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EMPEDOCLES ON ETNA.

A DRAMATIC POEM.

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PERSONS.

EMPEDOCLES.

PAUSANIAS, a Physician.

CALLICLES, a young Harp-player.

The Scene of the Poem is on Mount Etna; at first in the forest region, afterwards on the summit of the mountain.

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EMPEDOCLES ON ETNA.'

ACT I. SCENE I.

A Pass in the forest region of Etna. Morning.

CALLICLES.

(Alone, resting on a rock by the path.)

THE mules, I think, will not be here this hour.

They feel the cool wet turf under their feet

By the stream side, after the dusty lanes

In which they have toiled all night from Catana,
And scarcely will they budge a yard. O Pan!
How gracious is the mountain at this hour!

A thousand times have I been here alone

Or with the revellers from the mountain towns,
But never on so fair a morn; the sun

Is shining on the brilliant mountain crests,
And on the highest pines; but further down
Here in the valley is in shade; the sward

Is dark, and on the stream the mist still hangs;
One sees one's footprints crushed in the wet grass,
One's breath curls in the air; and on these pines
That climb from the stream's edge, the long gray tufts,
Which the goats love, are jewelled thick with dew.
Here will I stay till the slow litter comes.

I have my harp too, that is well. - Apollo !
What mortal could be sick or sorry here?
I know not in what mind Empedocles,
Whose mules I followed, may be coming up,
But if, as most men say, he is half mad
With exile, and with brooding on his wrongs,
Pausanias, his sage friend, who mounts with him,
Could scarce have lighted on a lovelier cure.
The mules must be below, far down. I hear

Their tinkling bells, mixed with the song of birds,
Rise faintly to me, now it stops!

Pausanias! and on foot? alone?

Who's here?

PAUSANIAS.

And thou, then?

I left thee supping with Peisianax,

With thy head full of wine, and thy hair crowned,

Touching thy harp as the whim came on thee,

And praised and spoiled by master and by guests
Almost as much as the new dancing-girl.

Why hast thou followed us?

CALLICLES.

The night was hot,

And the feast past its prime; so we slipped out,
Some of us, to the portico to breathe ;

Peisianax, thou know'st, drinks late; and then,

As I was lifting my soiled garland off,

I saw the mules and litter in the court,
And in the litter sat Empedocles;

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Thou, too, wert with him. Straightway I sped home;
I saddled my white mule, and all night long
Through the cool, lovely country followed you,
Passed you a little since as morning dawned,
And have this hour sat by the torrent here,
Till the slow mules should climb in sight again.
And now?

PAUSANIAS.

And now, back to the town with speed!

Crouch in the wood first, till the mules have passed; They do but halt, they will be here anon.

Thou must be viewless to Empedocles;

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