The Hostage. A Ballad.

The tyrant Dionys to seek,     Stern Moerus with his poniard crept;     The watchful guard upon him swept;     The grim king marked his changeless cheek:     "What wouldst thou with thy poniard? Speak!"     "The city from the tyrant free!"     "The death-cross shall thy guerdon be."     "I am prepared for death, nor pray,"     Replied that haughty man, "I to live;     Enough, if thou one grace wilt give     For three brief suns the death delay     To wed my sister leagues away;     I boast one friend whose life for mine,     If I should fail the cross, is thine."     The tyrant mused, and smiled, and said     With gloomy craft, "So let it be;     Three days I will vouchsafe to thee.     But mark if, when the time be sped,     Thou fail'st thy surety dies instead.     His life shall buy thine own release;     Thy guilt atoned, my wrath shall cease."     He sought his friend "The king's decree     Ordains my life the cross upon     Shall pay the deed I would have done;     Yet grants three days' delay to me,     My sister's marriage-rites to see;     If thou, the hostage, wilt remain     Till I set free return again!"     His friend embraced No word he said,     But silent to the tyrant strode     The other went upon his road.     Ere the third sun in heaven was red,     The rite was o'er, the sister wed;     And back, with anxious heart unquailing,     He hastes to hold the pledge unfailing.     Down the great rains unending bore,     Down from the hills the torrents rushed,     In one broad stream the brooklets gushed.     The wanderer halts beside the shore,     The bridge was swept the tides before     The shattered arches o'er and under     Went the tumultuous waves in thunder.     Dismayed he takes his idle stand     Dismayed, he strays and shouts around;     His voice awakes no answering sound.     No boat will leave the sheltering strand,     To bear him to the wished-for land;     No boatman will Death's pilot be;     The wild stream gathers to a sea!     Sunk by the banks, awhile he weeps,     Then raised his arms to Jove, and cried,     "Stay thou, oh stay the maddening tide;     Midway behold the swift sun sweeps,     And, ere he sinks adown the deeps,     If I should fail, his beams will see     My friend's last anguish slain for me!"     More fierce it runs, more broad it flows,     And wave on wave succeeds and dies     And hour on hour remorseless flies;     Despair at last to daring grows     Amidst the flood his form he throws;     With vigorous arms the roaring waves     Cleaves and a God that pities, saves.     He wins the bank he scours the strand,     He thanks the God in breathless prayer;     When from the forest's gloomy lair,     With ragged club in ruthless hand,     And breathing murder rushed the band     That find, in woods, their savage den,     And savage prey in wandering men.     "What," cried he, pale with generous fear;     "What think to gain ye by the strife?     All I bear with me is my life     I take it to the king!" and here     He snatched the club from him most near:     And thrice he smote, and thrice his blows     Dealt death before him fly the foes!     The sun is glowing as a brand;     And faint before the parching heat,     The strength forsakes the feeble feet:     "Thou hast saved me from the robbers' hand,     Through wild floods given the blessed land;     And shall the weak limbs fail me now?     And he! Divine one, nerve me, thou!"     Hark! like some gracious murmur by,     Babbles low music, silver-clear     The wanderer holds his breath to hear;     And from the rock, before his eye,     Laughs forth the spring delightedly;     Now the sweet waves he bends him o'er,     And the sweet waves his strength restore.     Through the green boughs the sun gleams dying,     O'er fields that drink the rosy beam,     The trees' huge shadows giant seem.     Two strangers on the road are hieing;     And as they fleet beside him flying,     These muttered words his ear dismay:     "Now now the cross has claimed its prey!"     Despair his winged path pursues,     The anxious terrors hound him on     There, reddening in the evening sun,     From far, the domes of Syracuse!     When towards him comes Philostratus     (His leal and trusty herdsman he),     And to the master bends his knee.     "Back thou canst aid thy friend no more,     The niggard time already flown     His life is forfeit save thine own!     Hour after hour in hope he bore,     Nor might his soul its faith give o'er;     Nor could the tyrant's scorn deriding,     Steal from that faith one thought confiding!"     "Too late! what horror hast thou spoken!     Vain life, since it cannot requite him!     But death with me can yet unite him;     No boast the tyrant's scorn shall make     How friend to friend can faith forsake.     But from the double death shall know,     That truth and love yet live below!"     The sun sinks down the gate's in view,     The cross looms dismal on the ground     The eager crowd gape murmuring round.     His friend is bound the cross unto. . . .     Crowd guards all bursts he breathless through:     "Me! Doomsman, me!" he shouts, "alone!     His life is rescued lo, mine own!"     Amazement seized the circling ring!     Linked in each other's arms the pair     Weeping for joy yet anguish there!     Moist every eye that gazed; they bring     The wondrous tidings to the king     His breast man's heart at last hath known,     And the friends stand before his throne.     Long silent, he, and wondering long,     Gazed on the pair "In peace depart,     Victors, ye have subdued my heart!     Truth is no dream! its power is strong.     Give grace to him who owns his wrong!     'Tis mine your suppliant now to be,     Ah, let the band of love be three!" [37]