LITMIR.BIZ

      Lines 1–357

       Table of Contents

       About that strangest, saddest, sweetest song

       I, when a girl, heard in Kameiros once,

       And, after, saved my life by? Oh, so glad

       To tell you the adventure!

       Petalé,

       Phullis, Charopé, Chrusion! You must know,

       This "after" fell in that unhappy time

       When poor reluctant Nikias, pushed by fate,

       Went faulteringly against Syracuse;

       And there shamed Athens, lost her ships and men,

       And gained a grave, or death without a grave. 10

       I was at Rhodes—the isle, not Rhodes the town,

       Mine was Kameiros—when the news arrived:

       Our people rose in tumult, cried "No more

       Duty to Athens, let us join the League,

       And side with Sparta, share the spoil—at worst,

       Abjure a headship that will ruin Greece!"

       And so, they sent to Knidos for a fleet

       To come and help revolters. Ere help came—

       Girl as I was, and never out of Rhodes

       The whole of my first fourteen years of life, 20

       But nourished with Ilissian mother's-milk—

       I passionately cried to who would hear

       And those who loved me at Kameiros—"No!

       Never throw Athens off for Sparta's sake—

       Never disloyal to the life and light

       Of the whole world worth calling world at all!

       Rather go die at Athens, lie outstretched

       For feet to trample on, before the gate

       Of Diomedes or the Hippadai,

       Before the temples and among the tombs, 30

       Than tolerate the grim felicity

       Of harsh Lakonia! Ours the fasts and feasts,

       Choës and Chutroi; ours the sacred grove,

       Agora, Dikasteria, Poikilé,

       Pnux, Keramikos; Salamis in sight,

       Psuttalia, Marathon itself, not far!

       Ours the great Dionusiac theatre,

       And tragic triad of immortal fames,

       Aischulos, Sophokles, Euripides!

       To Athens, all of us that have a soul, 40

       Follow me!" And I wrought so with my prayer,

       That certain of my kinsfolk crossed the strait

       And found a ship at Kaunos; well-disposed

       Because the Captain—where did he draw breath

       First but within Psuttalia? Thither fled

       A few like-minded as ourselves. We turned

       The glad prow westward, soon were out at sea,

       Pushing, brave ship with the vermilion cheek,

       Proud for our heart's true harbour. But a wind

       Lay ambushed by Point Malea of bad fame, 50

       And leapt out, bent us from our course. Next day

       Broke stormless, and so next blue day and next.

       "But whither bound in this white waste?" We plagued

       The pilot's old experience: "Cos or Crete?"

       Because he promised us the land ahead.

       While we strained eyes to share in what he saw,

       The Captain's shout startled us; round we rushed:

       What hung behind us but a pirate-ship

       Panting for the good prize! "Row! harder row!

       Row for dear life!" the Captain cried: "'t is Crete, 60

       Friendly Crete looming large there! Beat this craft

       That's but a keles, one-benched pirate-bark,

       Lokrian, or that bad breed off Thessaly!

       Only, so cruel are such water-thieves,

       No man of you, no woman, child, or slave,

       But falls their prey, once let them board our boat!"

       So, furiously our oarsmen rowed and rowed;

       And when the oars flagged somewhat, dash and dip,

       As we approached the coast and safety, so

       That we could hear behind us plain the threats 70

       And curses of the pirate panting up

       In one more throe and passion of pursuit—

       Seeing our oars flag in the rise and fall,

       I sprang upon the altar by the mast

       And sang aloft—some genius prompting me—

       That song of ours which saved at Salamis:

       "O sons of Greeks, go, set your country free,

       Free your wives, free your children, free the fanes

       O' the Gods, your fathers founded—sepulchres

       They sleep in! Or save all, or all be lost!" 80

       Then, in a frenzy, so the noble oars

       Churned the black water white, that well away

       We drew, soon saw land rise, saw hills grow up,

       Saw spread itself a sea-wide town with towers,

       Not fifty stadia distant; and, betwixt

       A large bay and a small, the islet-bar,

       Even Ortugia's self—oh, luckless we!

       For here was Sicily and Syracuse:

       We ran upon the lion from the wolf.

       Ere we drew breath, took counsel, out there came 90

       A galley, hailed us. "Who asks entry here

       In war-time? Are you Sparta's friend or foe?"

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