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Add to Interlude, p. 295, after the line, “Not what men saw, but what they feared."
Besides, unless my memory fail,
The iron groom of Artegall,
THE MASQUE OF PANDORA.
The life, the exhalation of my breath,
Is of diviner essence and immortal. THE WORKSHOP OF HEPHÆSTUS. The gods shall shower on her their ben
efactions, HEPHÆSTUS, standing before the statue of She shall possess all gifts : the gift of PANDORA.
The gift of eloquence, the gift of beauty, Not fashioned out of gold, like Hera's The fascination and the nameless charm throne,
That shall lead all men captive.
Wherefore? wherefore ? But moulded in soft clay, that unresist
A wind shakes the house. ing Yields itself to the touch, this lovely I hear the rushing of a mighty wind
form Not Aphrodite's self appeared more fair, Her parted lips inhale it, and her bosom Before me stands, perfect in every part. Through all the halls and chambers of When first upwafted by caressing winds Heaves with the inspiration. As a reed She came to high Olympus, and the gods Beside a river in the rippling current Paid homage to her beauty. Thus her Bends to and fro, she bows or lifts her
hair Was cinctured ; thus her floating dra- She gazes round about as if amazed ;
head. pery Was like a cloud about her, and her face. She is alive; she breathes, but yet she Was radiant with the sunshine and the
speaks not ! PANDORA descends from the pedestal.
O golden hair that like a miser's treas- | And by my cunning arguments persuade ure
him In its abundance overflows the measure! To marry her. What mischief lies conO graceful form, that cloudlike floatest cealed
In this design I know not; but I know With the soft, undulating gait of one who thinks of marrying hath already Who moveth as if motion were a pleas- taken ure !
One step upon the road to penitence. By what name shall I call thee ? Nymph Such embassies delight me. Forth I or Muse,
launch Callirrhoë or Urania ? Some sweet On the sustaining air, nor fear to fall
Like Icarus, nor swerve aside like him Whose every syllable is a caress Who drove amiss Hyperion's fiery steeds. Would best befit thee; but I cannot I sink, I fly! The yielding element choose,
Folds itself round about me like an arm, Nor do I care to choose ; for still the And holds me as a mother holds her same,
child. Nameless or named, will be thy loveliness. EUPHROSYNE.
I HEAR the trumpet of Alectryon
Proclaim the dawn. The stars begin to
fade, And all the heavens are full of prophecies And evil auguries. Blood-red last night
I saw great Kronos rise ; the crescent II.
Sank through the mist, as if it were the OLYMPUS.
His parricidal hand had flung far down HERMES, putting on his sandals.
The western steeps. Oye Immortal Much must he toil who serves the Im
Gods, mortal Gods,
What evil are ye plotting and contriving? And I, who am their herald, most of all. No rest have I, nor respite. I no sooner
HERMES and PANDORA at the threshold. Unclasp the winged sandals from my
feet, Than I again must clasp them, and de- I cannot cross the threshold. An unseen part
And icy hand repels me. These blank Upon some foolish errand. But to-day walls The errand is not foolish. Never yet Oppress me with their weight ! With greater joy did I obey the summons That sends me earthward. I will Hy so swiftly
Powerful ye are, That my caduceus in the whistling air But not omnipotent. Ye cannot fight Shall make a sound like the Pandæan Against Necessity. The Fates control pipes,
yon, Cheating the shepherds ; for to-day I go, As they do us, and so far we are equals ! Commissioned by high-thundering Zeus,
to lead A maiden to Prometheus, in his tower, Motionless, passionless, companionless,
He sits there muttering in his beard.
The Gods are not my friends, nor am I Is like a river flowing underground !
theirs. Whatever comes from them, though in
a shape Prometheus, hail !
As beautiful as this, is evil only.
Who art thou ?
One who, though to thee unknown,
It is 1. Yet knoweth thee.
How shouldst thou know me, woman ?
PANDORA. And winged heels I know thee. Thou art Hermes,
Who knoweth not Prometheus the hu. Captain of thieves! Hast thou again mane ? been stealing
PROMETHEUS. The heifers of Admetus in the sweet Meadows of asphodel? or Hera's girdle ? Both Gods and men have shown them
Prometheus the unfortunate ; to whom Or the earth-shaking trident of Poseidon ?
selves ungrateful. HERMES.
When every spark was quenched on every
hearth And thou, Prometheus ; say, hast thou again
Throughout the earth, I brought to man Been stealing fire from Helios' chariot
the fire wheels
And all its ministrations. My reward To light thy furnaces ?
Hath been the rock and vulture.
Why comest thou hither So early in the dawn?
But the Gods At last relent and pardon.
They relent not; Know naught of late or early. Zeus They pardon not; they are implacable, himself
Revengeful, unforgiving !
As a pledge
Of reconciliation they have sent to thee purpose ?
This divine being, to be thy companion,
And bring into thy melancholy house To bring this maiden to thee.
The sunshine and the fragrance of her
I mistrust The Gods and all their gifts. If they I need them not. I have within myself have sent her
All that my heart desires ; the ideal It is for no good purpose.
Fashions and follows in a thousand
What disaster shapes Could she bring on thy house, who is a More lovely than the real. My own woman?
HERMES, returning to Olympus. No gift of theirs, in whatsoever shape It comes to me, with whatsoever charm As lonely as the tower that he inhabits, To fascinate my sense, will I receive.
As firm and cold as are the crags about Leave me.
Prometheus stands. The thunderbolts PANDORA,
of Zeus Let us go hence. I will not stay. Alone can move him ; but the tender
Of Epimetheus, burning at white heat, We leave thee to thy vacant dreams, and Hammers and flames like all his brothall
er's forges ! The silence and the solitude of thought, Now as an arrow from Hyperion's bow, The endless bitterness of unbelief, My errand done, I fly, 1 float, I soar The loneliness of existence without love. Into the air, returning to Olympus.
O joy of notion ! O delight to cleave
The infinite realms of space, the liquid CHORUS OF THE FATES.
Through the warm sunshine and the How the Titan, the defiant,
cooling cloud, The self-centred, self-reliant,
Myself as light as sunbeam or as cloud ! Wrapped in visions and illusions,
With one touch of my swift and winged
feet, Robs himself of life's best gifts ! Till by all the storin-winds shaken,
I spurn the solid earth, and leave it
rocking By the blast of fate o'ertaken, Hopeless, helpless, and forsaken,
As rocks the bough from which a bird
THE HOUSE OF EPIMETHEUS.
BEAUTIFUL apparition ! go not hence ! Often baffled and defeated
Surely thou art a Goddess, for thy voice In the tasks to be completed, Is a celestial melody, and thy form He, by toil and self-denial,
Self-poised as if it floated on the air ! To the highest shall attain.
No Goddess am I, nor of heavenly birth, Tempt no more the noble schemer; But a mere woman fashioned out of clay Bear unto some idle dreamer
And mortal as the rest.