Part 4 (1/2)

STORIES IN VERSE.

Adeimantus.

The dream of Adeimantus Who carved for a Grecian Prince Statues of perfect marble, Fairer than all things since, Wonderful, white, and gracious Like lotus flowers on a mere, Or phantoms born of the moonbeam, Beyond all praise but a tear.

The dream of Adeimantus (As he lay upon his bed), Wonderful, white, and gracious, And this was the word it said.

”Arise! oh! Adeimantus, The breath of the dawn blows chill, The stars begin to fade Ere the first ray strikes the sill.

Arise! oh! Adeimantus For here is work to your hand, If the fingers fas.h.i.+on the dream As the soul can understand.”

He rose from his troubled bed Ere the dream had faded away, And he said, ”I will fas.h.i.+on the dream As the potter fas.h.i.+ons the clay.”

He said in his great heart's vanity, ”I will fas.h.i.+on a wondrous thing To stand in a palace of onyx And blind the eyes of a king.”

He said in the pride of his soul As the birds began to sing, ”I will surely take no rest Till I fas.h.i.+on this wondrous thing.

I will swear an oath to eschew The white wine and the red, To eat no delicate meats Nor break the fair, white bread.

I will not walk in the city But labour here alone In the dew and the dusk and the flush Till the vision smiles from the stone.”

Six days he wrought at the marble, But cunning had left his hand, And his fingers would not fas.h.i.+on What his soul could understand.

Six days he fasted and travailed, Hard was the watch to keep, So the chisel fell from his fingers And he sank with a sob to sleep.

But a vision came to his slumber Beautiful as before, Floating in with the moonbeam Gliding over the floor.

It floated in with the moonbeam And stood beside his bed, Wonderful, white, and gracious, And this was the word it said.

”Courage, oh! Adeimantus, I am the perfect thing To stand in a shrine of jasper And blind the eyes of a king.

I am the strange desire, The glory beyond the dream, The pa.s.sion above the song, The spirit-light of the gleam.

I come to my best beloved, Not actual, from afar, Fairer than hope or thought, More beautiful than a star.

Courage, oh! Adeimantus, Lay strength and strength to your soul.

You shall fas.h.i.+on surely a part Tho' you may not grasp the whole.”

Pygmalion.

Once ... I seem to remember....

Crept in the noonday heat A boy with a crooked shadow Which capered along the street.

A boy whose shadow was mocked at By the children pa.s.sing along, Straight and tall and beautiful, Happy with laughter and song.

So, he envied their beauty....

He who was crooked and brown....

The strong youths of the mountain, The white girls of the town, Envied their happy meetings And the tender words they spoke In the shadow of the temples, Under the groves of oak.

And his lonely heart was stricken That never his lot might be To walk with a maid who loved him....

So quaint and crooked was he.

II

Thus was my heart once stricken And I repined for a while, I but a boy in years, Who longed for a maiden's smile.

Till once on a day in summer My soul was touched with a gleam, And I woke from my morbid fancies Like one from an evil dream, And knew that the G.o.ds in their wisdom Had made and set me apart.

Lean, misshapen, and ugly....

No toy for a maiden's heart.