Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, GANYMEDE, by JOHN SPENCER MUIRHEAD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

GANYMEDE, by                    
First Line: From lowland valleys came ganymede
Last Line: Blinded, old, and maim.
Subject(s): Ganymede (mythology); Oxford University


FROM lowland valleys came Ganymede,
The brown-eyed shepherd-boy,
Driving his brethren's flock to feed
Where Ida's haunted valleys lead
From the thirsty plains of Troy.

And he was fair as a flower is fair,
Not knowing how it grows,
And heedless he laughed on the summer air,
When the sand, as he went with his little feet bare,
Welled warm between his toes.

His shepherd's smock was of linen white,
But breast and throat were free;
And his mother had made him a girdle bright,
To gather the folds all puckered and tight,
Lest they fell down to his knee.

An old, wise dog ran staid with him,
And he made it little songs,
Of dragons grim, and of ladies slim,
Who waited in Ida, so still and dim,
For the ending of their wrongs.

But at eve to that hollow he came in the glen,
Where his brethren's sheepfolds were;
And gladly they welcomed the boy again,
And swiftly the dogs set the sheep in the pen,
'Neath a straggling line of fir.

And when both man and beast were fed,
Then the golden day had run.
So each in his plaid made there his bed,
And the scented heather bare up each head,
And the dog by every one.

But the boy rose up at the break of day,
And to all he bade farewell,
And whistling he turned from the hills away
To the nestling woods, where the wild gods play
In many a hazel dell.

Slow smiling to himself a river ran
In many an amber eddy, till his waves,
From a close place beneath tall beeches spinning,
In one great pool enchanted swung to rest.
Hither came Ganymede at hush of noon,
Adown the valley straying: and the pool
With all its tawny waters, cool and deep,
Dreamed far below him. Silvered fishes ran,
Making mysterious ripple in the sunshine,
And there far out some voyager adrift
Dried his frail wings, astride upon a straw,
Death very near him. Close within a bay
A leaf in coasting voyage circled nigh
Hard by its tiny wharf, and busily
Through piled pine-needles long-legged spiders ran,
The merchants of the port. -- So stood the boy,
Dreaming a space. -- But far out 'neath the sun
With sudden flash a sea-trout curved and leapt,
And the pool was shaken in its faery sleep
And chuckled, half awaked. Then Ganymede
At that great laughing water laughed in glee,
And loosed his broidered girdle, and the clasps
Of his cool robe, and ran amid the leaves
Down to the river. But ere yet the waves
Slipped cool around him, lo! two shepherd-boys,
Fresh from the river running, princes' sons,
Who called to Ganymede and bade him stay:
"Come share our dinner with us, where we sit
On the smooth rock that to the water slopes:
And after thou shalt judge whose songs are best."
Gladly turned Ganymede and ran with them,
Telling them whence he came, and how the sun
Had tempted him to leap among the waves
In the cool river.
So they laughing ran
All three along the pool, and found the place
Where lay their basket full of pleasant food,
Soft creamy scones and honey in the comb,
And strawberries that hid in lettuce-leaves.
And two red apples were there in below,
And one they gave to Ganymede, their guest,
But he whose song was best should have the other.
Now as they ate, the beasts within the wood,
Rabbits, and little birds with tilted heads,
Watched them, or scuttled suddenly away,
When one might throw a stone upon the pool
And fill it full of laughters. Once a wasp
Came singing on a private enterprise,
And drove each boy light-laughing from the feast,
For fear that he might bite them. But at last
When nought was left but crumbs for nimble birds,
Each shepherd took his pipe to tune a song,
And Ganymede upon the smooth, warm rock
A little from them sat, with two bare knees
Clasped in his arms, most young and sweet to see.
Then sang the fair-haired boy, whom men had called
Callebus (for he was both fair and young),
Making a light and cheerful song of youth,
That the East Wind told him in a wood at dawn:
"Who will run o'er hill and valley,
Who will run at the break of day?
Up by lawn and crooked alley,
Now to slacken, now to rally,
Now to rally swift away?

"Where may I a swift one find
That may run, nor lag behind,
Running with the Eastern wind,
Running up the valley?
Clean of limb, and clean of heart,
I am swifter than Love's dart,
Though he hide himself apart,
Making sudden sally.
Who will run, O who will run
With the East Wind up the valley?

"Art thou he? and wilt away,
That we run together?
Have I seen thee, while the day
Opened her cool eyes of grey,
Watched thee breast the windy brae,
Marked thee in the heather?
Hast thou seen what I have seen?
Hast thou passed where I have been?
And wilt ply
Limbs as light and clean as I?

"O if thou these things hast done,
Nor with Love wilt dally,
Then come run, O then come run,
With the East Wind up the valley.

"Youth is very strong and free,
And great are the songs of the heather.
And none may hear save such as thee,
Whom laggard Love holds not in fee,
Nor binds with his flowery tether.

O come lest he take thee and bind thee fast,
And steal thy swiftness, and stay thy feet.
Come run, come run, while the good days last,
And life comes a-tingling, cool and sweet!"

So sang the boy, and wild wood gods in glee
Danced bright-eyed through the thickets round and round.
Then Ganymede leapt up from where he lay,
And cried: "I'll run, Callebus, I will run --
Far as you will, and swift. -- I know that song;
The morning sings it; but no words makes she,
But only sings and sings; and once I saw
The wild Pan dance it in a glade of larch
When the snow came thin in April." Then he laughed,
Crying: "I had forgot thee, when I heard
Callebus sing, good Glaucus; sing you now,
And sing your best, for you must needs sing well."
So saying, full length lay he down again,
His head upon his arms, and one smooth knee
Drawn up and arching; but the other lay
Straight and outstretched from thigh to poising foot.
Then Glaucus took his pipe, and gently touched
Tremulous stops and sang from out the shade:

"O swiftly Love comes forth at dawn,
As strong as the sun's uprising;
The winds are cold where his feet have gone,
And the skies wane green where his wings have shone,
In his early light devising.

"For you will love, and I will love, to-day or else to-morrow;
None is unshaken,
None untaken,
All taste his joy or sorrow.

"But sternly Love comes forth at noon,
When the sun is fiercely beating;
The dust flies stiffly from his shoon,
While the stubborn earth yields her niggard boon,
A little bread for the eating.

"Yet you will love, and I will love, to-day or else to-morrow,
For none is hidden,
None unbidden,
All taste his joy by sorrow.

"O wildly Love comes forth at eve,
As hot as the sun's downsetting;
All ruddy goes he, and the poppies weave
A foam to clothe him, a flame to cleave,
As he sings, his sword a-whetting.

"Aye, you will love, and I will love, to-day or else to-morrow;
None is unblamed,
None untamed,
All taste his joy and sorrow.

"But gently Love at the midnight comes,
When the winds are softly crying,
And babies smile as they suck their thumbs,
And memory soft as a slow bee hums
In a meadow of no dying.

"So you may love, so I may love, to-day or else to-morrow;
None is unshriven,
Unforgiven,
There is not always sorrow."

But Ganymede stood up, and for a space
Looked on him musing, with his two lips pursed
Into a little posy. But at last
Lightly he stooped and picked the apple up
And threw it red and spinning in the air,
Whither Callebus lay, and cried: "See there,
There is the prize for you; for Glaucus sang
Sweet singing, but the words were mad as mad,
While yours were splendid -- splendid." And he smiled,
Remembering them. But lightly Glaucus laughed
And said: "Good Judge, perchance in time my song
May seem as sweet, though sure Callebus sang
A very mavis song, most light and clear,
All woven out of laughter." So he spake,
And Ganymede was glad he was not sorry.
Now was the noontide passing, and the woods
Breathed cooler, and the shadows ventured out
Further along the glades; but Ganymede
Ran with Callebus all among the trees,
Where warm leaves crackled as they lightly passed.
And now a lordly pheasant shot away
All in a dress of flame, upbraiding them
For heedless folk, or from his frugal fare
The squirrel scampered, scaled a friendly tree,
And peeped upon them shamed at all his fears.
But Glaucus very soon must needs be gone,
And called them from their running. So they came
Back to the pool again, and Glaucus rose
And girded up his tunic, tied his shoon,
And made all ready for their journeying.
So then at last they bade the boy farewell,
And clambered up the bank. But Ganymede
Turned to his bathing. Down the rock he stepped,
Where he had lain, and ankle-deep had gone
When Glaucus waved farewell from where he stood
Under the beeches; so the boy half turned
And waved farewell, then waded through the waters
Out to the sunshine. Nigh knee-deep he stood
When the sunlight covered him as with a robe
And swirled upon the water. Still he strode
Straight-limbed, until the slipping water kissed
Now knee, now thigh, and now danced laughing up
The dimpled roadway till his shoulders slim
Splashed in the sunny water. --
Glaucus turned
And smiling left him in the dancing pool.

But when of bathing he'd ta'en his fill,
Then he lay in the sun to dry.
But the maids of the woods came over the hill,
And saw him lying cool and still,
A-gazing on the sky.

And they had come lightly unaware
While he lay unashamed in the sun,
And prisoned him close in their billowy hair,
And kissed his throat so cool and bare
Where the appley smells do run.

Ah! then would Love have bound him fast,
And stayed his twinkling feet,
And all the joys of his days had past,
And the world had mouthed on him dim and vast,
Like a drab and dreary street.

But Zeus stooped down from the burnished sky,
And lightly he bare him above;
And there he dwelleth a boy for aye,
Safe in the god's gay company,
And knoweth no thought of Love.

But Love he rageth far and wide,
And terribly strong goes he;
For he spieth about on every side,
Most sweet to see, most evil-eyed,
All young things' enemy.

O! may the gods who save on high
Glad Ganymede from shame
So save all men from fierce Love's eye,
And leave us not in pain to die,
Blinded, old, and maim.





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