Towards democracy

430 Towards Democracy

And gathered snails for food, and fought his tribal battles

Now the Greek wanders along the shore, and oleander ' and rosemary

Shine in the moon for him, or Daphne hides

Among the laurel groves, or Heracles

Drives his red cattle home along the coast-line.

Later, the Roman makes great roads, and marches columns of soldiers through the dust,

Where overhead some temple of Castor and Pollux on the height

Gives omen of good fortune. The Christian follows,

Peacefully toiling in his olive-garden,

Hymning the gentle god,

And turns the Temple to a shrine of Michael—re. christens Mars, St. Martin.

But presently the Moor with fire and rapine sweeps the coast,

Or in his mountain-fastness, for a moment resting, watches the shining scimitar of the sea

Sheathed in the bay, its secabbard. Then, in their turn, _

Bishops and Barons rule the land, and rage against each other. In the end the Modern

Buries it all in a big Hotel’s foundations

Or the embankment of a Railroad.

Yet still beneath the surface all is alive.

Stull the old peasant-woman—grin-faced, big-mouthed, with big-palmed hands, short fingers, and bandy climbing legs —among the rocks