Ilisos

There flowery hill Hymettus, with the sound of bees' industrious murmur, oft invites to studious musing.

There Ilissus rolls his whispering stream.

Within the walls then view the schools of ancient sages, his who bred great Alexander to subdue the world, Lyceum there, and painted Stoa next.

There thou shalt hear and learn the secret power of harmony in tones and numbers hit by voice or hand, and various measured verse, Aeolian charms and Dorian lyric odes, and his who gave them breath, but higher song, blind Melesigenes, thence Homer called, whose poem Phoebus challenged for his own.

Persons of the Dialogue: Socrates, Phaedrus.

Scene: Under a plane-tree by the banks of the Ilissus.

My dear Phaedrus, whence come you, and whither are you going? I come from Lysias, the son of Cephalus; and I am going to take a walk outside the wall; for I have been sitting with him the whole morning, and our common friend Acumenus tells me that it is much more refreshing to walk in the open air than to be shut up in a cloister.

There he is right.

[laughs] Enough.

I see that I have no hope of practicing my art upon you.

But if I am to read, where would you please to sit? Hmm, let us turn aside and go by the Ilissus.

We will sit down at some quiet spot.

Scene.

Under a plane tree by the banks of the Ilissus.

My dear Phaedrus, whence come you, and whither are you going? I come from Lysias, the son of Cephalus, and I am going to take a walk outside the wall, for I have been sitting with him the whole morning, and our common friend Acumenus tells me that it is much more refreshing to walk in the open air than to be shut up in a cloister.

There he is right.

Now, much as I love you, I would not have you suppose that I am going to have your memory exercised at my expense, if you have Lysias himself here.

[laughs] Enough, I see that I have no hope of practising my art upon you.

But if I am to read, where would you please to sit? Let us turn aside and go by the Ilissus; we will sit down at some quiet spot.

I am fortunate in not having my sandals; and as you never have any, I think that we may go along the brook and cool our feet in the water; this will be the easiest way, and at midday and in the summer is far from being unpleasant.

Read for LibriVox.org by Alan Mapstone.

Ah, days that to immortal joy we gave, leisured, unhindered, crowned with a bright dream, Illyrian or by Ilissus' wave! Those hours of childlike gaze at life's soft beam, their threns for fading beauty 'midst the gleam of noble marbles veined with violet against a sea of azure, while the stream sang of some thought eluding memory yet, some faint felicity we may not quite forget! White holy order of that purest air, the Parthenon arose, and evermore faming the frieze our chivalry so fair rode, and below in blossomed life they bore the robe of Pallas stained with earth and ore, balming the breeze and musking glorious name, high Salamis and Marathon and more.

And as the priests unto the altar came, the white uncorded bulls sank to the thin clear flame.

On wings Iberian purple let us fly to the gray isle and winding olive vale, green-bowed Idalium whence comes no sigh, or reedy Cnidus where the gentle gale flutters the garments of the maidens pale who sing the heroes and their lofty mound.

Persons of the Dialogue: Socrates, Phaedrus.

Scene: under a plane tree by the banks of the Ilissus.

My dear Phaedrus, whence come you, and whither are you going? I come from Lysias, the son of Cephalus; and I am going to take a walk outside the wall; for I have been sitting with him the whole morning, and our common friend Acumenus tells me that it is much more refreshing to walk in the open air than to be shut up in a cloister.

There he is right.

Enough.

I see that I have no hope of practising my art upon you.

But if I am to read, where would you please to sit? Let us turn aside and go by the Ilissus.

We will sit down at some quiet spot.