Classic Poem

A SHEPHERDESS of Arcadie,
In the days hight olden,
Fed her white flock close to the sea;
'Twas the age called golden.

That age of gold! yet nought availed
To save from rudeness,
To keep unsullied—unassailed
Such gentle goodness.

The calm composure of a life
Till then unchequered,
What rude attempt befell? 'tis rife
In Ovid's record.

Poor shrinking maid—despairing, left
Without reliance;
Of brother's, father's aid bereft,
She called on Dian's.

“Queen of the spotless! quick, decree
The boon I ask you!
To die—ere I dishonoured be!
Speed to my rescue.”

Sudden beneath her footsteps oped
The daisied meadow;
The passionate arms that wildly groped,
Grasped but a shadow.

Forth from the soil where sank absorbed
That crystal virgin,
Gushed a bright brook—pure, undisturbed—
With pebbly margin

And onward to the sea-shore sped,
Its course fulfilling;
Till the Ægean's briny bed
Took the bright rill in.

When lo! was wrought for aye a then:
Of special wonder;
Fresh and untainted ran that stream
The salt seas under.

Proof against every wave's attempt
To interfuse it;
From briny mixture still exempt,
It flowed pellucid.

And thus it kept for many a mile
Its pathway single;
Current, in which nor gall nor guile
Could ever mingle.

And all day long with onward march
The streamlet glided;
And when night came, Diana's torch
The wanderer guided;

Till unto thee, sweet Sicily,
From doubt and danger,
From land and ocean's terrors free,
She led the stranger;

And there gushed forth, the pride and vaunt
Of Syracusa,
The bright, time-honoured, glorious fount
Of Arethusa.

O ladye, such be thy career,
Such be thy guidance:
From every earthly foe and fear
Such be thy riddance!

Safe from the tainted evil tongue
Of foes insidious;
Brineless the bitter waves among
Of “friends” perfidious.

Such be thy life—live on, live on!
Nor couldst thou choose a
Name more appropriate than thine own,
Fair Arethusa!