TIMASITHEOS. Oh for the gift to rise in full degree, When now Olympia struggles to the light Of brilliant statues, all unspecked, unstained, One hewed about the face, and marred with mire, And when the curious wanderer would inquire Whose beauteous antique shape was soiled and shamed, None there could tell, save one white-bearded sire, Who answered: "This was one who, never tamed, "The Delphian, and from Phoebus so much grace "And from the lips of Phrynichus out-rolled Madness of song, praising his brazen feet, And tight curls closing like the marigold; "And Argive Ageladas, as was meet, Master of Pheidias, sculptured him, and set "And three times at the Pythian games he met The athletes in the sinewy lists and won, And through the dewy streets and meadows wet, "Went singing crowned from the pancration, To Delphi, in a long procession borne, And met with songs, his city's dearest son." 'Then why," Pausanias cried, "this mien forlorn, These injured garments, this dishonored head, Of all its light and carven beauty shorn?" To whom the old indifferent gray-beard said: 'Twas long ago, before my grandsire's days, And he who knew our history best is dead. But see this dim and gray inscription says: That Timasitheos, traitor to the state; Lift up with pride and fallen on godless ways, "By his fond physical strength intoxicate, Plotted with Kylon, and so meanly fell, Unstable and the prey of envious fate.'” Too soon, too much adored! Ah! much too well Of his great limbs in faultless form combined! For the gods hate not excellence, but lift And with their sleepless eyes have wit to sever But the hot insolent head they hold one hour Let others leap straight to the forest-crown! Drike D. Gainey A BALLAD OF METZ. Léon went to the wars, true soul without a stain; Never a mighty host thrilled so with one desire; And he, among the rest, marched gaily in the van: And mild and fond was he, and sensitive as a leaf. We followed where the last detachment led away, Some of us had been hurt in the first hot assault, Yet will was shaken not, nor zeal at fault; We hurried on to the front; our banners were soiled and rent; Grim riflemen, gallants all, our captain sent. A Prussian lay by a tree, rigid as ice, and pale; His cheek was hollow and white; parched was his swollen lip; Tho' bullets had fastened on their leaden grip, Tho' ever he gasped and called, called faintly from the rear, What of it? And all in scorn I closed mine ear. The very colors he wore, they burnt and bruised my sight; The greater his anguish, so was my delight. We laughed a savage laugh, who loved our land too well! Giving its enemies hate unspeakable. But Léon, kind heart, poor heart, clutched me around the arm: He faints for water!" he said; "it were no harm "To soothe a wounded man, already on death's rack." He seized his brimming gourd, and hurried back. The foeman grasped it fiercely. 'Neath his wild eye's lid He raised his shattered frame up from the grassy ground, Léon knelt by his side, one hand beneath his head; He rose and left him, stretched at length on the grassy plot, The viper-like flame in his eyes remembered not. Léon with easy gait strode on; he bared his hair, Just as he neared the troops, there by the purpled stream |