the floods left bare the land,Grew warm with enterprise, and gathered men
Together, and disposed their various tasks
For common weal combined; for soon were seen
The long straight channels dwindling on the plain,
Which slow from stagnant pool and wide morass
The pestilent waters to the rivers bore: 100{6}
Then in the ruined dwellings and old tombs
He dug, unbedding from the wormèd ooze
Vessels and tools of trade and husbandry;
Wherewith, all seasonable works restored,
Oil made he and wine anew, and taught mankind
To live not brutally though without fire,
Tending their flocks and herds and weaving wool,
Living on fruit and milk and shepherds' fare,
Till time should bring back flame to smithy and hearth,
Or Zeus relent. Now at these gates I stand, 110
At this mid hour, when Inachus comes forth
To offer sacrifice unto his foe.
For never hath his faithful zeal forborne
To pay the power, though hard, that rules the world
The smokeless sacrifice; which first to-day
Shall smoke, and rise at heaven in flame to brave
The baffled god. See here a servant bears
For the cold altar ceremonial wood:
My shepherd's cloak will serve me for disguise.
SERVANT.
With much toil have I hewn these sapless logs. 120
Pr. But toil brings health, and health is happiness.
Serv. Here's one I know not—nay, how came he here
Unseen by me? I pray thee, stranger, tell me
What wouldst thou at the house of Inachus?
Pr. Intruders, friend, and travellers have glib tongues,
Silence will question such.
Serv. If 'tis a message,
To-day is not thy day—who sent thee hither?
Pr. The business of my leisure was well guessed:
But he that sent me hither is I that come.
Serv. I smell the matter—thou wouldst serve the house?
Pr. 'Twas for that very cause I fled my own. 131
Serv. From cruelty or fear of punishment?
Pr. Cruel was my master, for he slew his father.{7}
His punishments thou speakest of are crimes.
Serv. Thou dost well flying one that slew his father.
Pr. Thy lord, they say, is kind.
Serv. Well, thou wilt see
Thou may'st at once begin—come, give a hand.
Pr. A day of freedom is a day of pleasure:
And what thou doest have I never done,
And understanding not might mar thy work. 140
Serv. Ay true—there is a right way and a wrong
In laying wood.
Pr. Then let me see thee lay it:
The sight of a skill'd hand will teach an art.
Serv. Thou seest this faggot which I now unbind,
How it is packed within.
Pr. I see the cones
And needles of the fir, which by the wind
In melancholy places ceaselessly
Sighing are strewn upon the tufted floor.
Serv. These took I from a sheltered bank, whereon
The sun looks down at noon; for there is need 150
The things be dry. These first I spread; and then
Small sticks that snap i' the hand.
Pr. Such are enough
To burden the slow flight of labouring rooks,
When on the leafless tree-tops in young March
Their glossy herds assembling soothe the air
With cries of solemn joy and cawings loud.
And such the long-necked herons will bear to mend
Their airy platform, when the loving spring
Bids them take thought for their expected young.
Serv. See even so I cross them and cross them so: 160
Larger and by degrees a steady stack
Have built, whereon the heaviest logs may lie:
And all of sun-dried wood: and now 'tis done.
Pr. And now 'tis done, what means it now 'tis done?
Serv. Well, thus 'tis rightly done: but why 'tis so{8}
I cannot tell, nor any man here knows;
Save that our master when he sacrificeth,
As thou wilt hear anon, speaketh of fire;
And fire he saith is good for gods and men;
And the gods have it and men have it not: 170
And then he prays the gods to send us fire;
And we, against they send it, must have wood
Laid ready thus as I have shewn thee here.
Pr. To-day he sacrificeth?
Serv. Ay, this noon.
