The Famine in Etruria

Beyond the confines of a race cognate,
Pelasgic, and their hunger well appeas'd,
Had travel'd the Etrurians: age alone
Would have protected them throughout all lands
When it was widely known they sought the God
At Delphi; now they stood beneath his fane.
But some of them had rashly pluckt the boughs
Of bay in passing; when a voice was heard
In modulated tones; and these the words.
Impious the man who snaps the budding hay,
Or bruizes it, thus hastening its decay:
This may be pardon'd in the goats and swine;
Brutes know not what is awful and divine.

Obedient were they all.

When they approacht
The temple, one alone received a branch,
And he was bidden to come forth and speak.
Then came he forth and, kneeling, thus spake he.

"The springs are sunk into the earth again.
Thou seest, Apollo, who seest all below.
And, where the fountains bubbled up, the bats
Widen their wings and crouch, nor seek for flies.
For even the flies around are dead with drought.
And the thin knats, now thinner, cease to whirr.
Not only the light wanderers of the air,
The very serpents, mother Earth's first-born.
And living in all lands, live not with us.
Python, the glory of thy silver bow,
Would not have rais'd his threatening head, but

croucht
At his full length, and panted, not defied.

Piteous it is, if we can pity now
Aught but ourselves, to see the oxe's ribs
White under him who drove them to the field.
And drying as they drop his bitter tears.
Where now the poppy-crown? where harvest-home?"
Fain would I rest upon a thought so sweet,
If sweet be any thought of happiness
Departed, and hope with it.

Worse remains.
A mother had no heart to kill her babe,
But offered it to one who had: he said
A plumper turnip was too high a price;
And she turn'd back in anger and in scorn . .
But soon (even scorn and anger sank) returned.
For she had one babe left, and one might live.

The God was deaf to every prayer; at length
They sought his oracle with better hopes;
Then said he from his inner shrine.

"'Tis here.
Here only should ye seek me, willful men!
Depart; and sacrifice to me the tenth
Of all that earth may bear to you henceforth.
After due reverence to the priest ordain'd
To take it; he will lustrate you and bless
Your children."
Joyous they return'd, if joy
Ever found entrance in such lank abodes.
They brought the priest his tenth: he scowl'd on

them.
"Bring the tenth child" cried he " The God we

serve
Delights in song, and song our God must have."
"Few are now left us " said the weeping sires,
And hunger leaves not even voice behind.
Nor are all fit for it."

"Begone, perverse!"
Cried he . . " but ere ye go I promise ye
We of our temple can bring voices out.
And they shall warble in our sacred choir:
The virgins we will shut from eyes profane."
Sorrowing the Etrurians led their children forth
Devoted to the God of light and song.