spear ; 
 Death aims his grisly dart ! But suddenly. 
 With warning gesture, one springs in the midst 
 That cries, — 
 
 " Forbear, forbear, and harm him not ! 
 AVho doeth Damon injury shall die. 
 I, Dionj'sius, give command that he. 
 In double irons, under treble guard, 
 
DAMON' AND PYTHIAS. 65 
 
 Shall straight be taken to the prison-house 
 Of gloomy Lithotomise, and there 
 Securely be confined. 
 
 " And when three days 
 Are past, and on the last hath come the set 
 Of sun, he shall be brought unto this place, 
 Where publicly the city may look on, 
 To be beheaded, as a sign to all 
 That I alone am lord of Syracuse. 
 
 ^' Such is my will and pleasure. Make ye haste 
 And bear him hence. 
 
 '' As to the rest who live, 
 They have my pardon." 
 
 Thus the night doth end. 
 For now, above the ocean-floor, the east 
 Is kindling with the ruddy flakes that paint .^ 
 
 The earlj^ summer morn. 
 
66 DAMOY AND PYIHIAS. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Pythagoras. — Meeting of the Pythagorean Brotherhood 
 of Syracuse. Alethes speaks. Lycidas returns from Lith- 
 otomise and relates the particulars of an interview between 
 Damon and Dionysius. The tyrant will release the cap- 
 tive if any one will wear his chains as a hostage to insure 
 his return before the time fixed for his execution. Many 
 of the Brothers seek to assume this suretyship, but at last 
 yield to Pythias. — Ortygia: Interview between Pythias 
 and the tyrant ; Pythias obtains the required permission 
 to become Damon's hostage. — Lithotomise : Interview be- 
 tween Damon, Pythias, and Philistus ; Damon is forced 
 very unwillingly to leave Pythias in his stead. — Irene, the 
 home of Damon. Interview between Damon and Calanthe, 
 his wife ; Damon bids her a last farewell and departs on 
 his return to Syracuse. — Pythias at the block. Damon 
 returns just in time to save his friend. The tyrant, struck 
 with admiration, releases both, and asks to be taken as 
 a third member of their fellowship. 
 
 Pythagoras ! ^ the mighty flow of aeons yet to come, 
 Fulfilling Time, which, like the last of heavenly 
 spheres, enwraps 
 
 * See Appendix E. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 67 
 
 All things, shall not outlive thy fame. More 'during 
 
 than the bronze 
 Of regal monuments, and loftier than the p^-ramids, 
 Th}' glory shall remain and be renewed in endless 
 
 growth. 
 
 What though b}^ Metapontum's strand ^ the envious 
 
 sea invade 
 The land, unyielding keeper of thy tomb and of the 
 
 dust 
 That was thy mortal part ? The subtile chariot of the 
 
 soul 
 Hath sped afar to fields Elysian where the good and 
 
 purified, 
 Bej^ond corruption and the power of death, are clothed 
 
 upon 
 With immortality and made like Him whom worlds 
 
 obey. 
 Most noble was thy life's reward, illustrious the 
 
 prize. 
 
 Fair Samos, rising in queen-like beauty from the 
 
 ^gean wave, 
 Renowned in commerce and the arts, gave unto 
 
 Hera birth ; 
 
 1 The tomb of Pythagoras at Metaiiontum was to be seen as 
 late as the time of Cicero. 
 
68 DAMOy AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 But not the goddess lends thy native isle a greater 
 
 meed 
 Of honor than dost thou, whose name now fills the 
 
 universe. 
 
 Blind follies, grovelling passions were for others, not 
 
 for thee. 
 That m3^stic letter ^ from whose stem diverge to either 
 
 side 
 Twin branches, was to thee a symbol of the ways of 
 
 life, 
 Of Virtue and of Vice. The steep and narrow path 
 
 that mounts 
 Upon the right remained thy choice until the goal 
 
 was won. 
 
 The boundaries of time and space which fetter mortal 
 man 
 
 ^ The letter Y was the Pythagorean symbol of human life. 
 Early youth, before the moral character is formed, is repre- 
 sented by the stem, the right branch is the path of virtue, the 
 left the broader path of vice. Yirgil may have had in view this 
 Pythagorean type when he wrote, — 
 
 " Hie locus est, partes ubi se via findit in ambas: 
 Dextera quae Ditis magni sub moenia tendit; 
 Hac iter Elysium nobis ; at laeva malorum 
 Exercet poenas, et ad impia Tartara mittit." 
 
 yEn. YI, 540. 
 By the Stoics, virtue was represented by a straight line, the 
 vices by curves. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 69 
 
 Could ill confine thy footsteps and the soaring of a 
 
 mind 
 That, far surpassing earthly knowledge, strove to 
 
 reave the sky 
 Of all its treasured secrets, cosmic order to unfold, 
 And nearer to approach the One Ineffable who is 
 Whatever is or hath been or shall be forevermore.^ 
 
 The hidden learning of the nations was sought out by 
 
 thee. 
 And from the revelation, Wisdom, Strength, and 
 
 Beauty sprang, 
 And blending in harmonious presence, did thy being 
 
 fill. 
 Thy wandering footsteps strayed where Nilus rolls 
 
 his 3^ellow tide. 
 The bald skull of the desert mocks the heavens' 
 
 changeless eye, 
 And Memnon's statue ^ greets with tuneful chord the 
 
 rays of morn ; 
 
 1 An inscription on the ancient temple of Neith, — the Egyp- 
 tian Minerva, — at Sais, a city of the Egyptian Delta, ran as 
 follows: " I am the things that have been, and that are, and 
 that will be ; and no mortal has ever yet taken off the veil that 
 covers me; the fruit which I brought forth became the Sun." 
 
 2 In the temple of Serapis, at Thebes, stood a colossal statue 
 of Memnon, which gave forth harmonious sounds when it re- 
 ceived the rays of the rising sun. The ruins of this statue still 
 remain. The sound has been explained by a physical cause 
 analogous to that which produces the acoustic phenomenon of 
 the jEolian harp. 
 
70 DAMOJSr AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 And where afar upon Euphrates' banks uprise the 
 
 walls 
 Of royal Babylon, and where Judsea's sons, restored 
 From wandering, renewed the temple that their 
 
 fathers built ; 
 And from the moaning Bosporus unto far Calpe's 
 
 bound. 
 Unveiled to thee were Delphic and Idaean mysteries, 
 The lore of magi and the adyta of sacred things ; 
 Mankind thy coming hailed where'er dispersed 
 
 throughout the earth ; 
 "I greet thee," and "God speed thee," were thy 
 
 welcome and farewell. 
 Thus sought the world to make its wisdom thine, 
 
 that as thou wast 
 Of all first called "• Philosopher," so mightst thou be 
 
 the chief. 
 
 There rose within the clear illumination of thy mind 
 A vision of the Architect Divine, whose thought alone. 
 In long-lost seons past, had formed the bright celes- 
 tial throng 
 That minister to Him, had kindled evening's gilded 
 
 train, 
 And purple morn, had set in space the ponderous 
 
 globes of Earth 
 And Counter-Earth, the sunlit moon and all the 
 heavenly spheres, 
 
DAMOX AND PYTHIAS, 71 
 
 That, with a harmony too pure for human sense, 
 
 revolve 
 Around their unseen central-fire, the flaming Tower 
 
 of Zeus.^ 
 
 In this theophany didst thou behold a Highest Good, 
 
 Eternal, infinite, unchangeable. To thee it told 
 
 Of an Omniscient Mind, an Arm Omnipotent that 
 
 guides 
 The universe, an Omnipresent Eye, whose constant 
 
 gaze 
 Doth ever view each inmost secret of the heart's 
 
 recess. 
 And since creation from Essential Goodness had 
 
 emerged, 
 Informed by perfect power and wisdom immanent 
 
 in Him, 
 Its every part was rightly made as best for our estate. 
 
 And thou hast taught that as true happiness cometh 
 
 of Him, 
 The Source of Good, so toward Him both our thoughts 
 
 and deeds should tend, — 
 That we should pay high honor to His name and to 
 
 His oath, 
 And in all rightful undertakings early seek His aid. 
 
 ^ See Appendix E. 
 
72 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 To thy well-ordered vision, freed from earthly dross, 
 and pure, 
 
 Had H^ revealed each shining orb that in the firma- 
 ment 
 
 Of Virtue rolls majestic and eternal round His throne, 
 
 To such unchangeable and sacred guidance didst thou 
 point, 
 
 That by its aid our souls might sooner mount to end- 
 less bliss. 
 
 Thou, thou of all men, best hast taught what meaneth 
 Brotherhood ; 
 
 And from the great impression of thy mind thj^ vota- 
 ries 
 
 Have gained new bonds of sj^mpathy and love, and 
 to the world 
 
 Displayed grand deeds of high and noble and illus- 
 trious worth. 
 
 No longer maj^ thy chosen Fellowship behold thee here, 
 
 But still our souls reflect thine imaged presence and 
 thy words. 
 
 Nor mourn we wisely ; for thy being, as thy fame, 
 doth now 
 
 Surmount the earth and tower amid the star-decked 
 canopy. 
 
 II. 
 
 Near by preserving Fortune's marbled fane 
 
 Were met within their place of gathering 
 
DAMON- AND PYTHIAS. 73 
 
 Our Brotherhood of Syracuse. But far 
 
 To seek were most of those who clasped our hands 
 
 In fellowship in happier da3's. Alas ! 
 
 'Xeath Gela's walls the hostile spear had freed 
 
 Full many a soul from earth's dark prison-house, 
 
 And left us naught but en\y of such fate ; 
 
 And on the morn when Freedom winged her flight, 
 
 Of those who, timeh^ warned, returned to die — 
 
 If so their country bade — a freeman's death, 
 
 The living told the multitude of slain ; 
 
 And of the living heroes of that strife 
 
 None was who mourned not to survive his wounds. 
 
 Sad was our convocation. Hour like this 
 
 Had never gloomed upon our fatherland, 
 
 Nor on the welfare of our Brotherhood. 
 
 Yet faithful to the steadfast tie that binds * 
 
 In lo^'alty our esoteric band. 
 
 Each true to each and to our Fellowship, 
 
 The place of our resort had promptly gained ; 
 
 And while without the clouds more darkly frowned, 
 
 Unto our upturned gaze more bright!}' gleamed 
 
 The symbol of that mystic, sacred Fount, 
 
 Whence Nature, as our Order, draws her life.^ 
 
 1 Reference is here made to the tetractys (in Greel^, TerpaKru?^ 
 the number four), which, to the Pythagoreans, symbolized the 
 fount of ever-flowing life and being {naynv a^vaov <^v(Te<M<;. Carm, 
 Aur,f 48). Upon this symbol the Pythagoreans took a certain 
 
74 DAMON' AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Here might we find a refuge from the storm. 
 And, touched with mutual pity, comfort seek, 
 Or, in commingled grief, lament the dead ! 
 
 To meet each friendly grasp, each fond embrace, 
 Lo ! last of all, came Pythias. Braver knight 
 Than he ne'er trod the battle-field ; more true 
 Had ne'er partaken of our mysteries. 
 From where the slain lay thick our loving arms 
 Had borne him tenderly. The refluent tide. 
 Of life returned ; and now, with feebler step. 
 He came once more to greet the Sons of Light, 
 And, as none other, welcome from them take. 
 Yet scars of cruel wounds remained, fell proof 
 How great the miracle that saved from death 
 Him, the chief hero of that fatal morn. 
 
 III. 
 
 All were attentive as Alethes rose 
 
 And said, responding to the thoughts of all, — 
 
 oath, of which the fragment given us by Jamblichus. in his 
 Life of Pythagoras, has been rendered as follows: — 
 
 ** By that pure, quadrilat'ral name on high, 
 Nature's eternal fountain and supply. 
 The parent of all souls that living be, — 
 By it, with faithful oath, I swear to thee." 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 75 
 
 " Brothers, once more within these peaceful walls, 
 Where dwell Light, Love, and Truth, the living meet. 
 But not with joy returns this social hour ; 
 Deep in the depths of sorrow mourns each heart. 
 
 " No longer may we share the polity 
 Which, under equal laws and equal rights, 
 Made each within the city peer of each. 
 Nor longer will the segis of the free, 
 Forth flashing terror, as the fabled shield 
 Of Zeus, unite us 'gainst the savage foe. 
 
 " Fallen and helpless lies the commonwealth ! 
 A tyrant's will stands for the people's rule, 
 And with him are our fortunes and our lives. 
 
 " Nor this alone. The unavailing tear 
 Will often flow in memory of those 
 Who fell so nobly in our latest strife. 
 Too manly to endure a despot's frown, 
 Too patriotic to survive the State, 
 They gave themselves in wilUng sacrifice. 
 Whereof the glory maj^ assuage our woe. 
 
 " But when will end our longing and our grief 
 For the dear friends among our Brotherhood, 
 Who, not by alien hands, have passed away? 
 The fratricidal steel that shed their blood 
 
76 DAMOy AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Brought ruin to the nation, and to us 
 Perpetual sorrow for the untimely dead. 
 For these we mourn as onl}" Brothers vufxy. 
 No more will their glad footsteps find this place 
 Of wonted gathering. No more with them 
 May we conjoin within these walls as once, 
 In holy offices of Love and Truth, 
 Of Friendship, Charity, Benevolence. 
 
 " Yet there they sank to rest where for mankind 
 'T is glorious to die. 
 
 " So ma}' kind Earth 
 Take fondl}' to her bosom that which sprang 
 From Earth, whilst in the realm above both Joy 
 And Immortality their souls inwreath. 
 
 " And is now filled the measure of our ills, 
 Ingathered is the harvesting of death? 
 
 " Alas ! still one remains his doom to meet : 
 With fetters bound, deep in the quarried depths 
 Of Lithotomise, Damon captive lies, — 
 Of rank sublime among the Brotherhood, 
 The chosen leader of our Fellowship. 
 
 '' The tyrant hath condemned him that he die 
 
 To-morrow ere depart the beams of day. 
 
 Would we might save his life ! But hope seems vain, 
 
 I 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 11 
 
 As vain have been our efforts in the past. 
 The tyrant will give ear to none. With mind 
 Firm fixed in his fell purpose, he is deaf 
 To such as speak of mercy. He declares 
 That die our Brother must and shall, as now 
 Appointed. 
 
 '* Yet for counsel are we met, 
 Each lending aid to each, that we may learn, 
 If hapl}' new endeavor may avail 
 To rescue Damon from his threatened fate. 
 
 " Grand is the mystery of Brotherhood, 
 That binds us each to each ! An orb it shines, 
 With beams eternal, pure, of Light and Life 
 And Love, to help us in our journeying on 
 And upward to the realms of endless da}^. 
 Where, in communion sweet, beneath the Ej'e 
 Divine, earth's labor o'er, the harvest reaped. 
 Our souls shall find repose. 
 
 '' The outer world 
 Knows not the guiding-star that lights our path ; 
 Unveiled to us, it knits in unity. 
 And, hand to hand and heart to heart, conjoins 
 Our Fellowship till time shall be no more. 
 The sundering sea cannot divide our love, 
 Nor fleeting years nor Death's fell stroke destroy. 
 The centuries may waste the monuments 
 That mark the pride, the pageantry of man ; 
 
78 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 The firm, unshaken earth, the mountain-tops 
 That rest amid the clouds, may find a grave 
 Beneath the encroaching surges of the deep ; 
 Yet still shall Friendship's mystic tie unite, 
 And still the hght that guides our Brotherhood, 
 Kindled bj' torch of heavenly flame, burn bright. 
 Art thou our Brother? Then thou wear'st a crown 
 More proud than any kingly potentate ; 
 For thou art of that band whose loyalty 
 To thee, as thine to them, can never fail. 
 Does lying slander harm thee ? Every tongue 
 Shall strive to keep unsullied thy repute. 
 Does sickness waste thee ? Thou shalt find in us 
 The willing ministrants to thy relief. 
 Does danger threaten? Knowing this, we give 
 Thee timel}^ warning that thou ma^'st avoid. 
 Has death encompassed thee ? With fortitude 
 Would w^e imperil life to save thine own. 
 
 '' Such is our Brotherhood, and such the love 
 That makes a Brother but our ' other self.'^ 
 
 ^ This conforms to Pythagoras' definition of a friend, — eo-rl 
 
 yap ioq (fia/xev o (/)tAo9 devrepoi; eyoo. 
 
 Another Pythagorean definition of friendship was, *'Two 
 bodies, — one soul," — o-wju-ara fjikv Svo \{/vx-n 5e fjiia, A friend was 
 
 '* half of the soul," — rnxta-v t^5 yjjvxv'y- 
 
 Horace employs the last definition in an ode addressed to 
 his friend and patron, Maecenas : — 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 79 
 
 Then with a common purpose let us seek, 
 
 If hapl}' Damon may escape his doom. 
 
 Let each make known what seemeth to him best. 
 
 Erelong will friendl}^ Lycidas return. 
 
 Who to the prison went charged with our love 
 
 For Damon, and right well provided, too, 
 
 With gold, most potent to unloose the tongues 
 
 Of surly jailers and to gain us tidings." 
 
 IV. 
 
 These words Alethes spake, and suddenly, 
 
 As if in answer to the heart's desire, 
 
 Into our presence Lycidas returned. , 
 
 Welcomed by all, an audience he claimed, 
 
 And thus related to us what we sought : — 
 
 "Brothers, with eager steps I hastened hence 
 
 *' Ah te meae si partem animae rapit 
 Maturior vis, quid moror altera, 
 ;N"ec earns aeque nee superstes 
 Integer ? " 
 
 Od. II, X YII, 5. 
 
 And again, in an ode addressed to the ship that was carrying 
 his friend Virgil, the poet, to Greece: — 
 
 *' Navis, quae tihi creditnm 
 Debes Virgilium finibns Atticis 
 
 Reddas incolumem precor, 
 Et serves animae dimidium meae.'* 
 
 Od. I, III, 5. 
 
80 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 And gained admission to the prison-house 
 
 Of Lithotomise. Within its gloom 
 
 I strove with unavaiUng prayers to reach 
 
 The cell of Damon. Neither gold nor tears 
 
 Could overcome the tyrant's stern command 
 
 Imposed upon the keepers, that alone 
 
 Our Brother should await the hour of death. 
 
 Thus had my errand almost fruitless been. 
 
 But one Damoetas, who kept guard within 
 
 And seemed to have compassion for our friend, 
 
 Most willingly, for he refused reward, 
 
 Yet secretly acquainted me of this 
 
 I now repeat as he hath given it. 
 
 " 'T was yesterday that some unknown desire 
 
 Or fancy led the tyrant to the cell 
 
 Of Damon. With him were his satellites, 
 
 Philistus and those other sj'cophants 
 
 Who share the honors of his new-made power. 
 
 Subservient to imperial state, the guard 
 
 Quickly unclosed the ponderous barriers 
 
 And lighted him into the dungeon's depths. 
 
 There he beheld the captive, doubly ironed 
 
 And feeble from his wounds. 
 
 " Then unto him 
 The tjTant said, ' Well mayst thou now regret 
 Thy folly on the night when thou mad'st bold 
 To face my power. Ay, suppliant at my feet. 
 Implore forgiveness ! Hast thou aught to say?' 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 81 
 
 ''And Damon answered, ' I have no regret 
 Save for loy countrj' ; and I dread thee not, 
 That I should ask for mercy. As thou wilt, 
 Release me from these chains or take my life.' 
 
 " ' Thou hast no fear of death? ' 
 
 " 'I fear it not. 
 Against the foe and at the latest hour 
 I perilled all for freedom. This now lost, 
 Death seems more welcome than to live a slave.' 
 
 " ' Thy friends, the members of thy Brotherhood, 
 Are striving all to save thee ; the}^ entreat 
 Most earnestly that th}^ life may be spared.' 
 
 " ' Ah, Dionysius, nev^er canst thou know 
 The tie that binds them to me ! Hath my fate 
 Then caused such sorrow ? From m}^ prison-house 
 My heart goes out to them in thankfulness. 
 Faithful are these amid earth's darkest ills. 
 Had I of one brief hour the boon, forthwith 
 Would I haste unto them to say farewell. 
 It may not be. Still shall we meet again 
 In time to come.' 
 
 " ' Thou speakest mj^steries. 
 But liveth there none other whom ere death 
 Thou wouldst revisit? Is there none, save these, 
 Of whom thou wouldst eternal parting take ? 
 Hast thou a wife or child ? ' 
 
82 DAMOy AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 *' ' Forbear, forbear, 
 Most cruel Dionysius ! Make for me 
 New instruments of pain, prolong my life 
 Beneath a quivering, an unceasing flow 
 Of anguish ; rack and torture as thou wilt, 
 And men shall hear me with my latest breath 
 Defy thy might. But spare this pang, and speak 
 No more, no more of those whom thou hast named ! 
 Oh, could I steel myself against the thought 
 Of all most maddening, that the fatal day 
 Will come ere I again may see their forms. 
 As purest star hath risen 'mid this gloom 
 The beauteous vision of my far-off home. 
 Of wife and child. And ever in my dreams 
 An image of the loved ones calms my rest. 
 Yet would my reason wander from its throne 
 Had I no respite from the dreadful thought 
 Of separation. But the cruel words 
 From thee, the author of the woe that frets 
 My soul, renew this grief with keenest pang. 
 Once more I seem to gaze on her who waits 
 With fond embrace my coming, and the joy 
 Of our fair child, half told in prattling speech 
 To us whose mutual love she binds anew. 
 Oh, mayst thou, Dionysius, deign to grant 
 To me, most wretched, but a single day 
 To seek my home, a last farewell to say ! 
 Then will I swift return and suffer death.' 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 83 
 
 " ' So, Damon, have I moved thy lofty soul, 
 
 Now era vest thou the favor of my power ! 
 
 Yet should I grant the boon thou hast besought, 
 
 Canst give assurance of thy coming back 
 
 To meet th}' doom? ' ' Thou 'It have the very best.' 
 
 ' Then hast thou gold? ' ' Not gold have I, but that 
 
 "Which gold shall never taint, — an honest word. 
 
 That will I pledge as gage of my return.' 
 
 ' Can I believe thy promise would avail 
 
 Against the love of life ? Not so wilt thou 
 
 Escape me and the headsman ! But dost think, — 
 
 Thou 'It laugh, Philistus, at the merry jest, — 
 
 Dost think there lives among thy Brotherhood 
 
 A Brother who would aid thee in thy stress. 
 
 Here wear thy chains, awaiting thy return. 
 
 To die instead of thee, shouldst thou not come 
 
 Within the time appointed ? ' 
 
 " 'Ay ! not one. 
 But all, O Dionysius, willingly 
 Would help me thus if they but knew my need ; 
 Yet would I suffer none so dear as these 
 To bear my chains or peril life for me.' 
 ' What folly hast thou babbled to the winds. 
 If I have heard thy words ! Then hast thou faith 
 Thy Brotherhood would peril life for thee ? ' 
 ' So have I said, O Dionysius ; so 
 Once more I tell thee.' 
 
 " ' Damon, hopest thou 
 
84 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 B}^ this asseveration to commend 
 
 Such marvel unto our belief ? Vain, vain 
 
 The effort ! What the mysteries may be 
 
 Of those among thy Order, what the oaths 
 
 And mutual duties of their fellowship 
 
 I care not. For I well and truly know 
 
 That not in Syracuse nor in the land 
 
 Can one be found who, willingly, would leave 
 
 The bloom and beauty of the outer world, 
 
 With all that makes the happiness of life, 
 
 And here, within these gloomy, noisome depths, 
 
 Put on thy chains, and as a pledge for thee. 
 
 Await the coming of the dreadful hour. 
 
 If such there were, then would I grant thy prayer. 
 
 " ' But time is swiftly speeding. Let us haste, 
 Philistus, for the moment is near by 
 When I must mount my throne in regal state, 
 And hold my court. And, Damon, as to thee ' — 
 
 " ' I go, thou tyrant, to a glorious death ! ' " 
 
 When Lycidas had ended, straight there rose 
 The murmurings of wonder and of joy. 
 And then, as if b}^ common impulse moved 
 To friendly strife, each Brother sought to be 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 85 
 
 The foremost in his offering to haste 
 To Dion^'sius, and of him beg leave 
 To be a pledge for Damon*s prompt return. 
 
 Whilst all in worthy emulation strove, 
 
 And harmony was lost in that wherein 
 
 Each close agreed with each, none might prevail. 
 
 At last, in silence, we gave willing ear 
 
 To Pythias, who was Damon's dearest friend. 
 
 " Brothers," he said, " I thank you that I may 
 Be heard, in claiming that which to myself 
 Peculiarly belongs ; for not alone 
 The common tie which binds our fellowship 
 Impels me, though the same might well suffice 
 At such a time ; for Friendship is our first 
 And grandest bond. Another right is mine. 
 That Damon should accept me as his pledge. 
 In early childhood's hours began my love 
 For him. Fond memory hath oft restored 
 The petty hamlet 'mid Sicilian hills. 
 Its cottages half hidden by the wealth 
 Of nature's bloom, where passed our early life 
 In sweet companionship. Again I seem 
 To mingle with him in the jocund sports 
 That swiftly sped the shining daj^s of 3'outh, 
 And in the tasks wherein, with minds as one. 
 We conned the mysteries of things unknown. 
 
86 • DAMOy AXD PYTHIAS . 
 
 E'en then was Damon, as in after-time, 
 My best and firmest friend, the soul of truth 
 And honor ; pure, heroic, masterful, 
 Exemplar of his bojdsh following. 
 And as the tranquil river's peaceful flow. 
 Calmly moved on the current of our joys. 
 
 '' But suddenly, ere we had sprung to manhood. 
 
 The call of perilled country summoned us 
 
 To leave our pleasant home for other scenes 
 
 More mighty than our land had yet beheld. 
 
 AYe came to Syracuse. And soon began 
 
 The grand, ensanguined drama of that siege, 
 
 Wherein the armament of Athens strove 
 
 With sword and spear to pass the rampired walls 
 
 Our city to o'erwhelm. Then side by side 
 
 We faced the foe. E'en from the day when gleamed 
 
 Over the ocean-floor their thousand sails 
 
 Until the last, when Victor}^ placed her crown 
 
 Of gold upon our City's brow, our lives. 
 
 Our hopes were one. But oft in peril were 
 
 Our lives, and thrice when danger imminent 
 
 That threatened instant death, assailed mine own, 
 
 The friendly arm of Damon came to save. 
 
 "- Then was our mutual love still firmer knit 
 On other battle-fields ; and when erelong, 
 The tie of Brotherhood had made more pure 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. C 
 
 And sacred that which bound our hearts before, 
 In very truth was each to each the half 
 Of his own soul.^ 
 
 " At Acragas we fought, 
 And there, once more, upon the dreadful night 
 When all the countless population swarmed 
 In terror from the doom that overhung 
 The fated town, my life was saved by him. 
 And at the final hour, when Prudence marked 
 The scheme of treason, now, alas ! fulfilled. 
 Together we marched forth in the proud host 
 That Dion^^sius led to Gela's aid. 
 But vain our going ! Sad the day of hope 
 We left our homes to seek Geloan walls ! 
 A mightier foe than Lybia's swarthy ranks 
 AVas nigh. Men knew it not ; or if by us 
 Forewarned, they heeded not, until uprose 
 In hideous gloom, yet full revealed by Proof, 
 Who.«*e trembling torch flamed at the hour of fate. 
 The treason that hath wrecked our commonwealth. 
 'T W9S then, with such as were of all our knights 
 Most true, we sprang in haste upon our steeds 
 And, as an arrow, passed the ghostly throngs 
 That filled the roads, and sped to save the State. 
 Alas, its doom was sealed ! The smoking void 
 Of Achradina's gate, the blood-stained earth, 
 
 1 See preceding note, page 78. 
 
88 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 The relics of the slain, proclaimed the end 
 Of SjTacusan freedom. 
 
 " From the dead 
 I rose ; 3^et death seemed blissful to the woe 
 That after came when Damon's fate was told. 
 Then, broken-hearted, reft of country, friend, 
 This firm resolve I made : that if my life. 
 So oft preserved by him, might save his own, 
 It should be given in willing sacrifice. 
 
 " Brothers, my tale is told ; and judge ye now 
 
 If any hath a better right than mine 
 
 To wear the chains of Damon. I it is 
 
 Who was his earliest friend. To him I owe 
 
 My life and all the years of happiness 
 
 Of which he was the giver and the source. 
 
 Oppose me not, my Brothers, for with mind 
 
 As firm in this as in its love for him, 
 
 I justly take upon myself forthwith 
 
 To seek the tyrant's court, and there obtain 
 
 Fulfilment of my heart's inmost desire. 
 
 The hour is nigh when Dionysius, robed 
 
 In ro3^al splendor, will ascend his throne 
 
 And there, in novel power, receive the prayers 
 
 And plaints of those who need imperial aid. 
 
 Such is the proclamation. 
 
 '' Then, farewell ! 
 Farewell, dear Brothers, till we meet again." 
 
DAMOy AND PYTHIAS, 89 
 
 He ended, none opposing, and 'mid tears 
 
 And heart}" "- God speed !" vanished from oar sight. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Where stands Ortygia's statel}^ citadel, 
 
 A fortress and a palace, was the home 
 
 Of Dionysius. Towers and battled walls. 
 
 Which gleamed in strength and beauty far o'er land 
 
 And sea, there made secure his ro3"al sway. 
 
 As shadows, ever round his footsteps thronged, 
 
 By day and night, a mercenary horde 
 
 Of Sj^racusans and Itaiiotes. 
 
 Their duty 'twas his slightest wish to heed, 
 
 And guard from harm his person and his throne. 
 
 None might approach his presence unannounced. 
 
 Save only those, his friends and parasites. 
 
 Whose loyalt}" was proved. Yet, in the pride 
 
 Of kingly rule unfelt before, by act 
 
 Of public proclamation, had he deigned 
 
 To grant imperial leave that whoso would 
 
 Might daily seek him, at a stated hour. 
 
 And humbl}' make petition to be heard. 
 
 And thus it was upon the day whose flight 
 
 Should 3'ield to that when Damon was to die, 
 
 Within his audience -hall the tyrant sat 
 
 And listened to the supplications made. 
 
 Philistus was beside him, and hard by 
 
90 DAMOK AKD PYTHIAS, 
 
 The rake and spendthrift Hipparinus stood, 
 
 With other courtiers, whose old-time repute 
 
 Was evidential of their welcome here. 
 
 While sheathed in glittering helmet, cuirass, greaves, 
 
 With sword and spear and shield, each guardsman 
 
 held 
 His station near the footstool of the throne. 
 
 Now when already many had besought 
 The tj'rant for his aid, or homage paid 
 To him as ruling monarch of the State, 
 Philetor, keeper of the inner gate. 
 Approached, obsequious, and, with lowly bo'w, 
 Announced, '' O sovereign, there is one who begs 
 That I admit him to thy presence, known 
 To be most hostile to thy power. 
 
 " He hath, 
 We fear, intent of evil ; for he would 
 In no wise hint the purpose of his mind." 
 And Dionysius said, '' Whate'er he seek, 
 Forbid not that he enter. Let my guard 
 With watchful eye observe him." 
 
 Then within 
 Came Pythias, and awaited leave to speak. 
 
 " What, Pj'thias ! leader of my bitterest foes ! 
 
 Thou hast an iron heart to venture here ! 
 
 Fain would I tell my guard to cleave thee where 
 
DAMON' AND PYTHIAS. 91 
 
 Thou standest ; but the pardon late decreed 
 
 Doth shield thee. Rumor had pronounced thee dead. 
 
 Thou liv'st to see me king ! Why cam'st thou here ? " 
 
 " In hope to loose a Brother from his chains." 
 
 '' Who is that Brother? " '' Damon." "And what 
 
 wouldst?" 
 " Mj'self to offer in his stead, that he, 
 Before the hour appointed for his death, 
 May look on wife and child. So should not he 
 Return, on me shall fall the headsman's stroke." 
 
 " What madness, what delirium do I hear? 
 
 Thou knowest not nor canst what thou hast sought." 
 
 " O Sovereign, in the soberness of truth. 
 My lips reveal to thee my heart's desire." 
 
 " Then tell me yet again what thou wouldst have." 
 
 " That till the hour when Damon is to die. 
 He may be free and I may wear his bonds, — 
 My life to be the price of his default." 
 
 " Amazement wild confounds me ! Can it be 
 That such a wonder will command belief ? 
 Recallest thou, Philistus, how, in vain, 
 The lips of Damon late averred the same. 
 That hath fulfilment here most marvellous ? 
 
92 DAMON AND PYTHIAS, 
 
 Yet Pythias hath not seen his captive friend. 
 It matters not. 
 
 '' But tell me, ere th}^ prayer 
 Be granted or refused, hast thou not heard 
 That Damon languishes 'neath ponderous chains, 
 Amid thick gloom, wherein no ray of light 
 Can shine? Or thus forewarned, dost yet desire 
 His sufferings to take upon thj'self ? " 
 
 " Thy words, O Dion^^sius, urge me on 
 With swifter speed to seek his prison-house.'* 
 
 "Yet shouldst thou, as a pledge of his return, 
 
 Await in vain his coming, thinkest thou 
 
 The headsman's sword shall loiter in its task? 
 
 Dost hope my mercy will relent at last 
 
 To save thee from destruction self-imposed ? " 
 
 " Naught could I hope of mercy, should he fail. 
 But fail he will not. Might I dream of that, 
 More welcome were his chains, — most welcome, 
 death ! " 
 
 " Amazement ever greater doth enwrap 
 My soul ! 
 
 '' But tell, what's Damon unto thee. 
 That thou, in his relief, wouldst venture life ? " 
 
DAMOK AND PYTHIAS. 93 
 
 '' He is a Brother, bound to me b}' ties 
 "Which only those can feel on whom they rest." 
 
 " What tie can lead thee to imperil life ? " 
 
 " A bond which so unites our Brotherhood 
 That none hath fear of peril, pain, or death, 
 When led by duty in a Brother's need." 
 
 " Think'st thou thy friend such risk would take for 
 thee?" 
 
 " Greater, indeed, had he incurred for me 
 Ere this new bond of union made us one." 
 
 ' ' But what assurance hast thou that again 
 
 Thou wouldst behold him whom thou hadst set free ? " 
 
 ' ' The sun is not more constant in his course 
 Than Damon in the path of honest}^ ; 
 And linked with honor is his love for me. 
 And with our mutual love, those sacred ties, 
 Which, whoso well observes, can never err. 
 Yet would I hope he come not ere the hour. 
 So might my death release him from his doom." 
 
 '' 'T is wonderful ! The proof of love like this, 
 
 Surpassing all that I had known before 
 
 Of friendship or had dreamed, hath filled my breast 
 
94 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 With admiration, with astonishment ! 
 
 Pythias, I grant thy prayer. But mark thou well, 
 
 The doom prepared for Damon waits for thee, 
 
 Should he return not ere the appointed time. 
 
 Thee, O Philistus, I permit to wear 
 
 This ro3'al token of authority. 
 
 Take Pj^thias with thee and straightway repair 
 
 Unto the prison-house ; at once remove 
 
 From Damon everj^bond, and set him free, 
 
 With knowledge of whatever thou shouldst impart. 
 
 Let Pythias be confined in Damon's stead 
 
 And put in chains. 
 
 " To-morrow we shall see — 
 For Damon goes forever from our sight — 
 How one can die that loveth so his friend." 
 
 vn. 
 
 '' Oh, jo3'ful hour ! The wanderer hath returned. 
 Once more I gaze upon my beauteous home, 
 And feel the fond embrace of wife and child, 
 And press them to my heart. I live anew 
 In ecstasy of bliss ineffable ! 
 
 But now, alas ! whence comes such woful change? 
 All vanishes to naught, and where these were 
 I look for them in vain. What midnight gloom 
 Now thick enshroudeth me ? What fetters bind ? 
 'T was but an empty dream ! Again I wake 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 95 
 
 Amid the darkness of my prison-house, 
 And the bright vision wrought in fancy's flight 
 Departs as to the dungeon- keep my soul 
 Returns. Oh, blessed image of my home ! 
 Oh, sad awakening from its fleeting jo3^s ! 
 And shall death take me hence forevermore 
 Ere I behold the loved ones ? Must they wait 
 In vain my coming, till the fearful hour 
 That tells them of my fate ? May no last word 
 Of fondness, no farewell, assuage the grief 
 Of parting ? 
 
 ' ' Terrible beyond all pangs 
 The fearful shrink from and the brave defy I 
 But for this thought my dauntless will should soar, 
 High-raised and triumphing, be3'ond this gloom, 
 These chains, and death itself! For what is death 
 To him that dies in such a cause ? Let none 
 For me lament the fatal hour, or drop 
 The unavailing, the untimely tear. 
 I go to meet my doom with steadfast heart. 
 Sustained by hope, which giveth at the block 
 To ever}^ patriot forecast of the years 
 That are to come, when Freedom may regain 
 New life and being from the illustrious worth 
 Of such as nobly perished in her cause. 
 So shall I pass from life to be enshrined 
 Forevermore in immortality 
 With those who died that Freedom miojht survive. 
 
96 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 " E'en now, methinks, draws near the longed-for hour ; 
 The bolts are backward thrust ; the mass}' door 
 Grates on its hinges. Yonder shines a ray 
 Piercing these depths where day and night are one. 
 Ay, hither comes Damoetas. He alone, 
 Of those appointed as my keepers here , 
 Hath seemed to have compassion for my lot. 
 And there 's Philistus, Dionysius' friend. 
 There, too, with clanging arms, the prison-guard 
 That will attend me to the place of death. 
 But who in haste outstrippeth all the rest. 
 Who now enfolds me in this close embrace ? " 
 
 " 'T is Pythias, bringing life and liberty 
 
 And happiness ! My Damon, thou art free ! " 
 
 "Pythias, vaj Brother and my dearest friend ! 
 
 I 've mourned for thee as numbered with the dead. 
 
 How have I longed to see thee ere the last ! " 
 
 " And me thou now beholdest. Let me help 
 To loose the fetters from thee ; they shall gall 
 Thy limbs and weigh thee to the earth no more. 
 From tliis eternal gloom thou shalt go forth 
 To gaze upon the sunlit hills and breathe 
 The fresh and fragrant air of heaven. Again 
 Wilt thou be welcomed by our Brotherhood, 
 And feel the twining arms of wife and child, 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 97 
 
 And in a life renewed taste bliss unfelt 
 Before. 
 
 " At last thy sorrows find an end ; 
 And now with jo}' m}'- breast o'erflows that I, 
 Whom thou hast loved so well, may be the first 
 To tell the tidings and to set thee free. 
 All things are rightly cared for. Near the house 
 Of Cah'don, our Brother, is thy steed, 
 Waiting to bear thee swiftly to thy home. 
 Now art thou bound no longer b}^ these chains, 
 Now has thou license to depart. Farewell ! 
 Farewell ! '' 
 
 "' Sa^st thou farewell? What meanest thou? 
 Come quickly with me, Pythias ! Let us hence ! " 
 
 ''Here, Damon, I remain ; but linger not 
 Forme." 
 
 " Thou to remain within this cell ! 
 What words are these, my Brother? Thinkest thou 
 I leave thee here ? " 
 
 " Here, Damon, must T stay ; 
 Thus have I gained the royal leave that thou 
 Mayst to thy home return. The tyrant looks 
 For thee no more. Then hasten ! I will here 
 Abide ; for thee is life and libert3^" 
 
 " Ah, Pythias, until now thou 'st called me friend ! 
 From childhood I have loved thee. la our joys, 
 
98 DAMOy AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Our griefs, were we as one. With equal steps, 
 Conjoined in hand and heart, have we pursued 
 Life's rugged path, and distant seemed the day 
 When either should forget the mutual claim 
 Of old-time friendship and of Brotherhood. 
 But, Pj'thias, thou hast known me not. Vain, vain. 
 Have been the years which have united us, 
 When thou to me can proffer such dishonor. 
 Take back thy words and give me back my chains ! 
 Kind though thy purpose, thou of all most dear, 
 Yet ne'er through me shalt thou endure these bonds.' 
 
 " Damon, my Brother, let my love for thee, 
 Well proven in the years that are gone bj^ 
 Make answer for me unto thj^ reproach ; 
 And let the life thou hast so often saved, 
 E'en as it is thy boon, be thine to have 
 As the last offering Pj^thias can bestow. 
 Mine are the chains ; for thee is liberty." 
 
 '• Talk not to me of liberty, when gained 
 Through infamy ! Again will I put on 
 These manacles, less grievous than the thought 
 That I could e'er be false to Friendship's tie." 
 
 '' False thou couldst never be ! But false were I 
 If, having come to save my best-loved friend, 
 M}^ purpose should prove recreant to its trust, 
 Yielding to that which makes more just its aim." 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 99 
 
 *' These words are useless ; leave me to my fate ! " 
 
 Then spake Philistus, '' By the sovereign's charge, 
 On me imposed, thou, Damon, now art free, 
 And must depart forthwith. If then thou wilt, 
 When thou hast looked on wife and child, thou mayst 
 Return, and at the appointed hour meet death. 
 But shouldst thou, ere the hour, come not, thy friend, 
 Who hath obtained the roj^al leave to be 
 Imprisoned in thy stead, as gage for thee, 
 Must undergo thy sentence. Thou art free, 
 And he, my prisoner. To-morrow eve 
 Or thou or he must die." 
 
 And Damon said, 
 '' Dream'st thou, Philistus, I could thus forsake 
 A friend, a Brother, leaving him in gaol, 
 Captive for me, to meet with death should chance 
 Delay my coming ? 
 
 '' Pj'thias, is it well 
 That in thy boundless love thou hast for me 
 Assumed such dreadful hazard ? Nay ! thyself 
 Carry my sad adieu to the sweet home 
 I nevermore may see, while here I wait 
 Not long the swift-approaching hour supreme, 
 The mortal stroke that brings, at last, repose." 
 
 Thereon Philistus, '' Not with me it rests 
 
 In aught to change the sovereign's strict command ; 
 
100 DAMON- AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 By his imperial will, of whom I am 
 The trusty minister, go forth thou must, 
 But Pythias shall remain." 
 
 ''Alas, alas!" 
 Cried Damon. ' ' Cruel fate ! Hadst thou, my friend, 
 Foreseen the anguish that now rends my breast ! 
 Oh, that thy heart, too faithful to the last. 
 Had kept its generous purpose unrevealed ! 
 Yet is there time. As me thou lovest, seek 
 The tj'rant and thy heedless prayer recall ! " 
 Then Pythias answered, " Hither have I come 
 In hope to save thy life. Nor words of thine. 
 Thou one best loved, nor fear of mortal pangs, 
 Can change the steadfast purpose of my soul. 
 In the lone dungeon's gloom I '11 wear thy bonds 
 More proudly than the sovereign, on his throne 
 In state imperial, wears the kinglj^ crown. 
 And on the morrow, at the set of sun, 
 Pythias for thee would die. O Damon, grant 
 Me this ! Bear hence my last farewell. 
 And in the coming years sometimes recall 
 The friend whose latest praj^er ascends for thee. 
 To wear thy chains, my Brother, e'en the least 
 Amongst our Fellowship aspired. To them, 
 As unto me, the voice of Dutj^ spake 
 Imperiously when first was manifest 
 The means of helping thee in thy distress. 
 But when to me, thy friend of friends, alone, 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 101 
 
 Each Brother yielded up his rightful claim, 
 
 A grander purpose dawned within my soul 
 
 Than to assure thee respite for a day. 
 
 I thought to give thee freedom, life, and joy ; 
 
 The pangs of death to suffer in thy stead ; 
 
 To meet the noble lofty fate of him 
 
 That bravely perishes to save a friend. 
 
 I sought the tyrant. In amaze he heard, 
 
 Consented to my prayer. By his supreme 
 
 Authority I am thy hostage. But 
 
 For what? When he declared thou wouldst return 
 
 No more to Syracuse, my former hope 
 
 More brightly burned to light me on my way 
 
 To gain thy dungeon and fulfil its aim. 
 
 I thought of loved ones far away ; but these 
 
 Had mourned for me ere now, except thy arm 
 
 Had rescued me. As from the glorious beams 
 
 Of day I passed, all nature, wreathed in smiles 
 
 Alluring, beckoned unto me to stay 
 
 My steps ; but clearer shone the guiding-star 
 
 That led me on. My vision gazed on thee 
 
 Alone, the object of my hope. In thee 
 
 I saw the friend who ofttimes had preserved 
 
 My life, — the joy, the pride, the chosen chief. 
 
 The loved and honored of our Brotherhood ; 
 
 The father of a ch'ld within whose orbs 
 
 The morning beams of heavenly radiance play 
 
 Whene'er, with lisping tongue, she speaks thy name ; 
 
102 DAMO^'' AND PYTHIAS, 
 
 A husband, whose sad heart could have no grief 
 
 Surpassing that which unto earth would crush 
 
 Thy dear Calanthe in the fatal hour 
 
 Of revelation. Think of ail, my friend, 
 
 For which thou livest ! Well may I entreat 
 
 That I, not thou, may bear the mortal stroke. 
 
 Yet, since Philistus hath to thee disclosed 
 
 That which my tongue would ever haA^e concealed. 
 
 Grant me at least this prayer. Refuse it not ! 
 
 Speed to thy home this night ! Behold thy wife, 
 
 Thy child ! And then may God fulfil the hope 
 
 Thou mayst return to SjTacuse no more. 
 
 It is ordained that now thou must depart. 
 
 But speak, and ere thy going let me rest 
 
 Assured that thou wilt straightway seek thy home." 
 
 " Pythias, I grant thy latest prayer. To-night 
 
 I hasten — oh, how mournfully ! — to say 
 
 The parting word ' Farewell ' to wife and child ; 
 
 And on the morrow I return to meet 
 
 My doom. Maj^ God preserve thee till I come 
 
 Again ! " 
 
 One fond embrace, and so they parted. 
 The ponderous prison-door closed on the tomb 
 Where P^^thias lay. 
 
 Then from the gloomy depths 
 Did Damon, sorrowful in heart, come forth 
 And gaze upon a world of beauty, seen 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS, 103 
 
 In fading splendor 'neath the golden bars 
 Of parting day. 
 
 YIII, 
 
 The day is nigh ; and through Irene's ^ glades 
 And 'mid the whispering leafage slowly creep 
 The forms uncouth of Darkness and of Night, 
 Who ever shrink, and, like as guilty things, 
 Pale at the first faint kindling of the dawn. 
 
 Not yet the cold, dank, earth-born shadows lift ; 
 But eastward, in the dusky vault, the lamps 
 Of heaven now burn with feebler ray ; and low 
 Adown, upon a pearl-white field, doth glow. 
 In dimly umbered hue, the morning-red. 
 The fouK gross airs, in swifter, swifter fiight, 
 Are fleeting from the incense-laden breath 
 Of Her whose kindly murmuring e'er in love 
 Foretells to everj" drooping, trembling flower 
 The coming of the shining, joyous Hours. 
 
 Soon, one by one, the waning stars are quenched ; 
 And where the da^'spring draweth near, great waves 
 Of rudd}^ light empurple the bluey sky 
 
 1 Irene, the home of Damon. Irena was the Goddess of 
 Peace. 
 
104 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 In ever-broadening, ever-brighter flow. 
 
 As now emerges out of ebbing gloom 
 
 The rock-ribbed, giant form of -Etna's mount, 
 
 Its flames decay, and from its molten depths 
 
 No longer the Cyclopian forges burn 
 
 To heaven their sickly fires. 
 
 Through endless change 
 The dim auroral flushing is become 
 A safiron sea, whose sheen j^ line of surf 
 Swift mounts, and ever toward the zenith sweeps, 
 Until, slow cleaving ocean's iron-blue rim, 
 In splendor and in majesty enrobed, 
 The God of Day begins his mighty course. 
 
 Now Nature liveth in a life renewed ; 
 
 And on green field and purple, vine-clad hill. 
 
 On whispering forest and low-murmuring brook, 
 
 Hyperion doth fling his golden shafts. 
 
 To gild with brighter hues the blooming earth, 
 
 Long roseate with the tints of crimson morn. 
 
 What wealth of happiness now fills thj^ realm, 
 Irene ! 
 
 From the smiling greensward, decked 
 With blossoms dew-besprent, to where thj" groves 
 Re-echo from unseen, aerial bowers. 
 The liquid warbling of their painted choirs, — 
 All, all is joy. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 105 
 
 Far, far away mounts up 
 To heaven the smoke of burning cities, 
 And flashing steel reflects the rays of morn. 
 Within thy peaceful bounds, nor sight nor sound 
 Disturbeth Love divine, as^she conjoins 
 Harmonious Life and living Harmony, 
 With flowery fetters binding them in one. 
 
 Yet darkly. Home of Beauty, hath the sun 
 Of this bright day arisen unto her 
 Who, fairer than thyself, now cometh forth 
 From yonder cottage. 
 
 Would her lonely heart 
 Swift flit on wings of love to seek its mate? 
 Erelong its inmost core shall feel such grief 
 As hopeth tearless rest from earthl}^ ills. 
 Where flows the calm, Lethean flood of death. 
 
 Unto the margent cool her footsteps tend, 
 Where ofttimes she and Damon wont to watch 
 The distant flash of sail upon the sea. 
 The mirrored j^lay of foliage in the stream 
 Below, the wide champaign, the western hills, 
 Eobed in the splendor of declining day 
 Or tipt with morn's first beams. 
 
 And by her side 
 Anthera, tender image of the one 
 To whom she clingeth, ever stops to cull 
 Some bright-hued flower. 
 
106 DAMO:^' AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Together they repose 
 Them by the bank bedight with summer's bloom, 
 And there the mother, from the floral hoard 
 The child hath gathered, makes with loving hands 
 A garland for her nestling. 
 
 '' Would that now 
 Thy father might behold thee, little maid," 
 She says, and places on her head the wreath. 
 With fond maternal care. 
 
 And thus adorned, 
 Anthera, prattling, ever joyous, fills 
 The vocal air with childlike happiness. 
 And cheers the mother's breast. 
 
 More swiftly fly 
 The blissful moments of the golden morn. 
 The streamlet's crystal flow, the smiling earth. 
 The blithesome song of birds from every spraj'. 
 Reflect a sunlight alwa3's brighter made 
 Within the lorn one's heart. 
 
 But list ! a sound 
 Is heard afar like that of clattering hoofs. 
 And ever nearer, clearer is it borne. 
 Who spurreth onward in so furious haste ? 
 What jo}^ or fear disturbs the mother's soul 
 That she so quickly hastes to clasp her child, 
 Gazing with earnest vision toward yon glade 
 Where first the unseen comer may be known? 
 Her doubt is for a moment ; then she cries, 
 
DAMOJV AND PYTHIAS. 107 
 
 " Tis he ! 'T is he ! " And on his bounding steed 
 Her Damon, pale as death, flies to her side. 
 And, trembling, wraps her in a close embrace. 
 
 " My husband, might I utter half my heart 
 
 Would tell thee ! Oh, what happiness before 
 
 Unfelt now gilds the radiant morn ! Each tear 
 
 Since thy departure I have shed for thee. 
 
 As every prayerful sigh for thy return. 
 
 Hath made more glad the moment when I dwell 
 
 Upon thy ever-faithful breast in peace. 
 
 No cloud now dims the sky ; more balmy breathes 
 
 The air ; around me heaven and earth are robed 
 
 In brighter hues, and joy will be complete 
 
 When thou hast promised to depart no more." 
 
 " Beloved Calanthe, spare a heart distraught 
 
 By woe whereof thou ne'er hast dreamed ! And Thou, 
 
 Great Power, uphold me with immortal strength ! *' 
 
 " WTiat mean th}' words, m}^ Damon ? Thou art pale, 
 Wa^'worn ; but now maj'st thou repose. Come sit 
 Thou here where we 've so oft reclined in da3's 
 Gone by ; and take Anthera to thy arms. 
 Strange that thou hast not j^et embraced thy child ! 
 A blushing wreath she wears for th}' return." 
 
 " Calanthe, unto thee my being flows ; 
 For thou alone must deeply drink the cup 
 
108 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Of anguish when at last my tale is told. 
 
 Yet from the revelation I must make, 
 
 My soul shrinks back as from abysmal depths." 
 
 '' An unknown terror, Damon, hast thou wrought 
 Within mj' breast ! What mean thy dismal words ? " 
 
 " Calanthe, I have ever loved thee ; ay ! 
 More than too eager tongue in speech can tell ; 
 But have I always been to thee what thou 
 In hopefulness mad'st prayer for when the bay 
 And ivy blended on our nuptial eve ? " 
 
 "More hast thou been to me. Those early dreams 
 But diral}^ shadowed forth my future joj\ 
 I knew not then, as now, th}" honor, faith, 
 And boundless love. The Hymenean song. 
 Calm rising in that mellow summer eve, 
 And softlj^-breathing Lydian flute, foretold 
 Of happiness, but not of such as I 
 Have felt with thee." 
 
 " Calanthe, steel thy soul 
 To that I shall reveal ! This day must I 
 Depart from home, from wife and child, to see 
 Them nevermore. No more ! Oh, bitterness ! 
 No more, no more ! " 
 
 " Oh, Damon, frightful are 
 Thy words ! In mere}', speak to me and lift 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 109 
 
 This dreadful burden ! All my heart's warm blood 
 Is ice ! " 
 
 " May God support thee while I tell 
 The awful tidings thou must hear ! Our State 
 Has been o'erthrown. The leader of our arms, 
 One Dion^^sius, has by force acquired 
 Despotic power, and now as t3Tant rules. 
 Forewarned, I sought with others to defend 
 Our perilled fatherland from treason's grasp : 
 And hoping death or victory might betide, 
 Resistance made most vainly till the last. 
 'Twas then, overwhelmed by numbers, I was borne 
 In chains to Lithotomia^, there to be 
 Confined until the set of this daj^'s sun, 
 When, by the tyrant's strict command, I must 
 Come forth into the Agora, to die." 
 
 '' But thou art free ! Thou hast escaped th}- doom ! 
 Thy chains no longer bind ! A ray of joy 
 Now shines within m}^ soul. Oh, let us haste ! 
 With fair Anthera, let us seek afar 
 Some home as bright as this, where nevermore 
 May come the battle- sound or that dread word, 
 ' Farewell ! ' Italia, or the distant East, 
 Or that blest clime be^^ond the boreal realm, ^ 
 
 1 The Hyperboreans were supposed to dwell in the remote 
 regions of the North, and to be a happy race, free from old 
 age, disease, and war. 
 
110 DAMOJ^ AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Shall be our place of refuge. There we'll live 
 A life that knows no sorrow. Wife and child 
 Will let thee wander from their side no more." 
 
 " Alas, Calanthe ! that fond dream of love 
 
 And hope shall swiftly vanish as it dawned : 
 
 And even as thy soul is filled with faith 
 
 And honor, thou shalt read the fatal truth, 
 
 That not more surely comes the set of sun 
 
 Than Damon goes to meet the headsman's stroke. 
 
 Calanthe, as a pledge of my return 
 
 Within the appointed time, a dearest friend, 
 
 A Brother, wears my chains and perils life. 
 
 For unto Pj'thias, whom thou knowest well, 
 
 The tyrant gave consent that I once more 
 
 Might seek my home to say the parting word ; 
 
 He to remain instead, and suffer death 
 
 In mj^ default. Thus am I firmly bound 
 
 B}^ tie more powerful than my prison bonds." 
 
 As when some mother-bird, that near her j'oung. 
 Amid the enchanted foliage, swift outpours, 
 In endless flow of sweetness, all the joy 
 And sunshine of her heart, and so doth fill 
 The echoing grove with heavenly harmonj^, — 
 Pierced by the cruel archer's fatal shaft, 
 Yields up her little life, and suddenly 
 Her voice is still, and tiny nestlings call 
 
DAMCm AND P YTHIAS. Ill 
 
 In vain, in vain, — so, when Calanthe hears 
 The words foretelhng Damon's doom, her soul 
 All-moanful sinks to silent, lonely depths, 
 Where mortal pain and sorrow can no more. 
 
 The silvery streamlet, gently gliding b}^, 
 
 The zephj'r whispering 'mid o'erhanging boughs. 
 
 The warbled strains that float through chequered 
 
 shade, 
 Nor e'en the child, which not unwittingly 
 Clingeth unto the mother's side and weeps, — 
 The garland fallen, scattered all its flowers, — 
 Can soothe Calanthe in this deadly grief, 
 Or rouse her from her husband's breast. 
 
 The hour 
 Hath come, — the hour when manhood, honor, faith, 
 Are calling to the prison-house, the block. 
 The tomb ! Crushed by o'ermas.tering woe, in vain 
 Doth Damon strive to saj^ the parting word ; 
 Too feebly do his lips respond. 
 
 But time 
 Now urgeth, and Calanthe, hardly j'et 
 Restored to life by many a fond caress, 
 Heareth the sad, h%lf-uttered word, '' Farewell ! " 
 '' Ah, stay ! " she cries ; '' but for a little while 
 Be with thy wife and child ! " 
 
 ''A Brother's life, 
 Calanthe, is in peril whilst I wait. 
 
112 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Late was my coming, for, distraught by ginef, 
 I wandered far from my accustomed path, 
 So must I hasten to return. The sun 
 Akeady mounteth high upon his course." 
 
 " Oh, Damon, that his setting might give me, 
 As thee, a grave ! But for our child, my life 
 Should end with thine ! The golden dreams that made 
 My future bright are gone forevermore. 
 Ah ! what is left me now, forlorn of thee ? 
 Dark is my path, and desolate ! But not 
 Calanthe shall persuade thee to dishonor 
 Worse than death.'' 
 
 " O noble wife, these words 
 Lift up vay soul ! The anguish of this hour 
 Of separation seems to pass away, 
 And now I '11 go with braver heart to bear 
 The mortal stroke. Farewell ! farewell ! Do thou 
 And sweet Anthera take from me a last 
 Embrace as pledge of my eternal love. 
 Forget me not in all the jxars to come. 
 A father and a husband ye will see 
 No more on earth ! Yet knights, both true and tried, 
 Among my Brotherhood, will e'er provide 
 For you. Weep not, Calanthe ! we shall meet 
 Again. Farewell ! farewell ! " 
 
 Upon his steed 
 Sprang Damon ; and the mother, tear-bedimmed, 
 
DAMON- AND PYTHIAS. 113 
 
 With trembling arms, held high her little one 
 To wave a last good-bj'. 
 
 IX. 
 
 What art thou, Death ? The soul made vile by guilt 
 
 Doth fear thee as thou wert the chiefest ill ; 
 
 And on the despot, whom thy watchful arm 
 
 Presseth in ever-swifter flight, thou fall'st 
 
 Like heaven's avenging bolt. But he, within 
 
 Whose sorrow-laden breast all hope is dead. 
 
 Welcomes the steel that cuts the thread of life, 
 
 And smiles when cometh near the hour supreme ; 
 
 And patriotic hearts, on battle-field 
 
 And in the dungeon's midnight gloom, defy 
 
 Thy might ; and all the good and wise, unmoved. 
 
 Await thy stroke. What art thou, then, O Death? 
 
 A shadow dim, a blessing or a curse. 
 
 Diversely taking from the souls of men 
 
 Thy form and nature. ^ 
 
 Through the flaming east, 
 As with the light of conflagration, shine 
 The beams of risen morn ; and far away 
 The countless waves of dark-blue ocean smile. 
 And onward roll to seek yon fertile shore, 
 
 i After the Italian of Yincenzo Monti. 
 
114 DAMON Al^D PYTHIAS. 
 
 Whose waving leaves and opening flowers invite 
 
 To greet with blended joys the welcome day. 
 
 Ortj'gia's citadel and sea-girt walls 
 
 Gleam tall and white against the mounting orb, 
 
 And from the heights that crown Epipolse 
 
 To where Anapus' flood glides on to pay 
 
 Its tribute to the main, all Syracuse 
 
 Is gladdened with the bright, celestial rays. 
 
 What throngs so early fill her streets ? Why haste 
 
 So many to the market-place ere yet 
 
 Is come the wonted hour when Hermes ^ lifts 
 
 His golden wand ? What novel cause hath brought 
 
 The multitudes, released from rustic toil, 
 
 That surge within the gates ? 
 
 It is the day 
 When Damon is to die ; and from afar 
 The bruited tidings of his mortal doom 
 Have drawn the greedj^ populace betimes, 
 Eager e'en now to view, with gaping mouth, 
 The ground erelong to redden with his blood. 
 
 1 Hermes (Mercury) was the tutelary god of traffic. But this 
 was only one of his many offices. He was also the messenger 
 of the gods, the conductor of the dead, the god of all arts and 
 sciences, and of peace; of prudence, cunning, fraud, and even 
 of perjury; he was also, at least among the Romans, invoked by 
 thieves. One of his epithets — xp^^^opp^^"''-? — referred to his bear- 
 ing a golden rod with magical properties. 
 
DAMOX AND PYTHIAS. 115 
 
 But while men gather, swift a rumor flies, 
 
 Believed by none, that Damon is released. 
 
 Yet soon confirmed, the wondrous tale is told 
 
 That Damon, by the sovereign's will set free, 
 
 Has gone from SjTacuse to seek his home, 
 
 Leaving his friend in pledge of his return. 
 
 Amazement fills the souls of all. By what 
 
 Entreat}^ was the t^Tant led to grant 
 
 This boon to Damon, who had, first and last, 
 
 Endeavor made to crush his traitorous scheme ? 
 
 And stranger still, that Pythias, caring naught 
 
 For life, hath taken on himself the chains 
 
 Of Damon, with full knowledge thence should come 
 
 His own destruction ! For who madly dreams 
 
 That Damon, now secure, and holding life 
 
 And liberty within his grasp, will e'er 
 
 Return to Syracuse ? Such thoughts are thought 
 
 And uttered. And while some admire the hap 
 
 That gave to Damon freedom, others sneer 
 
 At P3'thias' folly or feel pity for 
 
 His certain fate. 
 
 Now from Ortygia come 
 An hundred hoplites of the royal guard. 
 And with them workmen, who at once begin, 
 With busy handicraft, to frame and raise 
 Within the Agora the loft}" stage 
 Of death, whereon to all shall be displayed 
 The execution of the tyrant's will. 
 
116 DAMON AND PYTHIAN. 
 
 Around, an ever-growing multitude 
 
 Stands idly grouped to watch them at their task, 
 
 Whilst each from each fresh tidings seeks to gain. 
 
 Unto the greater part it is enough 
 
 To know that Pj^thias dies at set of sun, 
 
 And careless of aught else, they inh^ fret 
 
 And chide the slow revolving of the hours. 
 
 Fit subjects of despotic sway are these ! 
 
 But clustered here and there, aloof from such, 
 
 Are patriots, who, in secret words, lament 
 
 A fallen state, and view, with heavy hearts, 
 
 The coming fate of one — whichever it be — 
 
 That perishes as Freedom's sacrifice. 
 
 The gnomon's changing shadow now hath marked 
 
 The noontide hour, and overhead the God 
 
 Of Day seems lingering in his course to learn 
 
 What mighty cause hath wrought such change below, 
 
 That, in the fields untilled, no husbandman 
 
 Appears, and on the lonely sea no gleam 
 
 Of sail, whilst all the homes and public ways 
 
 Of SjTacuse are tenantless and still, 
 
 And through the city is no sign of life. 
 
 Save only there within the Agora, 
 
 Where countless thousands mingle in the host, 
 
 Restless and surging, j^et forever held 
 
 And bound b}' that which fills the common gaze. 
 
 In this o'ercrowded mart hath Commerce e'er 
 
 fe 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 117 
 
 Maintained her place, but now her voice is still. 
 And not, methinks, to-daj', would such as bend 
 The knee to Plutus^ seek their wonted gains. 
 The radiant god, whose high, imperial car 
 Stays not in its eternal path, begins 
 His downward course, and heedless whether life 
 Or death befall, draws nearer to his goal. 
 His slanting beams still light a steadfast sea 
 Of upturned faces, gazing now at him 
 To mete how soon, departing, he shall rest 
 Upon the western ridge ; yet oftener there 
 Where read}^ waits the grim machine of death, 
 Protected by the guardsmen's circling steel ; 
 While yonder, on Ortygia's crowded walls, 
 Are men-at-arms, in glittering panoply. 
 Who look amazed upon the mighty throng, 
 And wait the hour when, girded by their spears, 
 The tjTant goes to mark how Pythias dies. 
 For who, from Dionysius to the least 
 Among his following, dreams that ere again 
 Will Damon willingly come back to meet 
 His awful doom ? Event so strange woukl be 
 A wonder fit to be inscribed in bronze. 
 And kept for a perpetual memory 
 Among the public archives of the State. 
 
 1 Plutus (HAoGto?) was the god of riches. Jupiter dejjrived 
 him of sight that he might not bestow wealth on the righteous 
 alone. 
 
118 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 And of the multitude around the block 
 
 Onl}^ that band of Brothers, hither led 
 
 hy mingled love and grief for him condemned, 
 
 Feeling a tie that others cannot feel, 
 
 And knowing well what faith and Friendship are, 
 
 Can say, with hearts wherein no doubt may rest. 
 
 That Damon will return in timel}' speed, 
 
 Eager for death, that Pjlhias may go free. 
 
 But soon the time hath passed which Damon had 
 Foretold should see his coming. Lower sinks 
 The lamp of day, and longer shadows warn 
 That soon the western hills will hide its beams. 
 
 What cause of unforeseen delay hath kept 
 Our Brother ? Surely some calamity 
 Of gravest import hath befallen him ! 
 Yet must he quickl}' come or Pj^thias dies. 
 One hour alone remains ere set of sun. 
 But if he come not ! That ma}' never be. 
 Unless the hand of death shall stay his steps. 
 Erelong Ortygia's walls resound the clang 
 Of brazen trumpets, which proclaim to all 
 Without that now the sovereign will approach ; 
 And through the open portal swiftlj^ ride 
 Armed knights, who hasten to the Agora, 
 And, sundering the throng, shout unto them 
 To make a waj' for Dionysias. 
 
DAMOJ}^ A yD P YTHIAS. 119 
 
 Strong files of hoplites follow next ; and then, 
 In ranks compact, march forth the ro^^al guard, 
 With, lo ! the tyrant in the midst of them. 
 Around the place of death the phalanx forms, 
 And thus protected, Dionysius waits 
 Till to his presence Pjthias shall be brought. 
 
 As on him, standing there, the level beams 
 Of sunset fall, methinks it strange that he, 
 A beardless youth, one, almost yesterday, 
 Unknown to fame, should now, as sovereign, 
 Be master of our fortunes, of our lives, 
 And lord it over Syracuse, the first 
 And greatest city of Trinacria. 
 And so do many wonder while the}' gaze, 
 For unto him alone all eyes are turned. 
 And everywhere a breathless silence reigns. 
 
 As when the surface of some tranquil lake, 
 
 Set bright and gem-like 'mid surrounding hills, 
 
 Ripples beneath the flitting mountain breeze 
 
 That in a single murmur lives and dies. 
 
 So as our Brother Pj'thias stands revealed 
 
 In Dion3'sius' presence, quickly riseth 
 
 The sound of many tongues, — then all is hushed. 
 
 Freed from his chains, erect the captive stands. 
 His manlv countenance no lurking fear 
 
120 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Dishonors, but the beaming eye, the lips 
 Compressed, show triumph and a heart firm fixed 
 In high and noble purpose. 
 
 Unto him 
 The t^^rant sternly saith, " The hour's at hand 
 Appointed for the death of Damon. There, 
 On yon horizon, sits the parting orb ; 
 Thus lingereth o'er its grave thy sun of life. 
 Th}^ friend hath not returned, so thou must die ! " 
 
 " TjTant, I welcome death ! The prison-house 
 Hath heard m}' prayer that thus might come the end. 
 Ready and willing, I await the stroke 
 That gives me death, and Damon liberty ! " 
 
 '' But car'st thou nothing for the joyful light 
 Of life? Behold'st thou not around thee friends, 
 Who weep for thee, departing thus untimely? 
 Seest thou not how 'neath the day's last smile, 
 All Syracuse is robed in raj^s of splendor ? 
 And art thou willing, leaving thus the bloom 
 Of life and dear companionship of friends, 
 To bear the gloomy silence of the tomb ?" 
 
 ''Mine eyes, indeed, behold the vision, yet 
 
 Beholding it they seem to tell my soul 
 
 More loudly of the happiness the friend 
 
 Best loved shall taste wlien I have passed away." 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 121 
 
 ''But canst thou deem him friend that shamelessly 
 Betraj'ed thee into suffering the doom 
 Pronounced on him ? Recall the 13'ing words 
 Whereb}', within the dungeon-keep, he feigned 
 To give thee firm assurance that betimes 
 He would return to rescue thee from death. 
 Too well knew I the falseness of his heart ! 
 But tell me, where, where now are those firm ties 
 Of Brotherhood that bound thee unto him ? 
 Like ropes of sand are these in such an hour 1 " 
 
 " No, Dionysius. Neither danger's form 
 Nor love of life can rend those sacred ties, 
 Or move the steadfast soul of him on whom 
 They rest. Say not that Damon is withheld 
 By fear of aught iliy power could e'er inflict ! 
 He hath not come ; the cause, — it matters not. 
 Enough for me if he doth live. Perchance, 
 His friends detain him, or the tearful woe 
 Of wife and child his reason hath o'erwhelme J 
 Naught else, methinlis, could have so long delayed 
 His coming, in fulfilment of his word." 
 
 '' Fool that thou art ! He never will return ! 
 Nor hath his purpose dreamed of turning back ! 
 Far less would be my wonder should the sea 
 Now glow beneath another rising sun, 
 Or should yon fortress sink beneath the waves 
 
122 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 That idly beat against its walls, tlian if 
 Thine e^^es amazed should ever look again 
 Upon thy faithless friend in SjTacuse. 
 Headsman, perform th\^ dutj' ! Yet delay 
 But for an instant ; still some golden beams 
 O'erpass the western ridge. But when the last 
 Departing ray hath left the gilded top 
 Of 3'onder gnomon, strike and kill this man ! " 
 
 What midnight silence now unbroken reigns ! 
 The mighty host, unmoving, speechless, look 
 Upon the common centre, where is seen, 
 Amidst a forest dense of glittering steel, 
 Our Brother kneeling at the fatal blpck, 
 The t3Taut and the headsman standing nigh, 
 With others, who with eagerness await 
 The signal when shall fall the mortal stroke. 
 The Agora is an unbroken sea 
 Of thick-compacted human life, and far 
 Away, vast multitudes have densel}^ thronged 
 The temples, house-tops, and whatever place 
 Maj^ yield a foothold for the venturous gaze. 
 
 In that dread moment did our little band 
 
 Of Brothers mourn that P3'thias was to die.*^ 
 
 Ay ! even as our sorrow-laden hearts 
 
 Made moan for Damon ; for right well we knew 
 
 That death alone had kept him from our sight. 
 
DAMOy AND PYTHIAS. 123 
 
 A gesture from the tyrant, and swift mounts 
 
 The headsman s gleaming sword. Our eyes are turned 
 
 Away. One gride of steel, and all were o'er ! 
 
 We tremble as we listen for the sound, — 
 
 We tremble, yet the death-blow cometh not. 
 
 But wh}'? Oh, wonder! when the headsman raised 
 
 The deadly blade, his vision caught afar, 
 
 Upon the loftier heights, the forms of men 
 
 Whose frantic arms were waving unto him, 
 
 As if to stay his hand ; and to his ears 
 
 Was borne the mingled chorus of their shouts, 
 
 High raised and loud and ever wilder shrilled. 
 
 He wavered 'twixt the doing and the deed ; 
 
 And in that instant Dion3'sius saw 
 
 The far-off tumult, and the outcries heard, 
 
 And quickl}' turning, bade the headsman pause. 
 
 And well, indeed, may all men stand amazed, 
 For as of mighty tempest comes the roar 
 Of countless voices. Nearer now it swells. 
 And yonder, lo ! the massy crowd hath surged 
 To right and left, and through the path there made 
 A horseman spurs his steed, and hither ward 
 Urgeth his headlong course. " Make wa}' ! make 
 
 way ! " 
 " Thank God ! 'tis he, that in this latest hour 
 Hath come to save his friend ! " Amidst a shout 
 That rifts the vault of heaven, swift as light 
 
124 DAMOK AND PYTniAS. 
 
 He fleets unto the block where Pj^thias kneels, 
 And leaping from his steed — that sinks and dies - 
 Enwraps that Brother in his arms, and weeps. 
 
 Pale, speechless, thunderstruck the tjYEint stands, 
 Nor word nor motion tells his secret thought. 
 
 Now 'twixt ecstatic joy and lingering tears. 
 No more can Damon utter than, " Saved ! saved ! 
 M}^ Pythias, thou are saved ! " Then crieth he, 
 '• Thou livest, best-loved Brother, and in thee. 
 The half of mine own soul, live I a life 
 Restored. What anguish and what dreadful fear 
 Have filled my breast ! My thankful, joyful heart 
 Beats wikll}^ as I see thee safe, and haste 
 To meet my doom. Yet ere I 'm cold in death. 
 Hear thou my tale, and hearing it, forgive ! 
 Released by thee, I hastened to my home 
 And quickly bade farewell to wife and child. 
 Then, earl}", timely, I set forth on my 
 Return. I know not what of fear for thee 
 Oppressed me. Onward flew my foaming steed, 
 In furious haste, —he fell, and there he died. 
 Dashed to the earth, I lay as one deprived 
 Of life, and when at length I oped mine ej'es, 
 The orb of day had sunk far toward its bourne. 
 And thou and Syracuse were far away ! 
 A madness seized me ! Loudl}^ then I called 
 
DAMON' AND PYTHIAS. 125 
 
 On heaven and earth to save thee from thy fate, — 
 
 To help me on my way ! In vain, in vain ! 
 
 Onl}^ the hideous echoes mocked my voice. 
 
 But whilst I stood bereft of reason; lo ! 
 
 A horseman swiftly passed me on the road. 
 
 I shouted unto him ; he stayed his course, 
 
 He listened to m}^ words, and to that man, 
 
 Lucullus, the Italian, — for I learned 
 
 His name and nation, — owest thou thy life. 
 
 And I, that now I may depart in peace. 
 
 In me, by proof that never errs, he found 
 
 A Brother. From his steed he quickly sprang . 
 
 Then helping me to mount, bade me God speed : 
 
 And so I hastened unto Syracuse. 
 
 Now, headsman, I am ready. I await 
 
 The blow. Farewell, my Brother ! " 
 
 Then aloud 
 Cries Pj^thias, " Stay! 'tis I, 'tis I that wait 
 The blow ! Thou shalt not die, my Brother ! I 
 Alone am now reserved for death." 
 
 " This hour 
 Of dread hath crazed thee, Pythias ! Loose from me 
 Thy grasp. 'Tis I who am condemned to die." 
 
 " Ay ! but too late thou cam'st, the time was past. 
 To Dionysius I appeal ! Stand back ! 
 
126 DAMOy AND PYTHIAS, 
 
 Unhand me ! Let me kneel again beside 
 The block ! " 
 
 ' ' TVliat madness, Pj'thias, fi% thy soul ? 
 I have thee now secure. Thou shalt not move. 
 To Dion3'sius I too will appeal, 
 Knowmg full well what judgment he will pass." 
 
 So unto Dionysius all men turn. 
 
 Yet pale, unmoving, speechless, long he stands ; 
 
 Then sudden waking, as one from a dream, 
 
 He straight commands, '^ Let silence be proclaimed ! " 
 
 The gloom of eventide is closing in ; 
 But on the western hills a purple mound 
 Of fading light is piled as o'er a grave. 
 Now like a requiem for departed day 
 A mingled strain of trumpets riseth, wild 
 And mournful on the air, and sinks and dies. 
 Then all is still. 
 
 High raised above the vast 
 And silent throng, intent upon his words, 
 Stands Dionysius. For a moment, as 
 In thought, he opens not his mouth ; and then 
 He calmly speaks, that those afar may hear : — 
 
 " Mark jq my words, O men of Syracuse, 
 Learn what your sovereign's will and pleasure is. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS, 127 
 
 " Beside me are two Brothers, bound by ties 
 Of Fellowship, to me a mystery. 
 Of these two Brothers, Damon, for offence 
 Against my roj'al majesty, was doomed 
 To die. 
 
 " That ere the appointed hour 
 He might behold his home and bid his wife 
 And child farewell, his Brother, Pythias, took 
 Upon himself to wear his chains, and meet 
 For him his doom, should he return no more. 
 Then Damon was released and went to seek 
 His home. And now, from home and wife and child 
 And liberty, he swiftly hastens back 
 To rescue Pythias' life and yield his own. 
 When Pythias took upon himself these chains, 
 E'en for an instant could the dread of death 
 O'ercome the generous purpose of his love ? 
 When Damon felt again the joys of home, 
 The happiness of freedom, could his'soul 
 Forget the peril of his captive friend ? 
 Judge ye, who have beheld this wondrous scene, 
 And tell me, for I know not, which hath best 
 Observed the tie of Friendship. 
 
 ''Each of them 
 Now begs for death, that so his friend may live- 
 
 ' ' But hearken unto my imperial will ! 
 To Pythias I give back the liberty 
 
128 DAMOK AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 That unto him most rightful^ belongs ; 
 And unto Damon just release I grant, 
 And now and here m.y pardon I extend. 
 Long 3'ears of peace and happiness abide 
 With both ! And if this wish avail, may I 
 Be made a third in their firm Fellowship 1 " 
 
 He ended ; and from all the dusky gloom 
 Thousands on thousands joined in wild acclaim. 
 And gave, with one accord, a mighty shout. 
 That startled Night upon her ebon throne ; 
 And broad Trinacria trembled with the sound ; 
 And far away the waves of ocean leaped. 
 
 He ended ; and the hours of night began, 
 But night so full of joy as that, I ween, 
 Was never known before in Syracuse. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 To THE Story of Damo:n' akd Pythias. 
 
 A. 
 
 iExNA. — ^tna (in Italian, Monte Gibello, or, by con- 
 traction, Mongihello), situated on the east coast of Sicily, 
 in tlie province of Catania (formerly Catana), is one of the 
 highest mountains in Europe, rising to an altitude of nearly 
 11,000 feet from the level of the sea. Although composed, 
 properly speaking, of manj^ large mountains, its formation 
 presents the general appearance of an immense obtuse cone, 
 standing isolated and distinct, and terminated superiorly 
 by the smoking mouth of the crater. 
 
 A secoad principal crater, produced by the dreadful 
 eruption of 1669, exists near its summit, and many smaller 
 ones are to be seen on its sides, but all of these are extinct. 
 
 .^tna is divided into three zones, of which the lowest is 
 very fertile and populous, containing a population of about 
 300,000; the second is a wooded region, covered with for- 
 ests of oak, pine, and chestnut trees : one of the last va- 
 riety is large enough to afford shelter to one hundred 
 horsemen, whence the Italian call it cento cavalli ; finally, 
 rises a desert region, at the summit of w^hich is the crater, 
 more than three miles in circumference, and always in 
 activity. This part of the mountain Pindar called ''the 
 nurse of keen snow all the year long," and the contrast 
 of its fires and snows is dwelt on by later writers. From 
 this region Sicily is supplied with ice. The circumference 
 
130 APPENDIX TO THE STORY OF 
 
 of -^tna at its base is not less than one hundred miles, and 
 some writers have nearly doubled this estimate. From its 
 top the view extends, in clear weather, from Vesuvius to 
 the island of Malta, ^tna is celebrated in fable, for under 
 it Jupiter had chained an offending giant, variously said to 
 have been Typhon, Enceladus, and Briareus. 
 
 In the following lines Virgil describes this burning 
 mountain, and recounts the myth which served to explain 
 its eruptions : — 
 
 " Portus ab accessu ventorum immotus, et ingens 
 Ipse; sed horrilicis juxta tonat ^tna minis, 
 Interdumque atram prorunipit ad sethera nubem, 
 Turbine fumantem piceo et candente favilla; 
 Attollitque globos flammarum, et sidera lambit: 
 Inter dum scopulos avulsaque viscera mentis 
 Erigit eructans, liquefactaque saxa sub auras 
 Cum gemitu glomerat, fundoque exaestuat imo. 
 Fama est, Enceladi semiustum fulmine corpus 
 Urgueri mole hac, ingentemque insuper ^tnam 
 Tmpositam rnptis flammam exspirare caminis ; 
 Et fessum quotiens mutet latus, intremere omnem 
 Murmure Triuacriam, et coelum subtexere fumo." 
 
 ^n., Ill, 570-5S*2. 
 
 ** The port, capacious and secure from wind, 
 Is to the foot of thund'ring iEtna joined. 
 By turns a pitchy cloud she rolls on high, 
 By turns hot embers from her entrails fly. 
 And flakes of mountain flames, that lick the sky. 
 Oft from her bowels massy rocks are thrown, 
 And, shiver 'd by the force, come piecemeal down. 
 Oft liquid lakes of burniug sulphur flow, 
 Fed from the fiery springs that boil below. 
 Enceladus, they say, transfix'd by Jove, 
 With blasted limbs came tumbling from above; 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 131 
 
 And, where he fell, th' avenging father drew 
 This flaming hill, and on his body threw. 
 As often as he turns his weary sides, 
 He shakes the solid isle, and smoke the heavens hides.'* 
 
 Dryden's Translation. 
 
 Mythology also placed in the caverns of ^tna the smithy 
 of the Cyclopes, a savage race of one-eyed giants, who 
 there assisted Vulcan in forging the thunderbolts of Jupi- 
 ter and the arms of the gods and celebrated heroes. 
 
 The first known eruption took place in the time of 
 Pythagoras, and of this Pindar, who called the mountain 
 **the pillar of heaven" (^<tuiv hvpavov) makes mention. In 
 the reign of Dionysius the Elder, two eruptions occurred. 
 During one of these, Plato, who was then a guest at the 
 tyrant's court, was invited by the Catanians to visit them 
 and study the phenomena of their famous volcano. 
 
 The lava of ^tna ingulfed the ancient cities of Kaxos, 
 Hybla, and Inessa. The eruption of 1183 destroyed Ca- 
 tania with 15,000 persons; in that of 1669, which lasted 
 several months, 20,000 lives were lost; in that of 1693, 
 sixty villages were consumed, and 18,000 of their inhabit- 
 ants perished. The last eruption took place in 1865. 
 
 B. 
 
 Syracuse. — Founded B. C. 735 by a colony of Corin- 
 thians under Archias, Syracuse soon became the most 
 important city in Sicily. Its population at the time of its 
 capture by the Romans was about 1,000,000. Its early 
 form of government was republican. Ruled afterwards by 
 kings, Gelon (484-478), Hiero (478-467), and Thrasybulus 
 (467-466), it recovered its independence and was (466- 
 
132 APPENDIX TO THE STORY OF 
 
 405) governed as a democracy. It was in the last interval, 
 414, that the attack of Athens was victoriously repulsed 
 and the long struggle with Carthage began. Dionysius 
 the Elder became tyrant B. C. 405 and reigned until 367. 
 After him ruled Dionysius the Younger (367-357), Dion 
 (357-354), Callipe (354-353), Ilipparinus (3:3-351), Nypsius 
 (351-347), and Dionysius the Younger, restored from ex- 
 ile (347-343). Timoleon (343) re-established the republic; 
 Sosostratus (320-317) destroj^ed it. But it was again re- 
 established by Agathocles (317-289) and survived after his 
 death for twenty years. The Romans took the city, B. C. 
 212, after a three years' siege, in spite of the wonders 
 accomplished by the genius of Archimedes in its defence. 
 
 In one of his orations against Yerres, Cicero gives a 
 detailed description of Syracuse, which has been elegantly 
 translated by Dr. Smith as follows : — 
 
 ''You have often heard that Syracuse was the largest of 
 all Greek cities and most beautiful of all cities. And it is 
 both, indeed. For it is strong by its natural position, and 
 striking to behold from whatever side it is approached, 
 whether by land or sea. It has two ports, as it were, 
 enclosed within the buildings of the city itself, so as to 
 combine with it from every point of view, which have 
 different and separate entrances, but are united and con- 
 joined together at the opposite extremity. The junction 
 of these separates from the mainland the part of the town 
 called the Island [Ortygia], but this is reunited to the 
 continent by a bridge across the narrow strait which 
 divides them. So great is the city that it may be said to 
 consist of four cities, all of them of large size ; one of 
 which is that which I have already mentioned, the Island, 
 which is surrounded by the two ports, while it projects 
 towards the mouth and entrance of each of them. In it 
 
DAMOy AXD PYTHIAS. 133 
 
 is the palace of King Hiero, whicli is now tlie customary 
 residence of our pretors. It contains also several sacred 
 edifices, but two in particular which far surpass the others ; 
 one, a temple of Diana, the other, of JMiuerva [Athena], 
 which before the arrival of Yerres was most highly 
 adorned. At the extremity of this island is a fountain of 
 fresh water, which has the name of Arethusa, of incredible 
 magnitude and full of fish This would be wholl}^ over- 
 flowed and covered by the waves were it not separated 
 from the sea by a strongly built barrier of stone. The 
 second city of Syracuse is that which is called Achradina, 
 which contains a forum [Agora] of very large size, beau- 
 tiful porticos, a most highly ornamented Prytaneum, a 
 spacious Curia, and a magnificent temple of Jupiter Olym- 
 pus ; not to speak of the other parts of the city, which are 
 occupied by private buildings, being divided by one broad 
 street through its whole length and many cross streets. 
 The third city is that which is called Tycha, because it 
 contains a very ancient temple of Fortune. In this is a 
 very spacious gymnasium as well as many sacred edifices. 
 The fourth city is that which because it was last built was 
 called Neapolis, at the top of which is a theatre of vast 
 size; besides it contains two splendid temples, one of 
 Ceres, the other of Libera, and a statue of Apollo, which 
 is known by the name of Temenites, of great beauty and 
 very large size, which Yerres w^ould not have hesitated to 
 carry ofi* if he had been able to remove it." — Cic, Verr., 
 lY, 52, 53. 
 
 This description, although written at a later period, very 
 nearly represents the more important features of the older 
 parts of the town in the time of Dionysius. The citadel 
 of Syracuse, which was rebuilt by Dionysius the Elder, 
 probably stood in that part of Ortygia which faced Achra- 
 
134 APPENDIX TO THE STORY OF 
 
 dina, and if so, looked directly upon tlie Agora or market- 
 place. Achradiua extended inland and about three miles 
 along the sea-coast. That part of it which was close to 
 Ortj^gia consisted of low ground level with the island, but 
 the remaining and larger part lay on a range of heights 
 which stretched for several miles inland and were divided 
 from the low land by a natural wall of rock. After Dio- 
 nysius became tyrant, he removed the causeway, of which 
 Cicero speaks, and by constructing additional fortifications 
 and docks, convened Ortygia into an impregnable fortress. 
 The LatomisB or Lithotomise were originally quarries 
 excavated in the rocks that divided the upper from the 
 lower part of Achradina, whence the stone for the con- 
 struction of the city was drawn. They are from sixty to 
 eighty feet deep. Soon after being opened they served as 
 prisons, and on the surrender of Nicias, the whole (7,000) 
 of the Athenian prisoners were confined in them, and most 
 of them died. One of them, of large size, situated near the 
 remains of an ancient theatre, is planted with a great va- 
 riety of fruit trees. On one side of it, cut into the rock, is 
 the remarkable excavation which, from its fancied resem- 
 blance to the human tympanum, has been called ^'The Ear 
 of Dionysius." **It is in the shape of a parabolic curve, 
 ending in an elliptical arch, with sides, parallel to its axis, 
 perfectly smooth, and covered with a slight stalactitic in- 
 crustation that renders its repercussions amazingly sono- 
 rous. It has an awful and gloomy appearance, which, with 
 its singular shape, perhaps gave rise to the popular and 
 amusing paradox that Dionysius had it constructed for the 
 confinement of those whom he deemed inimical to his au- 
 thority, and that from the little apartment above it he 
 could overhear all the conversation among the prisoners." 
 — Capt. Smith's Memoir, descriptive of Sicily, 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 135 
 
 c. 
 
 AcRAGAS. — This city was situated on the south coast of 
 Sicily, a little to the southeast of modern Girgenti, between 
 the rivers Hypsas {flume Dragu') and Acragas (flume di san 
 Biagio). It was founded in B. C. 582 by a Dorian colony 
 from Gela, and became very flourishing in commerce and 
 agriculture. The capture of the city by the Carthaginians, 
 here referred to, took place in the latter part of December, 
 B. C. 406, after a siege of eight months. In B. C. 210 it 
 came under the dominion of the Eomans, by whom it was 
 known as Agrigentum. 
 
 Acragas was built upon several hills, on the highest of 
 which was the citadel. At the time of the Carthaginian 
 siege it contained about 300,000 inhabitants. The esti- 
 mate of Diogeues Laertius, that its population amounted 
 to 800,000, is clearly excessive. 
 
 Virgil mentions this place, together with several others 
 referred to in this poem, in his description of the voyage 
 of ^neas from Ortygia to Cape Pachynus, and thence 
 along the south coast of Sicily : — 
 
 ** Sicanio praetenta sinii jacet insula contra 
 Plemmyrium undosum : nomen dixere priores 
 Ortygiam. Alpheum fama est hue Eliclis amnem 
 Occultas egisse vias subter mare; qui nunc 
 Ore, Arethusa, tuo Siculis confunditur undis. 
 Jussi numina magna loci veneramur; et inde 
 Exsupero praepingue solum stagnantis Helori. 
 Hinc altas cautes projectaque saxa Pachyni 
 Hadimus,. et fatis numquam concessa moveri 
 Adparet Camarina procul campique Geloi, 
 Immanisque Gela fluvii cognomine dicta. 
 Arduus inde Acragas ostentat maxima longe 
 Moenia, magnanimum quondam generator equorum ; 
 
136 APPENDIX TO THE STORY OF 
 
 Teque datis linquo yentis, palmosa Seliniis, 
 Et vada dura lego saxis Lilybeia caecis." 
 
 jEn,, IIT, 692-707. 
 
 Outstretclied before Sicania's bay, against 
 Plemmyrium's billowy strand, an island lies; 
 Its name the forefathers Ortygia called. 
 Hither, they say, Alpheus, Elis' stream, 
 Forced hidden channels 'neath the sea ; and now 
 By thy fount, Arethusa, is it blent 
 With the Sicilian waves. As bidden, we 
 The mighty local deities adore ; 
 And thence I pass the soil exceeding rich 
 Of stagnating Helorus. Then we skirt 
 Pachynus' lofty " crags that warning give," 
 And jutting rocks; and never by the Fates 
 Allowed to be removed, far, far away, 
 Appeareth Camarina to our view, 
 Geloan plains and Gela's monstrous town, 
 That from the river takes its name. And then 
 High Acragas its walls immense displays, 
 Once the producer of high-mettled steeds; 
 And thee, palm-clad Selinus, next I leave, 
 With favoring winds, and coast along the shoals 
 Of Lilybeum, rough with hidden reefs. 
 
 D. 
 
 DiONYSius. — Dionysius the Elder was born at Syracuse 
 B C. 430. Of his early life very little is known, except 
 that for a time he filled the position of scrivener or clerk 
 in one of the public offices, and was afterwards a common 
 soldier in the Syracusan army. He also joined the parti- 
 sans of Hermocrates, and was severely wounded while 
 engaged with them in an unsuccessful attempt to over- 
 
DAMOX AND PYTHIAS, 137 
 
 throw the democratic government of his native city. Bnt 
 up to the time of his remarkable speech in the ecclesia, he 
 seems to have taken no prominent part in public affairs. 
 
 As to the effect of his violent exhortation on that occa- 
 sion we have only such information as is contained in the 
 narratives of Plato and Diodorus, and these are in hope- 
 less conflict. The author has accordingly been compelled 
 to meet the difl3iculty thereby presented as best he could. 
 The account of Plato would seem to be of higher author- 
 ity, because he was both a contemporary of Dionysius and 
 for some time a guest at his court; while the Historical 
 Library of Diodorus was written between three and four 
 centuries after the event. Upon this doubtful point Mr. 
 Grote appends a learned and exhaustive note in Vol. X of 
 his "History of Greece." The general conclusion, however, 
 at which that eminent historian arrives is open to many 
 objections. In describing the various steps whereby Dio- 
 nysius rose to absolute power, occupying in all a period 
 of not more than Ave or six months, the poem conforms 
 substantially to the narrative of Diodorus. 
 
 Dionysius was twenty-five years of age when he began 
 to reign. His proscriptions and injustice raised against 
 him many conspiracies and two revolts, which he sup- 
 pressed. All his reign was occupied, 1st, In strengthen- 
 ing himself in Syracuse; 2d, In driving the Carthaginians 
 out of Sicily, and extending his dominion over the entire 
 island; 3d, In conquering the Greek towns in the south 
 of Italy. In the first war against the Carthaginians, while 
 he held the position of general autocrator, he had yielded 
 to them Gela and Camarina ; but in 403 he captured Enna, 
 Catana, Naxos, Leontini, and Messene. Defeated by Hi- 
 milco in 396, and besieged by him in Syracuse, he never- 
 theless took Taurimenium at the close of the war. From 
 
138 APPENDIX TO THE STORY OF 
 
 394 to 384 Italy occupied his attention. He made himself 
 master of Locris in 389, and of Crotona, after a hard re- 
 sistance, in 387. He formed an alliance with the Gauls, 
 the conquerors of Eome, in 390, and also founded some 
 colonies on the west coast of the Adriatic, and ravaged 
 Etruria. After a third undecisive war with the Cartha- 
 ginians, he captured, in 368, Selinus, Entella, and Eryx. 
 Death alone prevented him from driving the Carthaginians 
 out of Sicily. 
 
 Cicero represents him as a tyrant in the worst sense. 
 It is certain, however, that he restored independence to 
 Sicily, enriched and enlarged Syracuse, increased her 
 arsenals, fortifications, and marine, and fostered letters 
 and the arts. He is said to have cultivated poetry and 
 history, medicine and surgery. His horses raced at the 
 Olympic games, where his chariots were broken and his 
 poems hissed. And even in his own court Philoxenus, a 
 poet of Cythera, found fault with his verses, and for this 
 offence was committed to LithotomisB. But Athens at 
 last crowned one of his tragedies, and Dionysius, to cele- 
 brate the event, gave a grand banquet, at which he ate 
 and drank so intemperately that he fell senseless and soon 
 after died. According to others, he was poisoned by his 
 son. His death took place in 367, and he had, accordingly, 
 reigned thirty-eight years. 
 
 Dionysius was married twice. His first wife perished 
 in the emeute which followed the return of the knights 
 from Gela to Syracuse. Afterward he married two wives 
 at the same time, and each of them, it is said, continued 
 to hold an equal share in his aflection. By one of these 
 he had two sons and two daughters, and by the other, 
 Dionysius the Younger, who succeeded him. 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS, 139 
 
 E. 
 
 Pythagoras. — This illustrious philosopher was born 
 at Samos, about B. C. 5G0. At Lesbos he was a pupil of 
 Pherecydes, aud at Miletus of Thales and Anaximander. 
 He was also instructed by Hermodamas at Samos, and 
 having been advised by him to complete his education by 
 extensive travel, visited Phoenicia and subsequently went 
 to reside in Egypt, which was then regarded by the Greeks 
 as the repository of the highest wisdom. Here he ac- 
 quired from the priests of Isis and Osiris a knowledge of 
 their theocratic and sacerdotal systems, together with 
 the elements of numbers and geometry and the language 
 of symbols and hieroglyphics. Here, too, he was taught 
 the doctrine of metempsychosis, but whether he accepted 
 and applied this belief in its literal sense is somewhat 
 doubtful. After he had lived in Egypt twenty-two years 
 (547-525), that country was conquered by the armies of 
 Cambyj^es, and according to Jamblichus, Pythagoras was 
 led in captivity to Babylon, where he remained twelve 
 years. During this interval, he acquired from the Chal- 
 dasans and Magi the principles of astronomy, astrology, 
 and medicine, and also gained a knowledge of the religions 
 of India and was initiated into the doctrines of Zoroaster. 
 On his return to Greece, 512, having visited Sparta, Elis, 
 and Delphi, he attempted to found a school of philosophy 
 in his native Samos, but was prevented by the hostility of 
 Polycrates, who was then tyrant of the island. 
 
 He then left Samos and went, preceded by an illustrious 
 reputation, to Crotona in Southern Italy. Here he taught 
 and established a secret society which was composed of 
 the richest and noblest citizens. For a long time this 
 association was very prosperous, but it was finally broken 
 
140 APPENDIX TO THE STOPY OF 
 
 up by a popular insiirrectiou, in wMcli most of its members 
 perished. Pythagoras subsequently retired to Metapon- 
 tum, where he died at a very advanced age. 
 
 Pythagoras himself, although perhaps the most learned 
 philosopher of antiquity, wrote nothing. A collection of 
 his maxims, called The Golden Yerses, was probably writ- 
 ten by his pupil, Lycis. 
 
 To Pythagoras is due in mathematics the discovery of 
 various properties of numbers, the demonstration of the 
 value of the hypothenuse, and of some other geometric 
 theorems; in physics, the mathematical theory of musical 
 sounds ; in astronomy, certain elementary notions regard- 
 ing the movements of the sun, moon, and planets, which, 
 though falling far short of the theory of Copernicus, were 
 greatly in advance of the previous cosmographic ideas of 
 the Greeks. In the centre of the universe he placed the 
 *' central-fire," which his disciple Philolaus termed *'the 
 hearth of the universe, the watch-tower of Zeus."- Around 
 this the heavenly bodies revolved ; farthest ofi", the fixed 
 stars, then, in order, the planets, the sun, moon, earth, 
 and *' counter-earth" (avrCxOoiv), the last being '* a sort of 
 other half of the earth, a distinct body from it, but always 
 moving equal to it." The heavenly bodies were divided 
 by certain intervals corresponding to those of the musical 
 scale, and by its motion, each of them produced a certain 
 note, determined by the distance of the body from the 
 "central-fire." Hence arose the celebrated doctrine of 
 " the music of the spheres." According to Cicero, Pytha- 
 goras held that God was the soul of the world difi*used 
 through all its parts. As all numbers are evolved from 
 unity, so he claimed that from the primary unit or monad 
 (God) all the universe was evolved. The Supreme Being 
 had first created the ''immortal gods," then heroes (or 
 
DAMON AND PYTHIAS, 141 
 
 angels, as some commentators understand), and last of 
 all, as being least in dignity, man. He also recognized in 
 God the moral governor of a moral universe. Souls that 
 had lived ill, remained, after their earth-life, in the gulf 
 of Hecate until purged of their impurities ; the souls of 
 the just went to an abode of happiness above the moon. 
 
 Long after the death of Pj^thagoras, many fraternities 
 bearing his name and modelled after his plan continued to 
 exist ; but all of them vrere at last consolidated with sim- 
 ilar associations, called Orphic societies, in Greece. It is 
 likely that the severe rules of discipline which he had im- 
 posed on his followers became relaxed after his decease 
 and that Fraternity was recognized to be the chief, as it 
 always had been a principal, bond of their union. 
 
 Prom the accounts which various authors give of the 
 Pythagorean societies or brotberhoods, it appears : 1. 
 There were degrees or gradations among the members 
 themselves. 2. The members were devotedly attached 
 to each other and were willing to sacrifice fortune or peril 
 life in each other's behalf. ( This is attested by Porphyrins 
 and Jamblichus.) 3. Whatever was taught or done among 
 the members was kept a profound secret. 4. They had 
 secret conventional symbols by which members who had 
 never met before could recognize each other. {Schol. ad 
 Arist. Kub.j Gil; Jamb j 237, 238; Krische, pp. 43, 44.) 
 That the principles which were taught among them were 
 correct is evident from the fact that the various Pytha- 
 goreans mentioned in history are all represented to have 
 been good and honorable men.