File:The universal anthology; a collection of the best literature, ancient, mediaeval and modern, with biographical and explanatory notes (1899) (14595998120).jpg

Identifier: universalantho02garn (find matches)
Title: The universal anthology ; a collection of the best literature, ancient, mediaeval and modern, with biographical and explanatory notes
Year: 1899 (1890s)
Authors: Garnett, Richard, 1835-1906
Subjects: Literature
Publisher: London : Clarke Co., Ltd. New York : Merrill & Baker Paris : E. Terquem Berlin : Bibliothek Verlag
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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spring have gnawn Their melon harvest to the heart—They see The Scythian; — but long frosts Parch them in winter time on the bare stepp, Till they too fade like grass; they crawl Like shadows forth in spring. They see the merchants On the Oxus stream; — but care Must visit first them too, and make them pale. Whether, through whirling sand, A cloud of desert robber horse have burst Upon their caravan; or greedy kings. In the walled cities the way passes through, Crushed them with tolls; or fever airs, On some great rivers marge. Mown them down, far from home. They see the Heroes Near harbor; — but they share Their lives, and former violent toil in Thebes, Seven-gated Thebes, or Troy; Or where the echoing oars Of Argo first Startled the unknown sea. The old Silenus Came, lolling in the sunshine, From the dewy forest coverts, This way, at noon. Sitting by me, while his Fauns Down at the water side Sprinkled and smoothed His drooping garland, He told me these things. Circes Palace
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CmCES PALACE. 287 But 1, Ulysses,Sitting on the warm steps,Looking over the valley,All day long, have seen,Without pain, without labor,Sometimes a wild-haired Maenad —Sometimes a Faun with torches —And sometimes, for a moment.Passing through the dark stemsFlowing-robed, the beloved,The desired, the divine.Beloved lacchus. Ah, cool night wind, tremulous stars! Ah, glimmering water. Fitful earth murmur. Dreaming woods ! Ah, golden-haired, strangely smiling Goddess, And thou, proved, much enduring, Wave-tossed Wanderer! Who can stand still ? Ye fade, ye swim, ye waver before me — The cup again! Faster, faster,0 Circe, Goddess,Let the wild, thronging train,The bright processionOf eddying forms.Sweep through my soul! CIRCES PALACE. By NATHANIEL HA^VTHORNE. (Nathaniel Hawthorne: American story-writer; born at Salem, Mass.,July 4, 1804 ; died at Plymouth, N.H., May IH, 1804. His official positions, inthe customhouse at Salem and as United States consul at Liverpool, furnishedhim with m

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