THE STRONG SPIDER.

I was a naturalist, and had crossed the sea

And come to Theodosia, to find

A monstrous spider of which I had heard.

The people of the town wagged doubting heads,

When asked about it; but one day I met

A sturdy fisherman who once had seen

The spider, though he knew not his abode.

He said the spider was as long as he,

And that the woof whereof he wove his web,

Was thick as any cordage on his boat.

At night, belated‘ mid the tumuli

That mound the hill-side and the vernal vale,

Like the raised letters of an ancient page

Made for the blind gropers of to-day to read,

He entered a dark tomb, and therein slept,

Until the world, like some round shield upraised,

Splintered the thrown spears of dawn. As he woke,

He found himself ensnared in some thick web,

Yet reached his knife, and slowly cut it through;

Then when he stood, a monstrous spider fled.

At this recital on the slanted shore,

Another joined us from the cottage near —

A vine-clad cottage, lit for love's abode.

A lily-croft, with trees, encinctured it;

Like Ahab in his house of ivory

Dining on sweets, the king bee here

Sipped in the snowy lily's palace hall;

And here were yellow lilies strewn about,

As though the place had been the banquet grove

Of Shishak, king of Egypt; for the flowers

Seemed like the cups of gold that Solomon

Wrought for the holy service of the Lord.

“This is my daughter,” said the fisherman.

Her head and face were covered with a scarf,

But large dark eyes looked forth, and in their depths

I saw a soul all tenderness and truth.

( Often, in dreams, I thought it sweet to die,

And reft of this gross vision, see at last,

As the large soul, quit of the body can,

Another soul set free and purified. )

The modest maid a crimson jacket wore,

And to her knee the broidered skirt hung down;

While‘ neath, the Turkish garment was confined

In plaits about the ankles; but her shoes

Revealed the naked insteps of her feet.

I bade her there adieu, upon the shore

Of the clear Bospore. As I wandered back,

I thought much of the spider that I sought;

But more of two dark eyes, that seemed two stars

Which shone down in my heart; while the far space

Behind them, pure, but unknown, was the soul.

I thought to test this maiden's charity;

And so, one friendly day, put on a robe

Tattered and soiled with use. As she went by,

I strode abruptly from behind a wall,

And faced her with a face disguised, and held

My hand out while I begged for some small alms.

She gave abundantly from her lean purse,

And with a look of tender pity, passed.

It matters little who it is that asks,

Or whether he deserves the alms or not;

That given with free heart, is given to God,

And not to him who takes.

Day after day,

Henceforth, I strode a coastward way, to meet

The dark-eyed daughter of the fisherman.

Beneath her roof she made my welcome sweet,

And yielded both her hands, and drew the scarf

That veiled the wondrous beauty of her face.

If painter, or if sculptor, in some dream,

Could mingle Faith with Love and Charity,

And give them utterance in one pure face,

I know the face would be a face like hers.

Her eyes were diamond doors of her true soul,

And with their silken latches softly closed,

When, couched beneath his poppy parachute,

Inactive Sleep came by. Her glances seemed

Like gold-winged angels sent from heavenly doors.

Yet she was often sad when I was near.

Once, tarrying late, I told her of my life,

And of the monster I had come to find;

But now, lo! she around my heart had wound

The close web of her love, and held me fast

As any fly caught in a spider's toils.

Clothed in the sackcloth of regret, she said,

She long had wept the past; but for my sake

She now would cast it off, and live for me.

I said that few could exculpate the past

From stormy doing with the ships of hope.

She said it made her sad to think upon

Their present dwindled fortune, and the yoke

Her people chafed their necks in, on the hills.

Her father was a brave Circassian chief;

But here he dwelt disguised, till once again

He could lead on his race, and wound the heel

That ground them to the dust.

Our hearts made new,

We kissed good-night, and parted. As I went,

A distant hill, all shadow, took new shape,

And seemed a sprawling spider, while two trees

That grew upon it, were his upraised arms

Clutching at two red fire-flies, that were stars.