Alectryôn

Great Arês, whose tempestuous godhood foundDelight in those thick-tangled solitudesOf Hebrus, watered tracts of rugged Thrace,—Great Arês, scouring the Odrysian wilds,There met Alectryôn, a Thracian boy,Stalwart beyond his years, and swift of footTo hunt from morn till eve the white-toothed boar.“What hero,” said the war-God, “joined his bloodWith that of Hæmian nymph, to make thy formSo fair, thy soul so daring, and thy thewsSo lusty for the contest on the plainsWherein the fleet Odrysæ tame their steeds?”

From that time forth the twain together chasedThe boar, or made their coursers cleave the breadthOf yellow Hebrus, and, through vales beyond,Drove the hot leopard foaming to his lair.And day by day Alectryôn dearer grewTo the God’s restless spirit, till from ThraceHe bore him, even to Olympos; thereBefore him set immortal food and wine,That fairer youth and lustier strength might serveHis henchman; bade him bear his arms, and cleanseThe crimsoned burnish of his brazen car:So dwelt the Thracian youth among the Gods.

There came a day when Arês left at restHis spear, and smoothed his harmful, unhelmed brow,Calling Alectryôn to his side, and said:“The shadow of Olympos longer fallsThrough misty valleys of the lower world;The Earth shall be at peace a summer’s night;Men shall have calm, and the unconquered hostPeopling the walls of Troas, and the tribesOf Greece, shall sleep sweet sleep upon their arms;For Aphroditê, queen of light and love,Awaits me, blooming in the House of Fire,Girt with the cestus, infinite in grace,Dearer than battle and the joy of war:She, for whose charms I would renounce the swordForever, even godhood, would she wreatheMy brows with myrtle, dwelling far from Heaven.Hêphæstos, the lame cuckold, unto whoseMisshapen squalor Zeus hath given my queen,To-night seeks Lemnos, and his sooty vaultRoofed by the roaring surge; wherein, betimes,He and his Cyclops pound the ringing iron,Forging great bolts for Zeus, and welding mail,White-hot, in shapes for Heroes and the Gods.Do thou, Alectryôn, faithful to my trust,Hie with me to the mystic House of Fire.Therein, with wine and fruitage of her isle,Sweet odors, and all rarest sights and sounds,My Paphian mistress shall regale us twain.But when the feast is over, and thou seestArês and Aphroditê pass beyondThe portals of that chamber whence all windsOf love flow ever toward the fourfold Earth,Watch by the entrance, sleepless, while we sleep;And warn us ere the glimpses of the Dawn;Lest Hêlios, the spy, may peer withinOur windows, and to Lemnos speed apace,In envy clamoring to the hobbling smith,Hêphæstos, of the wrong I do his bed.”

Thus Arês; and the Thracian boy, well pleased,Swore to be faithful to his trust, and liegeTo her, the perfect queen of light and love.So saying, they reached the fiery, brazen gates,Encolumned high by Heaven’s artisan,Hêphæstos, rough, begrimed, and halt of foot,—Yet unto whom was Aphroditê givenBy Zeus, because from his misshapen handsAll shapely things found being; but the giftBrought him no joyance, nor made pure his fame,Like those devices which he wrought himself,Grim, patient, unbeloved.

There passed they inAt portals of the high, celestial House,And on beyond the starry-golden court,Through amorous hidden ways, and winding pathsSet round with splendors, to the spangled hallOf secret audience for noble guests.Here Charis labored, so Hêphæstos bade,Moulding the room’s adornments; here she builtLow couches, framed in ivory, overlainWith skins of pard and panther, and the fleeceOf sheep which graze the low Hesperian isles;And in the midst a cedarn table spread,Whereon the loves of all the elder GodsWere wrought in gold and silver; and the lightOf quenchless rubies sparkled over all.Thus far came Arês and Alectryôn,First leaving shield and falchion at the door,That naught of violence should haunt that airSerene, but laughter-loving peace, and joysThe meed of Gods, once given men to know.

Then, from her daïs in the utmost hall,Shone toward them Aphroditê, not by firm,Imperial footfalls, but in measurelessProcession, even as, wafted by her doves,She kissed the faces of the yearning wavesFrom Cyprus to the high Thessalian mount,Claiming her throne in Heaven; so light she stept,Untended by her Graces; only he,Erôs, th’ eternal child, with welcomingsSprang forward to Arês, like a beam of lightFlashed from a coming brightness, ere it comes;And the ambrosial mother to his gleeJoined her own joy, coy as she glided nearArês, till Arês closed her in his armsAn instant, with the perfect love of Gods.And the wide chamber gleamed with their delight,And infinite tinkling laughters rippled throughFar halls, wherefrom no boding echoes came.

But when the passion of their meeting fellTo dalliance, the mighty lovers, sunkWithin those ivory couches golden-fleeced,Made wassail at the wondrous board, and heldSweet stolen converse till the middle night.And soulless servitors came gliding in,Handmaidens, wrought of gold, the marvellous workOf lame Hêphæstos; having neither will,Nor voice, yet bearing on their golden traysLush fruits and Cyprian wine, and, intermixt,Olympian food and nectar, earth with heaven.These Erôs and Alectryôn took therefrom,And placed before the lovers; and, meanwhile,Melodious breathings from unfingered lutes,Warblings from unseen nightingales, and songsFrom lips uncrimsoned, scattered music round.So fled the light-shod moments, hour by hour,While the grim husband clanged upon his forgeIn lurid caverns of the distant isle,Unboding, and unheeded in his home,Save with a scornful jest. Till now the crownOf Artemis shone at her topmost height:Then rose the impassioned lovers, with rapt eyesFixed each on each, and passed beyond the hall,Through curtains of that chamber whence all windsOf love flow ever toward the fourfold Earth;At whose dim vestibule AlectryônDisposed him, mindful of his master’s word;But Erôs, heavy-eyed, long since had slept,Deep-muffled in the softness of his plumes.And all was silence in the House of Fire.

Only Alectryôn, through brazen bars,Watched the blue East for Eôs, she whose torchShould warn him of the coming of the Sun.Even thus he kept his vigils; but, ere halfHer silvery downward path the Huntress knew,His senses by that rich immortal foodGrew numbed with languor. Then the shadowy hall’sDeep columns glimmered, interblent with dreams,—Thick forests, running waters, darkling cavesOf Thrace; and half in thought he grasped the bow;Hunted once more within his native wilds,Cheering the hounds; until before his eyesThe drapery of all nearer pictures fell,And his limbs drooped. Whereat the imp of Sleep,Hypnos, who hid him at the outer gate,Slid in with silken-sandalled feet, and laidA subtle finger on his lids. And so,Crouched at the warder-post, Alectryôn slept.

Meanwhile the God and Goddess, recking noughtOf evil, trusting to the faithful boy,Sank satiate in the calm of trancéd rest.And past the sleeping warder, deep withinThe portals of that chamber whence all windsOf love flow ever toward the fourfold Earth,Hypnos kept on, walking, yet half afloatIn the sweet air; and fluttering with cool wingsAbove their couch fanned the reposeful pairTo slumber. Thus, a careless twilight hour,Unknowing Eôs and her torch, they slept.

Ill-fated rest! Awake, ye fleet-winged Loves,Your mistress! Eôs, rouse the sleeping God,And warn him of the coming of the Day!Alectryôn, wake! In vain: Eôs swept by,Radiant, a blushing finger on her lips.In vain! Close on her flight, from furthest East,The peering Hêlios drove his lambent car,Casting the tell-tale beams on earth and sky,Until Olympos laughed within his light,And all the House of Fire grew roofed with gold;And through its brazen windows Hêlios gazedUpon the sleeping lovers: thence awayTo Lemnos flashed, across the rearward sea,A messenger, from whom the vengeful smith,Hêphæstos, learned the story of his wrongs;Whence afterward rude scandal spread through Heaven.

But they, the lovers, startled from sweet sleepBy garish Day, stood timorous and mute,Even as a regal pair, the hart and hind,When first the keynote of the clarion hornPierces their covert, and the deep-mouthed houndBays, following on the trail; then, with small pauseFor amorous partings, sped in diverse ways.She, Aphroditê, clothed in pearly cloud,Dropt from Olympos to the eastern shore;Thence floated, half in shame, half laughter-pleased,Southward across the blue Ægæan sea,That had a thousand little dimpling smilesAt her discomfort, and a thousand eyesTo shoot irreverent glances. But her conchPassed the Eubœan coasts, and softly onBy rugged Dêlos, and the gentler slopeOf Naxos, to Icarian waves serene;Thence sailed betwixt fair Rhodos, on the left,And windy Carpathos, until it touchedCyprus; and soon the conscious Goddess foundHer bower in the hollow of the isle;And wondering nymphs in their white arms receivedTheir white-armed mistress, bathing her fair limbsIn fragrant dews, twining her lucent hairWith roses, and with kisses soothing her;Till, glowing in fresh loveliness, she sankTo stillness, tended in the sacred isle,And hid herself awhile from all her peers.

But angry Arês faced the treacherous Morn,Spurning the palace tower; nor looked behind,Disdainful of himself and secret joysThat stript him to the laughter of the Gods.Toward the East he made, and overhungThe broad Thermaic gulf; then, shunning wellThe crags of Lemnos, by Mount Athôs stayedA moment, mute; thence hurtled sheer away,Across the murmuring Northern sea, whose wavesAre swollen in billows ruffled with the cuffsOf endless winds; so reached the shores of Thrace,And spleen pursued him in the tangled wilds.

Hither at eventide remorseful cameAlectryôn; but the indignant God,With harsh revilings, changed him to the Cock,That evermore, remembering his fault,Heralds with warning voice the coming Day.