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Charmides and Other Poems by Oscar Wilde?Scanned and proofed by David
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Charmides and Other Poems
Contents:
Charmides?Requiescat?San Miniato?Rome Unvisited?Humanitad?Louis Napoleon?Endymion?Le Jardin?La Mer?Le Panneau?Les Ballons?Canzonet?Le Jardin Des Tuileries?Pan: Double Villanelle?In The Forest?Symphony In Yellow
Sonnets:
Helas!?To Milton?On The Massacre Of The Christians In Bulgaria?Holy Week At Genoa?Urbs Sacra Aeterna?E Tenebris?At Verona?On The Sale By Auction Of Keats' Love Letters?The New Remorse
CHARMIDES
I.
He was a Grecian lad, who coming home?With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily?Stood at his galley's prow, and let the foam?Blow through his crisp brown curls unconsciously,?And holding wave and wind in boy's despite?Peered from his dripping seat across the wet and stormy night.
Till with the dawn he saw a burnished spear?Like a thin thread of gold against the sky,?And hoisted sail, and strained the creaking gear,?And bade the pilot head her lustily?Against the nor'west gale, and all day long?Held on his way, and marked the rowers' time with measured song.
And when the faint Corinthian hills were red?Dropped anchor in a little sandy bay,?And with fresh boughs of olive crowned his head,?And brushed from cheek and throat the hoary spray,?And washed his limbs with oil, and from the hold?Brought out his linen tunic and his sandals brazen-soled,
And a rich robe stained with the fishers' juice?Which of some swarthy trader he had bought?Upon the sunny quay at Syracuse,?And was with Tyrian broideries inwrought,?And by the questioning merchants made his way?Up through the soft and silver woods, and when the labouring day
Had spun its tangled web of crimson cloud,?Clomb the high hill, and with swift silent feet?Crept to the fane unnoticed by the crowd?Of busy priests, and from some dark retreat?Watched the young swains his frolic playmates bring?The firstling of their little flock, and the shy shepherd fling
The crackling salt upon the flame, or hang?His studded crook against the temple wall?To Her who keeps away the ravenous fang?Of the base wolf from homestead and from stall;?And then the clear-voiced maidens 'gan to sing,?And to the altar each man brought some goodly offering,
A beechen cup brimming with milky foam,?A fair cloth wrought with cunning imagery?Of hounds in chase, a waxen honey-comb?Dripping with oozy gold which scarce the bee?Had ceased from building, a black skin of oil?Meet for the wrestlers, a great boar the fierce and white-tusked spoil
Stolen from Artemis that jealous maid?To please Athena, and the dappled hide?Of a tall stag who in some mountain glade?Had met the shaft; and then the herald cried,?And from the pillared precinct one by one?Went the glad Greeks well pleased that they their simple vows had done.
And the old priest put out the waning fires?Save that one lamp whose restless ruby glowed?For ever in the cell, and the shrill lyres?Came fainter on the wind, as down the road?In joyous dance these country folk did pass,?And with stout hands the warder closed the gates of polished brass.
Long time he lay and hardly dared to breathe,?And heard the cadenced drip of spilt-out wine,?And the rose-petals falling from the wreath?As the night breezes wandered through the shrine,?And seemed to be in some entranced swoon?Till through the open roof above the full and brimming moon
Flooded with sheeny waves the marble floor,?When from his nook up leapt the venturous lad,?And flinging wide the cedar-carven door?Beheld an awful image saffron-clad?And armed for battle! the gaunt Griffin glared?From the huge helm, and the long lance of wreck and ruin flared
Like a red rod of flame, stony and steeled?The Gorgon's head its leaden eyeballs rolled,?And writhed its snaky horrors through the shield,?And gaped aghast with bloodless lips and cold?In passion impotent, while with blind gaze?The blinking owl between the feet hooted in shrill amaze.
The lonely fisher as he trimmed his lamp?Far out at sea off Sunium, or cast?The net for tunnies, heard a brazen tramp?Of horses smite the waves, and a wild blast?Divide the folded curtains of the night,?And knelt upon the little poop, and prayed in holy fright.
And guilty lovers in their venery?Forgat a little while their stolen sweets,?Deeming they heard dread Dian's bitter cry;?And the grim watchmen on their lofty seats?Ran to their shields in haste precipitate,?Or strained black-bearded throats across the dusky parapet.
For round the temple rolled the clang of arms,?And the twelve Gods leapt up in marble fear,?And the air quaked with dissonant alarums?Till huge Poseidon shook his mighty spear,?And on the frieze the prancing horses neighed,?And the low tread of hurrying feet rang from the cavalcade.
Ready for death with parted lips he stood,?And well content at such a price to see?That calm wide brow, that terrible maidenhood,?The marvel of that pitiless chastity,?Ah! well content indeed, for never wight?Since Troy's young shepherd prince had seen so wonderful a sight.
Ready for death he stood, but lo! the air?Grew silent, and the horses ceased to neigh,?And off his brow he tossed the clustering hair,?And from his limbs he throw the cloak away;?For whom would not such 
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