Following the last of these, he still pressed on, Until an open space he came unto,

Where wreaths of fame had oft been lost and won, For feats of strength folk there were wont to do. And now our hunter looked for something new, Because the whole wide space was bare, and stilled The high seats were, with eager people filled.

There with the others to a seat he gat, Whence he beheld a broidered canopy, 'Neath which in fair array King Schoneus sat Upon his throne with councillors thereby ; And underneath his well-wrought seat and high, He saw a golden image of the sun,

A silver image of the Fleet-foot one.

A brazen altar stood beneath their feet
Whereon a thin flame flickered in the wind;
Nigh this a herald clad in raiment meet
Made ready even now his horn to wind,
By whom a huge man held a sword, entwined
With yellow flowers; these stood a little space
From off the altar, nigh the starting place.

And there two runners did the sign abide Foot set to foot, —a young man slim and fair, Crisp-haired, well knit, with firm limbs often tried

In places where no man his strength may spare ;
Dainty his thin coat was, and on his hair

A golden circlet of renown he wore,
And in his hand an olive garland bore.

But on this day with whom shall he contend?
A maid stood by him like Diana clad

When in the woods she lists her bow to bend,
Too fair for one to look on and be glad,
Who scarcely yet has thirty summers had,
If he must still behold her from afar;
Too fair to let the world live free from war.

She seemed all earthly matters to forget;
Of all tormenting lines her face was clear,
Her wide grey eyes upon the goal were set
Calm and unmoved as though no soul were near;
But her foe trembled as a man in fear,

Nor from her loveliness one moment turned

His anxious face with fierce desire that burned.

Now through the hush there broke the trumpet's clang Just as the setting sun made eventide.

Then from light feet a spurt of dust there sprang,
And swiftly were they running side by side;
But silent did the thronging folk abide

Until the turning-post was reached at last,
And round about it still abreast they passed.

But when the people saw how close they ran, When half-way to the starting-point they were, A cry of joy broke forth, whereat the man Headed the white-foot runner, and drew near Unto the very end of all his fear;

And scarce his straining feet the ground could feel, And bliss unhoped for o'er his heart 'gan steal.

But midst the loud victorious shouts he heard
Her footsteps drawing nearer, and the sound
Of fluttering raiment, and thereat afeard
His flushed and eager face he turned around,
And even then he felt her past him bound
Fleet as the wind, but scarcely saw her there
Till on the goal she laid her fingers fair.

There stood she breathing like a little child Amid some warlike clamour laid asleep, For no victorious joy her red lips smiled, Her cheek its wonted freshness did but keep; No glance lit up her clear grey eyes and deep, Though some divine thought softened all her face As once more rang the trumpet through the place.

But her late foe stopped short amidst his course, One moment gazed upon her piteously,

Then with a groan his lingering feet did force
To leave the spot whence he her eyes could see;
And, changed like one who knows his time must be
But short and bitter, without any word

He knelt before the bearer of the sword;

Then high rose up the gleaming deadly blade, Bared of its flowers, and through the crowded place Was silence now, and midst of it the maid Went by the poor wretch at a gentle pace,

And he to hers upturned his sad white face;

Nor did his eyes behold another sight

Ere on his soul there fell eternal night.

So was the pageant ended, and all folk
Talking of this and that familiar thing

In little groups from that sad concourse broke,
For now the shrill bats were upon the wing,
And soon dark night would slay the evening,
And in dark gardens sang the nightingale
Her little-heeded, oft-repeated tale.

And with the last of all the hunter went, Who, wondering at the strange sight he had seen, Prayed an old man to tell him what it meant, Both why the vanquished man so slain had been, And if the maiden were an earthly queen, Or rather what much more she seemed to be, No sharer in the world's mortality.

"Stranger," said he, "I pray she soon may die
Whose lovely youth has slain so many an one!
King Schoneus' daughter is she verily,
Who when her eyes first looked upon the sun
Was fain to end her life but new begun,

For he had vowed to leave but men alone

Sprung from his loins when he from earth was gone.

"Therefore he bade one leave her in the wood, And let wild things deal with her as they might, But this being done, some cruel god thought good To save her beauty in the world's despite : Folk say that her, so delicate and white As now she is, a rough root-grubbing bear Amidst her shapeless cubs at first did rear.

"In course of time the woodfolk slew her nurse, And to their rude abode the youngling brought, And reared her up to be a kingdom's curse; Who grown a woman, of no kingdom thought, But armed and swift, 'mid beasts destruction wrought, Nor spared two shaggy centaur kings to slay To whom her body seemed an easy prey.

"So to this city, led by fate, she came Whom known by signs, whereof I cannot tell, King Schoeneus for his child at last did claim, Nor otherwhere since that day doth she dwell Sending too many a noble soul to hell

What! thine eyes glisten! what then, thinkest thou Her shining head unto the yoke to bow?

"Listen, my son, and love some other maid
For she the saffron gown will never wear,
And on no flower-strewn couch shall she be laid,
Nor shall her voice make glad a lover's ear;
Yet if of Death thou hast not any fear,

Yea, rather, if thou lov'st him utterly,

Thou still may'st woo her ere thou com'st to die,—

"Like him that on this day thou sawest lie dead; For, fearing as I deem the sea-born one,

The maid has vowed e'en such a man to wed
As in the course her swift feet can outrun,
But whoso fails herein, his days are done :
He came the nighest that was slain to-day,
Although with him I deem she did but play.