your forefathers named general with Solon, ordering them to conquer Cirrha. He devoted his portion of the spoils to the building of a portico. I never have heard that he came by night and robbed the labourers he had paid by day: perhaps Cleon has. He won afterward at the Olympian games: I never have ascertained that he bribed his adversaries. These actions are not in history nor in tradition: but Cleon no doubt, has authorities that outvalue tradition and history. Some years afterward, Cleisthenes proclaimed his determination to give in marriage his daughter Agarista to the worthiest man he could find, whether at home or abroad. It is pity that Cleon was not living in those days. Agarista and her father, in default of him, could hear of none worthier than Megacles, son of Alcmæon. Their riches all descended to me, and some perhaps of their better possessions. These, at least, with Cleon's leave, I would retain ; and as much of the other as may be serviceable to my friends, without being dangerous to the common-wealth. CXLVII.1 ASPASIA TO CLEONE. URELY of all our pursuits and speculations the most instructive is, how the braver pushed back their sufferings, how the weaker bowed their heads and asked for sympathy. How the soldier smote his breast at the fallacies of glory, and how the [1 Not in 1st ed.] philosopher paused and trembled at the depths of his discoveries. But the acquirement of such instruction presses us down to the earth. We see the basest and most inert of mankind the tormentors and consumers of the loftiest; the worm at last devours what the lion and tiger paused at and fled from. But Pericles for the present is safe and secure; and I am too happy for other thoughts or reflections. Anaxagoras also is only doubted he may disbelieve in some mysteries, but he is surely too wise a man to divulge it. N CXLVIII. CLEONE TO ASPASIA. OW we are quiet and at peace again, I wish you would look into your library for more pieces of poetry. To give you some provocation, I will transcribe a few lines on the old subject, which, like old fountains, is inexhaustible, while hose of later discovery are in danger of being cut off at the first turn of the plough. ERINNA TO LOVE. I. Who breathes to thee the holiest prayer, O Love! is ever least thy care. Alas! I may not ask thee why 'tis so.. Because a fiery scroll I see Hung at the throne of Destiny. Reason with Love and register with Woe. 2. Few question thee, for thou art strong And, laughing loud at right and wrong, The meaner and the prouder strike, CXLIX. ASPASIA TO CLEONE. MONG the poems of Sappho I find the following, but written in a different hand from the rest. It pleases me at least as much as any of them; if it is worse, I wish you would tell me in what it is so. How many thoughts might she have turned over and tossed away for it! Odious is the economy in preserving all the scraps of the intellect, and troublesome the idleness of tacking them together. Sappho is fond of seizing, as she runs on, the most prominent and inviting flowers: she never stops to cut and trim them: she throws twenty aside for one that she fixes in her bosom; and what is more singular, her pleasure at their beauty seems never to arise from another's admiration of it. See it or not see it, there it is. Sweet girls! upon whose breast that God descends Whom first ye pray to come, and next to spare, O tell me whither now his course he bends, Tell me what hymn shall thither waft my prayer ! Alas! my voice and lyre alike he flies, And only in my dreams, nor kindly then, replies. [1 Not in 1st ed.] CL. CLEONE TO ASPASIA. NSTEAD of expatiating on the merits of the verses you last sent me, or, on the other hand, of looking for any pleasure in taking them to pieces, I venture to hope you will be of my opinion, that these others are of equal authenticity. Neither do I remember them in the copy you possessed when we were together. SAPPHO TO HESPERUS. I. I have beheld thee in the morning hour When sleep all night had wandered from my bower. 2. Can it be true that thou art he Ah yes, the very same art thou That heard me then, and hearest now.. Thou seemest, star of love, to throb with light. Sappho is not the only poetess who has poured forth her melodies to Hesperus, or who had reason to thank him. I much prefer these of her's to what appear to have been written by some confident man, and (no doubt) on a feigned occasion. 1. Hesperus, hail! thy winking light 2. Thou art fairer far than she, Fairer far, and chaster: She may guess who smiled on me, 3. Pan of Arcady . . 'twas Pan, 4. And, were I inclined to tattle, To her cave she beckon'd. 5. Hesperus, hail! thy friendly ray Lest the nodding leaves betray, 6. Phryne heard my kisses given Acte's rival bosom 'Twas the buds, I swore by heaven, Bursting into blossom. 7. What she heard, and half espied By the gleam, she doubted, And with arms uplifted, cried, How they must have sprouted ! |