The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1886-10-13
TIONESTA, Pa, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER l3 1886.

the memory of public Sights and private
wrongs darken his brow. "a Captain?
A chief for her armies? Ye gods List
to this, o Atheniansl Which of you
will lead Lacedgmon to victory2 Hal hal
It's glad day when the gods give Jest
such as this as the crown of our festival
Tell her our soldiers arc turned into
poets. But when age has matured them
and given them wisdom we will ioyfully
lend her aid, unless, indeed, some poet
will now reverse the miracle and turn
warrior. What sayest thou, Tyrtgusl
Wilt thou earn this glory?"
at this satire the market-place rings
with the laughter of the populace, and
all eyes are turned on the poets pale
face, as he stands apart from the gay
throng, his stern gaze bent on the scene.
But the laughter is hushed and feeling
of awe thrills the multitude when, sud
denly turning upon them look of com
mand he parts the throng with a wave
of his hand and confronts the sneering
magistrate with serene gaze. Then he
| speaks:
"Be it so. BY the memory of old
battle fields, / accept the honor of form
ing the link which will unite the old
chain of friendship between Athens and
Sparta"
And leaving behind him the multitude,
dumb with the silence of wonder he
swept from their midst.
Of all the gay jests that the wit Of
Athens ever uttered none brought such
an echo as this one when the story was
told in the city.
Into the camp fires dying embers a
| group Of warriors gaze with look of
settled despair. No faint ray of hope
shows an outlet from the chasm where
fate had entombed them; when on the
silence breaks the fall of footstep and
a voice in the distance cries: "Lo It'd
ings from Athens"
Unhelmeted heads are raised quickly
and an eager look lightens the faces for
a moment, but they darken with anger
when the slight form of Tyrtaus con-
fronts them. Many hands from the sting
of insult convulsively close on the dagger,
but some magical power in the face of
the man arrests them, while one speaks
"The gods have sent us to Athens for
a warrior. What fresh insult is this she
returnsf"
With folded arms, quiet and calm,
Tyrteus made answer
You have asked of Athens a leader.
She sends you-a voice from the past !;
from that past where the ghosts of dead
heroes look down in amaze that Spartans
should live where glory and death are
united"
Then, gathering strength as it rolled,
the storm of fimpassioned words swept on
till it stirred to their depths the emotions
of men unused to their charm. With
the poets power he unrolled to their
view the scenes of the past, where Spar
tans, enamored of glory, won their laurels
from the hand of death. He speaks on till
the red blush of shame flushes the brow
of the soldiers, and thronging around
him, they clamor for him, who could
shake from their hearts the weight of
despair, to lead them to battle once more.
And he led them, speaking words more
potent than clarion call--for he told them
that their valor shone as bright amidst
death and defeat as when victory crowned
them. An army thus seeking for death
what host can withstand
1t came like the lightning when skies
are all blue, and withered before it the
ranks of the foe With Messcnia the
dread day of reckoning had come, and
her name on that day was stricken from
its place among the nations, which knew
her no more.
Many thought that some god, in
pity of their woes, had shroudcd his
majesty in the form of the poor hating
scholar. But no, there he stands in his
wonted attitude wrapt in thought. What
throng of emotions stir the heart of the
poet as he stands on this fed
of victory Does he dream of king
ship and empire? OF fame when
the future shall couple his name with
this field of renownl Nay, none of
these mingle with the pure thoughts
that picture a future when the two
cities, fraternal as of yore, hold inter
course high. He dreams of an old
classic haunt in his stately Athens, be-
loved and dear, where his days shall
pass onward in peace, and his people
will know by this deed that he loves
them and seeks but their honor. And
over it all. shines the light of deep eyes
that mirror in brightness the dreams of
a poets soul. But the mirage of peace
is dispelled by the shouts of the
victors. In frenzy of JOY they crowd
round their deliverer. They who, seek
ing DEATH found victory, bear
him in triumph to the glad city's
gates. With a beating heart he
beho!ds the women who come to wei.
come them, and his eager eye scans their
faces in search of one who should surely
be there Strange that she should be
wanting in such a scene. But no time
now for selfish pursuits; a grateful peo-
pie must hasten TO render thanks for
their deliverance then, throughout the