Who would not be beloved of Pericles? I could have had all Athens at my feet; And have them for my flatterers, when I please; Yet, one great man's great love is far more sweet! He is my proper mate as I am his-- You see my young dreams were not all in vain-- And I have tasted of ineffable bliss, If I am stung at times with fiery pain. It is not that I long to be a wife By your Athenian laws, and sit at home Behind a lattice, prisoner for life, With my lord left at liberty to roam; Nor is it that I crave the right to be At the symposium or the Agora known; My grievance is, that your proud dames to me Came to be taught, in secret and alone. They fear; what _do_ they fear? is't me or you? Am I not pure as any of them all? But your laws are against me; and 'tis true, If fame is lowering, I have had a fall! O, selfish men of Athens, shall the world Remember you, and pass my glory by? Nay, 'til from their proud heights your names are hurled, Mine shall blaze with them on your Grecian sky. Am I then boastful? It is half in scorn Of caring for your love, or for your praise, As women do, and must. Had I been born In this proud Athens, I had spent my days In jealousy of boys, and stolen hours With some Milesian, of a questioned place, Learning of her the use of woman's powers Usurped by men of this patrician race. Alas! I would I were a child again, Steeped in dream langours by the purple sea; And Athens but the vision it was then, Its great men good, its noble women free: That I in some winged ship should strive to fly To reach this goal, and founder and go down! O impious thought, how could I wish to die, With all that I have felt and learned unknown? Nay, I am glad to be to future times As much Athenian as is Pericles; Proud to be named by men of other climes The friend and pupil of great Socrates. What is the gossip of the city dames Behind their lattices to one like me? More glorious than their high patrician names I hold my privilege of being free! And yet I would that they were free as I; It angers me that women are so weak, Looking askance when ere they pass me by Lest on a chance their lords should see us speak; And coming next day to an audience In hope of learning to resemble me: They wish, they tell me, to learn eloquence-- The lesson they should learn is _liberty_. O Athens, city of the beautiful, Home of all art, all elegance, all grace; Whose orators and poets sway the soul As the winds move the sea's unstable face; O wonderous city, nurse and home of mind, This is my oracle to you this day-- No generous growth from starved roots will you find, But fruitless blossoms weakening to decay.