Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ODATIS; AN OLD LOVE-TALE, by LEWIS MORRIS (1833-1907) Poet's Biography First Line: Chares of mytilene, ages gone Last Line: Because they reverenced the might of love. Subject(s): Chares (4th Century B.c.); Love | ||||||||
CHARES of Mytilene, ages gone, When the young Alexander's conquering star Flamed on the wondering world, being indeed The comrade of his arms, from the far East Brought back this story of requited love. A Prince there was of Media, next of blood To the great King Hystaspes, fair of form As brave of soul, who to his flower of age Was come, but never yet had known the dart Of Cypris, being but a soldier bold, Too much by trenched camps and wars' alarms Engrossed, to leave a thought for things of love. Now, at this selfsame time, by Tanais Omartes ruled, a just and puissant king. No son was his, only one daughter fair, Odatis, of whose beauty and whose worth Fame filled the furthest East. Only as yet, Of all the suitors for her hand, came none Who touched her maiden heart; but, fancy-free, She dwelt unwedded, lonely as a star. Till one fair night in springtide, when the heart Blossoms as does the earth, Cypris, the Queen, Seeing that love is sweet for all to taste, And pitying these loveless parted lives, Deep in the sacred silence of the night, From out the ivory gate sent down on them A happy dream, so that the Prince had sight Of fair Odatis in her diadem And habit as she lived, and saw the charm And treasure of her eyes, and knew her name And country as it was; while to the maid There came a like fair vision of the Prince Leading to fight the embattled Median hosts, Young, comely, brave, clad in his panoply And pride of war, so strong, so fair, so true, That straight, the virgin coldness of her soul Melted beneath the vision, as the snow In springtime at the kisses of the sun, And when they twain awoke to common day From that blest dream, still on their tranced eyes The selfsame vision lingered. He an essence Lovelier than all his life had known, more pure And precious than all words; she a strong soul Yet tender, comely with the fire, the force Of youthful manhood; saw both night and day. Nor ever from their mutual hearts the shape Of that celestial vision waned nor grew Faint with the daily stress of common life, As do our mortal phantasies, but still He, while the fiery legions clashed and broke, Saw one sweet face above the flash of spears; She in high palace pomps, or household tasks, Or 'mid the glittering courtier-crowded halls Saw one brave ardent gaze, one manly form. Now while in dreams of love these lovers lived Who never met in waking hours, who knew not Whether with unrequited love they burned, or whether In mutual yearnings blest; the King Omartes, Grown anxious for his only girl, and knowing How blest it is to love, would bid her choose Whom she would wed, and summoning the maid, With fatherly counsels pressed on her; but she: "Father, I am but young; I prithee, ask not That I should wed; nay, rather let me live My life within thy house. I cannot wed. I can love only one, who is the Prince Of Media, but I know not if indeed His love is his to give, or if he know My love for him; only a heavenly vision, Sent in the sacred silence of the night, Revealed him to me as I know he is. Wherefore, my father, though thy will be law, Have pity on me; let me love my love, If not with recompense of love, alone; For I can love none else." Then the King said: "Daughter, to me thy happiness is life, And more; but now, I pray thee, let my words Sink deep within thy mind. Thou canst not know If this strange vision through the gate of truth Came or the gate of error. Oftentimes The gods send strong delusions to ensnare Too credulous hearts. Thou canst not know, in sooth, If 'twas the Prince thou saw'st, or, were it he, If love be his to give; and if it were, I could not bear to lose thee, for indeed I have no son to take my place, or pour Libations on my tomb, and shouldst thou wed A stranger, and be exiled from thy home, What were my life to me? Nay, daughter, dream No more, but with some chieftain of my realm Prepare thyself to wed. With the new moon A solemn banquet will I make, and bid Whate'er of high descent and generous youth Our country holds. There shalt thou make thy choice Of whom thou wilt, nor will I seek to bind Thy unfettered will; only I fain would see thee In happy wedlock bound, and feel the touch Of childish hands again, and soothe my age With sight of thy fair offspring round my knees." Then she, because she loved her sire and fain Would do his will, left him without a word, Obedient to his hest; but day and night The one unfading image of her dream Filled all her longing sight, and day and night The semblance of her Prince in all the pride And bravery of battle shone on her. Nor was there any strength in her to heal The wound which love had made, by reasonings cold, Or musing on the phantasies of sleep; But still the fierce dart of the goddess burned Within her soul, as when a stricken deer O'er hill and dale escaping bears with her The barb within her side; and oft alone Within her secret chamber she would name The name of him she loved, and oft by night, When sleep had bound her fast, her pale lips formed The syllables of his name. Through the long hours, Waking or sleeping, were her thoughts on him; So that the quenchless yearning long deferred Made her heart sick, and like her heart, her form Wasted, her fair cheek paled, and from her eyes Looked out the silent suffering of her soul. Now, when the day drew near which brought the feast, One of her slaves, who loved her, chanced to hear Her sweet voice wandering in dreams, and caught The Prince's name; and, being full of grief And pity for her pain, and fain to aid The gentle girl she loved, made haste to send A messenger to seek the Prince and tell him How he was loved, and when the feast should be, And how the King would have his daughter wed. But to the Princess would she breathe no word Of what was done, till, almost on the eve Of the great feast, seeing her wan and pale And all unhappy, falling at her knees, She, with a prayer for pardon, told her all. But when the Princess heard her, virgin shame -- Love drawing her and Pride of Maidenhood In opposite ways till all distraught was she -- Flushed her pale cheek, and lit her languid gaze. Yet since she knew that loving thought alone Prompted the deed, being soft and pitiful, She bade her have no fear, and though at first Unwilling, by degrees a newborn hope Chased all her shame away, and once again A long unwonted rose upon her cheek Bloomed, and a light long vanished fired her eyes. Meanwhile upon the plains in glorious war The brave Prince led his conquering hosts; but still, Amid the shock of battle and the crash Of hostile spears, one vision filled his soul. Amid the changes of the hard-fought day, Throughout the weary watches of the night, The dream, the happy dream, returned again; Always the selfsame vision of a maid Fairer than earthly, filled his eyes and took The savour from the triumph, ay, and touched The warrior's heart with an unwonted ruth, So that he shrank as never yet before From every day's monotony of blood, And saw with unaccustomed pain the sum Of death and woe, and hopeless shattered lives, Because a softer influence touched his soul. Till one night, on the day before the feast Which King Omartes destined for his peers, While now his legions swept their conquering way A hundred leagues or more from Tanais, There came the message from the slave, and he Within his tent, after the well-fought day, Resting with that fair image in his eyes, Woke suddenly to know that he was loved. Then, in a moment, putting from him sleep And well-earned rest, he bade his charioteer Yoke to his chariot three unbroken colts Which lately o'er the endless Scythian plain Careered, untamed; and, through the sleeping camp, Beneath the lucid aspect of the night, He sped as speeds the wind. The great stars hung Like lamps above the plain; the great stars sank And faded in the dawn; the hot red sun Leapt from the plain; noon faded into eve; Again the same stars lit the lucid night; And still, with scarce a pause, those fierce hoofs dashed Across the curved plain onward, till he saw Far off the well-lit palace casements gleam Wherein his love was set. Then suddenly He checked his panting team, the rapid wheels Ceased, and his mail and royal garb he hid Beneath a rich robe such as nobles use By Tanais; and to the lighted hall He passed alone, bidding his charioteer Await him in the darkness by the gate. Now, when the Prince drew near the vestibule, The feast long time had sped, and all the guests Had eaten and drunk their fill; and he unseen, Through the close throng of serving men and maids Around the door, like some belated guest To some obscurer station slipped, and took The wine-cup with the rest, who marvelled not To see him come, nor knew him; only she Who sent the message whispered him a word: "Have courage; she is there, and cometh soon. Be brave: she loves thee only; watch and wait." Even then the King Omartes, where he sate On high among his nobles, gave command To summon from her maiden chamber forth The Princess. And obedient to the call, Robed in pure white, clothed round with maiden shame, Full of vague hope and tender yearning love, To the high royal throne Odatis came. And when the Prince beheld the maid, and saw The wonder which so long had filled his soul -- His vision of the still night clothed with life And breathing earthly air -- and marked the heave Of her white breast, and saw the telltale flush Crimson her cheek with maiden modesty, Scarce could his longing eager arms forbear To clasp the virgin round, so fair she seemed. But, being set far down from where the King Sat high upon the dais 'midst the crowd Of eager emulous faces looking love, None marked his passionate gaze, or stretched-forth hands; Till came a pause, which hushed the deep-drawn sigh Of admiration, as the jovial King, Full tender of his girl, but flushed with wine, Spake thus to her: "Daughter, to this high feast Are bidden all the nobles of our land. Now, therefore, since to wed is good, and life To the unwedded woman seems a load Which few may bear, and none desire, I prithee, This jewelled chalice taking, mingle wine As well thou knowest, and the honeyed draught Give to some noble youth of those thou seest Along the well-ranged tables, knowing well That him to whom thou givest, thou shalt wed. I fetter not thy choice, girl. I grow old; I have no son to share the weight of rule, And fain would see thy children ere I die." Then, with a kiss upon her blushing cheek, He gave the maid the cup. The cressets' light Fell on the jewelled chalice, which gave back A thousand answering rays. Silent she stood A moment, half in doubt, then down the file Of close-ranked eager faces flushed with hope, And eyes her beauty kindled more than wine, Passed slow, a breathing statue. Her white robe Among the purple and barbaric gold Showed like the snowy plumage of a dove, As down the hall, the cup within her hands, She, now this way regarding and now that, Clided a burning blush upon her cheek; And on each youthful noble her large eyes Rested a moment only, icy cold, Though many indeed were there, brave, fair to see, Fit for a maiden's love; but never at all The one o'ermastering vision of her dream Rose on her longing eyes, till hope itself Grew faint, and, ere she gained the end, she turned Sickening to where, along the opposite wall, Sat other nobles young and brave as those, But not the fated vision of her dream. Meanwhile the Prince, who 'mid the close-set throng Of humbler guests was hidden, saw her come And turn ere she had marked him, and again Down the long line of princely revellers Pass slow as in a dream; and all his soul Grew sick with dread lest haply, seeing not The one expected face, and being meek And dutiful, and reverent to her sire, She in despair might make some sudden choice And leave him lovelorn. And where'er she went He could not choose but gaze, as oft in sleep Some dreadful vision chains us that we fail To speak or move, though to be still seem death. And once he feared that she had looked on him And passed, and once he thought he saw her pause By some tall comely youth; and then she reached The furthest wall, and as she turned her face And came toward him again to where the jars Of sweet wine stood for mingling, with a bound His heart went out to her; for now her cheek As pale and lifeless as the icy moon, And the dead hope within her eyes, and pain Of hardly conquered tears, made sure his soul, Knowing that she was his. But she, dear heart, Being sick indeed with love, and in despair, Yet reverencing her duty to her sire, Turned half-distraught to fill the fated cup And with it mar her life. But as she stood Alone within the vestibule and poured The sweet wine forth, slow, trembling, blind with tears, A voice beside her whispered, "I am here!" And looking round her, at her side she saw, A youthful mailed form -- the festal robe Flung backward, and the face, the mouth, the eyes Whereof the vision filled her night and day. Then straight, without a word, with one deep sigh, She held the wine-cup forth. He poured out first Libation to the goddess, and the rest Drained at a draught, and cast his arms round her, And down the long-drawn sounding colonnade Snatched her to where without, beneath the dawn, The brave steeds waited and the charioteer. His robe he round her threw; they saw the flare Of torches at the gate; they heard the shouts Of hot pursuit grow fainter; till at last, In solitude, across the rounding plain They flew through waking day, until they came To Media, and were wed. And soon her sire, Knowing their love, consented, and they lived Long happy lives; such is the might of Love. That is the tale the soldier from the East, Chares of Mytilene, ages gone, Told oftentimes at many a joyous feast In Hellas; and he said that all the folk In Media loved it, and their painters limned The story in the temples of their gods, And in the stately palaces of kings, Because they reverenced the might of Love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE INVENTION OF LOVE by MATTHEA HARVEY TWO VIEWS OF BUSON by ROBERT HASS A LOVE FOR FOUR VOICES: HOMAGE TO FRANZ JOSEPH HAYDN by ANTHONY HECHT AN OFFERING FOR PATRICIA by ANTHONY HECHT LATE AFTERNOON: THE ONSLAUGHT OF LOVE by ANTHONY HECHT A SWEETENING ALL AROUND ME AS IT FALLS by JANE HIRSHFIELD A CAROL by LEWIS MORRIS (1833-1907) |
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