FROM

ATALANTA VICTORIOUS.

ATALANTA'S RACE," IN "THE EARTHLY
PARADISE."

AND there two runners did the sign abide
Foot set to foot, -a young man slim and fair,
Crisp-haired, well knit, with firm limbs often tried
In places where no man his strength may spare ;
Dainty his thin coat was, and on his hair
A golden circlet of renown he wore,
And in his hand an olive garland bore.

But on this day with whom shall he contend?
A maid stood by him like Diana clad
When in the woods she lists her bow to bend,
Too fair for one to look on and be glad,
Who scarcely yet has thirty summers had,
If he must still behold her from afar ;
Too fair to let the world live free from war.

She seemed all earthly matters to forget;
Of all tormenting lines her face was clear,
Her wide gray eyes upon the goal were set
Calm and unmoved as though no soul were near;
But her foe trembled as a man in fear,
Nor from her loveliness one moment turned
His anxious face with fierce desire that burned.

Now through the hush there broke the
pet's clang

1 But her late foe stopped short amidst his course,
One moment gazed upon her piteously,
Then with a groan his lingering feet did force
To leave the spot whence he her eyes could see ;
And, changed like one who knows his time must be
But short and bitter, without any word
He knelt before the bearer of the sword;

Then high rose up the gleaming deadly blade,
Bared of its flowers, and through the crowded place
Was silence now, and midst of it the maid
Went by the poor wretch at a gentle pace,
And he to hers upturned his sad white face;
Nor did his eyes behold another sight
Ere on his soul there fell eternal night.

"ATALANTA'S RACE," IN THE EARTHLY
PARADISE."

Now has the lingering month at last gone by,
Again are all folk round the running place,
Nor other seems the dismal pageantry
Than heretofore, but that another face
Looks o'er the smooth course ready for the race,
trum-Stands on the spot he twice has looked upon.
For now, beheld of all, Milanion

Just as the setting sun made eventide.
Then from light feet a spurt of dust there sprang,
And swiftly were they running side by side;
But silent did the thronging folk abide
Until the turning-post was reached at last,
And round about it still abreast they passed.

But when the people saw how close they ran,
When half-way to the starting-point they were,
A cry of joy broke forth, whereat the man
Headed the white-foot runner, and drew near
Unto the very end of all his fear;

But he what look of mastery was this
He cast on her? why were his lips so red?
Why was his face so flushed with happiness
So looks not one who deems himself but dead,
E'en if to death he bows a willing head;
So rather looks a god well pleased to find
Some earthly damsel fashioned to his mind.

This tender sorrow for the time past o'er,

To win the day, though now but scanty space

These doubts that grow each minute more and Was left betwixt him and the winning place.

more?

Why does she tremble as the time grows near,
And weak defeat and woful victory fear?

Short was the way unto such wingéd feet,
Quickly she gained upon him till at last
He turned about her eager eyes to meet,

But while she seemed to hear her beating And from his hand the third fair apple cast.

heart,

Above their heads the trumpet blast rang out, And forth they sprang; and she must play her part;

Then flew her white feet, knowing not a doubt, Though slackening once, she turned her head about,

But then she cried aloud and faster fled

She wavered not, but turned and ran so fast
After the prize that should her bliss fulfil,
That in her hand it lay ere it was still.

Nor did she rest, but turned about to win
Once more, an unblest woful victory -
And yet and yet why does her breath begin
To fail her, and her feet drag heavily?

Than e'er before, and all men deemed him Why fails she now to see if far or nigh
dead.

But with no sound he raised aloft his hand, And thence what seemed a ray of light there flew

And past the maid rolled on along the sand;
Then trembling she her feet together drew,
And in her heart a strong desire there grew
To have the toy; some god she thought had
given

That gift to her, to make of earth a heaven.

Then from the course with eager steps she ran,
And in her odorous bosom laid the gold.
But when she turned again, the great-limbed man
Now well ahead she failed not to behold,
And mindful of her glory waxing cold,
Sprang up and followed him in hot pursuit,
Though with one hand she touched the golden
fruit.

Note, too, the bow that she was wont to bear
She laid aside to grasp the glittering prize,
And o'er her shoulder from the quiver fair
Three arrows fell and lay before her eyes
Unnoticed, as amidst the people's cries
She sprang to head the strong Milanion,
Who now the turning-post had wellnigh won.

But as he set his mighty hand on it,
White fingers underneath his own were laid,
And white limbs from his dazzled eyes did flit,
Then he the second fruit cast by the maid,
But she ran on awhile, then as afraid
Wavered and stopped, and turned and made no stay
Until the globe with its bright fellow lay.

Then, as a troubled glance she cast around,
Now far ahead the Argive could she see,
And in her garment's hem one hand she wound
To keep the double prize, and strenuously
Sped o'er the course, and little doubt had she

The goal is? why do her gray eyes grow dim?
Why do these tremors run through every limb?

When free and uncrowned as the conqueror roved
By the banks of that lake, with his only beloved, For which Solomon's self might have given all
He saw, in the wreaths she would playfully snatch
From the hedges, a glory his crown could not
match,