PERSEPHONÉ.

Through the dusky halls of Hadës Thrills the echo of a voice, Full of love, and full of longing: ‘Come, and bid my heart rejoice! Daughter, all the world is barren, While I mourn thy long delay!’ It is fond Demeter calling On her lost Persephoné. Sad she leans, the queen of Hadës, On the gloomy monarch’s breast, When upon her fettered senses Falls that wail of Earth distrest; And it woos her latent fancy With a dream of days gone by— And her heart responds in rapture To that eager parent-cry! Gently from the shadowy circle Of his arms she lifts her head, And its youthful beauty lightens Even the Kingdom of the Dead. Half a-dreaming, yet resistless To the voice that bids her come, Soft she murmurs: ‘Mother calls me; Hermes waits to lead me home.’ ‘Wilt thou leave me? I have loved thee, Held thee dear as queenly wife; It was Zeus who gave thee to me— Life to Death, and Death to Life!’ Still a-dreaming and bewildered, ‘Ah!’ she says, complaining low, ‘Hear ye not Demeter calling? King and husband, let me go!’ Lingeringly he yields his darling, But she leaves the Shadow-land With his spell upon her spirit, With his chain upon her hand. ‘She will come again,’ he whispers, ‘And our union earth must own; Young Life drawn from Death’s embraces Will return to share his throne!’ . . . . . Pure and queenly, all immortal, Stands she ’neath her native skies: Cloud and sunbeam, dew and rainbow, Mingle in her lucid eyes: Fitful smiles and vivid blushes Blend to banish every tear, And, like lute, her tender accents Fall upon Demeter’s ear: ‘Mother, from the heart of Hadës I have come again to thee!’— Desert wide and boundless welkin, Grove and valley, hill and sea, All the animate creation, All the haunts of listening day, Echo with Demeter’s answer: ‘Hail, my child Persephoné!’ Lo! the world awakes to rapture; Love rejoices, gods are glad, Flowers unfold around her footfalls, Youth in virgin garb is clad; All the Muses chant a welcome; Nymph and Naïad swell the strain; Dancing sunbeams, laughing waters, Aid the triumph of her train. Where she moves, a magic whisper Stirs the world to wanton mirth; Winter flies before her presence; Forms of beauty find new birth; Nature’s languid pulses flutter With the fervid breath of Spring, Zephyrs tell to opening blossoms: ‘Eros comes to reign as king!’ Ah! while life breaks forth in music, Emerald hues, and heavenly light, Warmth, and love, and fairest promise, Still a vision of the night Glides athwart the happy Present, Vague as harvest hopes in May; ’Tis a dream of gloomy Hadës Haunts the young Persephoné! So, to Mother Earth she falters: ‘Though thy daughter, still his wife. Zeus decrees in kingly fashion, Death shall hold the hand of Life: Zeus decrees, and in one circle Life and Death doth still combine. Though I crown thee with my beauty, Though my soul is part of thine, Yet the mighty Hadës holds me By a power that is divine. ‘But, sweet mother, Life can only Be withdrawn. It never dies. From the heart of sombre Hadës, At thy call I will arise. Year by year thy eager summons Shall have power to break the chain, And in all her youthful glory, Will thy daughter come again. ‘Yet, because his spell must ever Lie upon my charmèd soul, He, the gloomy Lord of Shadows, Shall my wayward will control. As I heard thee call, my mother, So his call I must obey; Even here shall come his mandate, And I may not answer nay. Ah! when harvest fruits are garnered, Mourn thy child Persephoné.’ Jessie M. E. Saxby.