Volume 1 — THE MODERN ARGONAUTS.
Reading edition
i.
You have heard the ancient story, How the gallant sons of Greece, Long ago, with Jason ventured For the fated Golden Fleece; How they traversed distant regions, How they trod on hostile shores; How they vexed the hoary Ocean With the smiting of their oars;— Listen, then, and you shall hear another wondrous tale, Of a second Argo steering before a prosperous gale!
ii.
From the southward came a rumor, Over sea and over land; From the blue Ionian islands, And the old Hellenic strand, That the sons of Agamemnon, To their faith no longer true, Had confiscated the carpets Of a black and bearded Jew! Helen's rape, compared to this, was but an idle toy, Deeper guilt was that of Athens than the crime of haughty Troy.
iii.
And the rumor, winged by Ate, To the lofty chamber ran, Where great Palmerston was sitting In the midst of his Divan: Like Saturnius triumphant, In his high Olympian hall, Unregarded by the mighty, But detested by the small; Overturning constitutions—setting nations by the ears, With divers sapient plenipos, like Minto and his peers.
iv.
With his fist the proud dictator Smote the table that it rang— From the crystal vase before him The blood-red wine upsprang! "Is my sword a wreath of rushes, Or an idle plume my pen, That they dare to lay a finger On the meanest of my men? No amount of circumcision can annul the Briton's right— Are they mad, these lords of Athens, for I know they can not fight?
v.
"Had the wrong been done by others, By the cold and haughty Czar, I had trembled ere I opened All the thunders of my war. But I care not for the yelping Of these fangless curs of Greece— Soon and sorely will I tax them For the merchant's plundered Fleece. From the earth his furniture for wrath and vengeance cries— Ho, Eddisbury! take thy pen, and straightway write to Wyse!"
vi.
Joyfully the bells are ringing In the old Athenian town, Gayly to Piræus harbor Stream the merry people down; For they see the fleet of Britain Proudly steering to their shore, Underneath the Christian banner That they knew so well of yore, When the guns at Navarino thundered o'er the sea, And the Angel of the North proclaimed that Greece again was free.
vii.
Hark!—a signal gun—another! On the deck a man appears Stately as the Ocean-shaker— "Ye Athenians, lend your ears! Thomas Wyse am I, a herald Come to parley with the Greek; Palmerston hath sent me hither, In his awful name I speak— Ye have done a deed of folly—one that ye shall sorely rue! Wherefore did ye lay a finger on the carpets of the Jew?
viii.
"Don Pacifico of Malta! Dull indeed were Britain's ear, If the wrongs of such a hero Tamely she could choose to hear! Don Pacifico of Malta! Knight-commander of the Fleece— For his sake I hurl defiance At the haughty towns of Greece. Look to it—For by my head! since Xerxes crossed the strait, Ye never saw an enemy so vengeful at your gate.
ix.
"Therefore now, restore the carpets, With a forfeit twenty-fold; And a goodly tribute offer Of your treasure and your gold Sapienza and the islet Cervi, ye shall likewise cede, So the mighty gods have spoken, Thus hath Palmerston decreed! Ere the sunset, let an answer issue from your monarch's lips; In the mean time, I have orders to arrest your merchants' ships."
x.
Thus he spoke, and snatched a trumpet Swiftly from a soldier's hand, And therein he blew so shrilly, That along the rocky strand Rang the war-note, till the echoes From the distant hills replied, Hundred trumpets wildly wailing, Poured their blast on every side; And the loud and hearty shout of Britain rent the skies, "Three cheers for noble Palmerston! another cheer for Wyse!"
xi.
Gentles! I am very sorry That I can not yet relate, Of this gallant expedition, What has been the final fate. Whether Athens was bombarded For her Jew-coercing crimes, Hath not been as yet reported In the columns of the Times. But the last accounts assure us of some valuable spoil: Various coasting vessels, laden with tobacco, fruit, and oil.
xii.
Ancient chiefs! that sailed with Jason O'er the wild and stormy waves— Let not sounds of later triumphs Stir you in your quiet graves! Other Argonauts have ventured To your old Hellenic shore, But they will not live in story Like the valiant men of yore. O! 'tis more than shame and sorrow thus to jest upon a theme That for Britain's fame and glory, all would wish to be dream!