Edward Dowden.

SWALLOWS.

Wide fields of air left luminous,
Though now the uplands comprehend
How the sun's loss is ultimate :

The silence grows; but still to us

From yon air-winnowing breasts elate The tiny shrieks of glee descend.

Deft wings, each moment is resigned
Some touch of day, some pulse of light,
While yet in poised, delicious curve,
Ecstatic doublings down the wind,

Light dash and dip and sidelong swerve,
You try each dainty trick of flight.

Will not your airy glee relent

At all? The aimless frolic cease?
Know ye no touch of quelling pain,
Nor joy's more strict admonishment,

No tender awe at daylight's wane,
Ye slaves of delicate caprice?

Hush, once again that cry intense!
High-venturing spirits, have your will!
Urge the last freak, prolong your glee,
Keen voyagers, while still the immense
Sea-spaces haunt your memory,

With zests and pangs ineffable.

Not in the sunshine of old woods
Ye won your warrant to be gay

By duteous, sweet observances,

Who dared through darkening solitudes,
And 'mid the hiss of alien seas,
The larger ordinance obey.

THE VENUS OF MELOS.

Goddess, or woman nobler than the God,
No eyes a-gaze upon Ægean seas

Shifting and circling past their Cyclades

Saw thee. The Earth, the gracious Earth, was trod First by thy feet, while round thee lay her broad Calm harvests, and great kine, and shadowing trees, And flowers like queens, and a full year's increase, Clusters, ripe berry, and the bursting pod.

So thy victorious fairness, unallied

To bitter things or barren, doth bestow
And not exact; so thou art calm and wise;

Thy large allurement saves; a man may grow
Like Plutarch's men by standing at thy side,
And walk thenceforward with clear-visioned eyes!

AWAKENING.

With brain o'erworn, with heart a summer clod,
With eye so practised in each form around,—
And all forms mean,-to glance above the ground
Irks it, each day of many days we plod,
Tongue-tied and deaf, along life's common road.
But suddenly, we know not how, a sound
Of living streams, an odor, a flower crowned

With dew, a lark upspringing from the sod,
And we awake. O joy and deep amaze !
Beneath the everlasting hills we stand,
We hear the voices of the morning seas,
And earnest prophesyings in the land,

While from the open heaven leans forth at gaze
The encompassing great cloud of witnesses.

BROTHER DEATH.

When thou wouldst have me go with thee, O Death, Over the utmost verge, to the dim place,

Practise upon me with no amorous grace

Of fawning lips, and words of delicate breath,

And curious music thy lute uttereth;

Nor think for me there must be sought-out ways
Of cloud and terror; have we many days
Sojourned together, and is this thy faith?
Nay, be there plainness 'twixt us; come to me
Even as thou art, O brother of my soul;
Hold thy hand out and I will place mine there;
I trust thy mouth's inscrutable irony,

And dare to lay my forehead where the whole
Shadow lies deep of thy purpureal hair.

ThosWrenn English

AKERATOS.

To Argos, after Troia fell, there came,
Seeking for alms and ease, one sunny day,
A soldier, battle-scarred and old and gray-
Akeratos his name.

He would not beg without amends for alms;
So with a lyre the passers-by he stopped,
Hoping thereby to see some silver dropped
From givers' willing palms.

In early days his skill was well maintained;

But rough campaigns had robbed him of his power; And so he stood there twanging, hour on hour, Without one lepton gained.

At length, all wearied, hungered, and athirst,
He ceased and leaned against a pillar there,
And thought himself, so utter his despair,
Forsaken and accurst.

Then came a stranger where he leaned, and said: "Why not play on, old man, and strive to please "The passing crowd? You, who won victories, "Might now perchance win bread."

Akeratos looked up. His eyes were filled

With weakling tears; again he bowed his head-
That once proud soldier—and he humbly said:
"I am no longer skilled."

"Then," said the stranger, in a pleasant way,
"Why not to me a thing so useless hire?
"Here's a didrachmon; give me now the lyre;
"For one hour let me play."

The soldier smiled. "My lord," he said, "the sum “Would buy three lyres like this of mine, mayhap." "It is a bargain, then. Hold out your cap; "Be motionless and dumb."

The stranger took the lyre and swept the chords, And through the air a startling prelude rang; And with a clear and stirring voice he sangVoice like the clang of swords.

How Hector perished, slain by Achilleus;
How Herakles fair Hippolute slew;
How Zeus the mighty Titans overthrew-
The sire-dethroning Zeus;

The rush of chariots and the clash of blades;
O'er beaten earth the ring of iron hoofs;
The crackling roar of flames from burning roofs;
The screams of frightened maids;

The curses of the priests of plundered fanes;
The dying groan upon the bloody field
Of some stout warrior, pillowed on his shield,
Life ebbing through his veins.