Chapter VII

Pain of widest range--
The intimate grown strange.

ARMA VIRUMQUE CANO

And so the good Aeneas went away.
It was not dawn, and yet the sleepless sea
Felt as a mother, the still unborn day.
The stars were brighter than they ought to be.
A milky foam curled from the vessel's breast
Whose long blades lifted to each lifting crest.

Happy were the sailors to be aboard once more,
And the laughing sea answered to their shouts afar off shore.

Dido the Queen
Knew he was gone.
No need to have seen
From the casement withdrawn;
No need to be told;
Her heart had guessed
By the aching unrest
And empty breast--
Empty and cold.

Oh, plain her Maidens at their spinning,
Love has end that had beginning.

As the course was traced Aeneas paced,
His thoughts uprising like a flock of birds;
And one flew west, to the new the unknown nest,
And one that was wing'd with flaming words--
Something the Queen had uttered, tender--sweet,--
Fluttered back and died--just at her feet.

Ho! chants a Rower, straining at the sweep,
Leave the landsman to his pillow, the sailor to the deep.

All night the Queen
In fever burned;
A dream returned
Long ago seen:
A dream of ships,
Of one who came
Out of a flame
And cried her name
And kissed her lips.

Somewhere in the dawn Someone's singing:
"Lo! what gifts love's hands are bringing!"

Jet-black, the palms like sculptured fountains loomed
Above the lovers; one star blazed all night.
Beyond the river was the sea that boomed.
Their barge was lit with lightnings of delight.
Of this, the good Aeneas too had dreamed
While the unshaken towers of Ilium gleamed.

Ah! cry the sailors, "whom we loved must wait.
There's no turning back from the open track to the gates of fate."

The cicadas drone;
Desert winds blow
As oarsmen row
Their Queen alone
Down the river.
Alone, she cried
Alone! to the tide.
And the sea replied
Forever!

La, croon the Women, nimbly weaving,
"Whose heart do we hear grieving?"

Months bring all wanderings to a close.
The fleet years flee; Aeneas wisely wed,
Often, when wind and sea strike mighty blows,
Wakening from dreams half ecstasy, half dread,
That come upon him from another life,
Touches the calm breast of his sleeping wife.

Hum, the Night Watch mutters, leaning on his spear,
"'Tis a strange world to be in and to have no fear."

The sea at last
Brings pain to end.
The desert vast
Becomes her friend.
Her people fear it:
"The Queen," they say,
"Grows day by day
Paler, but still gay--
As a spirit."

Oh, they murmur, "Queen Dido goes away
To where the dark river runs, sunless and gray."

A HYMN TO DIONYSUS IN SPRING

Yellow the sands of the shores of Elis, and over the creaming
Foam-flakes that flutter and curl on the edge of the dreaming
Mediterranean, Jupiter arches his azure dome.
Here to the somnolent sands the Aeolian women have come,
The dreamers, all languid with silence of spring-tide dreaming,
And they stand with their hair unbound and their feet in the foam.

The heart of the morning beats with a swooning, amorous beating,
And the nymph-cool waters and brazen sunshine meeting,
Mingle where indolent spring-tide ripples shimmer and burn;
Out to the dim horizon the eyes of the dreamers yearn,
And like flutes are the low, soft voices that chant thus, entreating
The God, Dionysus, to rise from the sea and return.

"Bitter thy roving hath been, O Hunter, and stricken with madness,
And thy winter frenzy hath torn us with torment of sadness--
Horror of blood in the mouth and of murderous lusts that bring
Shadows a-couch in the forest from under us shuddering.
We are sick of the feverish nights that have stolen our gladness--
Ah! we are weary of winter and fain of the Spring!"

"Thy foes, O Hunter, have goaded thy soul, but their goading is
over,
For every unfolding leaf is a shield for thy cover
And every grass-blade upraises a spear that is scimitar-keen,
Gladly the flowers will weave thee a mantle to wander unseen.
Slim as a willow-wand, Ariadne awaits thee, her lover,
And her heart is full of the dreams that are cool and green."

"Hyé, the Dew, thy mother, sorrows because of thy going,
And the film-pale, rain-sweet Hyades fleeing and flowing,
Dissolved from the rainbow and river to rise in the sap of the tree,
Leave never their dolorous grieving, lamenting in quest of thee.
And the succulent vine and the spirit of all things growing
Cry 'Dionysus, return! Oh, return from the sea!'"

"Wilt thou forsake us forever, unheeding our sedulous plaining?
See'st not the clusters of pale green globes, crescent and straining
Sunwards, that long for thy hand to engarb them with royal attire?
Hear us, O Wine-God; return to us! Kindle once more Desire!"
So chant the Aeolian women till the light be waning
While the foam breaks over their feet in soft folds of fire.

The robes of the sun are red, and close to the earth he dozes;
The long day lingers, then slowly and silently closes
The shadowy orient gates, climbing upward stair by stair,
Raising her evening face to the stars in the spring-tide air.
Lo! the sea is aglow and aflame with the odor of roses!
Lo! a glimpse of the God with the sun in his yellow hair!

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Transcriber's Notes

The original spelling was mostly preserved. A few obvious typographical errors were silently corrected. All other changes are listed here (before/after):

[p. 10]:
... Fled, the panting, goat-shankid clan, ...
... Fled, the panting, goat-shank'd clan, ...

[p. 32]:
... The wind blows in and the wind blows out. ...
... The wind blows in and the wind blows out ...