Part 2 — READING HOMER.

How my dreamy childhood pondered On that old heroic tongue! Then, the dream-land where I wandered Was the Olympus Homer sung; The cloud-cleaving peaks that trembled When the mighty gods assembled. Dazzled saw I blue-eyed Pallas Throned by Zeus on golden seat, Sipped from Hebe's nectar chalice, Plucked Cythera's roses sweet— Breathless watched, as from those portals Battleward clashed down the immortals. Naiads from Scamander's fountain Lifted to my lips the cup; Oreads skimming Hæmus' mountain To the tryst-place caught me up; Gleamed athwart the forest's grace The white light of Dian's face. Burst upon my ear the townward Thunder of Achilles' wheel, When the fair long locks trailed downward, And the shriek made Ilium reel. Conquering torches, steep to steep, Flashed along the wine-dark deep. But my heart—that restless roamer— Quit those fields of kingly strife, That old world of Greece and Homer, For the world of love and life. Dead, like leaves on autumn clay, Those old gods and wonders lay. O the spirit's aspiration, Glorious through all nature's bound! The soul yearning through creation— All the sought, and all the found! Oh! what is—and what shall be In far immortality? For truth's marvels well are able All of fiction to eclipse, And the wine of classic fable Tasteless palls upon the lips. From the living fount of truth Wells the soul's immortal youth. Still at times when basks the river The long summer afternoon, When the broad green pastures quiver In the rippling breeze of June, I unclose the Iliad's pages, To unearth those buried ages. But no Ilium now, nor tragic Plains I find in Homer's lay; With a new and stranger magic Now it leads another way— Whirls me on a sudden track To my merry childhood back. All that fresh young joy rejoices, Beats the child heart as of yore, And again I hear—oh! voices That I thought to hear no more, Till—the dusk has round me grown; Close the book—the dream has flown. C. E. B.