Bestir them in good deeds. Now, fare thee well-
When thou return'st, thou in this place wit see
A work which is not here: a covenant
'Twill be between us. But, whatever fate
Befall thee, I shall love thee to the last,
And bear thy memory with me to the grave."

The shepherd ended here; and Luke stoop'd down, And, as his father had requested, laid

The first stone of the sheepfold. At the sight
The old man's grief broke from him; to his heart
He press'd his son, he kissed him and wept;
And to the house together they return'd

-Hush'd was that house in peace, or seeming peace,
Ere the night fell: with morrow's dawn the boy
Began his journey, and when he had reach'd
The public way, he put on a bold face;

And all the neighbours as he pass'd their doors
Came forth with wishes and with farewell prayers,
That follow'd him till he was out of sight.

A good report did from their kinsman come,
Of Luke and his well-doing: and the boy
Wrote loving letters, full of wondrous news,
Which, as the housewife phrased it, were throughout
The prettiest letters that were ever seen.'

66

Both parents read them with rejoicing hearts.
So, many months pass'd on: and once again
The shepherd went about his daily work
With confident and cheerful thoughts; and now
Sometimes when he could find a leisure hour
He to that valley took his way, and there
Wrought at the sheepfold. Meantime Luke begar
To slacken in his duty; and at length
He in the dissolute city gave himself
To evil courses: ignominy and shame
Fell on him, so that he was driven at last
To seek a hiding-place beyond the seas.

There is a comfort in the strength of love;
"Twill make a thing endurable, which else
Would break the heart :-old Michael found it s
I have conversed with more than one who well
Remember'd the old man, and what he was
Years after he had heard this heavy news.
His bodily frame had been from youth to age
Of an unusual strength. Among the rocks
He went, and still look'd up upon the sun,
And listen'd to the wind; and as before
Perform'd all kinds of labour for his sheep,
And for the land, his small inheritance.
And to that hollow dell from time to time
Did he repair, to build the fold of which
His flock had need. 'Tis not forgotten yet
The pity which was then in every heart

For the old man-and 'tis believed by all
That many and many a day he thither went,
And never lifted up a single stone.

There, by the sheepfold, sometimes was he seen
Sitting alone, with that his faithful dog,
Then old, beside him, lying at his feet.

The length of full seven years from time to time
He at the building of this sheepfold wrought,
And left the work unfinish'd when he died.
Three years, or little more, did Isabel
Survive her husband: at her death th' estate
Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand.

The cottage which was named "The Evening Star"
Is gone-the ploughshare has been through the ground
On which it stood: great changes have been wrought
In all the neighbourhood: yet the oak is left

That grew beside their door; and the remains
Of the unfinish'd sheepfold may be seen
Beside the boist'rous brook of Greenhead Ghyll.

LAODAMIA.

"WITH sacrifice, before the rising morn

Perform'd, my slaughter'd lord have I required;
And in thick darkness, amid shades forlorn,
Him of the infernal gods have I desired:

Celestial pity I again implore ;

Restore him to my sight, great Jove, restore!"

So speaking, and by fervent love endow'd

With faith, the suppliant heavenward lifts her hands;
While, like the sun emerging from a cloud,

Her countenance brightens-and her eye expands,
Her bosom heaves and spreads, her stature grows,
And she expects the issue in repose.

O terror! what hath she perceived? O joy!
What doth she look on-whom doth she behold?
Her hero slain upon the beach of Troy?
His vital presence-his corporeal mould?
It is if sense deceive her not 'tis he!

And a god leads him--wingèd Mercury!

Mild Hermes spake, and touch'd her with his wand
That calms all fear: "Such grace hath crown'd thy prayer,

Laodamia, that at Jove's command

Thy husband walks the paths of upper air:

He comes to tarry with thee three hours' space;

Accept the gift; behold him face to face!"

Forth sprang the impassion'd queen her lord to clasp

Again that consummation she essay'd;

But unsubstantial form eludes her grasp

As often as that eager grasp was made.
The phantom parts-but parts to reunite,
And reassume his place before her sight.

"Protesilaus, lo! thy guide is gone!
Confirm, I pray, the vision with thy voice:
This is our palace,-yonder is thy throne;
Speak, and the floor thou tread'st on will rejoice.
Not to appal me have the gods bestow'd
This precious boon,-and bless'd a sad abode."

"Great Jove, Laodamia, doth not leave
His gifts imperfect :-Spectre though I be,
I am not sent to scare thee or deceive,
But in reward of thy fidelity.

And something also did my worth obtain ;
For fearless virtue bringeth boundless gain.

“Thou know'st, the Delphic oracle foretold
That the first Greek who touch'd the Trojan strand
Should die; but me the threat did not withhold:
A generous cause a victim did demand;
And forth I leapt upon the sandy plain;
A self-devoted chief-by Hector slain."

66 Supreme of heroes-bravest, noblest, best!
Thy matchlass courage I bewail no more,

That then, when tens of thousands were depress'd By doubt, propell'd thee to the fatal shore;

Thou found'st-and I forgive thee-here thou artA nobler counsellor than my poor heart.

"But thou, though capable of sternest deed,
Wert kind as resolute, and good as brave;

And He, whose power restores thee, hath decreed
That thou shouldst cheat the malice of the grave;
Redundant are thy locks, thy lips as fair
As when their breath enrich'd Thessalian air.

"No spectre greets me,-no vain shadow this:
Come, blooming hero, place thee by my side!
Give, on this well-known couch, one nuptial kiss
To me, this day a second time thy bride !"
Jove frown'd in heaven: the conscious Parce threw
Upon those roseate lips a Stygian hue.

"This visage tells thee that my doom is past :
Know, virtue were not virtue if the joys
Of sense were able to return as fast
And surely as they vanish.-Earth destroys
Those raptures duly-Erebus disdains:
Calm pleasures there abide-majestic pains.
"Be taught, O faithful consort, to control
Rebellious passion: for the gods approve
The depth, and not the tumult of the soul;
The fervour-not the impotence of love.

Thy transports moderate; and meekly mouru
When I depart, for brief is my sojourn

"Ah, wherefore ?-Did not Hercules by force
Wrest from the guardian monster of the tomb
Alcestis, a reanimated corse,

Given back to dwell on earth in beauty's bloom i
Medea's spells dispersed the weight of years,
And Æson stood a youth 'mid youthful peers.
"The gods to us are merciful-and they
Yet further may relent: for mightier far
Than strength of nerve and sinew, or the sway
Of magic, potent over sun and star,

Is love-though oft to agony distress'd;

And though his favourite seat be feeble woman's breast,

"But if thou go'st, I follow—" "Peace!" he said-
She look'd upon him and was calm'd and cheer'd ;
The ghastly colour from his lips had fled;
In his deportment, shape, and mien, appear'd
Elysian beauty-melancholy grace-

Brought from a pensive though a happy place.

He spake of love, such love as spirits feel
In worlds whose course is equable and pure;
No fears to beat away-no strife to heal—
The past unsigh'd for, and the future sure;
Spake, as a witness, of a second birth
For all that is most perfect upon earth:
Of all that is most beauteous-imaged there
In happier beauty; more pellucid streams,
An ampler mother, a diviner air,

And fields invested with purpureal gleams;
Climes which the sun, who sheds the brightest day
Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey.

Yet there the soul shall enter which hath earn'd
That privilege by virtue.-" Ill," said he,
"The end of man's existence I discern'd,
Who from ignoble games and revelry*

Could draw, when we had parted, vain delight

While tears were thy best pastime,-day and night:
"And while my youthful peers, before my eyes
(Each hero following his peculiar bent),
Prepared themselves for glorious enterprise
By martial sports,-or, seated in the tent,
Chieftains and kings in council were detain'd;
What time the fleet at Aulis lay enchain'd.

"The wish'd-for wind was given :-I then revolved
Our future course, upon the silent sea;
And, if no worthier fed the way, resolved

That, of a thousand vessels, mine should be

For this feature in the character of Protesilaus, see the "Iphigenia in Aulis" of Euripides

The foremost prow in pressing to the strand,-
Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand.
"Yet bitter, ofttimes bitter, was the pang
When of thy loss I thought, beloved wife;
On thee too fondly did my memory hang,
And on the joys we shared in mortal life,-

The paths which we had trod-these fountains--flowers;
My new-plann'd cities, and unfinish'd towers.

"But should suspense permit the foe to cry,
'Behold they tremble !-haughty their array,
Yet of their number no one dares to die?'-
In soul I swept the indignity away:

Old frailties then recurr'd :-but lofty thought,
In act embodied, my deliverance wrought.

"And thon, though strong in love, art all too weak
In reason, in self-government too slow;

I counsel thee by fortitude to seek

Our bless'd reunion in the shades below.

Th' invisible world with thee hath sympathized;
Be thy affections raised and solemnized.
"Learn by a mortal yearning to ascend
Towards a higher object :-Love was given,
Encouraged, sanction'd, chiefly for this end :
For this the passion to excess was driven-
That self might be annull'd; her bondage prove
The fetters of a dream, opposed to love."

Aloud she shriek'd-for Hermes reappears!

Round the dear shade she would have clung-'tis vain :
The hours are past,-too brief had they been years;
And him no mortal effort can detain:

Swift, toward the realms that know not earthly day,
He through the portal takes his silent way—
And on the palace floor a lifeless corse she lay.
Ab, judge her gently who so deeply loved!
Her, who, in reason's spite, yet without crime,
Was in a trance of passion thus removed;
Deliver'd from the galling yoke of time,
And these frail elements-to gather flowers
Of blissful quiet 'mid unfading bowers.
Yet tears to human suffering are due;
And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown
Are mourn'd by man, and not by man alonu,
As fondly he believes.-Upon the side
Of Hellespont (such faith was entertain'd)
A knot of spiry trees for ages grew

From out the tomb of him for whom she died;
And ever, when such stature they had gain'd
That Ilium's walls were subject to their view,
The trees' tall summits wither'd at the sight;
A constant interchange of growth and blight

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