GREEK WAYFARERS
I
Around the Hellenic coast the dark-blue bands
Of circling waters, like a loin-cloth, wind
The stalwart nakedness of seaward lands;
Bronze crag, and beach, and rock and terrace bind
As foreground for the somber swelling tent
Of purple mountain. On the morning sky
Pale azure summits, with their sides snow-rent,
Loom in the distance; slowly, solemnly,
The coasts of Greece define; their misty chains
Backed by soft clouds and silver sky-moraines.
While we sail on, reverent vision-sharers,
To read the romance of the Greek Wayfarers!
II
Those serrate ridges toward the southward brew
Grape-colored mist, snow-frothed; the foamy crest
Of Mount Taÿgetos bursts on the blue
Peloponnesian pinnacles, repressed
Back of fair bays and coasts. Rich lands of corn,
“Slopes that the Spartans loved,” the Headlands Three
Hide from the eye; but nearer shores forlorn
Wounded and Ancient, scarred of rock and tree
Looming beyond the starry-clustered Isles,
Where fire-blue waters surge on circled strand,
Lead to far cliffs, which once were beacon-bearers
In early wars, for early Greek Wayfarers.
III
Each azure-rippled, rock-encrusted beach
Tells of the dusky, strong Phœnician sails
That came from Sidon, passed the stormy reach,
And touched at islands, dark as wave-tossed bales
Left floating in the murex-stainèd sea
Where restless fishers, full of dawning schemes
Cruised in the tunny waters; sailing free,
Drawn by the Tyrian Purple to new dreams.
Adventurers, traders, heard the sailor-boasts
Of civilized beginnings on the coasts,
And in black vessels brought the new Space-Darers
Whose reckless sea-paths made them Greek Wayfarers!
IV
Thus rovers came, and dark-skinned traders planned
New villages by fertile pasture lures
In lonely valleys; by succeeding hands
Minoan vases, Mycenean ewers
Were fashioned; then the tribes fought hill by hill,
And coast by coast, for wealth, till Knossos’ tombs
And Tiryns’ palaces had dawning skill
Of goldsmith and of craftsman in their glooms.
The legends grew, the wooden statues raised
New, mystic Cults. Where rams and young kids grazed
Distaffs sprang up, and primitive sheep-shearers
Brought snowy fleece to clothe the Greek Wayfarers.
V
Delphi, Eleusis, guided human awe
By mystic voices and by legend thrill;
Then, one by one, came templed porch and floor
Gleaming by sea or on some fir-crowned hill.
Far back in forest, or on Islands, rose
Transcendent loveliness of chiselled stone,
And in the secret shrine Artemis chose
To hear, or not to hear, the victim’s moan.
The entrails burned; worshippers at the feet
Of Gold-Apollo knew the saving-sweet
Comfort of God-in-life, evolved from terrors
Of Nature-forces by the Greek Wayfarers.
VI
And then the restless ichor in Greek veins
Created dreams of new posterity,
And mother-cities planning greater gains
Sent emigrants exploring on the sea.
Before Ionians, strange Æolians went.
To Chalcedon came “œkist” altar-fire;
Silver, and iron, and flax, for commerce sent
Dorians roving with renewed desire;
And coins and woolens, pottery and dyes,
Marked with age-seal each eager new emprise;
And shrines and temples followed all the eras
Of settled colonies of Greek Wayfarers.
VII
To vale and coppice, every forest place,
Came note of Syrinx and the sound of flutes;
And golden ball and pomegranate trace
On priestly robes; and ’mid the cool volutes
Were public treasures heaped; the Councils met;
Athens and Corinth grew to haughty names,
And glorious youths and lovely boys were set
To daring deeds at the Olympic Games.
By mountain paths and solitudes they trod,
They set the votive offerings to their god
Invoking glory—happy olive-wearers—
Consciously beautiful, as Greek Wayfarers.
VIII
Then sculptors wrought and painters ground the crude
Colors, and potters found the yellowish glaze;
And out of Cretan bowls and bottles rude
Came polychrome and monographic vase.
The echoing, marble theatres curved in hills,
Where master-voices, with dramatic art,
Chorused all joys and passions, and all ills—
And touched with deep emotion every heart,
Till poet-minds flowered to richer truth;
Forsaking earlier thoughts and laws uncouth,
With nobler aim to be the way-preparers
Of philosophic thought for Greek Wayfarers.
IX
While every river mothered daughters fair,
And clouds conceived, and ancient trees enslaved
Satyr and hama-dryad ... then the flare
Of the Greek torch too happy-high was waved—
The jealous East was plotting, Persians lay
In plundering splendor, with their blazing hosts,
Till Marathon and grim Thermopylæ....
Then, envious cities, roused at Athens’ boasts
Of glittering power, crushed the Golden Age.
Under the Spartan and Bœotian rage;
“Leagues” and sea-struggles, Macedonian terrors,
Dragged to a desperate pass the Greek Wayfarers.
X
Yet after Byzantine and Ottoman
Settled despotic heel upon the land,
No cruel Venetian yoke nor Turkish ban
Forced the brave Greeks’ unconquerable stand.
Outsiders saw the Cause inviolate,
Byron’s hot poet’s heart and cosmic brain
Urged on the struggle, to once more create
An independent Greece, unchained again.
The whole world watched the piteous battle fought,
And hailed small triumphs, passionately bought
With faith, until, from wild, despairing errors,
The struggling Greeks once more were Greek Wayfarers.
XI
Now on Greek highways, where the wagons roll,
Piled high with wineskins, or with bags of flour,
Past schools and churches and the fountain bowl,
New hope springs in the peasants hour by hour.
Greeks know that through their sordid modern strife
They walk in poetry, believing well
They are the children of enchanted life,
That sends them forward messages to tell
Of Greek restraint and hospitality,
Greek love of beauty, and Greek dignity,
Making them, in their toil, devoted carers
For new and better goals for Greek Wayfarers.
XII
What are the goals to be, and what the gain?
As soldiers camp in valley and on hill
Do Spartan youths leap on the dusty plain?
Does spirit of Leonidas keep still
One death-defying purpose? Will the blood
Leap of a sudden out of the Soros,
And Marathon with bright phalanxes flood?
Do all Greeks bear the title agathos?
Ah, Greece! Ah, Greece! dare for the precious Past,
And throw your lot with gallant men that cast
Eternal die, to be the Spirit-Bearers
For all the world and all the Greek Wayfarers.