THE POETS OF CANADA, 43 



More real than castles in the air, and laid 

 On some foundation, though of sand that slopes 



Seaward to lift again — it comes arrayed 

 In olive sea-weeds ; but a raven mopes 



Upon its topmost stone, and casts a shade." 



I felt sure that we should soou hear from this New Brunswick boy again. And so we 

 did. In 1880, there was published in Philadelphia a dainty little volume, entitled Orion 

 ami Other Poems, by Charles G-. D. Roberts. You all remember with what pleasure and 

 applause that publication was received. The poem from which. the book takes its name is 

 simply a gem of purest ray serene. While Œnopion, the King of Chios, immolates unto 

 Apollo a tawny wolf, his hunter, Orion, makes his appearance upon the scene with 



" The grandeur of the mountains for a robe, 

 The torrent's strength for girdle, and for crown, 

 Tlie sea's calm, for dread fury capable, — " 



and stands 



" Without the laurel's sacred shade 

 Which his large presence deepened." 



In reward for his services, the hunter craves the hand of the snow-breasted nymph, 

 Merope, but the king, while he feigns to consent, fills a wine-cup with a Colchian drug 

 and presents it to the unsuspecting servitor, who falls asleep upon the beach. Two slaves 

 are then despatched to pour poison upon his eyelids, by which these are deprived of light. 

 A troop of maids beloA'ed of Doris then rises out of the sea, and grouping around the pros- 

 trate giant they sing a chorus which, with strophe and antistrophe, is cast in the best 

 Greek model, and not xmworthy of Swinburne. Orion hears and arises groping, and after 

 a grand apostrophe to Night, a voice, thrice repeated, bids him hie to the hills, where he 

 shall behold the morning. On his way up he grasps a forgeman from a smithy behind a 

 jagged cape, and, hoisting him upon his shoulders to guide his feet, he reaches the crest of 

 the mountain 



" Ere the fiery flower 

 Of dawn bloomed fully." 



There his beloved appears to him, and he recovers his sight just as the rosy light of 

 morning falls upon her beautiful face. The twain then retire to Delos, being escorted 

 over the waves by bands of Nereids at Poseidon's bidding, and in that island's consecrated 

 shelter they spend a blissful existence. There is a marked imitation of Tennyson in this 

 poem, but its original character is equally marked and stamps it as the author's very own. 

 Ariadne is the second of the classic poems in the volume. The picture of the heroine 

 lying on the sea-beach forms a picture that lingers in the mind : — 



" She lay, face downward, on the shining shore. 



Her head upon her bended arm ; her hair 

 Loose-spreading fell, a heart-entangling store ; 

 Her shoulder swelling through it glimmered more 



Divinely white than snows in morning air ; 

 One trees, more wide astray, the ripples bore 



Where her hand clenched the ooze in mute despair." 



