Theon and Æschines

To his country’s penates wends Æschines home,
To the mist-cover’d land of Alpheus;
He long had sought happiness o’er the wide world,
But happiness fled--like a shadow.

And Bacchus and Venus, and pleasure and fame,
His heart had consumed--not contented;
The blossom of life had decay’d like his soul,
And hope had been banish’d by sadness.

The stream of the wavy Alpheus appears,
Alpheus, with flower-bedeck’d borders,
And wakes all the thoughts of the days hurried by,
And of youth-tide, for ever departed!

All the banks are as fair, all the fields are as bright,
And the sky smiles delighted above him;
But where is that hope which shed o’er them a ray,
A ray of ineffable beauty?

The dwelling of Theon now Æschines seeks;--
He dwelt in a peace-girded cottage;
His wishes all bounded, and moderate his hopes--
He dwelt on the shores of Alpheus.

’Twas just where Alpheus springs into the sea,
With olive trees deck’d and plantanas,
That Æschines saw a humble abode--
It was the mean dwelling of Theon.

In the hot arch of Heaven the day-tide declined,
The calm stream of waters was glowing;
A rosy smile play’d round the humble abode,
Where the myrtles of fragrance were blooming.

A white grave of marble, with myrtle-wreaths hung,
Appears on a gentle mound rising;
Where roses of fragrance, and jasmin’s pale flowers,
Their branches entwined, interblended.

Theon sat near his hut;--he was lost in deep thought,
While he look’d on the purple-tinged billow;
Then suddenly turn’d on his Æschines--saw,
And remember’d his youthful companion.

‘To Zeus--Preserver! be honour and praise!
Again dost thou see thy penates!’
Cried Theon--while rapture shone bright in his eye,
As he Æschines press’d to his bosom.

And with glances look’d through him again and again,
His visage was troubled and gloomy:
And Æschines mournfully gazed on his friend,
His gaze it was calm, but was mournful.

‘O Theon! when first I abandon’d thee here,
Hope painted me visions of pleasure;
Far different my fate from my dreams--I have found
That hope is a faithless deceiver.

‘And tell me, my Theon, has such been thy fate,
For such doth thy visage betoken?
Have sorrow and sadness intruded on thee,
And thy peaceful, domestic penates?’

Theon groan’d in his spirit, and look’d to the grave,
‘These, these are the silent recorders,
If God lent us life to be wasted in joy--
Ah! life is the sister of sorrow.

‘O no! I complain not of Zeus’ decrees,
For life and the world beam with beauty;
But bliss that is fleeting, and dreams that are vain,
I chase not for earthly enjoyment.

‘What time can create, and what time can destroy,
Why call we our own;--it was never;--
’Tis the soul’s own possession, the spirit of love,
The thoughts that sublimely transport us.

‘These, these are true bliss!--Friend, this is no dream,
I, Æschines! loved and was happy;
’Twas love that refined and enraptured my soul--
And that taught me the pleasure of living.

‘Midst twilight sublimest conceptions appear’d,
Creation I saw in its glory,
And felt that my pilgrimage led through the world
To something far brighter above it.

‘Woe is me! for I loved--she is gone--she is gone--
And the bliss is for ever departed,
That dawn’d with such lustre--how vainly it dawn’d!
How gaily--how swiftly it faded!

‘O no! nought erases the track of the past,
In the heart it for ever endureth.
The sorrow of parting!--That, that too is love!--
And the heart loses nought of its treasure.

‘And is not the pang which e’en death leaves behind
A germ which hope, bright and eternal,
Awakes; while the known, but the mist-cover’d land,
Gives back all we loved to our mem’ry.

‘For he who has loved, and loved truly, my friend!
Can never, can never be lonely;
The world when she blossom’d, with her is still fill’d,
Ever present, unchang’d and immortal.

‘Alone I tread onward the path of my doom,
To its boundary sublime ever tending;
She led me--she leads me--together we toil,
’Tis the bond which not death could dissever.

‘Thoughts pure and sublime throw a charm over life!
And with ecstasy oft I look round me
On the fair face of earth, that is smiling with good,
On the wonderful, glorious creation.

‘And peaceful I turn from the markstone of death
To the visions which hail me immortal;
And hope lights with glory the dulness of earth,
As Aurora the canopied heaven.

‘’Tis hope that exalts me far, far above fate,
And hallows this earthly existence;
And the thought, the proud thought I am man, swells my breast
With gratitude, triumph, and glory.

‘This silent, this mystical gravestone, to me,
My friend! is a pledge and a token,
That the being which faith has depictured shall dawn
As sure as the past is departed.

‘This grave is the door--the lock’d door of delight--
Will it open?--I hope, and expect it:
On that side the pris’ner is waiting, who here
For a moment was seen--and departed.

‘O friend! thou pursuest a false, fleeting good,
Thou snatchest the joy of a moment,
Thou losest the bliss that is sure and sublime,
And a life that is priceless despisest.

‘This feeling of gloom, it benightens the earth--
Give your hand!--In the bosom of friendship
Let the world, and let nature be lovely again,
For, believe me, the earth is most lovely.

‘When life was conferr’d, all, all was conferr’d--
’Tis the path, ’tis the promise of greatness;
And sorrow and joy, they are means to that end--
Praise Zeus--O praise the Creator!’