The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1873-04-15
POETRY.
The Doom Of Arachne.

IN, April sun lit up the lovely land,
Aud in the fields the carly flowers did grow,
And laughing children wandered hand in hann
To gather them; and the south wind did blows
And in the evening, when the moon, Allow ,.-od
Shone through gray olive boughs' Ight-'n''
shades, s-..,s..-s
Walked IN It's silver paths the Argive maids
Whether the moonlight or the sun'e
Yet did Arachne In her litt'e 49, ,,.... Ill.,,
-, her with passionate perfume
s.a,d natieptly before her flying loom
al still her busy shuttle like dart
yrrerr;up flew-such was the maiden's art.
Kara at one hand, were tints of primrose pale,
And here a deep sea blue that changed to green,
AT this siiie kingly purple did prevail,
Like darkeyed pansies; and again between
The glowing hues black threads and dun were seen !;
And soft gray, Ike moss, was round one part
Where flushed the color Of the practitioners heart
And in her pride Arachne scorned the song
That echoed through the fields at early morn;
Nor cared the simple folk to talk among;
And when, by maids up to the temple borne,
She saw the golden vase of golden corn
With violet wreaths twined round, she only said,
"why to goddess is this honor paid?
II know Demeter gives us wealth of grain;
Artemis lights the red moon every night
Before she leads the chase across the plain;
To ms, through ocean waves are lifted white
The hands of Doris, full of pearls, and bright
They CLEAN: but pearls must dim, moons wane,
seeds die
While gods and men live in my tapestry.
Sand If this hour, the gray sisters three,
That ar;n he threads of life and calmly sit
Watching the woes of men, should come to me
For trial of skill, / would not finch from it,:
Ny spindle faster still than theirs should fit:
Twisting the rapid thread; and 80 hereby
Goddess or mortal woman defy!"
Scarce were the words said, when with sudden fear
OF her own voice, Arachne-though alone
She deemed herself, and with no listener near
Looked back, and in the doorway saw a crone
Who might be ED ITSELF gray as stone,
Withered and bent, wrapped in faded cloak
And to Arachne thus the old one spoke:
"who mocks the gods has only grief and death
For that he would; and they that heaven defed,
And would have ikened them that are beneath
To those above. have miserably tlied;
Such ID the punishment Of mortal pride
1t is not yet too late-thy words recalr'-
But pale Araehne said, 81 hold them ALL"
Tbs aged woman suddenly let fall
The cloak that covered her, and standing there
Pallas appeared, STATELY and calm and tan'
In heavy trailing garments clothed fair,
With clear blue eyes and knotted golden hair;
In one hand was her shuttIe-one hand grasped
The faded cloak that she had just unclasped
Aracbne for one moment silently
Looked on her, and beheld how pitfless
Was her still face and terrified thereby,
Although she would, dared not her fault confess;
And in her quivering fingers did she press
Her shuttle, knowing not what woe should come
Upon her. waiting for her bitter doom.
In silence still the busy fingers ply,
And rapidly upon the webs there grew,
In liveliest eolors, many history
OF gods and men, and legends old and new;
Aud faster yet the well-flled shuttles few;
And all the day they wove, until at night
The wondrous web of each was finished quite.
Pallas had wrought the high olympian hill
whereon sat Jove himself, and there near by
Rode Aphrodite drawn by doves, and still
Artemis stood serene, and brilliantly
OF Here's peacock gittered every eye:
And In the border were the stories wrought
OF mortals whom the gods had set at naught.
But pictured in Arachnes web there stood
Injustice Of the gods, and wrongs of man;
Woven of scarlet threads were drops of blood,
And many silver threads like sad tears ran,
And in dark coors, tragedies began,
Lit up with brighter only when the maid
Red lightnings fash, or yellow flame portrayed.
Tien fro-i their looms they stepped, and twilight
brown
Filled all the room, yet could Arachne see,
By the dim light, avengng Pallas' frown;
And, standing there before her silently
With folded hands and down-dropt eyelids, she
Waited awhile, then a cold hand was laid
Slowly upon the forehead of the maid.
The night came heavily upon the land,
In the gray rack the moon was hid away,
The dull sea waves beat sadly on the strand;
And still Arachnc, cold and fearless lay,
Fearing not night, nor loving light of day;
Knowing that now for her all joy was past
And knowing not what woe should be her last
The morning dawned; and many smiling maid
Came, garlanded with roses red and white;
And stopped upon the threshold, half afraid,
Seeing the chamber was deserted quite,
Aud shadows hung about it, as if night
Still fingered in its corners-aHd in one
spider sat within her web, and spun.