The San Francisco call., 1905-03-26

Greek stars, stirred the intricate
4 branches Of olive trees inIaid
in the rose-pearl facade Of sky, bowed
the tail. coral-lipped oleanders lining
the rivulets and crisped the soft wash
OF the gulf-tide. 1t lifted the strong
bronze curls on the brow Of a sleeping
man who lay on the sea beach covered
with a goatskin.
George Gordon woke and looked
about him; at the pallid. ripple-edged
dunes. the murmuring clusters Of reeds;
at the dead fire on which a kid had
roasted the night before: at the forms
stretched in slumber around it-Suli-
otes in wcOlen kirtles and with shawl
girdles stuck. with silver-handIed pis-
tols. an uncouth and savage body
guard; at his only English companion,
John Hobhouse. who had Travelled with
him through Albania and tomorrow
was 10 start back TO London, asleep
now with a saddle for pillow While
he gaZed, day broke effulgent, like light
at the first hour, and the sun rose,
pouring its crimson wine into the COB
let Of the seas blue crystal
For d full year Gordon had roughed
It IN the wilderness. sleeping one night
IN q pasha's palace, the next in a cow
shed-a strange choice. il seemed. for
peer OF twenty-five, who had taken his
seat in the House cf Lords and pub
lished a book that had become the talk
Of London Yet now, as he rose TO his
feet and threw back his square-set
shoulders. his colorless face and deep
gray-blue eyes whetted with keen zesI.
This is better than England" he
uuttered- How the deuce could any
body make such world as that, I
wonder? For what purpose were there
ordained dandies and kings-and fell
lows Of colleges-and women Of a GER
tain age-and peers-and myself, most
OF aHe" His thought held an instant's
thin edge Of bitterness as his look fell;
his right boot had a thicker sole than
the left, and he wore an inner shoe that
laced tightly under the shrunken foot.
Stepping gingerly lest he waken his
comrade he threaded the PROSTATE
forms 70 the shambling rock path that
led, through white rushes and clumps
Of cochineaI cactus, TO the town A lit
tie way along IL crossed ledge jutting
from the heel Of the hill. Under this
shelf the water had washed deep pool
OF limpid emerald. He threw off his
clothing and plunged into the tingling
surf He swan far out into the sea,
under the sky's Tightening amethyst,
every vein beating with delight.
Before Le came from the water the
sunrise had gilded the tops of the
mountains: while he dressed on the
rock il was kindling golden half-moons
- ret ~ 2
away.
As his eyes wandered over the scene
the strange, stern crags, the nearer
fields broidered with currant bushes.
the girdling coast STEPPED in the wild
poignant beauty Of an Ionian October
they turned with a darker meaning TO
the town. quiet enough now, though at
sunset IL had blazed with Mussulman
festivity, while its Greek citizens hud-
died in shops and houses behind barred
doors. L was the feast Of Ramazan-
time for the Turks OF daily absti-
nence and nightly carousal, a long fast
for lovers. whose infractiOns were pun
ished vigorously with bastinado and
with the fatal sack Till the midnight
tOlied from the mosques the shouts and
nuskets OF the faithful had blasted the
solitude And this land was the ge-
nius-mother Of the world, in the grip
OF her Turkish conqueror. who deflled
her waters with the bodies OF his
drowned victimsl
Would Il always be so? Gordon
thought Of a roll OF manuscript in his
saddle bag-verses written on the
slopes Of those mountains and in the
fiery shades OF these shores. Into the
pages he had woven all that old love
for this shackled nation which had
been one OF the pure enthusiasms Of his
youth and had grown and deepened
with his present soJourn. Would the
old spirit Of Marathon ever rearise?
He went back TO the sandy beach,
sat down and. drawing paper from his
pocket, began TO write, using his knee
FOR a desk The spell Of the place and
hour was upon him. Lines flowed from
his pencil:
ne isles OF Greece the isles OF Greece.
Where burning SapDho loved and sung.
Were grew the srss q va sna peace ACE,
Eternal sumner gllcs them yet,
But al. except their sun. Is set
T-he mountains lock On Marathon-
And Marathon looks OF the sea:
And musi1g there an hour alone.
I ldrezrned that Greece might Still be free;
For standing on the Persiars grave.
I could not deem myself slave
His gaze fell on the figures about the
dead fire, wrapped in rough capotes-
rugged descendants Of a once free race,
harder than their great forefathers.
but with ancient courage overlaid,
cringing now from the wands Of Turk
fsh pashas. A sOmber look came TO
his face as he wrote:
lis something in the death OF fana
Though linked among q fettered race,
To feeI 3. least a patriots shame.
Even as I sing. sufIuse my iAcs;
For what IS left the poet hereg
For Greeks a blush-for Grcsce tear
Must we but weep Ger days more blessedr
Must we but bluSh2 Our fathers bled-
Earth render back from out thy breast
A remnant OF the Spartan dead.
or the three hundred grant but three
To make a new Theunopyise.
He looked up. The crescents on the
spires Of the town were dazzling points
Of light IN the gold-blue air. the morn
ing fuli-blown, clear and fragrant with
scents OF sun and sea- In the midst OF
its warmth and beauty he shivered-
An odd prescient sensation had come
70 him ike a geld breath from the
upper ether. He started at a voice
behind him:
More poetry. I'll lay a guinea."
Gordon did not smile. The chill was