The merry wake,—a ready piper arm'd
With mouth-piece aptly fitted: and with worse
Than deadly hate and indignation warm'd,
Hermobius and Pherecles lash'd in verse.
VI.
Antimachus, for beauteous Lyda's love,
Hied him to rich Pactolus' golden tide:
But, well-a-day! his bliss stern Fate unwove;
Short was her doom,—in Pergamus she died,—
And in her grave was laid in prime of age.
He, full of lamentation, journey'd on
To Colophon,—and on the sacred page
Enter'd his tale, and ceased, his mission done.
VII.
And well thou know'st, how famed Alcæus smote
Of his high harp the love-enliven'd strings,
And raised to Sappho's praise th' enamour'd note,
Midst noise of mirth and jocund revellings:
Ay, he did love that nightingale of song
With all a lover's fervour,—and, as he
Deftly attuned the lyre, to madness stung
The Teian bard with envious jealousy.
For her Anacreon, charming lyrist, woo'd,
And fain would win, with sweet mellifluous chime,
Encircled by her Lesbian sisterhood;—
Would often Samos leave, and many a time,
From vanquish'd Teos' viny orchards, hie
To viny Lesbos' isle,—and from the shore,
O'er the blue wave, on Lectum cast his eye,
And think on by-gone days, and times no more.
VIII.
And how, from, steep Colonus' rocky height,
On lightsome pinions borne, the Attic bee
Sail'd through the air, and wing'd her honied flight,
And sang of love and wine melodiously
In choric numbers: for ethereal Jove
Bestow'd on Sophocles Archippe's charms,
Albeit in eve of life,—and gave to love
And fold the yielding fair one in his arms.
