Balaustion's Adventure. Robert Browning

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       And curses of the pirate panting up

       In one more throe and passion of pursuit—

       Seeing our oars flag in the rise and fall,

       I sprang upon the altar by the mast

       And sang aloft—some genius prompting me—

       That song of ours which saved at Salamis:

       "O sons of Greeks, go, set your country free,

       Free your wives, free your children, free the fanes

       O' the Gods, your fathers founded—sepulchres

       They sleep in! Or save all, or all be lost!" 80

       Then, in a frenzy, so the noble oars

       Churned the black water white, that well away

       We drew, soon saw land rise, saw hills grow up,

       Saw spread itself a sea-wide town with towers,

       Not fifty stadia distant; and, betwixt

       A large bay and a small, the islet-bar,

       Even Ortugia's self—oh, luckless we!

       For here was Sicily and Syracuse:

       We ran upon the lion from the wolf.

       Ere we drew breath, took counsel, out there came 90

       A galley, hailed us. "Who asks entry here

       In war-time? Are you Sparta's friend or foe?"

       "Kaunians,"—our Captain judged his best reply,

       "The mainland-seaport that belongs to Rhodes;

       Rhodes that casts in her lot now with the League,

       Forsaking Athens—you have heard belike!"

       "Ay, but we heard all Athens in one ode

       Just now! we heard her in that Aischulos!

       You bring a boatful of Athenians here,

       Kaunians although you be: and prudence bids, 100

       For Kaunos' sake, why, carry them unhurt

       To Kaunos, if you will: for Athens' sake,

       Back must you, though ten pirates blocked the bay!

       We want no colony from Athens here,

       With memories of Salamis, forsooth,

       To spirit up our captives, that pale crowd

       I' the quarry, whom the daily pint of corn

       Keeps in good order and submissiveness."

       Then the grey Captain prayed them by the Gods,

       And by their own knees, and their fathers' beards, 110

       They should not wickedly thrust suppliants back,

       But save the innocent on traffic bound—

       Or, may be, some Athenian family

       Perishing of desire to die at home—

       From that vile foe still lying on its oars,

       Waiting the issue in the distance. Vain!

       Words to the wind! And we were just about

       To turn and face the foe, as some tired bird

       Barbarians pelt at, drive with shouts away

       From shelter in what rocks, however rude, 120

       She makes for, to escape the kindled eye,

       Split beak, crook'd claw o' the creature, cormorant

       Or ossifrage, that, hardly baffled, hangs

       Afloat i' the foam, to take her if she turn.

       So were we at destruction's very edge,

       When those o' the galley, as they had discussed

       A point, a question raised by somebody,

       A matter mooted in a moment—"Wait!"

       Cried they (and wait we did, you may be sure)

       "That song was veritable Aischulos, 130

       Familiar to the mouth of man and boy,

       Old glory: how about Euripides?

       The newer and not yet so famous bard,

       He that was born upon the battle-day

       While that song and the salpinx sounded him

       Into the world, first sound, at Salamis—

       Might you know any of his verses too?"

       Now, some one of the Gods inspired this speech:

       Since ourselves knew what happened but last year—

       How, when Gulippos gained his victory 140

       Over poor Nikias, poor Demosthenes,

       And Syracuse condemned the conquered force

       To dig and starve i' the quarry, branded them—

       Freeborn Athenians, brute-like in the front

       With horse-head brands—ah, "Region of the Steed"!—

       Of all these men immersed in misery,

       It was found none had been advantaged so

       By aught in the past life he used to prize

       And pride himself concerning—no rich man

       By riches, no wise man by wisdom, no 150

       Wiser man still (as who loved more the Muse)

       By storing, at brain's edge and tip of tongue,

       Old glory, great plays that had long ago

       Made themselves wings to fly about the world—

       Not one such man was helped so at his need

       As certain few that (wisest they of all)

       Had, at first summons, oped heart, flung door wide

       At the new knocking of Euripides,

       Nor drawn the bolt with who cried "Decadence!

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