His step more light, his heart more gay,
  Along the mid-wood winds his way,
  When, where the path the thickets close,
  Burst sudden forth two ruffian foes;
  Now strife to strife, and foot to foot! 
    Ah! weary sinks the gentle hand;
  The gentle hand that wakes the lute
    Has learn’d no lore that guides the brand.

  He calls on men and Gods—­in vain! 
  His cries no blest deliverer gain;
  Feebler and fainter grows the sound,
  And still the deaf life slumbers round—­
  “In the far land I fall forsaken,
    Unwept and unregarded, here;
  By death from caitiff hands o’ertaken,
    Nor ev’n one late avenger near!”

  Down to the earth the death-stroke bore him—­
  Hark, where the Cranes wheel dismal o’er him! 
  He hears, as darkness veils his eyes,
  Near, in hoarse croak, their dirge-like cries. 
  “Ye whose wild wings above me hover,
    (Since never voice, save yours alone,
  The deed can tell)—­the hand discover—­
    Avenge!”—­He spoke, and life was gone.

  Naked and maim’d the corpse was found—­
  And, still through many a mangling wound,
  The sad Corinthian Host could trace
  The loved—­too well-remember’d face. 
  “And must I meet thee thus once more? 
    Who hoped with wreaths of holy pine,
  Bright with new fame—­the victory o’er—­
    The Singer’s temples to entwine!”

  And loud lamented every guest
  Who held the Sea-God’s solemn feast—­
  As in a single heart prevailing,
  Throughout all Hellas went the wailing. 
  Wild to the Council Hall they ran—­
    In thunder rush’d the threat’ning Flood—­
  “Revenge shall right the murder’d man,
    The last atonement-blood for blood!”

  Yet ’mid the throng the Isthmus claims,
  Lured by the Sea-God’s glorious games—­
  The mighty many-nation’d throng—­
  How track the hand that wrought the wrong?—­
  How guess if that dread deed were done,
    By ruffian hands, or secret foes? 
  He who sees all on earth—­the SUN—­
    Alone the gloomy secret knows.

  Perchance he treads in careless peace,
  Amidst your Sons, assembled Greece;
  Hears with a smile revenge decreed;
  Gloats with fell joy upon the deed. 
  His steps the avenging gods may mock
    Within the very Temple’s wall,
  Or mingle with the crowds that flock
    To yonder solemn scenic[9] hall.

  Wedg’d close, and serried, swarms the crowd—­
  Beneath the weight the walls are bow’d—­
  Thitherwards streaming far, and wide,
  Broad Hellas flows in mingled tide tide—­
  A tide like that which heaves the deep
    When hollow-sounding, shoreward driven;
  On, wave on wave, the thousands sweep
    Till arching, row on row, to heaven!