GREEK WAYFARERS

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!

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.