An exile to the Island ere nightfall He passed from sight, from the hushed mouths of all. It had resemblance to a death: and on, Against a coast where sapphire shattered white, The seasons rolled like troops of billows blown To spraymist. The prince gazed on capping night. XI Deaf Age spake in his ear with shouts: Thy son! Deep from his heart Life raved of work not done. He heard historic echoes moan his name, As of the prince in whom the race had pause; Till Tyranny paternity became, And him he hated loved he for the cause. XII Not Lycophron the exile now appeared, But young Periander, from the shadow cleared, That haunted his rebellious brows. The prince Grew bright for him; saw youth, if seeming loth, Return: and of pure pardon to convince, Despatched the messenger most dear with both. XIII His daughter, from the exile’s Island home, Wrote, as a flight of halcyons o’er the foam, Sweet words: her brother to his father bowed; Accepted his peace-offering, and rejoiced. To bring him back a prince the father vowed, Commanded man the oars, the white sails hoist. XIV He waved the fleet to strain its westward way On to the sea-hued hills that crown the bay: Soil of those hospitable islanders Whom now his heart, for honour to his blood, Thanked. They should learn what boons a prince confers When happiness enjoins him gratitude! XV In watch upon the offing, worn with haste To see his youth revived, and, close embraced, Pardon who had subdued him, who had gained Surely the stoutest battle between two Since Titan pierced by young Apollo stained Earth’s breast, the prince looked forth, himself looked through. XVI Errors aforetime unperceived were bared, To be by his young masterful repaired: Renewed his great ideas gone to smoke; His policy confirmed amid the surge Of States and people fretting at his yoke. And lo, the fleet brown-flocked on the sea-verge! XVII Oars pulled: they streamed in harbour; without cheer For welcome shadowed round the heaving bier. They, whose approach in such rare pomp and stress Of numbers the free islanders dismayed At Tyranny come masking to oppress, Found Lycophron this breathless, this lone-laid. XVIII Who smote the man thrown open to young joy? The image of the mother of his boy Came forth from his unwary breast in wreaths, With eyes. And shall a woman, that extinct, Smite out of dust the Powerful who breathes? Her loved the son; her served; they lay close-linked! XIX Dead was he, and demanding earth. Demand Sharper for vengeance of an instant hand, The Tyrant in the father heard him cry, And raged a plague; to prove on free Hellenes How prompt the Tyrant for the Persian dye; How black his Gods behind their marble screens. SOLON I