My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love, My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim, And I am all aweary of my life.
"O mother Ida, many-fountained Ida,
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
Hear me O Earth, hear me O Hills, O Caves, That house the cold crowned snake!
I am the daughter of a River-God; Hear me, for I will speak, and build up all My sorrow with my song, as yonder walls Rose slowly to a music slowly breathed, A cloud that gathered shape: for it may be That, while I speak of it, a little while My heart may wander from its deeper woe.
"O mother Ida, many-fountained Ida, Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. I waited underneath the dawning hills, Aloft the mountain lawn was dewy-dark, And dewy-dark aloft the mountain-pine : Beautiful Paris, evil-hearted Paris,
Leading a jet-black goat white-horned, white-hooved, Came up from reedy Simois all alone.
"O mother Ida, harken ere I die. Far-off the torrent called me from the cleft: Far up the solitary morning smote
The streaks of virgin snow. With down-dropt eyes,
I sat alone: white breasted like a star
Fronting the dawn he moved; a leopard skin Drooped from his shoulder, but his sunny hair Clustered about his temples like a God's;
And his cheek brightened as the foam-bow brightens When the wind blows the foam, and all my heart Went forth to embrace him coming ere he came.
"Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
He smiled, and opening out his milk-white palm
Disclosed a fruit of pure Hesperian gold, That smelt ambrosially, and while I looked And listened, the full-flowing river of speech Came down upon my heart.
"My own Enone,
Beautiful-browed Enone, my own soul,
Behold this fruit, whose gleaming rind engraven "For the most fair," would seem to award it thine, As lovelier than whatever Oread haunt The knolls of Ida, loveliest in all grace Of movement, and the charm of married brows.'
"Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. He prest the blossom of his lips to mine, And added, 'This was cast upon the board, When all the full-faced presence of the Gods Ranged in the halls of Peleus; whereupon Rose feud, with question unto whom 'twere due: But light-foot Iris brought it yester-eve, Delivering that to me, by common voice Elected umpire, Herè comes to-day Pallas and Aphrodite, claiming each
This meed of fairest. Thou, within the cave Behind yon whispering tuft of oldest pine, Mayst well behold them unbeheld, unheard Hear all, and see thy Paris judge of Gods.
"Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. It was the deep midnoon: one silvery cloud Had lost his way between the piney sides Of this long glen! Then to the bower they came Naked they came to that smooth-swarded bower, And at their feet the crocus brake like fire, Violet, amaracus, and asphodel,
Lotos and lilies: and a wind arose,
And overhead the wandering ivy and vine, This way and that, in many a wild festoon
Ran riot, garlanding the gnarled boughs
With bunch and berry and flower through and through.
"O mother Ida, harken ere I die. On the tree-tops a crested peacock lit,
And o'er him flowed a golden cloud, and leaned Upon him, slowly dropping fragrant dew. Then first I heard the voice of her, to whom Coming through Heaven, like a light that grows Larger and clearer, with one mind the Gods Rise up for reverence. She to Paris made Proffer of royal power, ample rule Unquestioned, overflowing revenue
Wherewith to embellish state, from many a vale And river-sundered champaign clothed with corn, Or labored mines, undrainable of ore.
Honor,' she said, ' and homage, tax and toll, From many an inland town and haven large, Mast-thronged beneath her shadowing citadel In glassy bays among her tallest towers.'
“O mother Ída, harken ere I die.
Still she spake on, and still she spake of power, 'Which in all action is the end of all; Power fitted to the season; wisdom-bred
And throned of wisdom-from all neighbor crowns Alliance and allegiance, till thy hand
Fail from the sceptre-staff. Such boon from me, From me, Heaven's Queen, Paris, to thee king-born, A shepherd all thy life, but yet king-born, Should come most welcome, seeing men, in power Only, are likest Gods, who have attained Rest in a happy place and quiet seats Above the thunder, with undying bliss, In knowledge of their own supremacy.'
"Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. She ceased, and Paris held the costly fruit
Out at arm's-length, so much the thought of power Flattered his spirit; but Pallas where she stood Somewhat apart, her clear and bared limbs O'erthwarted with the brazen-headed spear Upon her pearly shoulder leaning cold, The while, above, her full and earnest eye Over her snow-cold breast and angry cheek Kept watch, waiting decision, made reply.
"Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control, These three alone lead life to sovereign power. Yet not for power, (power of herself Would come uncalled for,) but to live by law, Acting the law we live by without fear; And because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.'
"Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. Again she said: 'I woo thee not with gifts. Sequel of guerdon could not alter me To fairer. Judge thou me by what I am, So shalt thou find me fairest.
If gazing on divinity disrobed,
Thy mortal eyes are frail to judge of fair, Unbiased by self-profit, oh! rest thee sure That I shall love thee well and cleave to thee, So that my vigor, wedded to thy blood, Shall strike within thy pulses, like a God's, To push thee forward through a life of shocks, Dangers and deeds, until endurance grow Sinewed with action, and the full-grown will, Circled through all experiences, pure law, Commeasure perfect freedom.'
And Paris pondered, and I cried, O Paris, Give it to Pallas!' but he heard me not, Or hearing would not hear me, woe is me!
"O mother Ida, many-fountained Ida, Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. Idalian Aphrodite beautiful,
Fresh as the foam, new-bathed in Paphian wells, With rosy slender fingers backward drew From her warm brows and bosom her deep hair Ambrosial, golden round her lifcid throat And shoulder: from the violets her light foot Shone rosy-white, and o'er her rounded form Between the shadows of the vine bunches Floated the glowing sunlights, as she moved.
"Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die She with a subtle smile in her mild eyes, The herald of her triumph, drawing nigh, Half-whispered in his ear, I promise thee The fairest and most loving wife in Greece.' She spoke and laughed: I shut my sight for fear: But when I looked, Paris had raised his arm, And I beheld great Here's angry eyes, As she withdrew into the golden cloud, And I was left alone within the bower; And from that time to this I am alone, And I shall be alone until I die.
"Yet, mother Ida, harken ere I die. Fairest why fairest wife? am I not fair? My love hath told me so a thousand times. Methinks I must be fair, for yesterday, When I past by, a wild and wanton pard, Eyed like the evening star, with playful tail, Crouched fawning in the weed. Most loving is she? Ah me, my mountain shepherd, that my arms Were wound about thee, and my hot lips prest Close, close to thine in that quick-falling dew Of fruitful kisses, thick as Autumn rains Flash in the pools of whirling Simois.
"O mother, hear me yet before I die. They came, they cut away my tallest pines.
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