cV co ««Cf.fl - cccc «t._ "5 c«r C ■ c , c «r cc «rcc C - cc c C( c -. C (( : cc( r cc C r cc c C cc c c ■ «s A : NOTE TO THE FIFTH EDITION. This Edition is precisely the same work as that which was originally published at One Farthing. There are a few slight revisions and transposi- tions, and the interpolation of some twenty lines in Book III. It was not without regret that I felt myself bound (for an author owes a duty to his work) to make even these few variations between the First Edition and the present. R. H. H. ©lEIKDIf, NOTE TO THE FIRST EDITION. I have adopted the Greek mythological names throughout this poem, with a view of getting rid of commonizing associations. It has become an arduous, if not impossible task for the popular imagination to rise up to the purely poetic conception of such abstractions as a Juno, a Neptune, a Diana, amidst all the perverting associations with which they are now surrounded. As to such a change being more correct in writing from aB old Greek fable, there can hardly be two opinions. The gods and goddesses of ancient Italy were perfectly distinct from those of ancient Greece, although certain prominent attributes existed in common between the Jupiter of the Romans, and Zeus of the Greeks; between Diana and Artemis; between Vulcan, and Hephsestos; Neptune, and Poseidon, &c. It has been my object to create new associations, founded upon those of the antique age which are the most purely poetical and suggestive. With this view, the names are of no great importaace to those who do not recognise them classically, and I trust that my fable would be perfectly intelligible to all classes of readers, by whatever names the characters were designated. Meantime, the design of thi9 poem of " Orion" is far from being intended as a mere echo or reflection of the Past, and is in itself, and in other respects, a novel experiment upon the mind of a nation. R. H. H. ©RlOIfc Canta tfjr $iv*t. Ye rocky heights of Chios, where the snow, Lit by the far-off and receding moon, Now feels the soft dawn's purpling twilight creep Over your ridges, while the singing dews, Like creatures on a mission from the spheres, Swarm down, and wait to be instinct with gold And solar fire ! — ye mountains waving brown With thick-winged woods, and blotted with deep caves In secret places ; and ye paths that stray E'en as ye list ; what odours and what sighs Tend your sweet silence through the star- showered night, Like memories breathing of the Goddess forms That left your haunts, yet with the day return ! ORION. [book i. And still more distant through the grey sky floats The faint blue fragment of the dead moon's shell ; Not dead indeed, but vacant, since 'tis now Left by its bright Divinity. The snows On steepest heights grave tints of dawn receive. And mountains from the misty woodland rise More clear of outline, while thick vapours curl From off the valley streams, and spread away, Till one by one the brooks and pools unveil Their cold blue mirrors. From the great repose What echoes now float on the listening air — Now die away — and now again ascend, Soft ringing from the valleys, caves, and groves, Beyond the reddening heights? 'Tis Artemis come With all her buskined Nymphs and sylvan rout. To scare the silence and the sacred shades, And with dim music break their rapturous trance ! But soon the music swells, and as the gleam Of sun-rise tips the summits tremblingly, And the dense forests on their sides exchange Shadows opaque for warm transparent tones, Though still of depth and grandeur, nearer grows The revelry ; and echoes multiply CANTO T.] ORION. Behind the rocks and uplands, with the din Of reed-pipe, timbrel, and clear silver horns, With cry of Wood-nymphs, Fauns, and chasing hounds. Afar the hunt in vales below has sped, But now behind the wooded mount ascends, Threading its upward mazes of rough boughs, Mossed trunks and thickets, still invisible, Although its jocund music fills the air With cries and laughing echoes, mellowed all By intervening woods and the deep hills. The scene in front two sloping mountain sides Displayed ; in shadow one, and one in light. The loftiest on its summit now sustained The sun-beams, raying like a mighty wheel Half seen, which left the forward surface dark in its full breadth of shade ; the coming sun Hidden as yet behind : the other mount, Slanting transverse, swept with an eastward face, Catching the golden light. Now, while the peal Of the ascending chase told that the rout Still midway rent the thickets, suddenly Along the broad and sunny slope appeared ORIOX. [ B The shadow of a stag that fled across, Followed by a Giant's shadow with a spear ! " Hunter of Shadows, thou thyself a Shade," Be comforted in this, — that substance holds No higher attributes ; one sovran law Alike develops both, and each shall hunt Its proper object, each in turn commanding The primal impulse, till gaunt Time become A shadow cast on space, to fluctuate, Waiting the breath of the Creative Power To give new types for substance yet unknown : So from faint nebulae bright worlds are born ; So worlds return to vapour. Dreams design Most solid lasting things, and from the eye That searches life, death evermore retreats. The shadowy chase has vanished ; round the swell Of the near mountain sweeps a bounding stag — Round whirls a god-like Giant close behind — O'er a fallen trunk the stag with slippery hoofs Stumbles — his sleek knees lightly touch the grass — Upward he springs — but in his forward leap, The Giant's hand hath caught him fast beneath CANTO I.] ORION. One shoulder tuft, and lifted high in air, Sustains! Now Phoibos' chariot rising bursts Over the summits with a circling blaze, Gilding those frantic antlers, and the head Of that so glorious Giant in his youth, Who, as he turns, the form succinct beholds Of Artemis, — her bow, with points drawn back, A golden hue on her white rounded breast Reflecting, while the arrow's ample barb Gleams o'er her hand, and at his heart is aimed. The Giant lowered his arm — away the stag Breast forward plunged into a thicket near ; The Goddess paused, and dropt her arrow's point — ■ Raised it again — and then again relaxed Her tension, and while slow the shaft came gliding Over the centre of the bow, beside Her hand, and gently drooped, so did the knee Of that heroic shape do reverence Before the Goddess. Their clear eyes had ceased To flash, and gazed with earnest softening light. His stature, though colossal, scarcely seemed Beyond the heroic mould, such symmetry OBION. [book i. His form displayed ; and in his countenance A noble honesty and ardour beamed, With child-like faith, unconscious of themselves, And of the world, its vanities and guile. Eyes of deep blue, large waves of chestnut locks, A forehead wide, and every feature strong, Yet without heaviness or angry line, Had he ; and as he knelt, a trustful smile That dreads no consequence, and quite forgets All danger, lightly played around his mouth. Meanwhile the Nymphs and all the sylvan troop, Like wave on wave when coloured by the clouds, Pell-mell come rolling round the mountain side, And crowd around the Goddess, who commands The hunt to pause. At once the music stops — And all the hounds, with wistful looks, crouch down. " Young Giant of the woods," said Artemis, " The bow, that ne'er till now its glittering points Bent back without recoil and whirring twang — That sound a shaft's flight, and that flight a death — For once to its quiescent shape returns Unsated. 'Midst these woodland vales and heights Seldom I rove, but from my train, have Nymphs canto i.] ORION. Permission sought full oft to lead the chase Among these echoes and these fleeting shades. Thee have they seen, as now, bounding beyond Their swiftest hounds to bear the stag away, As thou once more hadst surely done this morn, But for my presence. Say, then, whence thou spring's!; ; Where dwell'st thou — how art called — and wherefore thus Dar'st thou the sports of these my Wood-nymphs mar?" " Goddess !" the Giant answered " I am sprung From the great Trident-bearer, who sustains And rocks the floating earth, and from the nymph — A huntress joying in the dreamy woods — Euryale. Little I use to speak, Save to my kindred giants, who in caves Amid yon forest dwell, beyond the rocks, Or to my Cyclop friends ; nor know I what words Best suit a Goddess' ear. I and the winds Do better hold our colloquies, when shadows, After long hunting, vanish from my sight Into some field of gloom. I am called ' Orion,' — And for the sports I have so often marred, 'Twas for my own I did it, but without A thought of whose the Nymphs, or least design ORION. [book i. Of evil. Wherefore, Artemis, pardon me ; Or if again thou 'dst bend thy bow, first let me To great Poseidon offer up a prayer, That his divine waves with absorbing arms May take my body rather than dull earth." With attitude relaxed from queenly pride To yet more queenly grace, the shaft she placed Within her burnished quiver, and the bow A Nymph unstrung, while with averted face — As gazing down the woodland vista slopes, Which oft her bright orb silvered through black shades When midnight throbbed to silence — Artemis asked, " And who are these thy brothers of the cave, And why dost with the Cyclops hold consort?" " My wood-friends, all of ancestry renowned, Claim for their sires heroes, or kings, or gods ; And two of them have seen the ways of men ; " Orion answered, while with uplifted breast, Like a smooth wave o'ergilded by the morn, High heaving ere it cast itself ashore, Buoyant, elate, and massively erect, He stood. " They are my kindred thus de£ r led, And, though not brothers, yet we recognize CANTO I.] ORION. A sort of brotherhood in this decree Of fate, or Zeus, — that nature filled our frames With larger share of bodily elements Than others mortal born. Seven giants we, Of different minds, and destinies, and powers, Yet glorified alike in corporal forms. Few are my years, O Artemis ! few my needs, Though large my fancied wants, and small my knowledge, Save of one art. Earth's deep metallic veins Hephaestos taught me to refine and forge To shapes that in my fancy I devised, For use or ornament. To the lame God Grateful I felt, nor knew what thanks to give ; But, ere a shadow-hunter I became — A dreamer of strange dreams by day and night — For him I built a palace underground, Of iron, black and rough as his own hands. Deep in the groaning disembowelled earth, The tower-broad pillars and huge stanchions, And slant supporting wedges I set up, Aided by the Cyclops who obeyed my voice Which through the metal fabric rang and pealed In orders echoing far, like thunder-dreams. With a ;s, galleries, and domes all carved — So that great figures started from the roof 10 ORION. [book i. And lofty coignes, or sat and downward gazed On those who strode below and gazed above — I filled it ; in the centre framed a hall : Central in that, a throne ; and for the light, Forged mighty hammers that should rise and fall On slanted rocks of granite and of flint* Worked by a torrent, for whose passage down A chasm I hewed. And here the God could take, Midst showery sparks and swathes of broad gold fire, His lone repose, lulled by the sounds he loved ; Or, casting back the hammer-heads till they choked The water's course, enjoy, if so he wished, Midnight tremendous, silence, and iron sleep." Thus in rough phrase, and with no other grace Than forthright truth, Orion told his tale ; Then smiling looked around upon the Nymphs, Till all their bright eyes glowed and turned aside ; And then he gazed down at the couchant hounds, Whose eyes and ears grew interrogative, For well the fleet-heeled robber they all knew. Now spake an Ocean-nymph with sea-green eyes : " Goddess, he hath not told thee all ; his skill And strength, unaided — singing as he wrought — I.] ORION. 11 Scooped out the bay of Zankle, framed its port ; Banked up the rarnpire that forbids the surge To break o'er Sicily ; and a temple built To the sea-deities." " I had forgot ; " Orion said : " These things, long since, were done." " Hunter, I pardon thee, and from my Nymphs All memory of thy late offence I take, As though they ne'er had seen thee :" Artemis said, With a sweet voice and look. " Retire awhile, Ye sylvan troop, to yonder deep-mossed dell ; And thou, Orion, henceforth in my train Thy station take." More had the Goddess said, But o'er the whiteness of a neck that ne'er One tanned kiss from the ardent sun received, A soft suffusion came ; and waiting not Reply, her silver sandals glanced i' the rays, As doth a lizard playing on a hill, And on the spot where she that instant stood Nought but the bent and quivering grass was seen. Above the isle of Chios, night by night, The clear moon lingered ever on her course, Covering the forest foliage, where it swept In its unbroken breadth along the slopes, 12 ORION. With placid silver ; edging leaf and trunk Where gloom clung deep around ; but chiefly sought With melancholy splendour to illume The dark-mouthed caverns where Orion lay Dreaming among his kinsmen. Ere the breath Of Phoibos' steeds rose from the wakening sea, And long before the immortal wheel-spokes cast Their hazy apparition up the sky Behind the mountain peaks, pale Artemis left Her fainting orb, and touched the loftiest snows With feet as pure, and white, and crystal cold, In the sweet misty woodland to rejoin Orion with her Nymphs. And he was blest In her divine smile, and his life began A new and higher period, nor the haunts Of those his giant brethren ever sought, But shunned them and their ways, and slept alone Upon a verdant rock, while o'er him floated The clear moon, causing music in his brain Until the sky -lark rose. He felt 'twas love. jt\5 c Canto tf)t Quants :. Midst ponderous substance had Orion's life Dawned, and his acts were massive as his form. Those his companions of the forest owned Like corporal forces, but their several minds And aims were not as his. The Worker he, The builder-up of things, and of himself : His wood-friends were Rhexergon, of descent Royal, heroic — breaker-down of things — A coaster, skilled in fishing and in ships ; — Autarces, arch-backed like the forest boar, Short-haired, harsh- voiced, of fierce and wayward will ;- Harpax, with large loose mouth, and restless hand, Son of the God of Folly by a maid 14 ORION. Who cursed him — and the child, an idiot else, Grew keen, in rapine taking great delight ; — Forceful Biastor ; — smooth Encolyon, The son of Hermes, yet in all things slow, With sight oblique and forehead slanting high, The dull retarder, chainer of the wheel ; — And Akinetos — who, since first the dawn Sat on his marble forehead, ne'er had gazed Onward with purpose of activity, Nor felled a tree, nor hollowed out a cave, Nor built a roof, nor aided any work, Nor heaved a sigh, nor cared for anything Save contemplation of the eternal scheme — The Great Unmoved — a giant much revered. Forgotten by their sires in other loves, Here had they chiefly dwelt, and in these caves, Save two, Encolyon and the Great Unmoved, Who came from Ithaca. The islanders Had driven them thence ; and this the idle cause. The barren stony land had ne'er produced Enough of grain for food ; but by the skill Of their artificers in iron and brass, And by their herds of goats and cloud-woolled sheep, CANTO II.] ORION. 15 With other isles the Ithacans exchanged, And each was well supplied. Encolyon's brain Some goddess — and 'twas Discord, as results Made plain — one night inspired with sage alarms, And straight the King of Ithaca he sought, Imploring him, " if that he duly prized A heaven-blest crown and subjects all content, To drive the ships, sent from the neighbouring isles, Forth from his port, or sink the grain they brought : Else would his people, over-fed, grow slothful, Rude, and importunate with new conceits, And soon degenerating in their race, Neglect their proper island, and their King. But, on its own resources nobly forced, Then would the stony Ithaca become Great in herself by self-dependent power." To this the King gave ear, and on the shore He, with Encolyon, for an omen prayed ; And soon along the horizontal line Rising, they saw a threatening rack of clouds, Black as the fleet from Aulis 'gainst doomed Troy, — In after-time well known. Encolyon cried " Behold propitious anger on the isle, c 2 * 16 ORION. [book i. For its wrong doings !" Wherefore all the grain From friendly islands they, with scorn, sent back. A famine soon in Ithaca spread wide, And hungry people prowled about at night, Then clamoured, and took arms — their war-cry " bread !" Thus was the dormant evil of their hearts Attested, and the King his people knew, And bitterly their want of reverence felt. Encolyon, in his stature tall confiding, Though Akinetos warned him not to move, Went gravely forth the rebel throngs to meet. The politic giant's staid demeanour awed The angry mass at first, and with their eyes They seemed to listen, doubtful of their ears, So puzzling was his speech. He to the King And his chief heroes then discoursed apart, Convincing them that all the wheels went well. With head bent sideways from the light, he looked Like to some statesman of consummate mind Working an ancient problem ; and then spake In language critical, final, stolid, astute, Concluding with affectionate appeal , To common sense, and all we hold most dear, CANTO II.] OKION. 17 " Keep down — put back — prevent ! O Gods prevent !" This was his famous saying. Now the King Led out his patriot army — but ere long The army hungered too — the King was slain — Encolyon fled, and hid within a ship. Forthwith a crowd to Akinetos thronged, Crying, " What say'st thou, giant who art wise ? What shall we do ? " And Akinetos said, *' Great hunger is a single thing— one want : Satisfy that, and strength will be acquired To multiply desire — wants without end ! Therefore be patient : leave all else to fate." Stubborn the people as their own dry rocks — Enraged as the wild winds — to reason deaf — - And also wanting food — eursed his calm thought — Cast stones upon him, and had surely slain But that without resistance he bore all, And without word ; so they, being tired, relented. And bore him to the ship, where, in the hold, Encolyon lay at length with in-drawn breath. To Chios sailed the ship. The Ithacans Chose a new king, and traded with the isles. 18 ORIOX. [BOOK I. In this companionship Orion's bent Of nature had not merged ; his working spirit Sought from the fallen trunks and rocks to frame Rude image of his fancies, till at length He won Hephaestos' love, from whom he learnt The god's own solid art. But this attained, And proved by mastery, a restless dream Dawned on his soul which he desired to shape, Yet knew not how, nor saw its like around, But vaguely felt at times, and thought he saw In shadows. Wherefore through the forest depths, Through vales and over hills, a hunter fleet He chased his unknown hopes ; and when the stag, Or goat, or ounce, he overtook and seized, Ever he set them free, and e'en the bear And raging boar his spear refrained to strike, Save by its shadow, as they roaring fled. The bodily thing became to him as nought When gained ; nor satisfied with efforts passed. Now from a Goddess did he quickly learn The mystery of his mood, and saw how vain His early life had been, and felt new roots Quicken within him, branches new that sprung CANTO II.] ORION. 19 Aloft, and with expanding energies Tingled, and for immortal fruit prepared. She met him in her beauty. Oft when dawn With a grave red looked through the ash-pale woods, And quick dews singing fell, while with a pulse As quick, Orion stood beneath the trees, And gazed upon the uncertain scene,— his heart Forewarned his senses with a rapturous thrill. He turned, and from the misty green afar, In silence did the Goddess' train appear Rounding a thicket. Slow the crowding hounds Tript circling onward ; Nymphs with quivered backs, And clear elastic limbs of nut-brown hue, Or like tanned wall-fruit, ripening and compact ; And short-horned Fauns down gazing on their pipes ; And Oceanides with tresses green Plaited in order, or by golden nets In various device confined, each bearing Shell lyres and pearl-mouthed trumpets of the sea ; Dryads and Oreads decked with oak-leaf crowns And heath-bells, dancing in the fragrant air ; And Sylvans, who, half jFaun, half shepherd, lead A grassy life, with cymbals in each hand 20 ORION. [-ooK i. Pressed cross-wise on the breast, waiting the sign ; — Attendant round a pale gold chariot moved : By two large-antlered milk-white stags 'twas drawn, Their sleek hides 'neath the fine dews quivering, In delicate delight. Above them rose The fair-haired Goddess, onward softly gliding, As though erect she stood on wafted clouds. She smiled not ; but the crescent on her brow Gleamed with a tender light. He knew 'twas love. Giddy with happiness Orion's spirit Now danced in air ; — his heart tumultuous beat Too high a measure and too wild, to taste The fullness that he dreamed encompassed him, But he could not encompass, nor scarce dare Clearly to recognize. And Artemis smiled Upon him with a radiance silver sweet, And o'er his forehead oft her hand she waved, Till visions of the purity of love Above him floated, and his being filled. Language of Gods she taught him ; and displayed, Far as 't was fitting, and from all gross acts Refined, their several wondrous histories : caxto ii.] ORION. 21 But chief of all, in accents nobly sad, She told of kindness by Poseidon done, His ocean sire, when swan-necked Leto bearing Twins of bright destiny and heirs of heaven — Herself and Phoibos — cruelly was driven Through the bleak ways of earth, and found no rest, Pursued by serpent jealousy, for Zeus Had loved fair Leto ; how Orion's sire A floating isle that sometimes 'neath the waves Drifted unseen, sometimes shewed watery rocks, Smote with his trident, and majestical Delos arose — stood fast — and gave a home To fainting Leto,— and a place of birth For deities — the Sun, and his loved Orb. The mysteries, worship, and the sacrifice Of her Ephesian Temple, she displayed Before his wondering thought, and oft he knelt In solitude, when of its hundred columns, Each reared by kingly hands, wakeful he dreamed, And felt his Goddess love too high removed. The ocean realm below, and all its caves And bristling vegetation, plant and flower, And forests in their dense petrific shade Where the tides moan for sleep which never comes ; ORION. [book i. All this she taught him, and continually Knowledge of human life made clear to him Through facts and fables. He the intricate web Of nature, gradually of himself began To unwind, and see that gods and men were one — Born of one element, imperfect both, Yet aspirant, and with perfection's germ Somewhere within. He brooded o'er these things. One day, at noontide, when the chase was done, Which with unresting speed since dawn had held, The woods were all with golden fire alive, And heavy limbs tingled with glowing heat, Sy Ivans and Fauns at full length cast them down, And cooled their flame-red faces in the grass, Or o'er a streamlet bent, and dipped their heads Deep as the top hair of their pointed ears ; While Nymphs and Oceanides retired To grots and sacred groves, with loitering steps, And bosoms swelled and throbbing, like a bird's Held between human hands. The hounds with tongues, Crimson, and lolling hot upon the green, And outstretched noses, flatly crouched ; their skins ORION. 23 Clouded or spotted, like the field-bean's flower, Or tiger-lily, painted the wide lawns. Orion wandered deep into a vale Alone ; from all the rest his steps he bent, Thoughtful, yet with no object in his mind ; Languid, yet restless. Near a hazel copse, Whose ripe nuts hung in clusters twined with grapes, He paused, down gazing, 'till upon his sense A fragrance stole, as of ambrosia wafted Through the warm shades by some divinity Amid the woods. With gradual step he moved Onward, and soon the poppied entrance found Of a secluded bower. He entered straight, Unconsciously attracted, and beheld His Goddess love, who slept — her robe cast off, Her sandals, bow and quiver, thrown aside, Yet with her hair still braided, and her brow Decked with her crescent light. Awed and alarmed By loving reverence — which dreads offence E'en though the wrong were never known, and feels Its heart's religion for religion's self, Besides its object's claim — swift he retired. 24 ORION. [book i. The entrance gained, what thoughts, what visions his ! What danger had he 'scaped, what innocent crime, Which Artemis might yet have felt so deep ! He blest the God of Sleep who thus had held Her senses ! Yet, what loveliness had glanced Before his mind — scarce seen ! Might it not be Illusion ? — some bright shadow of a hope First dawning ? Would not sleep's God still exert Safe influence, if that he once more stole back And gazed an instant ? 'T were not well to do, And would o'erstain with doubt the accident Which first had led him there. He dare not risk The chance 't were not illusion oh, if true ! While thus he murmured hesitating, slow, As slow and hesitating he returned Instinctively, and on the Goddess gazed ! With adoration and delicious fear, Lingering he stood ; then pace by pace retired, 'Till in the hazel copse sighing he paused, And with most earnest face and vacant eye, And brow perplexed, stared at a tree. His hands Were clenched ; his feet pressed down the soil, CANTO II.] ORION. 25 And changed their place. Suddenly he turned round, And made his way direct into the bower. There was a slumbrous silence in the air, By noon- tide's sultry murmurs from without Made more oblivious. Not a pipe was heard From 'field or wood ; but the grave beetle's drone Passed near the entrance : once the cuckoo called O'er distant meads, and once a horn began Melodious plaint, then died away. A sound Of murmurous music yet was in the breeze, For silver gnats that harp on glassy strings, And rise and fall in sparkling clouds, sustained Their dizzy dances o'er the seething meads. With brain as dizzy stood Orion now I' the quivering bower. There rapturous he beheld, As in a trance, not conscious of himself, The perfect sculpture of that naked form, Whose Pariantfwhiteness and clear outline gleamed In its own hue, nor from the foliage took One tint, nor from his ample frame one shade. Her lovely hair hung drooping, half unbound, — Fair silken braids, fawn-tinted delicately, That on one shoulder lodged their opening coil. 26 oriox. Her large round arms of dazzling beauty lay In matchless symmetry and inviolate grace Along the mossy floor. At length he dropped Softly upon his knees, his clasped hands raised Above his head, 'till by resistless impulse His arms descending, were expanded wide Swift as a flash, erect the Goddess rose ! Her eyes shot through Orion, and he felt Within his breast an icy dart. Confronted, Mutely they stood, but all the bower was filled "With rising mist that chilled him to the bone, Colder, as more obscure the space became ; And ere the last collected shape he saw Of Artemis, dispersing fast amid Dense vapoury clouds, the aching wintriness Had risen to his teeth, and fixed his eyes, Like glistening stones in the congealing air. % [BOOK I. ©aiOHc Canto fyt Cijtrtf. O'er plastic nature any change may come, Save that which seeks to crush the primal germ ; And outward circumstance may breed within, A second nature which o'ercomes the first, But ne'er destroys, though dormant or subdued. More toil for him whose wandering fancies teem With too much life, and that vitality Which eats into itself; more toil of brain And limb, sole panacea for the change From tyrant senses to pure intellect. Wherefore, his work redoubled, Artemis Directs Orion's course ; not as before With grave and all-subduing tenderness, 28 ORIOX. [book i While with white fingers midst his chestnut locks, In her speech pausing, gently would she hang Violets, as white as her own hands, and sprigs Of Cretan dittany, whose nodding spikes Flushed deeper pink beneath the sacred touch, — But with a penetrating influence And front austere, as suiting best the Queen Of maiden immortality. His soul Strove k „d to aeeend and leave the earth Md.d ; And by the Goddess' guidance every hour Had its fixed duties. Husbandry of fields She taught those giant hands, and how to raise The sweetest herbs and roots, which now T his food Became ; nor taste and culture of the vine Permitted, nor of slaughtered kine the flesh, Nor forest boar, nor other thing that owns An animal life. Lastly, she taught his mind To reason on itself, far as the bounds Of sense external furnish images And types in attestation of each phase Of man's internal sphere — large orbit space For varied lights — and also shewed the way Rightly his complex knowledge to employ, And from their shadows trace substantial things, CANTO III.] ORION. 29 Things back again to shadows — thus evolving The principle of thought, from root to air. This done, the blossom and the fruit of all Was her prime truth, into each element Of his life's feelings and its acts, to instil : 'Twas Love's divinest essence. In the soul, Central its altar's flame for ever burns Inviolate, and knowing not the change Which time and fate o'er all else in the world Bring speedily, or with a creeping film That hides decay. Ever at peace it dwells With its secure desires, which are soul-fed, Nor on idolatrous devotion made Dependent, nor on will and w r ayward moods Of others ; 'tis self-centred as a star, And in the music of the conscious nerves, Finds bliss, which e'en the slightest touch or look Of this magnetic passion can create, And render perfect. Nor doth absence break The links of ecstasy, which from a heart By heart are drawn, but 'midst the glare of day, The depths of night, alone or in a crowd, Imagination of love's balmy breath D ;30 ORION. Can to the spirit fashion and expand Love's own pure rapture and delirium. To this fixed sublimation there belong No conflicts of pale doubts, anxieties, Mean jealousies, anguish of heart-crushed slaves, And forlorn faces looking out on seas Of coming madness, from the stony gaps Through which departed truth and bliss have fled ; But high communion, and a rapturous sense Of passion's element, whereof all life Is made ; and therefore life should ne'er attain A mastery o'er its pure creative light. Midst chequered sunbeams through the glancing woods No more Orion hunted ; from the dawn Till eve, within some lonely grot he sat, His thoughts reviewing, or beneath a rock Stood, back reclined, and watching the slow clouds, As doth a shepherd in a vacant mood. Oft to some highest peak would he ascend, And gaze below upon his giant friends, Who looked like moving spots, so dark and small ; And oft, upon some green cliff ledge reclined, CANTO III.] ORION. 31 Watch with sad eye the jocund chase afar In the green landscape, where the quivering line Led by the stag — who drew its rout behind Of woodland shapes, confused as were their cries, And sparkling bodies of fleet-chasing hounds, — Passed like a magic picture, and was gone. His husbandry soon ceased ; he hated toil Unvaried, ending always in itself, And to the Goddess pleaded thoughtful hours For his excuse, and indolent self-disgust. Small profit found his thought ; his sympathies Were driven inward, and corroded there. Sometimes he wandered to the lowland fens, Where the wild mares toss their sharp manes in the blast, And scour through washy reeds and hollows damp — Hardened in after ages by long droughts ; Arid and stony in the present time — And midst the elements he sought relief From inward tempests. Once for many hours, In silence, only broken from afar By the deep lowing of some straying herd, Moveless and without speech he watched a hind d2 32 ORION. [book i. Weeding a marsh ; a brutish clod, half built, Hog-faced and hog-backed with his daily toil, Mudded and root-stained by the steaming ooze, As he himself were some unnatural growth ; Who yet, at times, whistled through broken fangs — " Happier than I, this hind," Orion thought. Once tow'rds the city outskirts strayed his steps, With a half purpose some relief to seek Midst haunts of men, and on the way he met A mastic-sifter with his fresh-oiled face. " O friend ! " Orion said, " why dost thou walk With shining cheek so sadly in the sun?" Sighing, the melancholy man replied : — " The lentisk- trees have ceased to shed their gums ; Their tears are changed for mine, since by that tree Myself and children live. My toil stands still. Hard lot for man, who something hath within More than a tree, and higher than its top, Or circling clouds, to live by a mere root And its dark graspings ! Clearly I see this, And know how 't is that toil unequally Is shared on earth : but knowledge is not power To a poor man done 'gainst all the world, canto in] ORION. ;33 Who, meantime, needs to eat. Like the hot springs That boil themselves away, and serve for nought, Which yet must have some office, rightly used, Man hath a secret source, for some great end, Which by delay seems wasted. Ignorance Chokes us, and time outwits us." — On he passed. " That soul hath greater cause for grief than I," Orion thought — yet not the less was sad. Away disconsolate the giant went, Now clambering forest slopes, now hurrying down Precipitous brakes, tearing the berried boughs For food, scarce tasted, and oft gathering husks, Or wind-eggs of strange birds dropt in the fens, To toss them in some rapid brook, and watch Their wavering flight. But now a tingling sound Wakes his dull ear !— a distant rising drone Upon the air, as of a wintry wind — And dry leaves rustle like a coming rain. ' The wind is here ; and, following soon, descends A tempest, which relieves its rage in tears. Kneeling he stooped, and drank the hissing flood, And wished the Ogygian deluge were returned ; Then sat in very wilfulness beside 34 ORION. [BOOK I. The banks while they o'erfiowed, till starting up, Bounding he sought his early giant friends. Thern, in their pastoral yet half savage haunts Found, as of yore, he with brief speech addressed, And bade them to an orgie on the plain, By rocks and forests amphitheatred. Such greeting high they with a gleeful roar Received, and forthwith rose to follow him, Save Akinetos, who seemed not to hear, But looked more grave still seated on a stone, "While they betook them to the plains below. Thither at once they sped, and on the way Rhexergon tore down boughs, while Harpax slew Oxen and deer, more than was need ; and soon On the green space Orion built the pile With cross logs, underwood, dry turf and ferns, And cast upon it fat of kine, and heaps Of crisp dry leaves ; and fired the pile, and beat A hollow shield, and called the Bacchic train, Who brought their skins of wine, and loaded poles That bent with mighty clusters of black grapes Slung midway. In the blaze Orion threw CANTO III.] ORION. Choice gums, and oil, that with explosion bright Of broad and lucid flame alarmed the sky, And fragrant spice, then set the Fauns to dance, While whirled the timbrels, and the reed-pipes blew A full-toned melody of mad delight. Down came the Maenads from the sun -brown hills, And flocked the laughing Nymphs of groves and brooks ; With whom came Opis, singing to a lyre, And Sida, ivory-limbed and crowned with flowers. High swelled the orgie ; and the roasting bulk Of bull and deer was scarce distinguishable 'Mid the loud -crackling boughs that sprawled in flame. Now richest odours rose, and filled the air — Made glittering with the cymbals spun on high Through jets of nectar upward cast in sport, And raging with songs and laughter and wild cries. In the first pause for breath and deeper draughts, A Faun who on a quiet green knoll sat Somewhat apart, sang a melodious ode, Made rich by harmonies of hidden strings, Unto bright Merope the island's pride, And daughter of the king ; whereto a quire 06 ORIOX. [BOOK I. Gave chorus, and her beauties rare rehearsing, Wished that Orion shared with her the throne. The wine ran wastefully, and o'er the ears Of the tall jars that stood too near the fire, Bubbled and leapt, and streamed in crimsoning foam, Hot as the hissing sap of the green logs. But none took heed of that, nor anything. Thus song and feast, dance, and wild revelry, Succeeded ; now in turn, now all at once Mingling tempestuously. In a blind whirl Around the fire Biastor dragged a rout In osier bands and garlands ; Harpax fiercely The violet scarfs and autumn-tinted robes From Nymph and Maenad tore ; and by the hoofs Autarces seized a Satyr, with intent, Despite his writhing freaks and furious face, To dash him on a gong, but that amidst The struggling mass Encolyon thrust a pine, Heavy and black as Charon's ferrying pole, O'er which they, like a bursting billow, fell. At length when night came folding round the scene, And golden lights grew red and terrible, canto in.] ORION. 37 Flashed torch and spear, while reed-pipes deeper blew Sonorous dirgings and melodious storm, And timbrels groaned and jangled to the tones Of high-sustaining horns, — then round the blaze, Their shadows brandishing afar and athwart Over the level space and up the hills, Six giants held portentous dance, nor ceased Till one by one in bare Bacchante arms, Brim-full of nectar, helplessly they roiled Deep down oblivion. Sleep absorbed their souls. Region of Dreams ! ye seething procreant beds For germs of life's solidities and power ; Whether ye render up from other spheres Our past or future beings to the ken Of this brief state ; or, wiser, art designed, With all thy fleeting images confused, To scatter, during half our mortal hours, The concentrating passions and the thoughts Which else were madness ; Oh maternal realm, Console each troubled heart ! — with opiate hand Gently the senses charm, and lead astray The vulture thoughts by thy blest phantasies, Beckoning with vague yet irresistible smile ! 38 ORION. Sleep's God the prayer well pleased received, but said "Not such the meed of those who seek my courts Through Bacchanalian orgies. " O'er the brain Of fallen Orion visions suitable Came with voluptuous gorgeousness, preceded By a dim ode ; and as it nearer swelled, In rapturous beauty Merope swept by, Who on him gazed in ecstasy ! He strove To rise — to speak — in vain. Yet still she gazed, And still he strove ; till a voice cried in his ear, " Depart from Artemis ! — she loves thee not — Thou art too full of earth ! " He started awake ! The piercing voice that cast him forth, still rang Within his soul ; the vision of delight Still ached along each nerve ; and slowly turning A look perplexed around the spectral air, Himself he found alone 'neath the cold sky Of day-break, midst black ashes and ruins drear. EI ©He JBO©E IL Canto tfje dftrs't Beneath a tree, whose heaped-up burthen swayed In the high .wind, and made a hustling sound, As of a distant host that scale a hill, Autarces and Encolyon gravely sat. Sometimes they spake aloud, then murmured low, Then paused as if perplexed, — looked round and snuffed The odour of wood-fires in the fresh forest air, — And then again addressed them to their theme. Of cloudy-brained Orion they discoursed, Lost to companionship, and led by dreams. " Once," said Autarces, " he was great on earth ; A worker in iron, and a hunter fleet 42 ORION. [book ii. Who oft ran down the stag; when, by some chance, He pleaseth Artemis, and in her train, All his high worth resigning, and his friends, Dwindles to suit her fancy, and becomes A giant of lost mind." Encolyon thrust His heavy heel into the soil, and spake With serious gesture. "Ever Orion sought Some new device, some hateful onward deed Through strange ways hurrying, scorning wise delay. A victim fell he soon to Artemis And her cold spells, for of his Ocean-sire Orion's soul hath many a headlong tide. But most of all her gleamy illusions fell Upon his mind, which soon became a maze For ghostly wanderings, and wild echoes heard Through mists ; and none could comprehend his speech." " Methought the orgie had recalled his sense, So fairly he bespake us to the mirth ; So full and giant-like was his disport Throughout the night," Autarces now rejoined. Encolyon raised one hand : — " That orgie's waste Of energies," he murmured, " and the hours Far better given to rest, I much deplore. CAKTO I.] ORION. 43 Why joined I in the mirth ? — how was I lost ! But when a regulated mind sedate, Its perfect poise permits to waver aside One tittle, certainly the man must fall Somewhat in dignity, howe'er retrieved. Hence, when a regulated " Here his speech Autarces interrupted hastily, Since, for his share, no self-reproach felt he. " I say the orgie, and his high disport, Shewed in Orion some return to sense : And when next morn I saw him near a brook, Where I had stooped to drink — by him unseen — Down ran he like a panther close pursued, Then stopped and listened — now looked up on high — Now stared into the brook as he would drink, And drain its ripplings to the last white stone — Then went away forgetful. . This methought, E'en by its wildness and its strenuous throes, Savoured of hope, and of his safe return To corporal sense, by shaking off these nets Of moon-beams from his soul ; but when I rose And crossed his path, and bade him speak to me, Again 't was all of vapour and dark thoughts, Unlike the natural thoughts of bone and thews, 44 ORIOX. [book ii. As we of yore were taught, and found enough For all our needs, and for our songs and prayers. Yet had he, as it seemed, some plan within, And ever tended to some central point In some place — nought more could I understand : "Wherefore I deem that he is surely mad." " And so deem I," — rejoined Encolyon : " Ever advancing — working a new way — Tasking his heart, forgetful of his life And present good — of madness the sure sign." "While thus they talked, Harpax with speed approached, Shouting his tidings — " Merope loves Orion- Orion hath gone mad for Merope !" The twain who had erewhile the cause discerned, • And signs of reason's loss, at this fresh news, So little dreamed-of from his recent mood, A minute looked each other in the face With sheep-like gravity, then backward sank Against the tree, loud laughing. u This were good," Checking his laughter with a straight-lined face, Encolyon said, " if not too deeply burning, And that a power within himself he hold To pause at will." But Harpax quick rejoined, CANTO I] ORION. 45 " I, for myself, would have this Merope, And force CEnopion render up his crown, If ye will aid me." " We will give our aid," Autarces cried — " and yet methinks this love Affecting doubly, as by the self- same blow, Might from some spells in the orgie-fumes arise ? Ye marked, wise Akinetos would not move." " Doubtless 'twas wise," Encolyon said, " More care Befits our steps." They rose and strode away. There is a voice that floats upon the breeze From a heathed mountain ; voice of sad lament For love left desolate ere its fruits were known, Yet by the memory of its own truth sweetened, If not consoled. To this Orion listens Now, while he stands within the mountain's shade. " The scarf of gold you sent to me, was bright As any streak on cloud or sea, when morn Or sun-set light most lovely strives to be. But that delicious hour can come no more, When, on the wave-lulled shore, mutely we sat, And felt love's power, which melted in fast dews Our being and our fate, as doth a shower E ORION. [book n. Deep foot-marks left upon a sandy moor. We thought not of our mountains and our streams, Our birth-place, and the home of our life's date, But only of our dreams — and heaven's blest face. Never renew thy vision, passionate lover — Heart-rifled maiden — nor the hope pursue, If once it vanish from thee ; but believe 'T is better thou shouldst rue this sweet loss ever Than newly grieve, or risk another chill On false love's icy river, which betraying With mirrors bright to see, and voids beneath, Its broken spell should find no faith in thee." Thus sang a gentle Oread who had loved A River-god with gold-reflecting streams, But found him ail too cold — while yet she stood Scarce ankle-deep — and droopingly retired To sing of fond hopes past. Orion's hand A jewelled armlet held, whereon his eyes Earnestly rested. By a lovely boy, To him 't was smiling brought while he reclined Desponding, o'er a rock. " This gift, still warm, My mistress sends thee, giant son of Ocean, Once having seen thee in the hunting train CANTO I.J ORION. » Of Artemis. Her name, if thou wouldst "know, 'Tis Merope, daughter of Chios' king, The proud CEnopion, lord of an hundred ships." Orion to the palace of the king Forthwith departed. Merope once seen, His eyes resign their clear external power, And see through feeling, utterly possessed With her rare image ; and his deep desire, Deeper by energies so long confused, When half his earth-born nature was subdued, Struggled, and bounded onward to the goal. Her beauty awed the common race of men. Hers was a shape made for a serpent dance, Which charmed to stillness and to burning dreams, But she herself the illusive charm o'er-ruled As doth an element, merging for a time, Ne'er lost ; and none could steadily confront Her sphynx-like bosom, and high watchful heado Dark were her eyes, and beautiful as Death's, With a mysterious meaning, such as lurks In that pale Ecstasy, the Queen of Shades. All deemed her passion was a mortal flame, e 2 48 ORION. [book ii. Volcanic, corporal, ending with its hour Of sacrifice, dissolving in fine air ; Save one bald sage, who said that human nerves, And what they wrought, were wondrous as the mind, And in the eye of Zeus none could decide Which held the higher.place. For, to the nerves Perfect abstraction and pure bliss belonged, As parent of all life, and might in death Continuance through some subtler medium find, — Whence, life renewed, and heaven at length attained. Nought of this sage's lore recked Merope, And. for Orion, he of thought was sick, Save that which round his present object played Delicious gambols and high phantasies. Together they, the groves and templed glades That, like old Twilight's vague and gleamy abode, Hung vision-like around the palace towers, Roved, mute with passion's inward eloquence. They loitered near the founts that sprang elate Into the dazzled air, or pouring rolled A crystal torrent into oval shapes Of grey-veined marble ; and oft gazed within Profoundly tranquil and secluded pools, CANTO I.] ORION. 49 Whose lovely depths of mirrored blackness clear — Oblivion's lucid-surfaced mystery — Their earnest faces and enraptured eyes Visibly, and to each burning heart, revealed. " And art thou mine to the last gushing drop Of these high throbbing veins ?" each visage said. Orion straightway to GEnopion sped, And his life's service to the gloomy king He proffered for the hand of Merope. GEnopion strode about his pillared hall, And the dun chequers of its marble floor Counted perplexed, while pondering his reply. Orion's strength and giant friends he feared ; Nor to accept the alliance, nor refuse, Seemed wise. Thereto, Poseidon's empire rolled Too near, and might surround his towers with waves ; Wherefore the king a double face assumed. " Orion, I consent," mildly he said : " Thy service I accept, and to thee give, When thou shalt have performed it, Merope. Clear me our Chios of its savage beasts, Dragon and hippogrif, wolves, serpents dire, Within six days, and Merope is thine." 50 ORION. [book n. Through the high palace gates Orion passed, Speeding to seek strong aid for this hard task Among his forest friends. Old memories Slumbrously hung above the purple line Of distance, to the east, while odorously Glistened the tear-drops of a new-fallen shower ; And sun-set forced its beams through strangling boughs , Gilding green shadows, till it blazed athwart The giant-caves, and touched with watery fires The heavy foot-marks which had plashed the sward On vacant paths, through foliaged vistas steep, Where gloom was mellowing to a grand repose. At intervals, as from beneath the ground, Far in the depth of these primeval cells, Low respirations came. There, in great shade, The giants sleep. Lost sons are they of Time. There is no hoar when rest is sacred held By him who works and builds ; and eve and night, Alike with day, his toil oftimes will claim. " Aw r ake companions ! 'tis Orion calls !" And straight the giants rose, and came to him, Save Akinetos, into whose low cave They with a torch now entered, there to hold CANTO 1.] ORION. 51 The conference, for he was very wise, And ne'er proposed, nor did a thing that failed. Orion's tale is told ; Autarces then For Merope proposed the lots to draw, Whereat Orion glared, — but speech refrained When Harpax fiercely on Autarces turned With loud reproach, since he had sworn to him Far different purpose ; so Orion smiled, And of Rhexergon and Biastor sought Aid in his heavy task. They promised this — When each one, by an arm, Encolyon Grasped, and reminded of the darkness. " Night Is the fit time," Orion cried, "to dig The pitfalls, throw up mounds with bristling stakes At top, as barriers, and the nets and toils Fix and prepare, and choose our clubs and spears." But still Encolyon urged a day's delay, For dignity of movements thus combined, If not for need. To Akinetos now All turned with reverence, waiting the result Of silent wisdom and of calm profound ; But from these small things he had long withdrawn His godlike mind, and was again abstract. 52 ORIOX. [book ii. Orion took the torch, and led the way Into the dark damp air. Each to his post Assigning ; one, for the chief mountain pass, Soon as the grey dawn touched the highest peaks ; One, in the plains below ; two, for the woods ; The while Biastor and himself would range The island, driving to the centre all That should escape their spears. 'T was thus resolved. Meantime Rhexergon and Biastor joined Orion, who went forth to dig the pits, Break down high tops of trees, and weave their boughs In barrier walls, and fix sharp stakes on mounds And river banks. When they were gone, a yell, Mocking the wild beasts doomed to be destroyed, Harpax sent forth. " Mine be the task," he said, " To ravage the King's pastures — slay his bulls — And into our own woods and meadows drive His goats and stags." " Rather collect alive," Autarces interposed, "with strong-meshed nets, All the mad beasts, and loose them suddenly Within CEnopion's palace ! That were sport Worthy our toil ; small joy for us to aid Orion's freaks for love of Merope, — Whom yet, methinks, he wisely hath preferred CAKTO I] ORION. 53 To crystal-bosomed, wintry Artemis, — Pale huntress, exiled from our sunny woods, Had my will power — " " But all her nymphs detained, And, like our vines, deep rifled through their leaves Of golden fruit " — Harpax rejoined : " Or placed/' Encolyon slowly muttered to himself, " On pedestals, until they changed to stone,"- " As votive statues to the Goddess famed For cruel purity and marble heart — " Autarces shouted, looking up on high. All this heard Artemis, who o'er the caves Rolled her faint orb before the coming dawn, In lonely sadness ; and with an inward cry Of jealous anguish and of vengeful ire, Like an electric spark that knows not space, Shot from her throne into the eastern heaven. lai o Mo Cxnta tfyz §)ttants. The Sun-god's tresses o'er the whirling reins That scarcely ruled the swift-ascending steeds, Fell, like a golden torrent, while his head, Answering his goddess sister's brief request, Smiling he bowed, — and the clouds closed behind His blazing wheels. Four of those giant's sires Were gods, who with their earth-born sons might hold Communion ; wherefore Artemis, alone, Deemed not her power sufficed for safe revenge ; Of which now sure, her course to earth she bent. The night- work done, his friends Orion left Their further preparations to complete, ORION. 55 And to the caves returned, hopeful that now The others would assist. There sat the three, Listening the slow speech of Encolyon, Who with change-hating eyes, fixed on the earth, Discoursed, and to Orion's anxious looks Thus made reply. "We have resolved to give Our utmost aid — or aid that may suffice, — In furtherance of thy task, which many days Rightly requires." " Six days," Orion said, And turned to go ; when Harpax interposed : " Be it then six, but our conditions hear. Take Merope, thy prize ; the rest be ours. CEnopion's kingdom we shall duly share, And make Encolyon king, as fitted best For cares of state and governance of men." " Not altogether King," Encolyon said With meekness — "but, in sooth, I would return Among mankind, and dictate to small towns." Orion answered, " This were breach of faith In me ; the King and all his subjects, still Must as I found them rest, until he die ; Then, as ye will, among ye take the crown, Which, having Merope, I ne'er shall claim. 56 ORION. [book ii. Away now to our work." Autarces rose. " This we accept," he said, "for brief is life Of man — and insecure. But further thought Should prompt us rather choose Encolyon As guiding minister and staid high priest, While Akinetos rule as Chios' king." At mention of the name so reverenced, Silently all assented. " See, the light Of day spreads warmly down the valley slopes !" Orion cried. Now Phoibos through the cave Sent a broad ray ! Harpax arose, and then, — Pondering on rules for safest monarchy, — Encolyon heavily. The solar beam Filled the great cave with radiance equable, And not a cranny held one speck of shade. A moony halo round Orion came, As of some pure protecting influence, While with intense light glared the walls and roof, The heat increasing. The three giants stood With glazing eyes, fixed. Terribly the light Beat on the dazzled stone, and the cave hummed With reddening heat, till the red hair and beard Of Harpax shewed no difference from the rest, CANTO II.] ORION. Which once were iron-black. The sullen walls Then smouldered down to steady oven-heat, Like that with care attained when bread has ceased Its steaming, and displays an angry tan. The appalled faces of the giants shewed Full consciousness of their immediate doom. And soon the cave a potter's furnace glowed, Or kiln for largest bricks, and thus remained The while Orion, in his halo clasped By some invisible power, beheld the clay, Of these his early friends, change. Life was gone ! Now sank the heat — the cave -walls' lost their glare — The red lights faded, and the halo pale Around him, into chilly air expanded. There stood the three great images, in hue Of chalky white and red, like those strange shapes In Egypt's ancient tombs ; but presently Each visage and each form with cracks and flaws Was seamed, and the lost countenance brake up, As, with brief toppling, forward prone they fell, — And in dismay uttering a sudden cry, Orion headlong from the cavern fled. ORION. [boc Fierce Harpax, and wind-steered Autarees, smitten From life thus early, may by few be wept ; But long laments by the chief rulers made, Of Chios, for the sage Encolyon, Far echoed, and still echo, through the world — Which feels, e'en now, for his great principle A secret reverence. " Chainer of the wheel ! Hater of all new things ! — to whom the acts Of men seemed erring ever in each hope And effort to advance, save in a round, Taught by the high example of the spheres ! — Oh champion grave, who with a boundary stone Stood'st in improvement's door-way like a god, Ready by wholesome chastisement to grant Crushing protection ; regulator old Of science, scorning genius and its dreams, And all the first ideas and germs of things, Time and his broods of children shall prolong Thy fame, thy maxims, and thy practise staid, Fraught with experience turning on itself." O'er the far rocks, midst gorge and glen profound ; Now from close thickets, now from grassy plains ; The sounds of raging contest, flight and death, OAKTO II.] ORION. 50 Told where Pthexergon and Biastor wrought Their well-directed work. Them, quickly joined Their head in this destruction, and ere night, Huge forms, ferocious, mighty in the dawn, When hoar rime glistened on each hairy shape, Nought fearing, swift, brimfull of raging life, Lay stiffening in black pools of jellied gore. Nor with the day ceased their tremendous task, But all night long Orion led the way Through moonless passes to most secret lairs, Where in their deep abodes fierce monsters crouched, — Dragons, and sea-beasts, and compounded forms, — And in the pitchy blackness madly huddling, Midst deafening yells and hisses they were slain. Next day the unabated toil displayed Like prowess and result ; but with the eve Fatigue o'ercame the giants, and they slept. Dense were the rolling clouds, starless the glooms, But o'er a narrow rift, once drawn apart, Shewing a field remote of violet hue, The high Moon floated, and her downward gleam Shone on the upturned giant faces. Rigid Each upper feature, loose the nether jaw ; 6*0 ORION. [book ii. Their arms cast wide with open palms ; their chests Heaving like some large engine. Near them lay Their bloody clubs with dust and hair begrimed, Their spears and girdles, and the long-noosed thongs. Artemis vanished ; all again was dark. With day's first streak Orion rose, and loudly To his companions called. But still they slept. Again he shouted ; yet no limb they stirred, Though scarcely seven strides distant. He approached, And found the spot, so sweet with clover flower When they had cast them down, was now arrayed "With many-headed poppies, like a crowd Of dusky Ethiops in a magic cirque, Which had sprung up beneath them in the night, And all entranced the air. Orion paced Around their listless bodies thoughtfully. " Three giants slain outright by Phoibos' beams, — Now hath a dead sleep fallen on my friends. 'Twas wise in Akinetos not to move." An earthquake would not wake them. Artemis Rejoices, and the hopes of Merope, To whom the news a breathless shepherd bore, Throbbed fearfully suspended o'er the brink CANTO it.] ORION. fit Of this event. Not long Orion paused : " Though all may fail, the utmost shall be tried : Secure is he who on himself relies." This, hastening to his work, was all he said. Four days remain. Fresh trees he felled, and wove More barriers and fences ; inaccessible To fiercest charge of droves, and to o'erleap Impossible. These walls he so arranged, That to a common centre each should force The flight of those pursued ; and from that centre Diverged three outlets. One, the wide expanse, Which from the rocks and inland forests led ; One, was the clear-skied windy gap above A precipice ; the third, a long ravine Which, through steep slopes, down to the sea shore ran Winding, and then direct into the sea. Two days remain. Orion, in each hand Waving a torch, his course at night began, Through wildest haunts and lairs of savage beasts. With long-drawn howl, before him trooped the wolves,- F 62 ORION. [book ii. The panthers, terror-stricken, — and the bears With wonder and gruff rage ; from desolate crags, Leering hyaenas, griffin, hippogrif, Skulked, or sprang madly, as the tossing brands Flashed through the midnight nooks and hollows cold, Sudden as fire from flint ; o'er crashing thickets, With crouched head and curled fangs, dashed the wild boar, Gnashing forth on with reckless impulses, While the clear-purposed fox crept closely down Into the underwood, to let the storm, Whate'er its cause, pass over. Through dark fens, Marshes, green rushy swamps, and margins reedy, Orion held his way, — and rolling shapes Of serpent and of dragon moved before him With high-reared crests, swan- like yet terrible, And often looking back with gem-like eyes. All night Orion urged his rapid course In the vexed rear of the swift-droving din, And when the dawn had peered, the monsters all Were hemmed in barriers. These he now o'erheaped With fuel through the day, and when again Night darkened, and the sea a gulf-like voice Sent forth, the barriers at all points he fired, Midst prayers to Heplisestos and his Ocean-sire. CANTO IT] ORION. 65 Soon as the flames had eaten out a gap In the great barrier fronting the ravine That ran down to the sea, Orion grasped Two blazing boughs ; one high in air he raised, The other with its roaring foliage trailed Behind him as he sped. Onward the droves Of frantic creatures with one impulse rolled Before this night-devouring thing of flames, With multitudinous voice and downward sweep Into the sea, which now first knew a tide, And, ere they made one effort to regain The shore, had caught them in its flowing arms, And bore them past all hope. The living mass, Dark heaving o'er the waves resistlessly, At length, in distance, seemed a circle small, Midst which, one creature in the centre rose, Conspicuous in the long red quivering gleams That from the dying brands streamed o'er the waves. It was the oldest dragon of the fens, Whose forky flag-wings and horn-crested head O'er crags and marshes regal sway had held ; And now he rose up, like an embodied curse From all the doomed, fast sinking — some just sunk — f 2 64 ORION. [book ii. Looked land-ward o'er the sea, and flapped his vans, Until Poseidon drew them swirling down. Along the courts and lofty terraces, Within CEnopion's palace echoing, The choral voices and triumphal clang Of music, ordered by the royal maid, Advanced to greet Orion. She with flushed neck And arms ; large eyes of flashing jet and fire, And raven tresses fallen from their bands, The loud procession led. But soon they met A phalanx armed with mandate from the king, And all the triumph ceased. CEnopion Gnawed on his lip, and gathered up his robe In one large knot. Forthwith the whispering guards His daughter to the strongest tower convey ; Then silently return. Orion comes : " The work is done, O king ! and Merope My bride, I claim — my second father thou ! " This said, he bent his knee. With wandering eye, — Like one who seems to seek within the air An object, while his thoughts would gather time For guile — and with averted face, the king Answered " Thou claim'st too soon ! " — and inwardly ca*to ii.] ORION. 65 (Enopion said—" Three of his giant band Are dead ; the others spell-bound sleep." The voice Of wronged Orion rose within the hall, Demanding Merope ; but image-like, Hard as if hewn out from a flinty cliff, And stately stood the king, as he replied, " She waits the voice of our mute oracles." In a deep forest where the night-black spires Of pines begin to swing, and breathe a dirge Whose pauses are filled up with yearning tones Of oaks that few external throes display Midst their robust unyielding boughs — the winds Are flying now in gusts, and soon a storm Bursts howling through them, like a Fury sent In quest of one who hath outstripped his fate And been caught up to heaven. But no escape Or premature release his course attends Whose passions boil above mortality ; Nor till those mortal struggles have transpired Can satisfaction or repose be found. Vainly shall he with self-deluding pride Of weakness, masked with power, seek solitude And high remoteness from his fellow men, 66 ORION. [book ii. In all their bitter littleness and strife ; Their noble efforts, suffering, martyrdom. He conquers not who flies, except he bear Conquest within ; nor flies he who believes The object of his passion he can grasp, Save for design to consummate the end. "Oh, raging forest, do I seek once more Your solitude for my secure abode ? " Orion cried, with wild arms cast abroad, Fronting a tree whose branches lashed the air, While its leaves showered around ; — " And shall I not In your direct communion with the earth And heavens, find sympathy with this branched frame I bear, thus shaken ; yet unlike your storm Which may be wholesome, coming from without, And from the operative round of things, While mine is centred in myself, and rends But does not remedy. Let me then shun The baleful haunts of men — worse than the beasts Whom I have exiled, and to shadows changed — Savage as beasts with less of open force ; As wily, with less skill and promptitude ; As little reasoning, save for selfish ends ; cavto ii] ORION. 67 Less faithful, true, and honest, than the dog; But hypocritical, which beasts are not, Save in the fables which men make for them ! Into myself will I henceforth retire, And find the world I dreamed of when a child. Nor this alone ; but worlds of higher mould And loftier attributes shall roll before My constant contemplation, in the cave . Of Akinetos, whom at times I '11 seek, And emulate his wisdom ; ever right In never moving, more than absolute need. Thus shall I find my solace in disdain Of earth's inhabitants, whom through city and field I 've found sheer clay, save in the visions bright, Of Goddess, and of Nymph, O Merope ! And where art thou, while idly thus I rave ? Runs there no hope — no fever through thy veins, Like that which leaps and courses round my heart ? Shall I resign thee, passion-perfect maid, Who in mortality's most finished work Rank'st highest — and lov'st me, even as I love ? Rather possess thee with a ten-fold stress Of love ungovernable, being denied ? 'Gainst fraud what should I cast down in reply ? — CS ORION. [book tt What but a sword, since force must do me right, And strength was given unto me with my birth, In mine own hand, and by ascendancy Over my giant brethren. Two remain, Whom prayers to dark Hephaestos and my sire Of ocean, shall awaken into life ; And we will tear up gates, and scatter towers, Until I bear oil Merope. Sing on ! Sing on, great tempest ! in the darkness sing ! Thy madness is a music that brings calm Into my central soul ; and from its waves That now with joy begin to heave and gush, The burning image of all life 's desire, Like an absorbing fire-breathed phantom-god, Rises and floats ! — here touching on the foam, There hovering over it ; ascending swift Star- ward, then swooping down the hemisphere Upon the lengthening javelins of the blast ! "Why paused I in the palace groves to dream Of bliss, with all its substance in my reach ? Why not at once, with thee enfolded, whirl Deep down the abyss of ecstasy, to melt All brain and being where no reason is, Or else the source of reason ? But the roaring CANTO IT ORION. 69 Of Time's great wings which ne'er had driven me, By dread events nor broken-down old age, Back on myself, the close experience Of false mankind, with whispers cold and dry As snake-songs midst stone hollows, thus has taught me — The giant hunter, laughed at by the world, — Not to forget the substance in the dream Which breeds it. Both must merge in one. Now shall I overcome thee, body and soul, And like a new-made element brood o'er thee With all-devouring murmurs ! Come, thou storm, And clasp the rigid pine — this mortal frame Wrap with thy whirlwinds, rend and wrestle down, And let my being solve its destiny, Defying, seeking, thine extremest power, Famished and thirsty for the absorbing doom Of that immortal death which leads to life, And gives a glimpse of heaven's parental scheme." 013 ©He Caitto fyz €f)ivts. In parching summer, when the mulberry leaves Drooped broad and gleaming, and the myrtles curled, While the pomegranate's rind grew thin and hard ; The vegetation of the isle looked pale, Flaccid, and fading in despondency For rain, and the young corn in every field, With dry and rustling murmur as it waved, Glistened impatiently, till autumn's tomb Received the husky voice, and spring's dead hopes. The vine-hills, and wild turpentines that grew Along the road beneath, all basked content, As did the lentisk- trees ; but many a pant And sultry sigh came from the fields and meads, ORION. 71 The city's gardens, where no fountains played, And hot stone temples in the sacred groves. Such lack of moisture oft had been endured, And e'en the latest winter, whose thick breath Solemnly wafted o'er the iEgean sea, Had not resigned a single peak of snow To melt and flow down for the brooks of spring. But since the breath of spring had stirred the woods, Through which the joyous tidings busily ran, And oval buds of delicate pink and green Broke, infant-like, through bark of sapling boughs, — The vapours from the ocean had ascended, Fume after fume, wreath upon wreath, and floor On floor, till a grey curtain upward spread From sea to sky, and both as one appeared. Now came the snorting and precipitous steeds Of the Sun's chariot tow'rds the summer signs ; At first obscurely, then with dazzling beams ; And cleared the heavens, but held the vapours there, In cloudy architecture of all hues. The stately fabrics and the eastern pomps, Tents, tombs, processions veiled, and temples vast, ORION. [E00K n. Remained not long in their august repose, But sank to ruins, and re-formed in likeness Of monstrous beasts in lands and seas unknown. These gradually dilating, limb from limb, And head from bulk, were drawn apart, and floated Hither and thither, till in ridges strewn, Like to a rich and newly-furrowed field, Then breaking into purple isles and spots, Faded to faintness, and dissolved in air. One midnight dark a spirit electric came, And shot an invisible arrow through the sky, Which instantly the wide-spread moisture called To congregate in heavy drops, that fell As suddenly. Like armies, host on host, Pouring upon the mountains, vales, and plains, The showers clashed down. Each runnel and thin stream A branching brook became, or flowing river ; Each once small river rolled a goodly flood With laughing falls, and many a Naiad bright And rush-crowned River-god, was newly born, While all the land-veins with fresh spirit ran In this quick season of Orion's life. canto in.] ORION. The snows on every height had drank the showers, Till heavy with the moisture, each steep ridge Lost its pure whiteness and transparent frost ; Sank down as humbly as a maid once proud, Who droops and kneels and weeps ; and from beneath Its stagnant foam melted quick running rills Down slopes, with sunny music and loud hum, Precipitous, ere through dark craggy rifts Sparkling it dashed, and poured towards the plain. Unusual growth of corn was in the land, Whose fields with tender-flowing greenness smiled, As winds with shades ran dances over them ; And e'en the vineyards, oliveyards, and groves Of citron, were in their abundant fruits Abundantly increased : all works increased. Dark as an eagle on a cloudy rock, (Enopion sat upon his ancient throne. Fixed was his face, while, through a distant gate, Upon the ruins of a tower he gazed, That like a Titan's shattered skeleton Still in its place stuck fast. But she was gone ; His daughter Merope was borne away ; 74 ORIOX. [book ii. And willingly lie knew ; and whither fled, He knew. But how recover, or revenge The loss? — new dangers, outrage, how avert? Infuriate were his people at the deed, For by the giants many had been slain, Ere they had won their prize. 'Gainst Merope, Some spake aloud ; against Orion, all, — Save the bald sage, who said "'Twas natural." "Natural!" they cried, " O wretch !" The sage was stoned. "Within his cave, in his accustomed place, With passive dignity that ever holds Unwise activity in check and awe — And active wisdom where the will 's not strong — Sat Akinetos, listening to the tale Thus by Rhexergon told ; Biastor leaning Against a rock, with folded arms, the while. " We from our trance with aching brows awoke Staring, and on our elbows raised, with chins Set in our hands, collected our mazed minds. We both had dreamed one dream. In Chios' walls A feast we held in honour of the king, Encolyon, newly chosen — as we thought — CAMTO III.] ORION. 75 By the chief rulers, while Orion stood Chained to the throne. But Merope, 'twas said, Should still be his, if loyal, hand and soul. Yet ere Orion answered, rushing came A small dark shape — some airy messenger — Darting on all sides,, diving, nestling, leaping, Swift as a mullet coursing the sea hare, And strong, as when within the shore-hauled net It searches, like a keen hound, to and fro, And no gap finding, bounds o'er the high-drawn line : One leaps — all follow, like a flock of sheep Over a wattle. So, this headlong sprite, Which, in our dream, now multiplied to shoals, And thus confused the feasters. But what 'twas None saw, nor knew ; but all the feast they marred, While, in the place of meats and fruits, we found Dust — dry-baked dust ; the dust of the gone king, Encolyon — as a bird in the air screamed forth — By Phoibos smitten. Now a sound we heard, Like to some well-known voice in prayer ; and next An iron clang that seemed to break great bonds Beneath the earth, shook us to conscious life. A briny current passing through our hearts Stung all our faculties back to former power ; ORION. [book II. And as we rose, across a distant field We saw Orion coming with a sword. Our dream thus ended in reality Without a boundary line. What followed seemed Continuous, for Orion urged us on. Fresh work had he in hand ; few words explained ; And to GEnopion's city we repaired, Entering at eve of a great festival, I with a club, iron bound, of ponderous weight ; Biastor with a shield, forged by Orion, Whose disk enormous would protect all three, And, set with ray-like spikes around the rim, Looked like a fallen star. Onward we drove Behind this threatening orb, down- trampling all Who fled not, or our impulse strove to oppose ; Feasters and dancers, chieftains, priests, and guards ; I tell it as it happened — blow by blow- Till near a high tower, doubtful of our course At bay, like bulls, within a circle clear By terror made, we paused. The archers soon, With bow-arm forward thrust, on all sides twanged, Around, below, above. Behind the shield That on its spikes stood grimly, we retired, And heard the rattling storm ; when from the tower CANTO III.] ORION. 77 A light flashed down one side, and at the top Stood Merope, who cried, * Orion, see ! My prison I have fired, and in my haste Fired first below. I cannot pass the flames !' E'en while she spake a hydra- wreath of smoke Ran coiling up the stony stair, and peered Into each chamber with its widening head, As if to seek its prey. Again she cried — ' I will leap down into thine arms !' ' Forbear !' Shouted Orion, * First let us try our strength With skill.' I on the groaning gate-posts smote, Until their bolts and nails started like tusks From battered jaws, and inward sunk the gates, Crushing armed men behind. O'er all we passed. Orion, now in front, amidst a cloud Of smoke, dust, slaughter and confusing cries, The blackened slabs of winding stair ascended; And, in the same fierce uproar and dismay Of men, not fit to cope with sons of Gods, Unscathed came down with Merope. 'T was good. He bore her to the cedar grove afar, Where in brief space a palace he had built, While we, remaining midway, called a rout Around us, and great revel held that night." 78 ORION. Tbook ii. Rhexergon ceased, while in the sunny air His large eyes shone, and, pleased with what he told — For well he spake with deep-voiced cadences — Looked like a monarch who hath made a verse. Now Akinetos spake. " Your efforts done, What good to ye is wrought ? To him, what good ? Not long will Merope be his : if long, What good, since both must tire. CEnopion, The king of ships and armies, may reclaim This Merope by force : perchance her own Inconstant will may save these ships and men." " If we defend the prize," Biastor said, " Substantial good unto ourselves were due ; Wise are thy words ; wherefore large terms of spoil We with Orion will in future make, That shall secure our constant revelry, As in Dodona, once, ere driven thence By Zeus, for that Rhexergon burnt some oaks. Thrust we the king from off his throne, or thrust His throne from under him to some fresh place Suiting our fancies, whereon we '11 sleep crowned, And feast, and order armies to march forth, And ships to sail, and music, and more feast." canto in.] ORION. 79 " Better pull down the city, and destroy The fleet" — Rhexergon said — ■" Then, all despoiled — And made as slaves, — leave we our woodland homes : There live, with Akinetos for our king ? Aught we destroy Orion can rebuild, If we should need ; or frame aught else we need ; Rise, therefore, Akinetos, thou art king ! " So saying in his hand he placed a spear. As though against a wall 'twere set aslant, Flatly the long spear fell upon the ground. " He will not be a king ; nor will he aid Your purposes," murmured the Great Unmoved. " Autarces, Harpax, aided, and both died ; Orion's work will shortly work his end ; Encolyon, ever meddling to prevent, Wasted his mind and care, and found his death. Those who have wisdom aid not, nor prevent. Nought good has followed aught that ye have done, Nor will good follow aught that ye can do, Or I can do, or any one can do, / Except such good as of itself had come, Tf so 'twas ordered. Leave God to his work, g 2 80 ORION. [book ii. The Supreme Mover of all things, and best, Who, if we move not, must himself sustain His scheme : hence, never moved by hands unskilled, But moved as best may be. Be warned ; sit still." Within the isle, far from the walks of men, Where jocund chase was never heard, nor hoof Of Satyr broke the moss, nor any bird Sang, save at times the nightingale — but only In his prolonged and swelling tones, nor e'er With wild joy and hoarse laughing melody, Closing the ecstasy, as is his wont, — A forest separate and far withdrawn From all the rest, there grew. Old as the earth, Of cedar was it, lofty in its glooms When the sun hung o'er head, and, in its darkness, Like Night when giving birth to time's first pulse. Silence had ever dwelt there ; but of late, Came faint sounds with a cadence regular From the far depths, as of a cataract Whose echoes midst incumbent foliage died. From one high mountain gushed a flowing stream, Which through the forest passed, and found a fall Within — none knew where — then rolled tow'rds the sea. CANTO III.] ORION 81 There underneath the boughs, mark where the gleam Of sun-rise through the roofing's chasm is thrown Upon a grassy plot below, whereon The shadow of a stag stoops to the stream Swift rolling towards the cataract, and drinks deeply. Throughout the day unceasingly it drinks, While ever and anon the nightingale, Not waiting for the evening, swells his hymn — His one sustained and heaven-aspiring tone — And when the sun hath vanished utterly, Arm over arm the cedars spread their shade, With arching wrist and long extended hands, And grave-ward fingers lengthening in the moon, Above that shadowy stag whose antlers still Hung o'er the stream. Then came a rich- toned voice Out of the forest depths, and sang this lay, With deep speech intervalled and tender pause. " If we have lost the world what gain is ours ! Hast thou not built a palace of more grace Than marble towers ? These trunks are pillars rare, Whose roof embowers with far more grandeur. Say ; Hast thou not found a bliss with Merope, As full of rapture as existence new ? 82 ORIOX [book ii. Tis thus with me. I know that thou art blest. Our inmost powers — fresh winged shall soar and dream In realms of honey-dew, whose air — light — flowers, Will ever be — though vague, most fair — most sweet — Better than memory. Look yonder, love ! What solemn image through the trunks is straying ? And now he doth not move, yet never turns On us his visage of 'rapt vacancy ! It is Oblivion. In his hand — though nought Knows he of this — a dusky purple flower Droops over its tall stem. Again, ah see ! He wanders into mist, and now is lost.- Within his brain what lovely realms of death . Are pictured, and what knowledge through the doors Of his forge tfulness of all the earth, A path may gain ? Then turn thee, love, to me : Was I not worth thy winning and thy toil, O, earth-born son of Ocean ! Melt to rain." No foot may enter 'midst these cedar glooms : Passion is there — a spell is on the place — It hath its own protecting atmosphere, Needing no walls nor bars. But Chios' king Hath framed his purpose ; the sworn instruments CANTO III.] ORION. 83 Chosen ; and from the palace now depart In brazen chariots, richly armed, ten chiefs. " Watch well your moment !" — lastly spake the king ; *• Slay not outright — but make his future life A blot — a blank ! " They bent their high-plumed helms, And through the gates in thunder whirled away. Beyond the cedar forest lay the cliffs That overhung the beach, but midway swept Fair swelling lands, some green with brightest grass, Some golden in the sun. Mute was the scene, And moveless. Not a breeze came o'er the edge Of the high-heaving fields and fallow lands ; Only the zephyrs at long intervals Drew a deep sigh, as of some blissful thought, Then swooned to silence. Not a bird was seen, Nor heard : all marbly gleamed the steadfast sky. Hither Orion slowly walked alone, And passing round between tw r o swelling slopes Of green and golden light, beheld afar The broad grey horizontal wall b* the dead-calm sea. O'ersteeped in bliss ; prone on its ebbing tide ; With hope's completeness vaguely sorrowful, 84 ORION. [book ii. And sense of life -bounds too enlarged ; his thoughts Sank faintly through each other, fused and lost, Till his o'ersatisfied existence drooped ; Like fruit-boughs heavily laden above a stream, In which they gaze so closely on themselves, That, touching, they grow drowsy, and submerge, Losing all vision. Sense of thankful prayers Came over him, while downward to the shore Slowly his steps he bent, seeking to hold Communion with his sire. The eternal Sea Before him passively at full length lay, As in a dream of the marmoreal heavens. With hands stretched forward thus his prayer began ; " Receive Poseidon !" but no further words Found utterance. And again he prayed, and said, " Receive, O Sire !" yet still the emotion ros£ Too full for words, and with no meaning clear. He turned, and sinking on a sandy mound, With dim look o'er the sea, deeply he slept. What altars burn afar — what smoke arises Beyond the swelling lands above the cliffs ? Or is it but a rolling cloud of dust That onward moves, driven by the wind? And now GANTO III.] ORION. 85 A rumbling sound is gathering in the breeze, And nearer swells — now dies away — like wheels That pass from stony ground to grassy plains. Again ! — it rings and jars — and passing swift Along the cliffs, till lost in a ravine, Five brazen chariots fling the sunset rays Angrily back upon the startled air ! In one, the last, struggles a lovely form, Half pinioned by a chieftain's broidered scarf, Her wild black tresses coiling round an arm Which still she raises, striving to make a sign. All disappeared. No voice, no sound was heard. The moon arose — and still Orion slept,— The profound sleep of life's satiety, In him whose senses else had quick regained The sure protection of his healthy powers. Forth from a dark chasm issue figures armed. Close conference they hold, like ravens met For ominous talk of death. No more : their shields, Plumed helms, and swords, two chieftains lay aside, Then stoop, and softly creep tow'rds him who sleeps ; While o'er their -heads the long protecting spears Are held by seven, who noiselessly and slow 86 ORION. Follow their stealthy progress. Step by step The deadly crescent moves behind the twain, Who, flat as reptiles, and with face thrust out, Breathless, all senses sharpen. Now ! — 't is done ! The poison fails upon the dreamer's lids. Away, aghast at their own evil deed, As though some dark curse on themselves had fallen, Flashed the mailed moon -lit miscreants into shade, Like fish at sudden dropping of a stone. The Moon now hid her face. The sea-shore lay In hollowness beneath the rising stars, And blind Orion, starting at once erect Amid his darkness, with extended arms And open mouth that uttered not a word, Stood statue-like, and heard the Ocean moan. D EI ©Mo ©RIONc Canto tf)e dftv^t. There is an age of action in the world ; An age of thought ; lastly, an age of both, When thought guides action and men know themselves, What they would have, and how to compass it. Yet are not these great periods so distinct Each from the other, — or from all the rest Of intermediate degrees and powers, Cut off, — but that strong links of nature run Throughout, and prove one central heart, wherein Time beats twin-pulses with Humanity. In every age an emblem and a type, Premature, single, ending with itself, Of future greatness in an after-time, May germinate, develop, radiate, And like a star go out and leave no mark Save a high memory. One such is our theme. 90 ORION. O . The wisdom of mankind creeps slowly on, Subject to every doubt that can retard, Or fling it back upon an earlier time ; So timid are man's footsteps in the dark, But blindest those who have no inward light. One mind, perchance, in every age contains The sum of all before, and much to come ; Much that's far distant still ; but that full mind, Companioned oft by others of like scope, Belief, and tendency, and anxious will, A circle small transpierces and illumes : Expanding, soon its subtle radiance Falls blunted from the mass of flesh and bone, The man who for his race might supersede The work of ages, dies worn out — not used, And in his track disciples onward strive, Some hairs' -breadths onty from his starting point : Yet lives he not in vain ; for if his soul Hath entered others, though imperfectly, The circle widens as the world spins round, — His soul works on while he sleeps 'neath the grass. So, let the firm Philosopher renew His wasted lamp — the lamp wastes not in vain, Though he no mirrors for its rays may see, Nor trace them through the darkness ; — let the Hand Which feels primeval impulses, direct canto i j ORION 91 A forthright plough, and make his farrow broad, With heart untiring while one field remains ; So, let the herald Poet shed his thoughts, Like seeds that seem but lost upon the wind. Work in the night, thou sage, while Mammon's brain Teems with low visions on his couch of down ; — Break, thou, the clods while high-throned Vanity, Midst glaring lights and trumpets, holds its court ; — Sing, thou, thy song amidst the stoning crowd, Then stand apart, obscure to man, with God. The poet of the future knows his place, Though in the present shady be his seat, And all his laurels deepening but the shade. But what is yonder vague colossal shape, That like a burdened giant bending moves, With outspread arms groping its upward way Along a misty hill ? In the blear shades, Sad twilight, and thick dews darkening the paths Whereon the slow dawn hath not yet advanced A chilly foot, nor tinged the colourless air — The labouring figure fades as it ascends. 'T was he, the giant builder-up of things, And of himself, now blind : the worker great, Who sees no more the substance near his hands, 92 ORION. [book in. Nor in them, nor the objects that his mind Desires and would embody. All is dark. It is Orion now bereft of sight, Whose eyes aspired to luminous designs. The sun and moon and stars are blotted out, With their familiar glories, which become Henceforth like chronicles remote. The earth Forbids him to cleave deep and trace her roots, And veins, and quarries : Whose wide purposes Are narrowed now into the safest path : Whose lofty visions are all packed in his brain, As though the heavens no further could unfold Their wonders, but turned inward on themselves ; Like a bright flower that closes in the night For the last time, and dreams of by-gone suns Ne'er to be clasped again : Thou art reduced To ask for sympathy and to need help ; Stooping to pluck up pity from all soils — Bitterest of roots that round pride's temple grow — Losing self-centred power, and in its place Pressed with humiliation almost down : Whose soul had in one passion been absorbed, Which, though illimitable in itself, Profound and primal, yet had wrapped him round Beyond advance, or further use of hand, CANTO I.] ORION. 93 Purpose and service to the needy earth : Whose passion, being less than his true scope, Had lowered his life and quelled aspiring dreams, But that it led to blindness and distress, Self-pride's abasement, more extensive truth, A higher consciousness and efforts new. In that dark hour when anguished he awoke, Orion from the sea-shore made his way, Feeling from cliff to cliff, from tree to tree, Guided by knowledge of the varied tracks Of land, — the rocks, the mounds of fern, the grass, That 'neath his feet made known each spot he passed, — Hill, vale and woodland ; till he reached the caves, Once his rude happy dwelling. All was silent. Rhexergon and Biastor were abroad, Searching the jasper quarries for a lynx That had escaped the wreck. Deeply he sighed. The quiet freshness came upon his heart, Not sweetly, but with aching sense of loss. He felt his way, and listened at the cave Of Akinetos, whom he heard within Sing to himself. And Akinetos rose, Perceiving he was blind, and with slow care Rolled forth a stone, and placed him by his side. H 94 ORION. [book in Orion's tale soon closed ; its outward acts And sad results, were all that he could speak : The rest writhed inwardly, and, — like the leads That sink the nets and all the struggles hide, Till a strong hand drags forth the prize, — his words Kept down the torment, uttered all within In hurrying anguish. Yet the clear, cold eye, Grey, quiet, steady, of the Great Unmoved, Saw much of this beneath, and thus he spake. " My son, why wouldst thou ever work and build, And so bestir thy self, when certain grief, Mischief, or error, and not seldom death, Follows on all that individual will Can of itself attain. I told thee this ; Nor for reproach repeat it, but to soothe Thy mind with consciousness that not in thee Was failure born. Its law preceded thine : It governs every act, which needs must fail — I mean, give place — to make room for the next. Each thinks he fails, because he thinks himself A chain and centre, not a link that runs In large and complex circles, all unknown. Sit still. Remain with me. No difference Will in the world be found : 't will know no change, CANTO I.] ORION. 95 Be sure. Say that an act hath been ordained ? Some hand must do it : therefore do not move : An instrument of action must be found, And you escape both toil and consequence, Which run their rounds with restless fools ; for ever One act leads to another, and disturbs Man's rest, and Reason — which foresees no end." " I feel that thou art wise" Orion said ; " The worker ever comes to thee cast down ! Who with alacrity would frame, toil, build, If he had wisdom in results, like thee ? Would Strength life's soil upheave, though close it clung, And heavy, like a spade that digs in clay, Therein to plant roots certain not to grow 1 Oh miserable man ! Oh fool of hope ! All I have done has wrought me no fixt good, But grief more bitter as the bliss was sweet, Because so fleeting. Why did Artemis Me from my rough and useful life withdraw ? O'er wood and iron I had mastery, And hunted shadows knowing they were shades, Since then, my intellect she filled, and taught me To hunt for lasting truth in the pale moon. Such proved my love for her ; and such hath proved h 2 96 ORION. [book hi, My love for Merope, to me now lost. I will remain here : I will build no more." He paused ; but Akinetos was asleep. Wherefore Orion at his feet sank down, Tired of himself, of grief, and all the world, And also slept. Ere dawn he had a dream : 'T was hopeful, lovely, though of no clear sense He said " Methinks it must betoken good ; Some help from Artemis, who may relent. And think of me as one she sought to lift To her own sphere of purity ; or, indeed, Some God may deem me worthy of a fate Better than that which locks up all design In pausing night. Perchance, the dream may bode That Merope shall be to me restored, And I see nature through her death-deep eyes, And know the glorious mysteries of the grave, Which through extremes of blissful passion's life Methought I saw. Oh wherefore am I blind ? " " Abandon all such hopes of Merope" Murmured the Great Unmoved : "her truth was strong, First to herself, and through herself to thee, While that it lasted ; but that 's done and gone. How should she love a giant w ho is blind, CANTO I.] ORION. 97 And sees no beauty but the secret heart Panting in darkness ? That is not her world." Orion rose erect. * * She is not false — Although she may forget. I will go forth : I may find aid, or cause some help to come That shall restore my sight." The sage replied, " Thou 'st seen enough already, and too much For happiness. This passion prematurely Endeth ; and therefore endeth as seems best, Ere it wear out itself with languor and pain, Or prostrate all thy mind to its small use — Far worse, methinks." " Hast thou," Orion cried, " No impulses — desires — no promptings kind ? " The sage his memory tasked ; then slow replied : " Once I gave water to a thirsting plant : 'T was a weak moment with us both. Next morn^ It craved the like — but I, for * Nature ' calling, Passed on. It drooped — then died, and rotted soon, And living things, more highly organized, With quick eyes and fine horns, reproached my hand Which had delayed their birth. What wrong we do By interfering with life's balanced plan ! Do nothing — wait— and all that must come, comes ! " Silent awhile they stood. Orion sighed, " I know thy words are wise — " and went his way. 98 ORION. [book in. The blindness of their leader, and his woe, Now had Rhexergon and Biastor learnt, And thoughts of plunder cried out for revenge, Which on CEnopion they proposed to wreak, And make good pastime round his ruined throne. " Revenge is useless" Akinetos said : " It undoes nothing, and prevents repentance Which might advantage others." Both replied, " Thou speakest truth and wisdom ;" and at eve Departed for the city, bent to choose Some rebel chieftains for their aid, or slaves, Or robbers who inhabited the rocks North of the isle. A great revenge they vowed. And where was Merope ? The cruel deed Her sire had compassed for Orion's fall, Smote through her full breast, and at every beat Entered her heart ; nor settled there, but coursed Through all her veins in anguish. Her despair Was boundless, many days, until her strength Worn with much misery and the need of sleep, Gave way, and slumber opened 'neath her soul, Like an abyss. The deed, beyond recall, Was done. She woke, and thought on this with grief. The cruel separation, and the loss I.] ORION. 9V Of sight, had been completed. Nothing now Of passion past remained but memory, Which soon grew painful ; and her thoughts oft turned For some relief, to listen to the songs That minstrels sung, sent by the youthful king Of Syros, rich in pastures and in corn. Beardless he was, dwarf-shaped, and delicate, Freckled and moled, with saffron tresses fair ; Yet were his minstrels touched with secret fires, And beauty was the theme of all their lays. Of her they sung — sole object of desire — And with rare presents the pale king preferred His suit for Merope. Her sire approved ; — Invited him ; — he came ; — and Merope With him departed in a high-beaked ship ; And as it sped along, she closely pressed The rich globes of her bosom on the side, O'er which she bent with those black eyes, and gazed Into the sea that fled beneath her face. All this Orion heard : his blind eyes wept. Now was each step a new experiment ; Within him all was care ; without, all chance ; Dark doubts sat in his brain ; danger prowled round. He wandered lost and lone, and often prayed. 100 ORION. [book in. Standing beside the tree 'neath which he slept, And would have offered pious sacrifice, But that himself a victim blindly strayed. His forehead 's dark with wrinkles premature Of vexing action ; his cheek scored all down With debts of will that never can be paid ; Chagrin, pain, disappointment, and wronged heart. At length, one day, some shepherd as he passed, With voice that mingled with the bleat of lambs, Cried " Seek the source of light ! — begin anew!" On went he thinking, pausing, listening, Till sounds smote on his ear, whereby he knew That near the subterranean palace gates Which for Hephaestos he of iron had framed, His feet approached. He entered there, and found Brontes, the cyclops, whom he straight besought His shoulders to ascend, and guide his course Eastward, to meet the Morning as she rose. 'Twas done. Their hazy forms erewhile we saw. Swift down the misty eastern hill, whose top Through broken vapours, swooning as they creep Along the edges into the wide heavens, Shews Morn's first ruddy gleam, a shape uncouth, CANTO I] ORION. 101 And lumbering forward in half- falls -and bounds, Comes with tossed arms ! The Cyclops hoar with rime, His coarse hair flying, through the wet woods ran, And in the front of Akinetos' cave Shouting with gladness and resounding life, Performed a hideous but full-hearted dance. " Dance, rocks and forests ! Akinetos dance ! The Worker and the Builder hath his sight ! Ho ! ho ! come forth — with either eye he sees ! Come forth, O Akinetos — laugh ye rocks !" A shadow o'er the face of him who sat Within that cave, passed, — lightly wrinkling The ledge-like brow, which, though of granite, smoothed, Not vexed, by ocean's tempests, now relaxed, As it would say " I pity this return Of means for seeking fresh distress ;" — and then, The broad great features their fixed calm resumed. 'T was thus Orion fared ; and this the scene. Fast through the clouds retiring, the pale orb Of Artemis a moment seemed to hang Suspended in a halo, phantom-like, Over a restless sea of jasper fire, While bending forward tow'rds the eastern mount, 102 ORION. [book in. She gazed and hearkened. Soon the fervent, voice Of one who prayed beneath amid the mist, Rose thrilling on the air ; and onward slow Her car its voyage held, and waned more pale And distant, as the prayer ascended heaven. " Eos ! blest Goddess of the Morning, hear The blind Orion praying on thy hill, And in thine odorous breath his spirit steep, That he, the soft gold of thy gleaming hand Passing across his heavy lids, sealed down With weight of many nights, and night-like days, May feel as keenly as a new-born child, And, through it ? learn as purely to behold The face of nature. Oh restore my sight !" His prayer paused tremulous. O'er his brow he felt A balmy beam, that with its warmth conveyed Divine suffusion and deep sense of peace Throughout his being ; and amidst a pile, Far in the distance, gleaming like the bloom Of almond trees seen through long floating halls Of pale ethereal blue and virgin gold, A Goddess, smiling like a new-blown flower, Orion saw ! And as he gazed he wept. i.] ORION. 103 The tears ran mingling with the morning dews Down his thick locks. At length once more he spake. " Blest Eos ! mother of the hopeful star, Which I, with sweet joy, take into my soul ; Star-rays that first played o'er my blinded orbs, E'en as they glance above the lids of Sleep, Who else had never known surprise, nor hope, Nor useful action ; Golden Visitant, So lovely and benign, whose eyes drive home Night's foulest ghosts, and men as foul ; who bring'st Not only my redemption, but who art The intermediate beauty that unites The fierce Sun with the Earth, and moderates His beams with dews and tenderness and smiles ; O bird-awakener ! giver of fresh life, New hopes, or to old hopes new wings, — receive Within thy care, one who with many things Is weary, and though nought in energy Abated for good work, would seek thine aid To some fresh course and service for his hand ; Of peace, meantime, and steadfast truth, secure!" ©IRIOMc Canto tt)E §?etanO. Level with the summit of that eastern mount, By slow approach, and like a promontory Which seems to glide and meet a coming ship, The pale gold platform of the Morning came Towards the gliding mount. Against a sky Of delicate purple, snow-bright courts and halls, Touched with light silvery green, gleaming across, Fronted by pillars vast, cloud capitalled, With shafts of changeful pearl, all reared upon An isle of clear aerial gold, came floating ; And in the centre, clad in fleecy white, With lucid lilies in her golden hair, Eos, sweet Goddess of the Morning, stood. ORION. 1 05 From the bright peak of that surrounded mount, One step sufficed to gain the golden floor, Whereon the Palace of the Morning shone, Scarcely a bow-shot distant ; but that step, Orion's humbled and still mortal feet Dared not adventure. In the Goddess' face Imploringly he gazed. " Advance ! " she said, In tones more sweet than when some heavenly bird, Hid in a rosy cloud, its morning hymn Warbles unseen, wet with delicious dews, And to earth's flowers, all looking up in prayer, Tells of the coming bliss. u Believe — advance — Or, as the spheres move onward with their song That calls me to awaken other lands, That moment will escape which ne'er returns." Forward Orion stepped : the platform bright Shook, like the reflex of a star in water Moved by the breeze, throughout its whole expanse ; And e'en the palace glistened fitfully, As with electric shiver it sent forth Odours of flowers divine and all fresh life. Still stood he where he stepped, nor to return Attempted. To essay one pace beyond, He felt no power — yet onward he advanced 106 ORION. ■ [book in. Safe to the Goddess, who, with hand outstretched, Into the palace led him. Grace and strength, With sense of happy change to finer earth, Freshness of nature, and belief in good, Came flowing o'er his soul, and he was blest. 'T is always morning somewhere in the world, And Eos ever rises, circling The varied regions of mankind. No pause Of renovation and of freshening rays She knows, but constantly her love breathes forth On field and forest, as on human hope, Health, beauty, power, thought, action and advance. All this Orion witnessed, and rejoiced. The turmoil he had known, the late distress By loss of passion's object, and of sight, Were now exchanged for these serene delights Of contemplation, as the influence That Eos wrought around for ever, dawned Upon his vision and his inmost heart, In sweetness and success. All sympathy With all fair things that in her circle lay, She gave, and all received ; nor knew of strife ; For from the Sun her cheek its bloom withdrew, ► ii] ORION. 107 And, ere intolerant noon, the floating realm Of Eos — queen of the awakening earth — Was brightening other lands, wherefrom black Night Her faded chariot down the sky had driven Behind the sea. Thus from the earth upraised, And over its tumultuous breast sustained In peace and tranquil glory — oh blest state ! — Clear-browed Orion, full of thankfulness, And pure devotion to the Goddess, dwelt Within the glowing Palace of the Morn. But these serene airs did not therefore bring A death-sleep o'er the waves of memory, Where all its clouds and colours, specks of sails, Its car-borne Gods, shipwrecks and drowning men, Passed full in view ; yet with a mellowing sense Ideal, and from pain sublimed. Thus came Mirrors of nature to him, and full oft Downward on Chios turned his happy eyes, With grateful thoughts that o'er life's sorrows wove The present texture of a sweet content, Passing all wisdom, or its rarest flower. He saw the woods, and blessed them for the sake Of Artemis ; the city, and rich gloom 108 ORION. [book ur. That o'er the cedar forest ever hung, He also blessed for Merope ; the isle, And all that dwelt there, he with smiles beheld, — Nor, it may be, without prophetic thrill When on Mount Epos turned his parting glance. There, in an after age, close at its foot, In the stone level was a basin broad Scooped out, and central on a low shaft sat A sage with silver hair, and taught his school, Where the boy Homer on the stony rim Sat with the rest around. Bright were his eyes. With re-awakened love, and sight enlarged » For all things beautiful, and nobly true To the great elements that rule the world, Orion's mind, left to itself, reviewed Past knowledge, and of wisdom saw the fruit Far nearer than before, the path less rough, The true possession not austere and cold, But natural in its strength and balance just Of body and of soul ; each to respect, And to the other minister, and both Their one harmonious being to employ For general happiness, and for their own. CANTO II.] ORION. 109 Such was the lore which now his thoughts attained, And he to Eos ventured to display, Beseeching her response ? She only gazed With an approving smile upon the earth, That rolled beneath, and rendered back the gleam With tender radiance over many a field. The story of his life Orion told — His youth — his labours — lastly of his loves ; Nor what for Artemis his opening soul Had felt — what deep desire for Merope — Sought to conceal. How much his intellect, And entire nature, owed to the pale Queen Of night's illumined vault, with grateful sighs Of reverential memory he declared ; To Eos turning with a pleading look, Lest she might not approve. She took his hand, And placed it on her side beneath her heart, Which beat a sphery music audibly. He, listening, still enraptured, countless echoes, Rang sweetly faint from distant groves beneath Upon the earth. Within his hurrying heart The trembling echoes now Orion felt, And silent stood as one who apprehends 1 1 ORION. [book in. Some new and blissful hope that round him soars, Which still eludes his vision and his mind. Not in like doubt was Artemis, whose car — Blank as it passed away before the morn, Herself invisible — collapsed and yearned Beneath the Goddess' spurning foot. At once The lasting love of Eos she foresaw, When at the tale of other loves he told Sincerely, fully, with kind memories rife, Orion's hand she pressed. His earnest eyes All filled with new-born light, she also read, As in a mirror where the future 's writ — And, reading, closed her own as she retired. Meantime Rhexergon through the Chian streets Triumphant, with Biastor and a host Of rebel chieftains and their armed bands, And drunken slaves and robbers, drove the king From his lost throne. Beyond the suburb fields (Enopion fled, and secret refuge found Among the tombs beneath a chain of hills, Where dense cold gloom his robe and crown became, While over-head along the hill-sides ran caxto ii.] ORION. 1 1 ] The sunny vines. Tumult now choaked the city With adverse crowds, and deafened it with cries Of slayers, and of those who fled or fell. The giants led the slaughter, oft commencing Pillage, then turning yet again to slay, Having- no plan. They paused but to blaspheme The Gods, like giants doomed to die. Rich spoil Was found, seized, left — and trampled into mire By feet that onward sprang for other spoil, Or to tear down, wrench, overthrow, destroy ; Till thus Rhexergon rendered up his life. All the chief rulers, priests, and sages old, And heroes most renowned, Rhexergon vowed Within the temple of Zeus to congregate ; Wall up each means of egress, and from a gap Made in the roof, pour down a rocky hail From broken fanes, cliff, quarry and sea-beach, Upon their heads ; nor cease the rattling shower Until the temple was filled up with stones. To make the gap, he with his club advanced, Where central, 'neath the roof, a pillar rose, Which was its main support. Blow upon blow i 2 112 ORION. [book in. He smote ; the base gave way ; the pillar fell ; And with it fell the roof, and buried him. With equal skill Biastor wrought his fate. On a long terrace, which precipitously Looked down on suburb gardens deep below, • Near to the edge upon a pediment stood A great gilt statue to Encolyon, By the high rulers reverently set up ; And this inscription bearing on its base ; — " To the Wheel-chainer ! Reiner-in of steeds ! August preserver of revered decay ; Yotive — erected by a people's love. 5 ' Biastor, covered with a brazen shield, Whirling his sword, and seeing not his way, A panic-stricken crowd before him drove On tow'rds the parapet. Thence to escape, Some desperately rush back — are cloven down — The rest throng round the statue. It was carved Of wood, and at its flat square base the sun Had often turned a scornful glance, and made Dry flaws, wherein had crept and nestled, rot. They cling around its knees ! — the giant Force CANTO II.] ORION. 113 Comes like a mighty wind ; — and, as a mast In shipwreck, black with rigging flanking loose, And black with wild-haired creatures clinging round, With crash and horrid slant its blasted tree Surrenders sidelong, — so the statue fell. With it the crowd were carried ; after it Biastor, knowing not the depths beyond, Or his strong impulse having no power to check, Followed head foremost. Down the hollow banks He, floundering o'er the statue's 'tangled coil, Into an orchard 'midst the vale below, Deep in the mould lay prone ; and over him The fallen statue lay athwart. J T was thus, The Builder absent, and at that time blind, Foree, and the Breaker-down their course fulfilled. " What have I done on earth ?" Orion said, While pensive on the platform of the morn He stood. " My youth's companions are destroyed, And Akinetos evermore seems right, Predicting failure to our human acts : Or good, or ill, alike untow r ard prove. I have not well directed mine own strength, Nor theirs." As thus he mused, a skylark sang 114 ORION. [book in. Within the gleaming Palace, and a voice Followed melodious as it spake these words. " Well hast thou striven, and due reward shalt find ; For though reward held dalliance with thy hopes Of former days, and for thyself thou wrought'st* The suffering and the lesson have sufficed To fit thee for more nohle aims. Sigh not That those companions of thine unformed youth, Their rude career have closed : evil was all They could have done without thee. Thou hast won The love of Eos ; doubt not of her truth, And to thyself be constant, as to her." He turned, and at his side the Goddess smiled, With tenderness of grace, such as the soul Can through the heart convey, where both accord One object to exalt. Orion knelt, And looked up in her face, then rose and clasped Her yielding loveliness. As they retired, An eye glanced fire-like through the clear blue air, And saw the embrace ! — and marked the glowing beams On Eos' bosom, rosy yet all gold, Like ripened peaches in the morning light. canto ii.] ORION. 115 That eye grew deadly — flashed — and it was gone, As onward in its course the Palace moved. 'T was Artemis ! — beware her fatal dart. O'er meadows green or solitary lawn, When birds appear earth's sole inhabitants, The long clear shadows of the morning differ From those of eve, which are more soft and vague, Suggestive of past days and mellowed grief. The lights of morning, even as her shades, Are architectural, and pre-eminent In quiet freshness, midst the pause that holds Prelusive energies. All life awakes. Morn comes at first with white uncertain light ; Then takes a faint red, like an opening bud Seen through grey mist: the mist clears off; the sky Unfolds ; grows ruddy ; takes a crimson flush ; Puts forth bright sprigs of gold, — which soon expanding In saffron, thence pure golden shines the morn ; Uplifts its clear bright fabric of white clouds, All tinted, like a shell of polished pearl, With varied glancings, violet gleam and blush ; Embraces Nature ; and then passes on, Leaving the Sun to perfect his great work. 116 ORION. [BOOK III. So came thy love upon Orion's heart, Oh life -awakening Queen of early light, And the devotion he, at first, had deemed All spiritual, now warmed, filled, attained Entire vitality, and that highest state Which every noblest faculty employs With self-enjoyment and beneficence. True happiness no idle course endures, But by activity renews its strength, Which else would fail, and happiness revolve Within itself, still dwindling to the point Where pain first stings. Far otherwise it fared With thee, Orion. Watchful tow'rds the world His eye oft turned. The pure realm where he dwelt Absorbed not all his sympathies in itself, Which yet sprang forth, and sighed o'er ills below : Like one uplifted in abstraction's mood, Who sits alone, and gazes in the fire, Watching red ruins as they fall and change To glorious fabrics, — which forthwith dissolve, Or by some hideous conflict sink to nought, While from a black mass issues tawny smoke, Followed by a trumpet flame. War, and the waste, CANTO II] ORION. 117 So far as individual life and purpose feels, Of human labour, — both its hand and heart — Came crowding on his mind. Nor less his eye Earth's loveliness perceived ; nor less his thoughts Of Eos, who in all his fresh designs, Feelings, and wishes, shared, and urged him on With constant impulse, hidden in sweet smiles, And perfect love that thinks not of itself; — Conscious, contented, sphered beyond fresh hopes. Earth was their child ; and constant morn their home, Three things Orion contemplated oft : The first, his gratitude to Artemis Inspired ; its general service and import To human happiness, a duty made. Her temple in Delos darkened to the east With towering trees, amidst whose hollowed roots Dwelt poisonous Harpies. These to dislodge, destroy, And hew the trees down, that the morning light, Followed by radiant warmth, might penetrate Its depths, even to the temple's central shrine, He purposed. Thus would Eos giye her love To Artemis, and all be reconciled. 118 ORION. His second purpose this : beneath the earth, So might the Father of the Gods give aid, To build a dungeon for the God of War, Wherein, confined in a tumultuous sleep, The visions of his madness should present The roar of battles and its sanguine joys, Its devastations, glories, and vain graves. Here might he gloat on death, while o'er his head The sea- wide corn fields, smiled in golden waves. The last, would need Poseidon's trident hand, Which, fervent prayers and filial offerings Would fail not to obtain ; whereby a blow, — Such as had lifted out of the frothed sea Delos, — Kalliste, with its fathomless bay, — Mountains, and coral rocks, — repeated oft, Might many mountains cause at once to rise, Higher and higher, till their summits kissed The clouds. Then Eos, casting forth her robe From peak to peak, and her immortal breath Combining and sustaining that bright floor, A web of perfect skill, and guileless art, Unlike the dark artificers below, — Large space for mortals of the earth would thus [book hi. o ii.] ORION. 119 Be lifted to the platform of the morn. There, by the Goddess beckoned, and beholding Her face, divine in youth, the lengthened toil Of the ascent, were but a test of worth, And hollow sounds of roaring from the sea Beneath, cause none, who should ascend, to fall. To Delos now Orion made descent With Eos, hand in hand, when lofty Night Advanced her shadowy shoulder on the sky. Good speed made he with his well-practised hand ; The Harpies slew ; the eastward trees hewed down ; And laid the temple open to the morn, With all her genial beams. Then Eos first Felt doubt ; and trembled as she saw the fane Gleam with her presence, glancing like the light Within an angry eye -ball. A keen breeze Now whistled all around, and as it rose The high green corn, like rapids tow'rds a fall, Flowed, wave on wave, before the strenuous wind. She gazed with a cold cheek, till underneath The sea, she heard the coming Sun rejoice ; And felt the isle for blest events prepare. Yet was she silent. The untended Sun, 120 ORION. [book m. While Eos lingered midst the southern groves, Made Delos vocal to its lowest roots. Yet stood she with Orion in the shade, Who noting not her tender, anxious face, In generous feelings happy, took his rest. Midst songs and garlands and uplifted joy, Day's bright dream sped. Night came ; but not the Moon. Night passed. Two spectral armies in the air Appeared,, and with mute fury fought; then died In mist. A cloud of pale and livid blue, Lit from behind, hangs low amid the west ! What scarce-apparent ray ! what wavering light Down glances, arching through the silent vault ! Again it flies ! — and yet again the ray ! The omen and the deed unite — in death ! Into the grove, and to the self-same spot The darts flew ! They thy naked breast have reached, O, Giant ! child-like in thy truthfulness, Yet full of noblest gifts, and hard-earned skill ; Cut off when love was perfect, and in the midst Of all thy fresh designs for human weal, To make the morning feel itself in vain, CANTO II.] ORION. 121 And men turn pale who never shed a tear ! Thy task is finished — thou canst work no more — Thy Maker takes thee, for he loved thee well. Haggard and chill as a lost ghost, the Morn, With hair unbraided and unsand ailed feet, — Her colourless robe like a poor wandering smoke, — Moved feebly up the heavens, and in her arms A shadowy burden heavily bore ; soon fading In a dark rain, through which the sun arose Scarce visible, and in his orb confused. ©RKDNc Canto fyc Crjtrtr* Strong Spirit of Nature ! if with pious hand, Of all humanity sensitive, and true To the first heart of childhood, thou hast striven Good to effect, and seemingly hast failed, Lament it, not ; that impulse on the frame Of the dense earth, which no result displays, Effect or consciousness, not utterly Shall turn aside, and glancing into space Be lost and cast away. As with a thought That, dormant in the brain well nigh a score Of years, will suddenly, we know not how, Rise bright before the mind, thus recognized As that so long forgotten, — while two brains Entire, have their material parts used up, ORION. 123 Given off, and changed for new ; — so shall the deeds Of virtuous power, in their appointed day, Rise with due strength above the buried hand That called them first to light. Know this, and hope : The earth has hard rind, but a subtle heart. Therefore amidst those shadows, by no form Projected ; which in secret regions flit, Of future being, through unnumbered states, Which are most truly the substantial dreams, Nor less the aspirations most unearthly, Of man ; shadows oft hunted, never caught, Yet traced beyond the grave ; to thought well known ; Amidst these shadows stride not thou forlorn, O Giant sublime, whom death shall not destroy. "f was eve, and Time his vigorous course pursuing, Met Akinetos walking by the sea. At sight of him the Father of the Hours Paused on the sand, — which shrank, grew moist, and trembled At that unwonted pressure of the God. And thus with look and accent stern, he spake. " Thou art the mortal who, with hand unmoved, Eatest the fruit of others' toil ; whose heart 124 ORION. Is but a vital engine that conveys Blood, to no purpose, up and down thy frame ; Whose forehead is a large stone sepulchre Of knowledge ; and whose life but turns to waste My measured hours, and earth's material!" Whereto the Great Unmoved no answer made, And Time continued, sterner than before. " Thy sire, Tithonos, living nine score years, Knew many things ; but when thou w'ert begot, Olympos chimed with crystal laughter bright, Since, for thy mother, his dim vision chose A fallen statue which he deemed a nymph, White as a flint amid a field of corn. I warn thee by that memory ! — thou mistakest A prostrate stone for the fair truth of life." Whereto the Great Unmoved no answer made, And Time continued, sterner than before. " O, not-to-be-approved ! thou Apathy, Who gazest downward on that empty shell, — Is it for thee who bear'st the common lot Of man, and art his brother in the fields, From birth to funeral pyre ; is it for thee, CANTO in.] ORION. 125 Who didst derive from thy long-living sire More knowledge than endows far better sons, — Thy lamp to burn within, and turn aside Thy face from all humanity, or behold it Without emotion, like some sea-shelled thing Staring around from a green hollowed rock, Not aiding, loving, caring — hoping aught — Forgetting nature, and by her forgot." Whereto, with mildness, Akinetos said, " Hast thou considered of Eternity ?" " Profoundly have I done so, in my youth ;" Chronos replied, and bowed his furrowed head ; " Most, when my tender feet from Chaos trod Stumbling, — and, doubtful of mine eyes, my hands The dazzling air explored. But, since that date, So many ages have I told ; so many, Fleet after fleet on newly opening seas, Descry before me, that of late my thoughts Have rather dwelt on all around my path, With anxious care. Well were it thus with thee." Then Akinetos calmly spake once more, With eyes still bent upon the tide-ribbed sands. 126 ORION. [book in. " And dost thou of Tomorrow also think ?" Whereat — as one dismayed by sudden thought Of many crowding things that call him thence, — Time, with bent brows, went hurrying on his way. Slow towards his cave the Great Unmoved repaired, And, with his back against the rock, sat down Outside, half smiling in the pleasant air ; And in the lonely silence of the place, He thus, at length, discoursed unto himself, " Orion, ever active and at work, Honest and skilful, not to be surpassed, Brought misery on himself and those he loved ; Caused his companions' death, — and now hath found At Artemis' hand, his own. So fares it ever With the world's builder. He, from wall to beam, From pillar to roof, from shade to corporal form ; From the first vague Thought to the Temple vast, A ceaseless contest with the crowd endures, For whom he labours. Why then" should we move ? Our wisdom cannot change whate'er 's decreed, Nor e'en the acts or thoughts of brainless men : Why then be moved ? Best reason is most vain. CANTO III] ORION. 127 He who will do and suffer, must — and end. Hence, death is not an evil, since it leads To somewhat permanent, beyond the noise Man maketh on the tabor of his will, Until the small round burst, and pale he falls. His ear is stuffed with the grave's earth, yet feels The inaudible whispers of Eternity, While Time runs shouting to Oblivion In the upper fields. I would not swell that cry.'* Thus Akinetos sat from day to day, Absorbed in indolent sublimity, Reviewing thoughts and knowledge o'er and o'er ; And now he spake, now sung unto himself, Now sank to brooding silence. From above, While passing, Time the rock touched ! — and it oozed Petrific drops — gently at first — and slow. Reclining lonely in his fixt repose, The Great Unmoved unconsciously became Attached to that he pressed ; and soon a part Of the rock. There clung the excrescence, till strong hands, Descended from Orion, made large roads, And built steep walls, squaring down rocks for use. k 2 128 ORION. [book hi. Now had Poseidon with tridental spear Torn up the smitten sea, which raged on high With grief and anger for Orion slain ; And black Hephaestos deep beneath the earth A cold thrill felt through his metallic veins, Which soon with sparkling fire began to writhe Like serpents, till from each volcanic peak Burst smoke and threatening flames. Day hid his head, And while the body of Orion sunk, Drawn down into the embraces of the sea, The four Winds with confronting fury arose, And to a common centre drove their blasts, Which, meeting, brake like thunder-stone, or shells Of war, far scattering. Shipwreck fed the deep. No moon had dared the ringing vault to climb ; No star, no meteor's steed ; and ancient Night Shook the dishevelled lightning from her brows, Then sank in deeper gloom. Ere long the roar Rolled through a distant yawning chasm of flame, Dying away, and in the air obscure, Feverish and trembling, — like the breath of one Recovering from convulsion's throes, — appeared Two wavering misty shapes upon a mount : Whence now a solemn and reproachful voice, With broken pauses spake, and thus lamented. CANTO III.] ORION. 129 " Call it not love ! — oh never yet for thee Did Love's ambrosial pinions fan the hours, To lose themselves in bliss, which memory Alone can find, so to renew their life. Thou couldst not ever thus enjoy, thus give Thy nature fully up ; thine attributes, Whate'er of loveliness or high estate They owned, surrendering all before Love's feet, And in his breath to melt. How shall we name Thy passion, — ice-pure, self-entire, exacting All worship, for a limited return ? But how, ah me ! shall Time record the hour, When with thy bow — its points curved stiffly back, Like a snake's neck preparing for a spring, Thou stood' st in lurid ire behind a cloud, And loosed the fatal shaft ! Where then was Love ? O Artemis ! O miserable Queen ! Call it pride, jealousy, revenge — self-love ; No other. Thou repliest not. Wherefore pride ? Thou gav'st thyself that wound, rejecting one Who to thee tendered all his nature ; noble, Though earth-born, as thou knew'st when first ye met, And thou not Zeus with a creator's power His being to re-make ? Thou answerest not. Why jealous, but because thou saw'st him happy^ 130 ORION. [book in. Without thee, though cast off by thee. Then wherefore Destroy ? Revenge, the champion of self-love, Can make his well-known sign. O, horrible ! Despair to all springs up from murdered love, And smites revenge with idiotcy of grief, Seeing itself. But wake, and look upon My loss unutterable. What hast thou gained ? Nothing but anguish ; and for this accomplished His death, my loss, and the earth's loss beside Of that much needed hand. I curse thee not — Thou hast, indeed, cursed me — thou know'st it well." With face bowed o'er her bosom, Artemis, As in sad trance, remained. The night was gone ; The day had dawned, but she perceived it not ; Nor Eos knew that any light had passed From her rent robes. But hope unconsciously Grew up in her, and yet again she spake. " Ah, me ! alas ! why came this great affliction, Which, indeed, seems beyond all remedy, Though scalding tears from our immortal eyes Make constant arcs in heaven. Beauty avails not Where power is needed. Seek we, then, for power, That some reviving or renewing beam CANTO III.] ORION. 131 May call him back, now pale in the deep sea. Thou answerest not. I think thou hast a heart, "Which beats thy reasoning down to silent truth, And therefore deem I thou with me wilt seek The throne of Zeus, who may receive our prayers, Nor from our supplications, utterly Take sorrow's sweetness, which hath secret hope, Like honey drops in some down-fallen flower." Her lofty pallid visage, Artemis Raised slowly, but with eyes still downward bent Upon the ocean rolling dark below, And answered, — " I will go with thee." The twain Departed heavily on their ascent Through the grey air, and paused not till they reached The region of Olympos, where their course Was barriered by a mass of angry cloud Piled up in surging blackness, with a gleam Of smouldering red seen through at intervals. The sign well understood, both Goddesses Knelt down before the cloud, and Artemis Broke silence first, with firm yet hollow voice. " Father of Gods, and of the populous earth ! Who know'st the thoughts and deeds we most would hide ; 3 32 orion. [book in. And also know'st the secret thrill within, Which owns no thought nor action, yet comprises Life's sole excuse for what seems worthiest hate — Extremes and maddened self-opposing springs — Not always thus excused, — O Zeus ! receive Our prayers, and chiefly mine, which pardon sue, Besides the dear request. Grant that the life Of him these hands, once dazzling white, have slain, May bo to earth restored." More had she said, But the dark pile of cloud shook with the voice Of Zeus, who answered : "He shall be restored ; But not returned to earth. His cycle moves Ascending ! " The deep sea the announcement heard ; And from beneath its ever-shifting thrones, The murmuring of a solemn joy sent up. The cloud expanded darkly o'er the heavens, Which, like a vault preparing to give back The heroic dead, yawned with its sacred gloom, And iron-crowned Night her black breath poured around To meet the clouds that from Olympos rolled Billows of darkness with a dirging roar, Which by gradations of high harmony Merged in triumphal strains. Their earnest eyes canto in.] ORION. 133 Filled with the darkness, and their hands still clasped, Kneeling the Goddesses bright rays perceived, Reflected, glance before them. Mute they rose With tender consciousness ; and, hand in hand, Turning, they saw slow rising from the sea The luminous Giant clad in blazing stars, New-born and trembling from their Maker's breath, — Divine, refulgent effluence of Love. Though to his insubstantial form no gleam Of mortal life's rich colours now gave warmth, Yet was the image he had worn on earth, With all its memories of the old dim woods — The caves — his toils, joys, griefs — the fond old ways— The same — his heart the same, e'en as of yore. With pale gold shield, like a translucent moon Through which the morning with ascending cheek Sheds a soft blush, warming cerulean veins ; With radiant belt of glory, typical Of happy change that o'er the zodiac round Of the world's monstrous phantasies shall come ; And in his hand a sword of peaceful power, Streaming like a meteor to direct the earth To victory over life's distress, and shew The future path whose light runs through death's glooms ; 134 ORION. [book in. In grandeur, like the birth of Motion, rose The glorious Giant, tow'rds his place in heaven ; And, while ascending, thus his Spirit sung. " I came into the world a mortal creature, Lights flitting upwards through my unwrought clay, Not knowing what they were, nor whither tending, But of some goodness conscious in my soul. With earth's rude elements my first endeavour I made ; attained rare mastery, and was proud : Then felt strange longings in the grassy woodlands, And hunted shadows under the slant sun. " O Artemis ! bright queen ! high benefactress ! My love forgive, that with its human feet Could not to thy pure altitude ascend, Nor couldst thou stoop to me. A fiery passion, Deep as mortality, possessed my life ; Nor shall I from my destiny, star bright Henceforth, and from transforming change exempt, Banish the grateful thoughts of Merope, Though blindness followed that ecstatic dream." " On thee I gaze, blest Goddess of the Morning ! In whose sweet smile these stars shall ever melt, CANTO III.] ORION. 135 All human beauty perfected in thee, Divine with human blending. In my heart Bared full before thee, to the essence fine Wherewith, by whisperings of my Maker's breath, These stars of my new life are now inspired — In this pure essence shall thy treasured love Receive my adoration ; and the thoughts Of thee shall open ever in my mind Like the bland meads in flower when thou appear'st." "Thou Earth, whom I have left, and all my brothers! Followers of Time through steep and thorny ways ; Wrestlers with strong Calamity, and falling For ever, as with generations new Ye carry on the strife, — deem it no loss That in full vigour of his fresh designs, Your Worker and your Builder hath been called To rest thus undesired. Though for himself Too soon, and not enough of labour done For high desires ; sufficient yet to give The impulse ye are fitted to receive : More, were a vain ambition. Therefore strive, My course, without its blindness, to pursue, So that ye may through night, as ye behold me, And also through the day by faithful hope, 136 ORION. [book in Ascend to me ; and he who faints half-way, Gains yet a noble eminence o'er those Whose feet still plod the earth with hearts o'erdusted." " Then with aspiring love behold Orion ! Not for his need, but for thine own behoof: He loved thy race, and calls thee to his side. The human spirit is a mounting thing, But ere it reach the constellated thrones, It may attain, and on mankind bestow, Substance, precision, mastery of hand, Beauty intense, and power that shapes new life. So shall each honest heart become a champion, Each high-wrought soul a builder beyond Time — The ever-hunted, ne'er o'ertaken Time, For whom so many youthful hours are slain. Vainly : the grave's brink shews we have been deceived, And still the aged God his flight maintains ! But not in vain the earth-born shall pursue, E'en though with wayward, often stumbling feet, That substance-bearing Shadow, if with a soul That to an absolute unadulterate truth Aspires, and would make active through the world, He hath resolved to plant for future years. And thus, in the end, each soul may to itself, canto in.] ORION. 13] With truth before it as its polar guide, Become both Time and Nature, whose fixt paths Are spiral, and when lost will find new stars, And in the Universal Movement join." The song ceased ; and at once a chorus burst From all the stars in heaven, which now shone forth ! The Moon ascends in her 'rapt loveliness ; The Ocean swells to her forgivingly ; Bright comes the dawn, and Eos hides her face, Glowing with tears divine, within the bosom Of great Poseidon, in his rocking car Standing erect to gaze upon his son, Installed 'midst golden fires, which ever melt In Eos' breath and beauty ; rising still With nightly brilliance, merging in the dawn, And circling onward in eternal youth. LONDON : Vizetelly Brothers and Co. Printers and Engravers, Peterborough Court, 135 Fleet Street. The following ivorks are on sale at reduced prices, BY J. MILLER, 404 OXFORD STREET. SPENSER'S FAERIE QUEEN And other Works ; with Life and Notes by Dr. Aiken. Elegantly printed in crown 8vo , cloth, gilt binding, 5 vols., 11. 4s. 1842 GREGORY THE SEVENTH; A Tragedy, with an Essay on Tragic Influence, by R. H. Horne, author of "Cosmo de' Medici ;" "The Death of Marlowe," &c; published (1840) at 5s.-; reduced to 2s. 6d. 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