A wraith of smoke, fast-driven against a flame,
Yon by the crimsoning east the dark ship moved,
Her herald noises strangely borne ashore:
‘Joy, joy!’ and interlinked: ‘O joy, O joy,
Athens our mother! joy to all thy gates!’
And thunderous firm acclaim of minstrelsy,
Laughter, and antheming, and salvos wild
Outran the racing prow. But mute they lay,
The blinded watchers, spent beyond desire,
Wounded beyond this wonder’s balsaming.
Yet ever, thro’ the trembling lovely light,
Known voice on voice re-echoed, face on face
Uprose in resurrection. They were safe,
And Athens, hark! from her long thraldom free!
And Theseus, victor, sang and sailed with them,
The pale unsistered Phædra for his bride,
For whom was constant Ariadne cast
On Naxos, where a god did comfort her.
Theseus! who when his bark the shallows grazed,
Leaped in the gentle waves for boyish glee,
Gained the thronged highway, crossed it at a bound,
Scaling the cliffs; and stood among them there,
Clausus, and his dear Theron, and the rest,
Nodding upon the clamorous crowd below;
But they, as soon, had turned them blunt away,
In hot resentment of that false one. He,
O’erbrimming with frank welcomes, in dismay,
Stricken with sight of unresponsive hands,
Scenting disaster, reining up his tongue,
Asked sharply for the king.
He understood
After mad struggle and bewilderment,
And gloomy gazing on the absent deeps.
Down on the penitential rock he sank,
All his fair body palpitant with shame,
Syllabing agony: ‘Ægeus, Ægeus! ah,
Glory of Hellas! dead for trust in me.
Life-giver, irrecoverable friend,
My father! ah, ah, loving father mine,
Ah, dear my father!... I forgot the sail.’
And the great morn burst. On a hundred hills
The marigold unbarred her casement bright.
L E G E N D S
