Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 3Bridges, Robert
General
Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 3
Bridges, Robert
English drama; English poetry
_Dio._ Were I a dog, now, I might learn. Heigh ho!
Two hours and more we have wandered on this mountain,
Round and round, up and down, and round again,
Gardens, and lawns, meadows, and groves, and walks,
Thickets, and woods, the windings of the glades,
I have them all by rote. Each petty rill
We have tracked by rocky steps and paths about,
And peeped into its dank and mossy caves.
What sort of game should this Achilles be, 100
That we should seek him thus? Ah! back so soon?
What sport?
_Ul._ (_re-entering_). Well hit. ’Twas but a milk-white doe,
Some petted plaything of the young princess,
That fled our stranger steps.
_Dio._ And whither now
Turn we to seek Achilles?
_Ul._ Hark, Diomede:
My plot is laid and ready for thine ears.
Thou madest offer of thine aid; be patient,
And hear me.
_Dio._ I will hearken.
_Ul._ First, thou knowest
How since the day the Danaan kings took oath
To avenge the wrong done by the Trojan Paris 110
Against his host, the Spartan Menelaus,
One oracle hath thwarted us, which said
Our purpose should not prosper with the gods
Unless Achilles the young son of Thetis
Should lead our armies.
_Dio._ Certainly, so far
I am with you.
_Ul._ Next, when he was sought in vain,
Men looked to me; ay, and to me it fell
To learn that he was lurking in this isle
Of Scyros, in the court of Lycomedes. 119
The king denied the charge, adding in challenge,
That I might come and make what search I pleased;
Now mark...
_Dio_. I listen, but thou tellest nothing.
Why search we not the court if he be there,
Instead of this old hill?
_Ul._ ’Tis that I come to.
King Lycomedes hath been one of those
Who have held their arms aloof from our alliance,
On the main plea of this Achilles’ absence.
What if he play the game here for his friends,
And hide the lad lest they be forced to fight?
_Dio._ That well might be. And if the king would hide him, 130
Thy hope would hit upon him thus at hazard?
_Ul._ Call me not fool. Attend and hear my plot:
Nor marvel, Diomede, to learn that he,
Whom the high gods name champion of the Greeks,
Lurks in the habit of a girl disguised
Amid the maidens of this island court.
_Dio._ That were too strange. How guess you that?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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