XXV. LAODAMIA. "WITH sacrifice before the rising morn Restore him to my sight-great Jove, restore!" So speaking, and by fervent love endowed Her countenance brightens — and her eye expands; Her bosom heaves and spreads, her stature grows ; And she expects the issue in repose. O terror! what hath she perceived? — O joy! And a God leads him-winged Mercury ! Mild Hermes spake—and touched her with his wand That calms all fear, "Such grace hath crowned thy prayer, Laodamía! that at Jove's command Thy Husband walks the paths of upper air: He comes to tarry with thee three hours' space; Forth sprang the impassioned Queen her Lord to clasp; "Protesiláus, lo! thy guide is gone! This precious boon, and blest a sad Abode." "Great Jove, Laodamía! doth not leave His gifts imperfect: Spectre though I be, I am not sent to scare thee or deceive; And something also did my worth obtain; "Thou know'st, the Delphic oracle foretold That the first Greek who touched the Trojan strand Should die; but me the threat could not withhold: A generous cause a Victim did demand; And forth I leapt upon the sandy plain; A self-devoted Chief- by Hector slain." 66 Supreme of Heroes - bravest, noblest, best! Which then, when tens of thousands were deprest "But thou, though capable of sternest deed, And he, whose power restores thee, hath decreed That thou should'st cheat the malice of the grave; Redundant are thy locks, thy lips as fair As when their breath enriched Thessalian air. "No Spectre greets me, no vain Shadow this: Come, blooming Hero, place thee by my side! Jove frowned in heaven; the conscious Parcæ threw "This visage tells thee that my doom is past: Know, virtue were not virtue if the joys Of sense were able to return as fast And surely as they vanish.-Earth destroys majestic pains. "Be taught, O faithful Consort, to control "Ah, wherefore? - Did not Hercules by force Given back to dwell on earth in vernal bloom? "The Gods to us are merciful and they Yet further may relent: for mightier far Than strength of nerve and sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite seat be feeble Woman's breast. "But if thou go'st, I follow -" "Peace!" he said— She looked upon him and was calmed and cheered; The ghastly colour from his lips had fled; In his deportment, shape, and mien, appeared Brought from a pensive though a happy place. He spake of love, such love as Spirits feel No fears to beat away no strife to heal The past unsighed for, and the future sure; In happier beauty; more pellucid streams, And fields invested with purpureal gleams; Climes which the Sun, who sheds the brightest day Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey. Yet there the Soul shall enter which hath earned That privilege by virtue." Ill," said he, "The end of man's existence I discerned, Who from ignoble games and revelry Could draw, when we had parted, vain delight While tears were thy best pastime,-day and night: |