Day after day, Henceforth, I strode a coastward way, to meet The dark-eyed daughter of the fisherman.

Beneath her roof she made my welcome sweet, And yielded both her hands, and drew the scarf That veiled the wondrous beauty of her face.

If painter, or if sculptor, in some dream, Could mingle Faith with Love and Charity, And give them utterance in one pure face, I know the face would be a face like hers.

Her eyes were diamond doors of her true soul, And with their silken latches softly closed, When, couched beneath his poppy parachute, Inactive Sleep came by. Her glances seemed Like gold-winged angels sent from heavenly doors.

Yet she was often sad when I was near.

Once, tarrying late, I told her of my life, And of the monster I had come to find; But now, lo! she around my heart had wound The close web of her love, and held me fast As any fly caught in a spider's toils.

Clothed in the sackcloth of regret, she said, She long had wept the past; but for my sake She now would cast it off, and live for me.

I said that few could exculpate the past From stormy doing with the ships of hope.

She said it made her sad to think upon Their present dwindled fortune, and the yoke Her people chafed their necks in, on the hills.

Her father was a brave Circa.s.sian chief; But here he dwelt disguised, till once again He could lead on his race, and wound the heel That ground them to the dust.

Our hearts made new, We kissed good-night, and parted. As I went, A distant hill, all shadow, took new shape, And seemed a sprawling spider, while two trees That grew upon it, were his upraised arms Clutching at two red fire-flies, that were stars.

II.

THE SPIDER.

With day-break came a knuckle at my door; I rose, and opened, and upon the porch, His face like strange death's, and his dark eyes wide With some vague horror, stood the fisherman.

"Come, hasten with me," were his only words.

We ran our best along the barren sh.o.r.e, And gained his silent cottage. Entering, He led me to his daughter's vacant couch.

The room had but one window, and the sash Was raised. I looked out to the ground beneath.

A vine crept up, and with long fingers made Abode secure upon the cottage side, And o'er the window threw a leafy scarf.

But what was this, that fastened to the ledge Trailed to the ground? A glutinous rope Twisted with five strands. This the fisherman Saw with new horror, while between white lips He gasped, "The Spider!"

What was best to do?

We saw strange foot-prints on the moistened beach, But these were lost soon in a wooded dell Where all trace had an end. The long day through We sought among the tombs, up from the dell; But unrewarded, when the sun was quenched, Sat down to weep. So darkness dropped, And like an awful spider, o'er the earth Crawled with gaunt legs of shadow. Then our homes We sadly sought, to meet again at morn.

The night was warm, and with my window raised, I sat and mourned, and wrung my hopeless hands.

No light was in the house. I half reclined-- My back toward the window. Something shut The puny sheen of starlight from the room.

The Thing, a monstrous shape, was with me there, And two hard arms were thrown about my waist.

For very terror I was hushed, nor moved To cast my foe off. I was in the arms Of the strong spider. As we went, I grew Glad, for I thought that now I should be brought To the great spider's web, and there, mayhap, Learn the sad fate of her I loved so well.

Up a stark cliff we went, then crossed the web Just as the red moon bloomed upon the hills And silvered all the Panticapean vale.

The funnel of the web was in the mouth Of a vast tomb, whose outside, hewn on rock, Outlined a Gorgon's face with jaws agape-- Some stern Medusa, Stheno, or Euryale, Changed to the stone that in the elder days She changed the sons of men who looked on her.

We pa.s.sed the funnel, entering the tomb.

About my arms the spider threw his cords, And shackled them. I dared not move, but lay Upon the smooth stone floor, inured to fear.

I fancied now that I was safe till dawn.

If I could use my hands I then might find Some weapon of defense, some club, or stone, And so resist with some small chance for life.

The thought bred strength. I slowly drew my arms Upon my sides, and, with persistence, gained Their freedom; though about the wrists, the flesh Was bruised and harrowed, and my blood made wet The spider's cord wherewith I had been bound.

The night seemed endless. As it came to dawn, A faint moan woke an echo in the tomb.

The echo seemed a cry of pity, sent For solace to the moan. As light grew strong, I saw, not far from where I had been laid, A maiden sitting. All her hair set free, She made of it a pillow as she leaned Against the painted wall. My heart threw wide To her my arms, his hospitable doors; The guest within, at once the doors were shut.

The sun came up, and spread a cloth of gold Over the sea. We saw the vale beneath, And there the town, and fancied where, among The trees upon the sh.o.r.e, her cottage stood; Then hoped 'gainst hope to enter it again.

Two thousand years ago, this distant sea Teemed with the thrifty commerce of the world.

When Athens was, and when her scholars cut, With thoughts of iron, their own deathless names Into the stone page of fame, this vale beneath Held a great city. These, its tombs, endure.

There is no better scoff at the parade And vanity of life, than that a tomb suggests.

While we looked forth on the historic view, We saw the subtle spider throw his cord Over an eagle tangled in the web.

The eagle fought, not mildly overcome, And spread his wings, and darted his sharp beak.

At last the spider caught him by the neck, With his serrated claws that grew like horns, And killed him; then plucked the vanquished plumes, And sucked the warm blood from the sundered ends.

From this we knew the monster brought us here To serve a hideous banquet, and that one Must need be near, and see the other slain.

The web was like the sail of some large ship, And reached forth from the Gorgon's open mouth, On either side, to boughs of blighted trees.

Birds were caught in it, and about the place Wherein the spider hid to watch for prey, Their bones lay bleaching in the sun and rain.

Upon the web the winds laid violent hands, And tugged at it, but lacked the sinewed strength To tear it or divorce it from its place.

The rain left on it when the sun came up, Dyed the vast cloth with all prismatic hues, And made it glitter like the silken sail Of Cleopatra's barge.

We felt quite sure The eagle's death bequeathed new lease of life.

We cast about at once, in hope to find Some object for defense. The tomb was strange.

Alone the spider could have known of it.

A rich sarcophagus stood in the midst, Of deftly inlaid woods, or carved, or bronzed.

Within, a skeleton, its white skull crowned With gold bestarred with diamonds, chilled my blood.

A bronze lamp, cast to represent the beast Slain by Bellerophon, the Chimaera, Was on the floor; and from its lion's mouth The flame had issued, like the flame of life That flickered and went out with him gold-crowned.

A target stood near by, and on it clashed Griffon and stag, adverse as right and wrong.

About, lay cups of onyx set in gold.

On conic jars were baccha.n.a.lian scenes,-- Nude chubby Bacchi, grotesque leering fauns, All linked 'neath vines that grew important grapes; And in the jars were rings and flowers of gold.

We found twin ear-drops cut from choicest stone, Metallic mirrors, and a statuette Of amorous Dido naked to the waist.

Life is a harp, and all its nervous strings, Touched by the fingers of the fear of death, Jar with pathetic music. Having found No trusty implement to bar the way Of threatening peril, we embraced, And kissed with silent kisses mixed with tears, And waited for the end.

When no more, Hope, like an eagle in the mountain air, Soars in time's future, it mounts up with wings Toward the unmapped city walled by death.

Thither the eagle of our hope took flight.

The sun was in the zenith. His back Toward us, crouched the spider, at the mouth Of our strange prison on the towering cliff.

The spider's shape was full a fathom long.

Two parts it had, the fore part, head and breast; The hinder part, the trunk. The first was black, But all the last was covered with short hair, Yellow and fine. Eight sprawling legs adhered To his tough breast. Eight eyes were in his head, Two in the front, and three on either side; They had no eyelids, and were never closed, Protected by a strong transparent nail.

His pincers grew between his foremost eyes-- Were toothed like saws, were venomous, and sharp, With claws on either end. Two arms stretched out From his mailed shoulders, and with these he caught His tangled prey, or guided what he spun.

Slowly the monster turned, and glared at us, Working his arms, and opening his claws, Then moved toward us fiercely for attack.

We ran to gain the limit of the tomb Where darkness was; there as we crouched with dread, My foot struck some hard substance. In despair I grasped at it, and with great joy upheld An ancient sword!--surely, a sharp, bold tooth To bite the spider. I would sink it deep, Up to the gum of the crossed guard. Alert, I sprang upon the monster as he came, And with one blow cut off his brutish head.

He writhed awhile with pain, but in the end, Drew up the eight long legs and two thick arms, And rolling over on his useless back, Died with a pang.

So we issued forth, And the green earth seemed happy to be free, And glad the sky cloud-frescoed 'gainst the blue.

We sought the sea-side cottage, where the chief Clasped once again his daughter to his breast.

Down from the hill we fetched the spider slain, And I to science gave these simple facts: Spiders have no antennae, therefore rank Not with the insects. As they breathe with gills Beneath the body, they possess a heart.

The treasure of the tomb brought wealth to us, And we who loved were wed one golden day; And the great Czar hearing our story told, Sent presents to the bride of silk and pearls.

GRACE BERNARD.

I know the drift and purpose of the years; The will, which is the magnet of the soul, Shall yet attain new powers, and man Be something more than man. The husks fall off; Old civilizations pa.s.s, the new come on.

I.

There are two farms which, smiling in the sun, Adjoin each other, as I trust, some day Two hearts will join, who from their bounty live.

One farm is John Bernard's, and one is mine; And she, the one pearl woman in my eyes, Is his sweet daughter, gentle Grace Bernard.

Three years ago, my father followed her Who gave me birth home to his narrow house.