The Poetry Corner

The Hamadryad

By Walter Savage Landor

Rhaicos was born amid the hills wherefrom Gnidos the light of Caria is discernd And small are the white-crested that play near, And smaller onward are the purple waves. Thence festal choirs were visible, all crownd With rose and myrtle if they were inborn; If from Pandion sprang they, on the coast Where stern Athen raisd her citadel, Then olive was entwind with violets Clusterd in bosses, regular and large; For various men wore various coronals, But one was their devotion; t was to her Whose laws all follow, her whose smile withdraws The sword from Ares, thunderbolt from Zeus, And whom in his chill caves the mutable Of mind, Poseidon, the sea-king, reveres, And whom his brother, stubborn Dis, hath prayd To turn in pity the averted cheek Of her he bore away, with promises, Nay, with loud oath before dread Styx itself, To give her daily more and sweeter flowers Than he made drop from her on Ennas dell. Rhaicos was looking from his fathers door At the long trains that hastend to the town From all the valleys, like bright rivulets Gurgling with gladness, wave outrunning wave, And thought it hard he might not also go And offer up one prayer, and press one hand, He knew not whose. The father calld him in And said, "Son Rhaicos! those are idle games; Long enough I have livd to find them so." And ere he ended, sighd; as old men do Always, to think how idle such games are. "I have not yet," thought Rhaicos in his heart, And wanted proof. "Suppose thou go and help Echion at the hill, to bark yon oak And lop its branches off, before we delve About the trunk and ply the root with axe: This we may do in winter." Rhaicos went; For thence he could see farther, and see more Of those who hurried to the city-gate. Echion he found there, with naked arm Swart-haird, strong-sinewd, and his eyes intent Upon the place where first the axe should fall: He held it upright. "There are bees about, Or wasps, or hornets," said the cautious eld, "Look sharp, O son of Thallinos!" The youth Inclind his ear, afar, and warily, And cavernd in his hand. He heard a buzz At first, and then the sound grew soft and clear, And then divided into what seemd tune, And there were words upon it, plaintive words. He turnd, and said, "Echion! do not strike That tree: it must be hollow; for some god Speaks from within. Come thyself near." Again Both turnd toward it: and behold! there sat Upon the moss below, with her two palms Pressing it, on each side, a maid in form. Downcast were her long eyelashes, and pale Her cheek, but never mountain-ash displayd Berries of color like her lip so pure, Nor were the anemones about her hair Soft, smooth, and wavering like the face beneath. "What dost thou here?" Echion, half-afraid, Half-angry, cried. She lifted up her eyes, But nothing spake she. Rhaicos drew one step Backward, for fear came likewise over him, But not such fear: he panted, gaspd drew in His breath, and would have turnd it into words, But could not into one. "O send away That sad old man!" said she. The old man went Without a warning from his masters son, Glad to escape, for sorely he now feard And the axe shone behind him in their eyes. Hamad. And wouldst thou too shed the most innocent Of blood? No vow demands it; no god wills The oak to bleed. Rhaicos. Who art thou? whence? why here? And whither wouldst thou go? Among the robd In white or saffron, or the hue that most Resembles dawn or the clear sky, is none Arrayd as thou art. What so beautiful As that gray robe which clings about thee close, Like moss to stones adhering, leaves to trees, Yet lets thy bosom rise and fall in turn, As, touchd by zephyrs, fall and rise the boughs Of graceful platan by the river-side? Hamad. Lovest thou well thy fathers house? Rhaicos. Indeed I love it, well I love it, yet would leave For thine, whereer it be, my fathers house, With all the marks upon the door, that show My growth at every birthday since the third, And all the charms, oerpowering evil eyes, My mother naild for me against my bed, And the Cydonian bow (which thou shalt see) Won in my race last spring from Eutychos. Hamad. Bethink thee what it is to leave a home Thou never yet hast left, one night, one day. Rhaicos. No, t is not hard to leave it: t is not hard To leave, O maiden, that paternal home If there be one on earth whom we may love First, last, for ever; one who says that she Will love for ever too. To say which word, Only to say it, surely is enough. It shows such kindness, if t were possible We at the moment think she would indeed. Hamad. Who taught thee all this folly at thy age? Rhaicos. I have seen lovers and have learnd to love. Hamad. But wilt thou spare the tree? Rhaicos. My father wants The bark; the tree may hold its place awhile. Hamad. Awhile? thy father numbers then my days? Rhaicos. Are there no others where the moss beneath Is quite as tufty? Who would send thee forth Or ask thee why thou tarriest? Is thy flock Anywhere near? Hamad. I have no flock: I kill Nothing that breathes, that stirs, that feels the air, The sun, the dew. Why should the beautiful (And thou art beautiful) disturb the source Whence springs all beauty? Hast thou never heard Of Hamadryads? Rhaicos. Heard of them I have: Tell me some tale about them. May I sit Beside thy feet? Art thou not tired? The herbs Are very soft; I will not come too nigh; Do but sit there, nor tremble so, nor doubt. Stay, stay an instant: let me first explore If any acorn of last year be left Within it; thy thin robe too ill protects Thy dainty limbs against the harm one small Acorn may do. Here s none. Another day Trust me; till then let me sit opposite. Hamad.I seat me; be thou seated, and content. Rhaicos.O sight for gods! ye men below! adore The Aphrodit! Is she there below? Or sits she here before me? as she sate Before the shepherd on those heights that shade The Hellespont, and brought his kindred woe. Hamad.Reverence the higher Powers; nor deem amiss Of her who pleads to thee, and would repay, Ask not how much, but very much. Rise not: No, Rhaicos, no! Without the nuptial vow Love is unholy. Swear to me that none Of mortal maids shall ever taste thy kiss, Then take thou mine; then take it, not before. Rhaicos.Hearken, all gods above! O Aphrodit! O Her! Let my vow be ratified! But wilt thou come into my fathers house? Hamad.Nay: and of mine I cannot give thee part. Rhaicos.Where is it? Hamad.In this oak. Rhaicos.Ay; now begins The tale of Hamadryad: tell it through. Hamad.Pray of thy father never to cut down My tree; and promise him, as well thou mayst, That every year he shall receive from me More honey than will buy him nine fat sheep, More wax than he will burn to all the gods. Why fallest thou upon thy face? Some thorn May scratch it, rash young man! Rise up; for shame! Rhaicos.For shame I cannot rise. O pity me! I dare not sue for love, but do not hate! Let me once more behold thee, not once more, But many days: let me love on, unlovd! I aimd too high: on my own head the bolt Falls back, and pierces to the very brain. Hamad. Go, rather go, than make me say I love. Rhaicos. If happiness is immortality, (And whence enjoy it else the gods above?) I am immortal too: my vow is heard, Hark! on the left, Nay, turn not from me now, I claim my kiss. Hamad. Do men take first, then claim? Do thus the seasons run their course with them? Her lips were seald; her head sank on his breast. T is said that laughs were heard within the wood: But who should hear them? and whose laughs? and why? Savory was the smell and long past noon, Thallinos! in thy house; for marjoram, Basil and mint, and thyme and rosemary, Were sprinkled on the kids well roasted length, A waiting Rhaicos. Home he came at last, Not hungry, but pretending hunger keen, With head and eyes just oer the maple plate. "Thou seest but badly, coming from the sun, Boy Rhaicos!" said the father. "That oaks bark Must have been tough, with little sap between; It ought to run; but it and I are old." Rhaicos, although each morsel of the bread Increasd by chewing, and the meat grew cold And tasteless to his palate, took a draught Of gold-bright wine, which, thirsty as he was, He thought not of, until his father filld The cup, averring water was amiss, But wine had been at all times pourd on kid. It was religion. He thus fortified Said, not quite boldly, and not quite abashd, "Father, that oak is Zeuss own; that oak Year after year will bring thee wealth from wax And honey. There is one who fears the gods And the gods love, that one" (He blushd, nor said What one) "Has promisd this, and may do more. Thou hast not many moons to wait until The bees have done their best; if then there come Nor wax nor honey, let the tree be hewn." "Zeus hath bestowd on thee a prudent mind," Said the glad sire: "but look thou often there, And gather all the honey thou canst find In every crevice, over and above What has been promisd; would they reckon that?" Rhaicos went daily; but the nymph as oft, Invisible. To play at love, she knew, Stopping its breathings when it breathes most soft, Is sweeter than to play on any pipe. She playd on his: she fed upon his sighs; They pleasd her when they gently wavd her hair, Cooling the pulses of her purple veins, And when her absence brought them out, they pleasd. Even among the fondest of them all, What mortal or immortal maid is more Content with giving happiness than pain? One day he was returning from the wood Despondently. She pitied him, and said "Come back!" and twind her fingers in the hem Above his shoulder. Then she led his steps To a cool rill that ran oer level sand Through lentisk and through oleander; there Bathd she his feet, lifting them on her lap When bathd, and drying them in both her hands. He dard complain; for those who most are lovd Most dare it; but not harsh was his complaint. "O thou inconstant!" said he, "if stern law Bind thee, or will, stronger than sternest law, O, let me know henceforward when to hope The fruit of love that grows for me but here." He spake; and pluckd it from its pliant stem. "Impatient Rhaicos! Why thus intercept The answer I would give? There is a bee Whom I have fed, a bee who knows my thoughts And executes my wishes: I will send That messenger. If ever thou art false, Drawn by another, own it not, but drive My bee away: then shall I know my fate, And, for thou must be wretched, weep at thine. But often as my heart persuades to lay Its cares on thine and throb itself to rest, Expect her with thee, whether it be morn Or eve, at any time when woods are safe." Day after day the Hours beheld them blest, And season after season: years had past, Blest were they still. He who asserts that Love Ever is sated of sweet things, the same Sweet things he fretted for in earlier days, Never, by Zeus! lovd he a Hamadryad. The nights had now grown longer, and perhaps The Hamadryads find them lone and dull Among their woods; one did, alas! She calld Her faithful bee: t was when all bees should sleep, And all did sleep but hers. She was sent forth To bring that light which never wintry blast Blows out, nor rain nor snow extinguishes, The light that shines from loving eyes upon Eyes that love back, till they can see no more. Rhaicos was sitting at his fathers hearth: Between them stood the table, not oer-spread With fruits which autumn now profusely bore, Nor anise cakes, nor odorous wine; but there The draft-board was expanded; at which game Triumphant sat old Thallinos; the son Was puzzled, vexd, discomfited, distraught. A buzz was at his ear: up went his hand And it was heard no longer. The poor bee Returnd (but not until the morn shone bright) And found the Hamadryad with her head Upon her aching wrist, and showd one wing Half-broken off, the others meshes marrd, And there were bruises which no eye could see Saving a Hamadryads. At this sight Down fell the languid brow, both hands fell down, A shriek was carried to the ancient hall Of Thallinos: he heard it not: his son Heard it, and ran forthwith into the wood. No bark was on the tree, no leaf was green, The trunk was riven through. From that day forth Nor word nor whisper soothd his ear, nor sound Even of insect wing; but loud laments The woodmen and the shepherds one long year Heard day and night; for Rhaicos would not quit The solitary place, but moand and died. Hence milk and honey wonder not, O guest, To find set duly on the hollow stone.