A DIALOGUE.
THE ATHENIAN.
Stern Prisoner in thy rites of old,
To Learning blind, to Beauty cold,—
Never for thee, with garlands crown'd,
The lyre and myrtle circle round;
Dull to the Lesbian ruby's froth,
Thou revellest in thy verjuice broth.
With Phidian art our temples shine,
Like mansions meet for gods divine;
Thou think'st thy gods despise such toys,
And shrines are made—for scourging boys,
As triflers, thou canst only see
The Drama's Kings—our glorious Three.
No Plato fires your youth to thinking,
Your nobler school,—in Helots drinking!
Contented as your sires before—
The Little makes ye loathe The More.
We, ever pushing forward, still
Take power, where powerless, from the will;
We, ever straining at the All,
With hands that grasp when feet may fall,[L]—
Earth, ocean,—near and far,—we roam,
Where Fame, where Fortune,—there a home!
You hold all progress degradation,
Improvement but degeneration,
And only wear your scarlet coat
When self-defence must cut a throat.
Yet ev'n in war, your only calling,
A snail would beat your best at crawling;
We slew the Mede at Marathon,
While you were gazing at the moon![M]
Pshaw, man, lay by these antique graces,
True wisdom hates such solemn faces!
Spartans, if only livelier fellows,
Would make ev'n us a little jealous!
THE SPARTAN (calmly).
Friend, Spartans when they need improvement
Take models not from endless movement.
We found our sires the lords of Greece;—
Ask'd why? this answer—"Laws and Peace."
Enough for us to hold our own;
Who grasps at shadows risks the bone.
You're ever up, and ever down,—
There's something fix'd in True Renown.
The New has charms for men, I'm told;
Granted,—but all our gods are old.
Better to imitate a god
Than shift like men.
THE ATHENIAN (impatiently).
You are so odd!
There is no sense in these laconics.
Ho, Dromio! bring my last Platonics.
This mode of arguing, though emphatic,
Is quite eclipsed by the Socratic.
SPARTAN.
Friend—
ATHENIAN.