THE HUNTING OF THE STAG OF ŒNOË.

From proud Mycenæ's lion-guarded gate, Where King Eurystheus reigned in regal state, One springtime morn when every field was fair And song-birds carolled in the azure air, A man of mighty stature swiftly strode, And took his way along the winding road That led to well-walled Argos and the sea. From Lerna's fens a salty breeze blew free, And stirred the locks that fell his shoulders down And wreathed his forehead like a golden crown. Upon his shield—a sight to hold men mute— Was seen the head of the Nemean brute; Within one hand a gnarlèd club he bore, Hewn from an oak bole in the forest hoar. The shafts of Hermes, and the wondrous bow, The helm of Vulcan with its fiery glow, The fine-wrought peplus fluttering in the breeze, Proclaimed the hero valiant Hercules. Beside the torrent Perseia that won Its way to join the sweet Asterion, Through flowery meads and field of greening grain, The hero's pathway led him o'er the plain; But ere the walls of Argos met his view, Or ere he saw the Ægean shining blue, He turned, and toward the mountain peaks that rose Along the far horizon, capped with snows Of lands Arcadian, pursued his quest. And many days he fared with meagre rest Taken in starlit hours 'neath forest boughs, Where nightly Queen Titania's elves carouse. By day he hasted with unflagging pace Through woodland depths where Dian's hounds gave chase To startled deer, through fields by yeomen tilled, Through vineyards whence the winepress would be filled When teeming Autumn with her purple fine Had tinged the grape upon the yielding vine; Through olive groves that, in good time, would bear A bounteous fruitage 'neath the pruner's care: And those who saw him as he sped along Paused 'mid their work, or hushed the jocund song To do him homage. None in all the land But felt the blessings that his potent hand Had widely wrought; remote were they and few But that his face and stately presence knew. Where'er his many wanderings led, he heard In field or household no unwelcome word; Whene'er he came, though bread and wine were spent, He saw no frown nor look of ill content. At last, when many nights the vernal moon Had risen and set, and song-birds presaged June, One sultry eve the weary hero came To mountain hamlet where his matchless fame Had been on all men's lips, but where his face Was known to none; and in the market-place He found a throng with wreaths and garlands bound, And one who blew with clear, harmonious sound Upon a hollow reed. Amidst the folk A goodly ox, unfettered by the yoke, Stood gayly decked with flowers in skilful wise As though prepared for godly sacrifice. When they beheld the noble-visaged man, They bade him join the festal rites of Pan; For some at heart believed that he might be, In mortal guise, a heavenly deity; And much they marveled at his kingly mien, As with the throng he sought the forest green. Within a glade where drooping birches stirred Their silvery leaves, and where the drowsy bird Sang plaintively a tender twilight lay, An altar stood entwined by tendrils gay. And soon thereon the mighty ox, new-slain, Was sprinkled o'er with wine and barley grain; Then one, amid the sound of choral song, The seemly leader of the pastoral throng, With reverent hand brought forth the sacred fire, And prayerful knelt and lit the holy pyre. Amid the roar of sacrificial flame The devotees besought their God by name; And while they worshipped, Hercules unheard, Through flowering, fragrant thickets scarcely stirred By evening's breezes, softly slipped away, His vows fulfilled. The golden orb of day Had ceased to flush the placid western sky; With slowly lengthening shadows night drew nigh, But still the hero with unslackened stride Went hurrying onward, till a torrent wide, Grown fierce with melting snow, his progress barred; And there beneath the cloudless dome, bright-starred, Upon his tawny shield he laid him down, And slept till morning with her rosy crown Followed the car of Phœbus up the East. Then, when his limbs from slumber were released, And he had eaten of his frugal fare, He stemmed the stream, and up a hillside bare Of aught but tangled bush and hindering briar Toiled slowly to the crest, whereon a spire Of splintered pine like lonely sentry stood. Below him lay a wide-outreaching wood, And far beyond a hamlet that he knew, Œnoë called. Before the thick night dew Had dried from off the grass and rustling leaves, Or shepherd maids from under well-thatched eaves Had gone afield to watch the wandering Of flocks that fed beside a crystal spring, Stout Hercules had trodden half the way That 'twixt the pine-tree and the hamlet lay. A Titan power, while yet the world was young, Within the woodland's shady heart had flung The green earth open, and a dark ravine, Through which a streamlet purled o'er mossy-green, Gigantic boulders, formed the chosen lair For ravening beasts that through the forest fare. At night or morn the deer were wont to seek The freshening nectar of the crystal creek; At night or morn the pard, with stealthy tread, Crept softly out upon the boughs o'erhead; A wanderer from rocky realms remote, Here laved the mountain bear his shaggy coat; And birds, bright-mirrored on the sedgy brink Of darkling pools, here paused to plume and drink. Where o'er the granite ledge the noisy stream Came tossing down athwart the slanting gleam Of morning sunrays, Hercules reclined Beneath a tangled growth of vines that twined Around o'erhanging saplings, oak and elm. Upon the ground was cast his weighty helm, Likewise his shield and shafts, his club and bow. Breathless he listened with his ear bent low Upon the earth. The moments sped; around The honey-hoarding bees' unceasing sound, The crested jay's complaining, shrilly call, Were intermingled with the water's fall. But soon upon his keen, detecting ear There fell a noise which told that hoof of deer Was lightly rustling through the reeds and grass. With eye alert he scanned the narrow pass Beside the stream, and, in a moment more, Beheld a stag upon the shelving shore Whose hoofs seemed brazen, and whose horns outshone With gold like that which binds the slender zone Of fair Aurora, daughter of the Dawn. Deep eyes more tender had no timid fawn; Of perfect form was every graceful limb; The tapering flank symmetrical and slim, The head erect, the nostril fine of curve, The shapely shoulders flawless, and the swerve Of stately neck a marvel to behold. This was the stag a woodland nymph of old To swift Diana gave, remembering she Had been her friend in dire extremity. This stag it was that brave Mycenæ's king Had bidden valiant Hercules to bring Alive unto his court. And now so fair The creature stood before him, unaware A foe lurked near, that he at heart was fain To capture it without the piercing pain The wounding dart might give; and so aside He cast his princely peplus, purple-dyed, And softly crept from 'neath the viny roof. But lo! the stag with smite of startled hoof On yielding ground, and toss of antlers high, Flashing a look from out his frightened eye, With agile bound sprang knee-deep in the stream, A moment paused as in a trance or dream; Then, casting back a calmly questioning look, Regained the bank above the brawling brook, And ere the hero seized his barbed dart, Had disappeared within the forest's heart. Twelve weary months had slowly dragged away Since Hercules, upon that fateful day, Within Arcadian wilds had sought in vain To snare the sacred stag; through sun and rain, Through wintry cold and winds that tossed and whirled The falling leaf, through drifting snows that pearled Arcadian slopes, untiring in pursuit, He held a lonely chase that bore no fruit; If he at morn descried the stag afar, At night it vanished like a falling star; And though his subtlest woodcraft he had tried, The brazen hoof his cunning still defied. Oft did the harvesters and husbandmen Behold him ranging through an Argive glen, And oft the wandering shepherd saw him rest On some Arcadian upland's bosky crest. In rapid flight the hunted stag had come From craggy heights of Artemesium To placid Ladon's fruitful vale, and there Had sought a refuge in a cavern ne'er Beheld by mortal man. Remote it stood Within the precincts of a pathless wood To Dian sacred. Round its entrance grew A tangled copse, and one gigantic yew Towered at its mouth. The river ran near by, And on its bank was heard the bittern's cry, For May had come again. One morn by chance, Just as the sun had flung its earliest lance O'er towering treetops, Hercules drew near The spot where every dawn the brass-hoofed deer From out the grot came softly slipping down To drink and lave its limbs of glossy brown. Day after day the mighty man had sought In vain the stag's retreat; his mind was fraught With gathering fear lest he should find no trace Of royal covert in that wildwood place. Erelong a sound that smote his eager ear Gave swift assurance that his prize was near. With cautious hand a skimmering dart he drew, And eager, peered the tremulous leafage through; The pattering footfalls near and nearer came, A moment paused,—then, like a flash of flame, The stag in splendor dawned upon his sight, And sniffed the crystal air with keen delight. Upon the morning breeze the piercing twang Of taut-drawn bowstring ominously rang, While with a moan the noble creature sank In pain and terror on the reedy bank. Beneath a haughty hemlock's spicy shade The hero stanched the wound his shaft had made; With leathern thong the stag's slight limbs he bound, And striding swiftly o'er the ferny ground, His precious burden on his shoulders wide, Toward fair Mycenæ with her walls of pride He hurried on from lisping Ladon's shore, Elate to feel his arduous task was o'er. Before his steps the joyful tidings flew, And when anigh the city's gates he drew, A band of stately elders bade him hail; Then came a troop of youths in garments pale, Upon their lips a merry hunting lay; And following close a group of maidens gay, With twining flowers, freshed plucked, and emerald sprays. And all the concourse wished him length of days, O'erjoyed to see, with horns of glittering gold, The living stag within the hero's hold. Nor here nor there the happy hunter stayed His rapid steps, but while the people made Great clamor in his honor from the wall, Sought out the king within the royal hall; And there, 'mid cries that echoed from the street, He laid his trophy at the monarch's feet.