Chapter_534

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For Kleandros and his comrades, O ye youths, let some of you

Go and stand before his father Telesarchus’ gleaming door,

And wake the chant, the recompense for toils, his glorious due

For the crowns that from the Isthmus and from Nemea he bore.

What though I be stricken-hearted, to their praying have I hearkened,

And on the golden Muse I call. From night of woes that darkened

Around us are we rescued, and we may not brook bereaving

Of triumph-crowns, nor over cureless evils linger grieving.

But let us cheer the people with the sweetness of our song,

Though the pain have scarce departed; for the stone that hung so long

Above our heads⁠—a very stone of Tantalus⁠—at last

A God hath turned aside: the peril now is overpast,

That intolerable curse unto Hellas! But the night

Of terror hath departed, and the crushing load of care

Is lifted. Yet ’tis better evermore to keep in sight

The perils that be waiting in the path whereon we fare.

For Time is dogging mortals’ steps, with treacherous feet on-stealing,

And tangling all the ways of life. Yet even here is healing

For such as have but freedom. Let us still to hope be clinging!

In Thebe seven-gated nursed, the Graces’ flowers of singing

I needs must give Aegina; for Asopus’ daughters twain

Found favour in the sight of Zeus who over all doth reign.

And one of these by lovely-flowered Dirke’s fair demesne

He caused to dwell, to be the chariot-loving city’s queen.

But thee unto Oenopia’s isle he bore, and couched with thee.

And there unto the Thunder-crashing Father didst thou bear

A godlike scion, Aiakus, of men most righteous he;

Yea, even to the Gods in Heaven contention’s arbiter

Was he. His hero-sons and children’s children war-delighting

With peerless valour met the clanging bronze of warriors fighting;

And self-controlled they ruled their spirit, even as wisdom taught them.

Now when the Gods in council met, of all this they bethought them,

When Zeus with glory-girt Poseidon in contention strove

For Thetis’ hand; for either God was captive of her love,

And fain would win the fairest; but impossible it was

That Heaven’s eternal counsels should bring such a thing to pass

Whence once they heard the oracle that spake them Fate’s decree.

For Themis wise in counsel in the Gods’ assembly told

How that Destiny ordained it that the Lady of the Sea

Should bear a son more mighty than his father, who should hold

In his hand another sceptre more resistless than the levin

Or the trident, were she wedded with any lord of Heaven:⁠—

“Cease to contend! In marriage to a mortal be she given.

Like Ares’ hands her son’s shall be where battle’s strife is striven,

His speed of foot as lightning-flash;⁠—but she shall see him die

In war! I give my counsel that this honour from on high

To Peleus son of Aiakus be granted. All attest

That dweller in Iolkos’ plain of mortals holiest.

“Then let our message straight go forth to Cheiron’s cave divine,

Nor once again let Nereus’ daughter set the leaves of strife

In hands of Gods; but when the midmonth orbèd moonbeams shine

At eventide, then let her loose her maiden zone, the wife

Most lovely of a hero.” So the Goddess spake, preventing

The ruin-day of Kronos’ sons. And they in one consenting

Bent their immortal brows. Nor did her counsel’s fruitage wither;

For told it is that these two Kings in friendship came together

To Thetis’ bridal. And the lips of bards have published far

To them that saw it not the mighty prowess in the war

Of young Achilles, how he poured a dusky-crimson stain,

The life-blood of king Telephus, on Mysia’s vine-clad plain,

And bridge-like paved the Atreids’ safe return across the sea,

And rescued Helen; for he hewed asunder with his spear

Troy’s sinews, them who strove to stay the slaughter-work that he

Wrought in that battle-harried plain, yea, stayed the proud career

Of Memnon’s might, of Hector and the chiefs in strength excelling

Of Troy, to whom Achilles showed to Queen Persephone’s dwelling

The path⁠—the Aiakids’ champion he!⁠—and glory so was bringing

Unto Aegina and his race. Yea, lips immortal singing

Wailed o’er him dead, when Helicon’s Maids, a many-voicèd choir,

Stood by his death-rites, pouring forth their dirge around the pyre.

Ay, so the Immortals willed that heroism, even in death,

Should be a theme for Goddesses to hymn with praising breath.

Yea, to this day that law of honour holds: the Muses’ car

Speeds on to sound his glory forth who won the gauntlet-fight

In Isthmus’ glade, even Nikokles. Oh, peal his praise afar

Who won the Dorian parsley-crown, who vanquished by his might,

He too, all rivals, hurled them back with leap as of a lion.

Nor him dishonoureth now his father’s noble brother’s scion.

Twine then, ye comrades of the victor, twine the tender greenness

Of myrtle for his brows! Alkathous’ contest hailed his keenness

Of courage with fair fortune. Yea, with welcoming acclaim

The sons of Epidaurus met him. Meet it is the fame

Of such be sung by good men; for he hid not from the light,

As in oblivion’s pit, the splendour of his youthful might.