Page:The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman, 1908.djvu/270

POEMS OF GREECE PENELOPE

thus, Ulysses, with a tender word,

Pretence of state affairs, soft blandishment,

And halt assurances, canst thou evade

My heart's discernment. Think not such a film

Hath touched these aged eyes, to make them lose

The subtlest mood of those even now adroop,

Self-conscious, darkling from my nearer gaze.

Full well I know thy mind, O man of wiles!

man of restless yearnings—fate impelled,

Fate-conquering—like a waif thrown back and forth

On many waters! Oft I see thee stand

At eve, a landmark on the outer cliff,

Looking far westward; later, when the feast

Smokes in the hall, and nimble servants pass

Great bowls of wine, and ancient Phemeus sings

The deeds of Peleus' son, thy right hand moves

Straight for its sword-hilt, like a ship for home;

Then, when thou hearest him follow in the song

Thine own miraculous sojourn of long years

Through stormy seas, weird islands, and the land

Of giants, and the gray companions smite

Their shields, and cry, What do we longer here?

''Afloat! and let the great waves bear us on!''

I know thou growest weary of the realm,

Thy wife, thy son, the people, and thy fame.

I too have had my longings. Am I not

Penelope, who when Ulysses came

To Sparta and Icarius bade her choose

Betwixt her sire and wooer, veiled her face

And stept upon the galley silver-oared,

And since hath kept thine Ithacensian halls?

Then when the hateful Helen fled to Troy

With Paris, and the Argive chieftains sailed 240