{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/wikisource_Orion_Book_II_Canto_III/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/wikisource_Orion_Book_II_Canto_III","id":"wikisource_Orion_Book_II_Canto_III","license":"Public Domain / CC-BY-SA (see source)","rights_basis":"wikisource_site_inclusion_policy","source":"wikisource","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Orion/Book_II/Canto_III","summary":null,"tags":["Subpages"],"text":"ORION.\n\nCanto the Third.\n\nIn parching summer, when the mulberry leaves\nDrooped broad and gleaming, and the myrtles curled,\nWhile the pomegranate's rind grew thin and hard;\nThe vegetation of the isle looked pale,\nFlaccid, and fading in despondency\nFor rain, and the young corn in every field,\nWith dry and rustling murmur as it waved,\nGlistened impatiently, till autumn's tomb\nReceived the husky voice, and spring's dead hopes.\nThe vine-hills, and wild turpentines that grew\nAlong the road beneath, all basked content,\nAs did the lentisk-trees; but many a pant\nAnd sultry sigh came from the fields and meads,\nThe city's gardens, where no fountains played,\nAnd hot stone temples in the sacred groves.\nSuch lack of moisture oft had been endured,\nAnd e'en the latest winter, whose thick breath\nSolemnly wafted o'er the \u00c6gean sea,\nHad not resigned a single peak of snow\nTo melt and flow down for the brooks of spring.\n\nBut since the breath of spring had stirred the woods,\nThrough which the joyous tidings busily ran,\nAnd oval buds of delicate pink and green\nBroke, infant-like, through bark of sapling boughs,\u2014\nThe vapours from the ocean had ascended,\nFume after fume, wreath upon wreath, and floor\nOn floor, till a grey curtain upward spread\nFrom sea to sky, and both as one appeared.\nNow came the snorting and precipitous steeds\nOf the Sun's chariot tow'rds the summer signs;\nAt first obscurely, then with dazzling beams;\nAnd cleared the heavens, but held the vapours there,\nIn cloudy architecture of all hues.\nThe stately fabrics and the eastern pomps,\nTents, tombs, processions veiled, and temples vast,\nRemained not long in their august repose,\nBut sank to ruins, and re-formed in likeness\nOf monstrous beasts in lands and seas unknown.\nThese gradually dilating, limb from limb,\nAnd head from bulk, were drawn apart, and floated\nHither and thither, till in ridges strewn,\nLike to a rich and newly-furrowed field,\nThen breaking into purple isles and spots,\nFaded to faintness, and dissolved in air.\n\nOne midnight dark a spirit electric came,\nAnd shot an invisible arrow through the sky,\nWhich instantly the wide-spread moisture called\nTo congregate in heavy drops, that fell\nAs suddenly. Like armies, host on host,\nPouring upon the mountains, vales, and plains,\nThe showers clashed down. Each runnel and thin stream\nA branching brook became, or flowing river;\nEach once small river rolled a goodly flood\nWith laughing falls, and many a Naiad bright\nAnd rush-crowned River-god, was newly born,\nWhile all the land-veins with fresh spirit ran\nIn this quick season of Orion's life.\n\nThe snows on every height had drank the showers,\nTill heavy with the moisture, each steep ridge\nLost its pure whiteness and transparent frost;\nSank down as humbly as a maid once proud,\nWho droops and kneels and weeps; and from beneath\nIts stagnant foam melted quick running rills\nDown slopes, with sunny music and loud hum,\nPrecipitous, ere through dark craggy rifts\nSparkling it dashed, and poured towards the plain.\nUnusual growth of corn was in the land,\nWhose fields with tender-flowing greenness smiled,\nAs winds with shades ran dances over them;\nAnd e'en the vineyards, oliveyards, and groves\nOf citron, were in their abundant fruits\nAbundantly increased: all works increased.\n\nDark as an eagle on a cloudy rock,\n\u0152nopion sat upon his ancient throne.\nFixed was his face, while, through a distant gate,\nUpon the ruins of a tower he gazed,\nThat like a Titan's shattered skeleton\nStill in its place stuck fast. But she was gone;\nHis daughter Merope was borne away;\nAnd willingly he knew; and whither fled,\nHe knew. But how recover, or revenge\nThe loss?\u2014new dangers, outrage, how avert?\nInfuriate were his people at the deed,\nFor by the giants many had been slain,\nEre they had won their prize. 'Gainst Merope,\nSome spake aloud; against Orion, all,\u2014\nSave the bald sage, who said \"'T was natural.\"\n\"Natural!\" they cried, \"O wretch!\" The sage was stoned.\n\nWithin his cave, in his accustomed place,\nWith passive dignity that ever holds\nUnwise activity in check and awe\u2014\nAnd active wisdom where the will's not strong\u2014\nSat Akinetos, listening to the tale\nThus by Rhexergon told; Biastor leaning\nAgainst a rock, with folded arms, the while.\n\n\"We from our trance with aching brows awoke\nStaring, and on our elbows raised, with chins\nSet in our hands, collected our mazed minds.\nWe both had dreamed one dream. In Chios' walls\nA feast we held in honour of the king,\nEncolyon, newly chosen\u2014as we thought\u2014\nBy the chief rulers, while Orion stood\nChained to the throne. But Merope, \"'t was said,\nShould still be his, if loyal, hand and soul.\nYet ere Orion answered, rushing came\nA small dark shape-\u2014some airy messenger\u2014\nDarting on all sides, diving, nestling, leaping,\nSwift as a mullet coursing the sea hare,\nAnd strong, as when within the shore-hauled net\nIt searches, like a keen hound, to and fro,\nAnd no gap finding, bounds o'er the high-drawn line:\nOne leaps\u2014all follow, like a flock of sheep\nOver a wattle. So, this headlong sprite,\nWhich, in our dream, now multiplied to shoals,\nAnd thus confused the feasters. But what 't was\nNone saw, nor knew; but all the feast they marred,\nWhile, in the place of meats and fruits, we found\nDust\u2014dry-baked dust; the dust of the gone king,\nEncolyon\u2014as a bird in the air screamed forth\u2014\nBy Phoibos smitten. Now a sound we heard,\nLike to some well-known voice in prayer; and next\nAn iron clang that seemed to break great bonds\nBeneath the earth, shook us to conscious life.\nA briny current passing through our hearts\nStung all our faculties back to former power;\nAnd as we rose, across a distant field\nWe saw Orion coming with a sword.\nOur dream thus ended in reality\nWithout a boundary line. What followed seemed\nContinuous, for Orion urged us on.\nFresh work had he in hand; few words explained;\nAnd to \u0152nopion's city we repaired,\nEntering at eve of a great festival,\nI with a club, iron bound, of ponderous weight;\nBiastor with a shield, forged by Orion,\nWhose disk enormous would protect all three,\nAnd, set with ray-like spikes around the rim,\nLooked like a fallen star. Onward we drove\nBehind this threatening orb, down-trampling all\nWho fled not, or our impulse strove to oppose;\nFeasters and dancers, chieftains, priests, and guards;\nI tell it as it happened\u2014blow by blow\u2014\nTill near a high tower, doubtful of our course\nAt bay, like bulls, within a circle clear\nBy terror made, we paused. The archers soon,\nWith bow-arm forward thrust, on all sides twanged,\nAround, below, above. Behind the shield\nThat on its spikes stood grimly, we retired,\nAnd heard the rattling storm; when from the tower\nA light flashed down one side, and at the top\nStood Merope, who cried, 'Orion, see!\nMy prison I have fired, and in my haste\nFired first below. I cannot pass the flames!'\nE'en while she spake a hydra-wreath of smoke\nRan coiling up the stony stair, and peered\nInto each chamber with its widening head,\nAs if to seek its prey. Again she cried\u2014\n'I will leap down into thine arms!' 'Forbear!'\nShouted Orion, 'First let us try our strength\nWith skill.' I on the groaning gate-posts smote,\nUntil their bolts and nails started like tusks\nFrom battered jaws, and inward sunk the gates,\nCrushing armed men behind. O'er all we passed.\nOrion, now in front, amidst a cloud\nOf smoke, dust, slaughter and confusing cries,\nThe blackened slabs of winding stair ascended;\nAnd in the same fierce uproar and dismay\nOf men, not fit to cope with sons of Gods,\nUnscathed came down with Merope. 'T was good.\nHe bore her to the cedar grove afar,\nWhere in brief space a palace he had built,\nWhile we, remaining midway, called a rout\nAround us, and great revel held that night.\"\n\nRhexergon ceased, while in the sunny air\nHis large eyes shone, and pleased with what he told\u2014\nFor well he spake with deep-voiced cadences\u2014\nLooked like a monarch who hath made a verse.\nNow Akinetos spake. \"Your efforts done,\nWhat good to ye is wrought? To him, what good?\nNot long will Merope be his: if long,\nWhat good, since both must tire. \u0152nopion,\nThe king of ships and armies, may reclaim\nThis Merope by force: perchance her own\nInconstant will may save these ships and men.\"\n\"If we defend the prize,\" Biastor said,\n\"Substantial good unto ourselves were due;\nWise are thy words; wherefore large terms of spoil\nWe with Orion will in future make,\nThat shall secure our constant revelry,\nAs in Dodona, once, ere driven thence,\nBy Zeus, for that Rhexergon burnt some oaks.\nThrust we the king from off his throne, or thrust\nHis throne from under him to some fresh place\nSuiting our fancies, whereon we'll sleep crowned,\nAnd feast, and order armies to march forth,\nAnd ships to sail, and music, and more feast.\"\n\n\"Better pull down the city, and destroy\nThe fleet\"\u2014Rhexergon said\u2014\"Then, all despoiled\u2014\nAnd made as slaves,\u2014leave we our woodland homes:\nThere live, with Akinetos for our king?\nAught we destroy Orion can rebuild,\nIf we should need; or frame aught else we need;\nRise, therefore, Akinetos, thou art king!\"\nSo saying in his hand he placed a spear.\n\nAs though against a wall 't were set aslant,\nFlatly the long spear fell upon the ground.\n\"He will not be a king; nor will he aid\nYour purposes,\" murmured the Great Unmoved.\n\"Autarces, Harpax, aided, and both died;\nOrion's work will shortly work his end;\nEncolyon, ever meddling to prevent,\nWasted his mind and care, and found his death.\nThose who have wisdom aid not, nor prevent.\nNought good has followed aught that ye have done,\nNor will good follow aught that ye can do,\nOr I can do, or any one can do,\nExcept such good as of itself had come,\nIf so 't was ordered. Leave God to his work,\nThe Supreme Mover of all things, and best,\nWho, if we move not, must himself sustain\nHis scheme: hence, never moved by hands unskilled,\nBut moved as best may be. Be warned; sit still.\"\n\nWithin the isle, far from the walks of men,\nWhere jocund chase was never heard, nor hoof\nOf Satyr broke the moss, nor any bird\nSang, save at times the nightingale\u2014but only\nIn his prolonged and swelling tones, nor e'er\nWith wild joy and hoarse laughing melody,\nClosing the ecstasy, as is his wont,\u2014\nA forest separate and far withdrawn\nFrom all the rest, there grew. Old as the earth,\nOf cedar was it, lofty in its glooms\nWhen the sun hung o'er head, and in its darkness\nLike Night when giving birth to time's first pulse.\nSilence had ever dwelt there; but of late,\nCame faint sounds with a cadence regular\nFrom the far depths, as of a cataract\nWhose echoes midst incumbent foliage died.\nFrom one high mountain gushed a flowing stream,\nWhich through the forest passed, and found a fall\nWithin\u2014none knew where\u2014then rolled tow'rds the sea.\n\nThere underneath the boughs, mark where the gleam\nOf sun-rise through the roofing's chasm is thrown\nUpon a grassy plot below, whereon\nThe shadow of a stag stoops to the stream\nSwift rolling towards the cataract, and drinks deeply.\nThroughout the day unceasingly it drinks,\nWhile ever and anon the nightingale,\nNot waiting for the evening, swells his hymn\u2014\nHis one sustained and heaven-aspiring tone\u2014\nAnd when the sun hath vanished utterly,\nArm over arm the cedars spread their shade,\nWith arching wrist and long extended hands,\nAnd grave-ward fingers lengthening in the moon,\nAbove that shadowy stag whose antlers still\nHung o'er the stream. Then came a rich-toned voice\nOut of the forest depths, and sang this lay,\nWith deep speech intervalled and tender pause.\n\n\"If we have lost the world what gain is ours!\nHast thou not built a palace of more grace\nThan marble towers? These trunks are pillars rare,\nWhose roof embowers with far more grandeur. Say,\nHast thou not found a bliss with Merope,\nAs full of rapture as existence new?\n'T is thus with me. I know that thou art blest.\nOur inmost powers\u2014fresh winged shall soar and dream\nIn realms of honey-dew, whose air\u2014light\u2014flowers,\nWill ever be\u2014though vague, most fair\u2014most sweet\u2014\nBetter than memory.\u2014\u2014\u2014Look yonder, love!\nWhat solemn image through the trunks is straying?\nAnd now he doth not move, yet never turns\nOn us his visage Of 'rapt vacancy!\nIt is Oblivion. In his hand\u2014though nought\nKnows he of this\u2014a dusky purple flower\nDroops over its tall stem. Again, ah see!\nHe wanders into mist, and now is lost.\u2014\u2014\u2014\nWithin his brain what lovely realms of death\nAre pictured, and what knowledge through the doors\nOf his forgetfulness of all the earth,\nA path may gain? Then turn thee, love, to me:\nWas I not worth thy winning and thy toil,\nO, earth-born son of Ocean! Melt to rain.\"\n\nNo foot may enter 'midst these cedar glooms:\nPassion is there\u2014a spell is on the place\u2014\nIt hath its own protecting atmosphere,\nNeeding no walls nor bars. But Chios' king\nHath framed his purpose; the sworn instruments\nChosen; and from the palace now depart\nIn brazen chariots, richly armed, ten chiefs.\n\"Watch well your moment!\"\u2014lastly spake the king;\n\"Slay not outright\u2014but make his future life\nA blot\u2014a blank!\" They bent their high-plumed helms,\nAnd through the gates in thunder whirled away.\n\nBeyond the cedar forest lay the cliffs\nThat overhung the beach, but midway swept\nFair swelling lands, some green with brightest grass,\nSome golden in the sun. Mute was the scene,\nAnd moveless. Not a breeze came o'er the edge\nOf the high-heaving fields and fallow lands;\nOnly the zephyrs at long intervals\nDrew a deep sigh, as of some blissful thought,\nThen swooned to silence. Not a bird was seen,\nNor heard: all marbly gleamed the steadfast sky.\nHither Orion slowly walked alone,\nAnd passing round between two swelling slopes\nOf green and golden light, beheld afar\nThe broad grey horizontal wall o' the dead-calm sea.\n\nO'ersteeped in bliss; prone on its ebbing tide;\nWith hope's completeness vaguely sorrowful,\nAnd sense of life-bounds too enlarged; his thoughts\nSank faintly through each other, fused and lost,\nTill his o'ersatisfied existence drooped;\nLike fruit-boughs heavily laden above a stream,\nIn which they gaze so closely on themselves,\nThat, touching, they grow drowsy, and submerge,\nLosing all vision. Sense of thankful prayers\nCame over him, while downward to the shore\nSlowly his steps he bent, seeking to hold\nCommunion with his sire. The eternal Sea\nBefore him passively at full length lay,\nAs in a dream of the marmoreal heavens.\nWith hands stretched forward thus his prayer began;\n\"Receive Poseidon!\"\u2014\u2014\u2014but no further words\nFound utterance. And again he prayed, and said,\n\"Receive, O Sire!\"\u2014\u2014\u2014yet still the emotion rose\nToo full for words, and with no meaning clear.\nHe turned, and sinking on a sandy mound,\nWith dim look o'er the sea, deeply he slept.\n\nWhat altars burn afar\u2014what smoke arises\nBeyond the swelling lands above the cliffs?\nOr is it but a rolling cloud of dust\nThat onward moves, driven by the wind? And now\nA rumbling sound is gathering in the breeze,\nAnd nearer swells\u2014now dies away\u2014like wheels\nThat pass from stony ground to grassy plains.\nAgain!\u2014it rings and jars\u2014and passing swift\nAlong the cliffs, till lost in a ravine,\nFive brazen chariots fling the sunset rays\nAngrily back upon the startled air!\nIn one, the last, struggles a lovely form,\nHalf pinioned by a chieftain's broidered scarf,\nHer wild black tresses coiling round one arm\nWhich still she raises, striving to make a sign.\nAll disappeared. No voice, no sound was heard.\nThe moon arose\u2014and still Orion slept.\n\nForth from a dark chasm issue figures armed.\nClose conference they hold, like ravens met\nFor ominous talk of death. No more: their shields,\nPlumed helms, and swords, two chieftains lay aside,\nThen stoop, and softly creep tow'rds him who sleeps;\nWhile o'er their heads the long protecting spears\nAre held by seven, who noiselessly and slow\nFollow their stealthy progress. Step by step\nThe deadly crescent moves behind the twain,\nWho, flat as reptiles, and with face thrust out,\nBreathless, all senses sharpen. Now!\u2014't is done!\nThe poison falls upon the dreamer's lids.\n\nAway, aghast at their own evil deed,\nAs though some dark curse on themselves had fallen,\nFlashed the mailed moon-lit miscreants into shade,\nLike fish at sudden dropping of a stone.\nThe Moon now hid her face. The sea-shore lay\nIn hollowness beneath the rising stars,\nAnd blind Orion, starting at once erect\nAmid his darkness, with extended arms\nAnd open mouth that uttered not a word,\nStood statue-like, and heard the Ocean moan.","title":"Orion/Book II/Canto III","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":2814}