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AETHRA by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE

Poet Analysis

First Line: IT IS A SWEET TRADITION, WITH A SOUL
Last Line: THE CLOSE-SHUT MYSTERY OF THE ORACLE!
Subject(s): LEGENDS;

IT is a sweet tradition, with a soul
Of tenderest pathos! Hearken, love! -- for all
The sacred undercurrents of the heart
Thrill to its cordial music:
Once, a chief,
Philantus, king of Sparta, left the stern
And bleak defiles of his unfruitful land --
Girt by a band of eager colonists --
To seek new homes on fair Italian plains.
Apollo's oracle had darkly spoken:
"@3Where'er from cloudless skies a plenteous shower
Outpours, the Fates decree that ye should pause
And rear your household deities!@1" Racked by doubt
Philantus traversed with his faithful band
Full many a bounteous realm; but still defeat
Darkened his banners, and the strong-walled towns
His desperate sieges grimly laughed to scorn!
Weighed down by anxious thoughts, one sultry eve
The warrior -- his rude helmet cast aside --
Rested his weary head upon the lap
Of his fair wife, who loved him tenderly;
And there he drank a generous draught of sleep.
She, gazing on his brow all worn with toil
And his dark locks, which pain had silvered over
With glistening touches of a frosty rime,
Wept on the sudden bitterly; her tears
Fell on his face, and, wondering, he woke.
"O blest art thou, my Aethra, @3my clear sky@1,"
He cried exultant, "from whose pitying blue
A heart-rain falls to fertilize my fate:
Lo! the deep riddle's solved -- the gods spake truth!"

So the next night he stormed Tarentum, took
The enemy's host at vantage, and o'er-threw
His mightiest captains. Thence with kindly sway
He ruled those pleasant regions he had won, --
But dearer even than his rich demesnes
The love of her whose gentle tears unlocked
The close-shut mystery of the Oracle!



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