Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/258

220 I saddled my white mule, and all night long

Through the cool lovely country followed you,

Passed you a little since as morning dawned,

And have this hour sate by the torrent here,

Till the slow mules should climb in sight again.

And now?

PAUSANIAS.

And now, back to the town with speed!

Crouch in the wood first, till the mules have passed;

They do but halt, they will be here anon.

Thou must be viewless to Empedocles;

Save mine, he must not meet a human eye.

One of his moods is on him that thou know'st;

I think, thou wouldst not vex him.

CALLICLES.

No; and yet

I would fain stay, and help thee tend him. Once

He knew me well, and would oft notice me;

And still, I know not how, he draws me to him,

And I could watch him with his proud sad face,

His flowing locks and gold-encircled brow

And kingly gait, forever; such a spell

In his severe looks, such a majesty

As drew of old the people after him,

In Agrigentum and Olympia,

When his star reigned, before his banishment,

Is potent still on me in his decline.

But, O Pausanias, he is changed of late:

There is a settled trouble in his air

Admits no momentary brightening now;

And when he comes among his friends at feasts,

'Tis as an orphan among prosperous boys.

Thou know'st of old he loved this harp of mine,

When first he sojourned with Peisianax;