border-land of shadows as to be half mythical. It may be said to the credit
of Homer that he never joined in the popular chorus of abuse. His women
are not permitted to forget their subjection, but the high-born ones at
least are treated with gentle courtesy, and he indulges in no superfluous
flings at their inferiority or general worthlessness. Many of them hold
places of honour and power. These women of a primitive age who stand at
the portals of the young world luminous and smiling, or draped in the
stately dignity of antique goddesses, still retain the distinction of classic
ideals. They look out from the misty dawn of things with veiled faces, but
we know that love shone from their soft eyes, and words of wisdom fell
from their rosy lips.
The vulgar of my sex I most exceed
In real power, when most humane my deed
says the gentle Penelope, as, tear-dimmed and constant, she weaves and
enweaves the many-colored threads, and waits for her royal lord, who
basks in the smiles of Calypso over the sea and forgets her until he tires of
the fascinating siren and begins to long for his home. If there was a trace
of artfulness in the innocent device of the faithful wife, it was all the
weapon she had to save her honour.
There is no lovelier picture of radiant girlhood than the graceful Nausicaä,
as she takes the silken reins in her white hands, and drives across the
plains in the first flush of the morning to help her maids "wash their fair
garments in the limpid streams." When the snowy robes are laid in the sun
to dry, they play a game of ball, this daughter of kings leading all the rest.
We hear the echo of her silvery laughter, and see the
of Homer that he never joined in the popular chorus of abuse. His women
are not permitted to forget their subjection, but the high-born ones at
least are treated with gentle courtesy, and he indulges in no superfluous
flings at their inferiority or general worthlessness. Many of them hold
places of honour and power. These women of a primitive age who stand at
the portals of the young world luminous and smiling, or draped in the
stately dignity of antique goddesses, still retain the distinction of classic
ideals. They look out from the misty dawn of things with veiled faces, but
we know that love shone from their soft eyes, and words of wisdom fell
from their rosy lips.
The vulgar of my sex I most exceed
In real power, when most humane my deed
says the gentle Penelope, as, tear-dimmed and constant, she weaves and
enweaves the many-colored threads, and waits for her royal lord, who
basks in the smiles of Calypso over the sea and forgets her until he tires of
the fascinating siren and begins to long for his home. If there was a trace
of artfulness in the innocent device of the faithful wife, it was all the
weapon she had to save her honour.
There is no lovelier picture of radiant girlhood than the graceful Nausicaä,
as she takes the silken reins in her white hands, and drives across the
plains in the first flush of the morning to help her maids "wash their fair
garments in the limpid streams." When the snowy robes are laid in the sun
to dry, they play a game of ball, this daughter of kings leading all the rest.
We hear the echo of her silvery laughter, and see the
