Classic Poem

OF THE GODS .

Calm was the noon, the clouds were reared on high,
When mighty Jove descended from the sky; —
King of celestial and terrestrial Gods,
Whose name is famous through their bright abodes.
His chariot wheels in pieces rend the skies,
And round his head the vivid lightning flies.
He holds the thunders which, with awful sound,
He throws indignant on the worlds around.
Some pierce the clouds, some dig the solid rock,
Whilst thus to the inferior gods he spoke: —

" Come from your dwellings and attend my call,
Know I am Jupiter — the god of all;
Why tarry ye? no longer now delay,
Or dread the fury of this awful day.
Attend with all the swiftness of your flight,
And meet me in the Pantheon ere night;
There will I hold a Levee with you all,.
See you attend my undisputed call,
Or vengeful wrath upon your heads shall fall. "

They heard his voice, and hurried to obey
Him, whom they feared, and hastened on their way;
Swift through the skies celestial numbers move,
To meet their ruler, from the vaults above.
With such velocity they wing along,
The ether hisses, in a dreadful song, —
The heavy clouds are riven, and their rain
Descends in torrents on the quivering plain:
Onward they haste, nor cease they once their flight,
They know the summons — " Meet me there ere night. "
Through region after region they proceed,
And yet the longer with the greater speed.
But ere the wished-for Pantheon heaves in view,
Night's sable curtain o'er their faces drew: —
Perplexed more, they hasten still their speed,
And some, by far, the others supersede.

Jove thinking he is surely disobeyed,
Begins to frown and dash his hoary head;
His voice again re-echoes through the sky,
Where gods and goddesses half-frenzied fly; —
Who seized with sacred dread can scarcely move,
So awful is the voice of mighty Jove.
And rising up, to smite the sky again,
He sees them, far off, bending o'er the plain,
And lulls the anger meant to crush his train.
His Throne, on which he sits to wield command,
Is gold and ivory — massive, chaste, and grand,
His cypress sceptre in his hand he holds
And wraps his broidered cloak of many folds
Around his arm, and on his sceptre sits
An eagle, for it very well befits
Him who was reared — if reared he was at all —
Even by a thing so trifling and so small.
An eagle is his armour bearer — why?
Because it brought him thunders from on high.
Upon his feet sandals of gold he wears,
None dare wear such in the terrestrial spheres,
His cloak is all adorned with beauteous flowers,
Such are culled from Nature's fondest bowers, —
This cloak, the tyrant Dionysius took
From Jupiter, at the Sicilian brook;
And gave him, in exchange, one made of wool —
So gods themselves do sometimes play the fool.

So, as I have described, Jupiter sat
Impatient, waiting what he would be at;
When, hark! a sound implied some one was near,
Who had alighted from a foreign sphere.

It was Apollo, the soft beardless youth,
With quivering music hanging o'er each tooth, —
Whose graceful hair in ringlets flows behind,
Just driven askance by zeph'rus' piercing wind.
A Laurel crown his noble forehead wears,
And sparkling diamonds on his robes, he bears
In one white hand some arrows and a Bow,
The other grasps a Harp, — these are to show
The power he holds o'er Poetry and Song,
So thus, the mighty Jove began ere long.

" Most noble youth! thou hast outstript the whole,
And reached this seat from yonder foreign pole;
'Tis well you have, this action I will show,
And spread thy name through this domain below. "
He said, when lo! another rustling sound,
Revealed another seraph on the ground.

Here Mercury, with open smiling face,
The cheerful picture of the high-born race,
Appears with wings affixed to his hat,
And Jupiter beheld him, as he sat
Upon his throne, in mute and sullen state; —
The mighty Jupiter, the King, the great!
He, Mercury, is his son and trembles not.
Like those who are from him afar remote. —
His face is partly blooming, fair, and bright,
And partly dark and grizzly as the night.
That side which wears the everlasting shine,
He holds to those who, like him, are divine; —
Whilst the dark one is for the hosts below,
Where he is often missioned to go.
Behold he carries forth a winged rod,
And even his feet are with winged sandals shod;
For he is messenger of all the rest,
And flies with lightning speed from east to west,
Swifter than winds, or Iris gaily drest.

Jove welcomed him with a parental look,
Whilst with his nod, the Pantheon's pillars shook;
Then Mercury, submissive to his will —
Gazed grateful back, with eyes like polished steel.
And now another echoing sound is heard,
Another God, exhausted, has appeared.

See Bacchus, with his flushed and swollen face,
A drunkard he, among the godly race;
His body sadly blotched and puffed up,
With holding to his head the ruby cup. —
A crown of Ivy leaves upon his head,
And in a chariot by two Lions led:
He bears no sceptre in his palsied hand,
But holds a Thrysus to affect command, —
His guard a poor emaciated band. —
Demons and nymphs, with long and flowing tresses,
With fairies, from the fountain, and Princesses.

Silenius now, comes riding after him,
Upon a Colt, frail, sinewy, and lean;
With weakness bending downward to the earth,
Whilst he, regardless, rolls his eyes in mirth —
He, who has been a drunkard from his birth.

Mars now in dreadful aspect does appear,
His face is terror and his look austere;
Standing erect, as anxious for the fight,
His coursers dash along in furious flight;
'Tis a distracted woman dares them on,
Who makes them speed as steeds were never known.
Mars threatens all with ruin and with war,
As on he hurries in his dazzling car,
And strikes with vengeance all who would impede
The progress of his wild undaunted speed.
And for his vigilance, when after prey,
The Dog was consecrated to his sway, —
The wolf rapacious, and the raven wild,
Which eats the flesh of those whom he has killed.

Bellona too, his Goddess and his wife,
His soul enchantress, urges on the strife, —
Prepares for him his chariot and each steed,
And bids him mow the Armies down with speed.
And he — resplendent as the orb of day, —
Through worlds unknown drives on, to hold his bloody fray.

OF THE GODDESSES

Having now reviewed the five celestial gods,
And shown their powers, their passions, and their rods;
Their goddesses now let me picture too,
And bring their wondrous splendour to the view.
Juno the first, in golden chariot driven,
Angelic guest! great 'neath the realms of heaven,
Drawn by two Peacocks, in a chariot grand,
And with a sceptre waving in her hand;
A crown of lilies blent with saffron roses,
Around her glowing temples fondly closes.
Her father Saturn, and her mother Ops.
And she the darling of their sanguine hopes,
Was born at Samos, where she lived and ruled.
Till her mature affection had been schooled.
Majestic, blooming, fair — her form is free,
And great, august, and elegant is she,
Grace in her carriage — sprightly in her walk,
And has a tongue emitting passioned talk.
Her manners stately and her dress refined,
Bespeak the cultivation of her mind;
Her wings are swift as lightning, and her face
A perfect symmetry of new-born grace.

Next brave Minerva, in her turn appears,
Amazing beautiful, though more in years:
She is not decked in woman's silly garb,
But clothed in armour, round her many a barb;
And in her grasp a snaky shield she holds.
A loosely flowing scarf one shoulder folds.
She Goddess is of wisdom and of war,
With helmet brighter than the evening star;
Her crown — the fragrant olives intertwined, —
Her brilliant brand is waving in the wind:
She has the art of ruling mighty Jove,
And teaching wisdom in the courts above;
And in her look still gleams the wreck of love.

But now we turn the eye to something sweet,
Venus, who dwells beside the Muse's feet;
Observe what dignity adorns her face —
There joy, and hope, and love, and bliss embrace,
With purple mantle is she decked and bright,
With diamonds glittering, as celestial light.
Two little Cupids standing by her side,
The Graces in the fulness of their pride;
Uphold her train, — her chariot now is seen,
Of fine embossed ivory, which has been
Done by some god or goddess in the art,
And there she rides controller of the heart.
Aurora, — sister of the sun and moon!
Mother of the stars that sweetly smile aboon,
Drawn in a diamond chariot of flame,
Her horses white, her equipage the same.
Her fingers the vermilion, and her face
As Sol's, when in the west he does retrace.
She is the morning twilight, — the first ray
That ushers in the glorious Car of Day.

So Jove bows reverently as they appear,
And looks more bright as each one draweth near;
And being all assembled in their state.
With thund'ring echo shuts the ponderous gate,
And now the rest is hidden and obscure.
No earthly thing can in that place endure,
And so we leave them, wrapt in feelings high and looks demure.