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Because the whole wide space was bare,

and stilled The high seats were, with eager people


There with the others to a seat he gat, Whence he beheld a broidered canopy, 'Neath which in fair array King Shæneus

sat Upon bis

throne with councillors thereby ; And underneath his well-wrought seat

and high, He saw a golden image of the sun, A silver image of the Fleet-foot One. A brazen altar stood beneath their feet Whereon a thin flame flicker'd in the

wind; Nigh this a herald clad in raiment meet Made ready even now his horn to wind, By whom a huge man held a sword,

entwin'd With yellow flowers; these stood a little

space From off the altar, nigh the starting



Then, turning round to see what place

was won, With shaded eyes looked underneath the

sun, And o’er green meads and new-turned

furrows brown Beheld the gleaming of King Schøneus'

town. So thitherward he turned, and on each

side The folk were busy on the teeming

land, And man and maid from the brown fur

rows cried, Or midst the newly blossomed vines did

stand, And as the rustio weapon pressed the

hand Thought of the nodding of the well-filled

ear, Or how the knife the heavy bunch should

shear. Merry it was: about him sung the

birds, The spring flowers bloomed along the

firm dry road, The sleek-skinned mothers of the sharp

horned herds Now for the barefoot milking-maidens

lowed ; While from the freshness of his blue

abode, Glad his death-bearing arrows to forget, The broad sun blazed, nor scattered

plagues as yet. Through such fair things unto the gates

he came, And found them open, as though peace

were there; Wherethrough, unquestioned of his

race or name, He entered, and along the streets 'gan

fare, Which at the first of folk were well-nigh

bare ; But pressing on, and going more hastily, Men hurrying too he 'gan at last to see. Following the last of these he still

pressed on, Until an open space he came unto, Where wreaths of fame had oft been lost

and won, For feats of strength folks there were

vont to do. And now our hunter looked for some

thing new,

And there two runners did the sign

abide, Foot set to foot,

-a young man slim and fair, Crisp-hair'd, well knit, with firm limbs

often tried In places where no man his strength may

spare : Dainty his thin coat was, and on his hair A golden circlet of renown he wore. And in his hand an olive garland bore. But on this day with whom shall he con

tend? A maid stood by him like Diada clad When in the woods she lists her best

bend, Too fair for one to look on and he glas. Who scarcely yet has thirty summer

had, If he must still behold her from afar: Too fair to let the world live free fre


She seem'd all earthly matters to : Of all tormenting lines her for

clear ; Her wide gray eyes upon the garage

set Calm and

.v'd as though nose's

ut her foe trembled as a man in fear, or from her loveliness one moment

turn'd is anxious face with fierce desire that


But her late foe stopp'd short amidst his

course, One moment gaz'd upon her piteously, Then with a groan his lingering feet did

force To leave the spot whence he her eyes

could see ; And, changed like one who knows his

time must be But short and bitter, without any word He knelt before the bearer of the sword ;

ow through the hush there broke the

trumpet's clang ist as the setting sun made eventide. hen from light feet a spurt of dust

there sprang. nd swiftly were they running side by

side; ut silent did the thronging folk abide intil the turning-post was reach'd at

last, und round about it still abreast they

passed. But when the people saw how close they

ran, Vhen half-way to the starting-point

they were, cry of joy broke forth, whereat the

man leaded the white-foot runner, and drew

near into the very end of all his fear; And scarce his straining feet the ground

could feel, Ind bliss unlop'd for o'er his heart 'gan


Then high rose up the gleaming deadly

blade, Bar'd of its flowers, and through the

crowded place Was silence now, and midst of it the

maid Went by the poor wretch at a gentle

pace, And he to hers upturn'd his sad white

face ; Nor did his eyes behold another sight Ere on his soul there fell eternal light.

So was the pageant ended, and all folk Talking of this and that familiar thing In little groups from that sad concourse

broke, For now the shrill bats were upon the

wing, And soon dark night would slay the

evening, And in dark gardens sang the nightin

gale Her little-heeded, oft-repeated tale.

But 'midst the loud victorious shouts he

heard Her footsteps drawing nearer, and the

sound of fluttering raiment, and thereat

afeared Flis flushid and eager face he turn'd

around, And even then he felt her past him

bound Fleet as the wind, but scarcely saw her

there Till on the goal she laid her fingers fair. There stood she breathing like a little

child Amid some warlike clamor laid asleep, For no victorious joy her red lips smild, Her cheek its wonted freshness did but

keep ; No glance lit up her clear gray eyes and

deep. Though some divine thought soften'd all

her face As once more rang the trumpet through

the place.

And with the last of all the hunter went, Who, wondering at the strange sight he

had seen, Prayed an old man to tell him what it

meant, Both why the vanquished man so slain

had been, And if the maiden were an earthly

queen, Or rather what much more she seemed

to be, No sharer in this world's mortality.

may die

“ Stranger," said he, “I pray she soon Whose lovely youth has slain so many

an one! King Scheneus' daughter is she verily, Who when her eyes first looked upon the Was fain to end her life but new begun, For he had vowed to leave but men


alone Sprung from his loins when he from

earth was gone. “ Therefore he bade one leave her in

the wood, And let wild things deal with her as

they might, But this being done, some cruel god

thought good To save her beauty in the world's

despite ; Folk say that her, so delicate and white As now she is, a rough root-grubbing

bear Amidst her shapeless cubs at first did

For, fearing as I deem the sea-born one, The maid has vowed e'en such a man to

wed As in the course her swift feet can out

run, But whoso fails herein, his days are

done : He came the nighest that was slain to

day, Although with him I deem she did but

play. “ Behold, such mercy Atalanta gives To those that long to win her loveliness ; Be wise! be sure that many a maid there

lives Gentler than she, of beauty little less, Whose swimming eyes thy loving words

shall bless, When in some garden, knee set close to

knee, Thou sing'st the song that love may

teach to thee."


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" In course of time the woodfolk slew

her nurse, And to their rude abode the youngling

brought, And reared her up to be a kingdom's

curse ; Who grown a woman, of no kingdom

thought, But armed and swift, 'mid beasts de

struction wrought, Nor spared two shaggy centaur kings to

slay To whom her body seemed an easy prey. “ So to this city, led by fate, she came Whom known by signs, whereof I

cannot tell, King Schøneus for his child at last did

claim. Nor otherwhere since that day doth she

dwell Sending too many a noble soul to hellWhat! thine eyes glisten ! what then,

thinkest thou Her shining head unto the yoke to bow ? Listen, my son, and love some other

maid For she the saffron gown will never

wear, And on no flower-strewn couch shall

she be laid, Nor shall her voice make glad a lover's

ear : Yet if of Death thou hast not any fear, Yea, rather, if thou lov'st him utterly, Thou still may'st woo her ere thou

com'st to die, “ Like him that on this day thou sawest

lie dead;

There to the hart's flank seemed his

shaft to grow, As panting down the broad green glades

he flew, There by his horn the Dryads well might

know His thrust against the bear's heart had

been true, And there Adonis' bane his javelin slew. But still in vain through rough and

smooth he went, For none the more his restlessness was

spent. So wandering, he to Argive cities came, And in the lists with valiant men he

stood, And by great deeds he won him praise

and fame, And heaps of wealth for little-valued

blood ;

That not in darkness should the world

be done ! And then, and then, how long before

the sun Bade silently the toilers of the earth Get forth to fruitless cares or empty

mirtlı !

had gone

go by,

But none of all these things, or life,

seemed good Unto his heart, where still unsatisfied A ravenous longing warred with fear

and pride. Therefore it happed when but a month Since he had left King Schøneus' city

old, In hunting-gear again, again alone The forest-bordered meads did he behold, Where still mid thoughts of August's

quivering gold Folk hoed the wheat, and clipped the

vine in trust Of faint October's purple-foaming must. And once again he passed the peaceful

gate, While to his beating heart his lips did

lie, That owning not victorious loveand fate, Said, half aloud, And here too must I

try, To win of alien men the mastery, And gather for my head fresh meed of

fame And cast new glory on my father's

name.In spite of that, how beat his heart,

when first Folk said to him, “ And art thou come

to see That which still makes our city's name

accurst Among all mothers for its cruelty? Then know indeed that fate is good to

thee Because to-morrow a new luckless one Against the whitefoot maid is pledged

to run." So on the morrow with no curious eyes As once he did, that piteous sight he

saw, Nor did that wonder in his heart arise As toward the goal the conquering maid

'gan draw, Nor did he gaze upon her eyes with awe, Too full the pain of longing filled his

heart For fear or wonder there to have a part. But O, how long the night was ere it

went ! How long it was before the dawn begun Showed to the wakening birds the sun's

And long it seemed that in the market

place He stood and saw the chaffering folk Ere from the ivory throne King Schoe

neus' face Looked down upon the murmur royally, But then came trembling that the time

was nigh When he midst pitying looks his love

must claim, And jeering voices must salute his name. But as the throng he pierced to gain the

throne, His alien face distraught and anxious

told What hopeless errand he was bound

upon, And, each to each, folk whispered to

behold His godlike limbs ; nay, and one woman

ola As he went by must pluck him by the

sleeve And pray him yet that wretchell love to


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For silling up she saiil, Canst thou

live twice, Fair son ? canst thou have joyful youth

again. That thus thou goest to the sacrifice Thy self the victim ? nay then. allin vain Thy mother bore her longing and her

pain, And one more maiden on the earth must

dwell Hopeless of joy, nor fearing death and


“0, fool, thou knowest not the compact

then That with the three-formed goddess she

has made To keep her from the loving lips of men, And in no saffron gown to be arrayed, And therewithal with glory to be paid, And love of her the moonlit river sees White 'gainst the shadow of the formless “Come back, and I myself will pray



for thee Unto the sea-born framer of delights, To give thee her who on the earth may be The fairest stirrer up to death and fights, To quench with hopeful days and joyous

nights The flame that doth thy youthful heart

And at my door lay down thy luckless

heali, Swelling the band of the unhappy dead, Whose curses even now my heart doth

fear? Lo, I am old, and know what life can be, And what a bitter thing is death anear. 0, Son! be wise, and harken unto me, And if no other can be dear to thee, At least as now, yet is the world full

wide, And bliss in seeming hopeless hearts may

hide :


Come back, nor give thy beauty to the


How should be listen to her earnest

speech ? Words, such as he not once or twice had

said Unto himself, whose meaning scarce

could reach The firm abode of that sad hardiheadHe turned about, and through the

marketstead Swiftly he passed, until before the

throne In the cleared space he stood at last


· But if thou losest life, then all is

lost.” “Nay, King,” Milanion said, “thy words

are vain. Doubt not that I have counted well the

cost. But say, on what day wilt thou that I

gain Fulfilled delight, or death to end my

pain. Right glad were I if it could be to-day, And all my doubts at rest for ever lay."

die :

Then said the King, “Stranger, what

dost thou here? Have any of my folk done ill to thee? Or art thou of the forest men in fear? Or art thou of the sad fraternity Who still will strive my daughter's mates

to be, Staking their lives to win an earthly

bliss, The lonely maid, the friend of Artemis ?” 6. () King," he said “thou sayest the

word indeed ; Nor will I quit the strife till I have won My sweet delight, or death to end my

need. And know that I am called Milanion, Of King Amphidamas the well-loved So fear not that to thy old name, O King, Much loss or shame my victory will


Nay,” said King Schoeneus, "thus it

shall not be, But rather shalt thou let a month go br. And weary with thy prayers for victory What god thou know'st the kindest and

most nigh. So doing, still perchance thou shalt not And with my goodwill wouldst thou

have the maid, For of the equal gods I grow

afraid. “ And until then, O Prince, be thou my

guest, And all these troublous things awhile

forget. Vay," said he, “couldst thou give me

soul good rest, And on mine head a sleepy garland set. Then had I 'scaped the meshes of the net,

word: Nor shouldst thou hear from me another But now, make sharp thy fearful head

ing-sword. · Yet will I do what son of man maydo. And promise all the gods may most

desire, That to myself I may at least be true: And on that day my heart and limbs so



" wel

'Nay, Prince," said Schoeneus,

come to this land Thou wert indeed, if thou wert here to

try Thy strength 'gainst some one mighty

of his hand; Nor woulil we grudge thee well-won

mastery. But now, why wilt thou come to me to


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