III

     Bloom of the generous fires of his fair Spring
     Still coloured him when men forbore to sting;
     Admiring meekly where the ordered seeds
     Of his good sovereignty showed gardens trim;
     And owning that the hoe he struck at weeds
     Was author of the flowers raised face to him.

     IV

     His Corinth, to each mood subservient
     In homage, made he as an instrument
     To yield him music with scarce touch of stops. 
     He breathed, it piped; he moved, it rose to fly: 
     At whiles a bloodhorse racing till it drops;
     At whiles a crouching dog, on him all eye.

     V

     His wisdom men acknowledged; only one,
     The creature, issue of him, Lycophron,
     That rebel with his mother in his brows,
     Contested:  such an infamous would foul
     Pirene!  Little heed where he might house
     The prince gave, hearing:  so the fox, the owl!

     VI

     To prove the Gods benignant to his rule,
     The years, which fasten rigid whom they cool,
     Reviewing, saw him hold the seat of power. 
     A grey one asked:  Who next? nor answer had: 
     One greyer pointed on the pallid hour
     To come:  a river dried of waters glad.

     VII

     For which of his male issue promised grip
     To stride yon people, with the curb and whip? 
     This Lycophron! he sole, the father like,
     Fired prospect of a line in one strong tide,
     By right of mastery; stern will to strike;
     Pride to support the stroke:  yea, Godlike pride!

     VIII

     Himself the prince beheld a failing fount. 
     His line stretched back unto its holy mount: 
     The thirsty onward waved for him no sign. 
     Then stood before his vision that hard son. 
     The seizure of a passion for his line
     Impelled him to the path of Lycophron.

     IX

     The youth was tossing pebbles in the sea;
     A figure shunned along the busy quay,
     Perforce of the harsh edict for who dared
     Address him outcast.  Naming it, he crossed
     His father’s look with look that proved them paired
     For stiffness, and another pebble tossed.

     X

     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.