The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1869-11-09
THE DEATH OF PARIS.

lowing specimens of ''The Death of Paris" i"
which constitutes the initial story
Next day the seaward-lool1ing gates none
Back on their hinges, whatso Greek might
face.
With seeming careless mien, and bow un-
strung,
Anigh them; whatso rough-voiced horn might
dare,
With well-known notes, the war-worn war
Troy slept amid its Nightmares through the
day,
And dull with waking dreams the Lacquer lay
Yet in the streets did man say unto man,
tHectoT is dead, and Troilus is dead;
dGneas turneth toward the waters wan;
In his fair house Antenor hides his head:
Fast from the tree of Troy the boughs are
shred
And now this Paris, now this joyous one,
Is the cry cried that biddeth him begone!'
But on the morrow's dawn, ere vet the sun
Had shone athwart the mists of last nights
rain,
And shown the image of the spotless One
Unto the tents and novels of the plain
Whose glrth OF war she long had made all
From out a postern looking towards the north
A little band of silent men went forth.
And in their midst litter did they bear
Whereon lay one with linen wrapped around,
Whose wan face turned unto the fresher air
AS though little pleasure he had found
Amidst of pain; some dreadful torturing
wound
The man endured belike, and as balm
Was the fresh morn, with all its rest and calm
After the weary tossing of the night
And close dim-litten chamber, whose dusk
seemed
Laboring with whispers fearful of the light,
Confused with images of dreams long dreamed
Come back again, now that the lone torch
cleaned
Dim before eyes that saw naught real as true
To vex the heart that naught of purpose knew.
Upon the late-passed night in cen such
wise
Had Paris lain. What time, like years of life,
Had passed before his weary heart and eyes!
What hopeless nameless longings! what wild
strife
Gainst naught for naught, with wearying
changes rife,
He had gone through, till in tina twilight gray
They bore him through the cold deserted way.
Mocking and strange the streets looked
now, most meet
For dreams ending, for vain life's end;
While sounded his strong itter-bearers' feet
wend
Silent, for fear lest they should yet offend
The grim King satisfied to let them 90,
Hope bids them hurry, fears chain makes
them slow.
And in meanwhile deepened fhe languid
doze
That lay on Paris into slumber deep,
Ger his unconscious heart, and eyes shut
The image of that very place gan creep,
And twelve years younger in his dreamful
sleep,
Light-footed, through the awful wood he
With beating heart, on lovesome thoughts
intent.
Dreaming, he went, till thinner and more
thin,
And bright with growing day, the pine-wood
grew,
Then to an open rugged space did win;
Whence close beech-wood was he passing
through,
Whose every tall white stem full well he
knew
Then seemed to stay awhile for loving
shame,
When to the brow of the steep bank he
came, -
Where still the beech-trunks DER the mast
strewn ground
Stood close, and slim and tall, but hid no
quite.
level grassy space they did surround
On every side save one, that to the light
Of the clear western sky, cold now, but
bright,
Was open, and the thought of the far sea,
Towards which small brook tinkled merrily
Him seemed he fingered there, then stepped
adown
With troubled heart into the soft green place,
And up the eastmost of the beech-slopes
brown
He turned about lonesome, anxious face,
And stood to listen for q little space
If any came, but naught he seemed to hear
Save the brooks bahble, and the beech leaves
stir.
And then he dreamed great longing DER him
came;
Too great, too bitter of those days to be
Long past, when love was born amidst of
shame:
He dreamed that, as he gazed full eagerly
= Into the green dusk between tree and tree,
His trembling hand slid down the horn to
take
Wherewith he erst was won't his herd to wake.
Trembling, he set it to his lips, and first
Breathed gently through it, then strained hard
to blow,
For dumb, dumb was it grown, and no note
burst
From its smooth throat; and ill thoughts poi
soned now
The sweetness of his dream; he murmured
low,
"Ah dead and gone, and ne'er to come