O sages! O wise men! O scholars of lore!
How desperately man yearns to search and explore
The breadth of the kosmos, those mysteries past,
And kingdoms of legend and deeds unsurpassed.

And lo! As I ponder the music of spheres,
My mind roams the far distant lands and lost years.
I peer through a thin veil of mist in the sky
And witness a young man of Quince climbing high

To visit the citadel of Mycenae
And pass through the famed Lion’s Gate on the way.
Behold Agamemnon, so wondrous his beard—
An infamous ruler, both noble and feared.

But the well-looking youth, so admired by the ladies,
Sparked envy and ire in the haughty Atreides!
And so to assuage his pure envy and hate,
The ruler devised for the youth a cruel fate.

The upcoming war he was planning on Troy
Would o’ermatch the heart of an untested boy.
Despite the lad’s lack of both prestige and rank,
He’d place his new friend on Achilles’ right flank.

And so the young hero, so brave and puissant,
Commenced his sea voyage to the Hellespont.
In only one day, his great feats were renowned—
He kept the Achaeans from losing their ground.

Time after time, he turned Hector away,
But still a fell omen hung over the day,
For when he saw Helen high up on the wall,
His fate was then sealed for a tragic downfall.

In sweet adoration, a letter he penned,
And the fair Aphrodite his words did offend.
To Helen he likened the lovely bromeliad
And destined his name to be banned from the Iliad.

And so Aphrodite, displeased with the slight,
Appealed thrice to Morpheus deep in the night.
The bringer of dreams heard her jealous petition
And took to the air like a winged apparition.

And down to the tent, by a hole in the seam,
He slipped in to visit the young hero’s dream.
Fair visions appeared in the youth’s fertile mind,
More beguiling than any sight known to mankind.

Entranced by the wonders he saw far afield,
He rose from his couch and then took up his shield.
And what would waft in but his weakness and bane—
The scent of fresh cookies bewitching his brain!

“Farewell, noble Hellenes, I must make good speed—
For glory in war I have no desperate need,
But certain rare pleasures I cannot ignore,”
He said, making haste to the wide Trojan shore.

He boarded his ship, and without any fleet,
He paddled his oars with a fury towards Crete.
And later that morn he awoke to a sight—
A gigantic sentry of a marvelous height!

To the east, through Ionian mists, he could spy
The Colossus of Rhodes standing tall in the sky.
And wishing to harbor his ship in that port,
He rowed with the zeal of Olympian sport.

Like the snows on Olympus that oft inundate,
A blizzard of dandruff from that lofty pate
Fell heavy and fast ’pon the nigh harbor mouth
Repelling his progress and veering him south.

A zephyr then swept him on past the Colossus,
Diverting him west to the Palace of Knossos.
Upon his arrival, quite late in the night,
He found he’d developed a strong appetite.

He searched through the palace while everyone slept
In hopes he could find where provisions were kept.
In a sprint to the larder, he stubbed his big toe,
Which caused him to fall to the labyrinth below.

For centuries, he wandered those pathways in vain,
Repeating his footsteps again and again,
Until he devised a new means of escape
Involving the use of a red velvet cape.

By taunting the Minotaur into a rage,
He provoked it to charge in a violent rampage.
He held his ground firm at the end of a hall,
Then dodged as it burst through the outer cliff wall.

As soon as he gained his long-sought liberation,
He sailed off to regions Ionian and Thracian.
A gust of Aeolian breath pushed him on
To a quaint strip of coast just beyond Marathon.

But what did he find on the Attican shore?
An army of Persians preparing for war!
With Darius’ legions intent on the kill,
It seemed a fit time to unleash his rare skill.

He sharpened his sword, and he polished his shield.
He girded his loins and he took to the field.
’Twas a force of just one ’gainst an army so large,
But the Minotaur had taught him the art of the charge.

He sang “On, Wisconsin!” with so much profusion
The Persians were thrown into fits of confusion.
He drove a deep wedge in the army’s rear flank,
And for Persia, all hope of a victory sank.

So Marathon dealt them a bright new young star
And also inspired a premier candy bar.
And when vict’ry fell unto General Miltiades,
He called for his herald, the runner, Pheidippides.

“To Athens,” he charged him, “Deliver the news!”
But the last trip to Sparta had ruptured his shoes.
So it once again fell to the young man of Quince
As it would do again, and it often has since

To shoulder the burden of every Hellene
And carry report from the Marathon green.
So he quickly unfurled the wee wings on his feet
And started his journey with tidings so sweet.

With swiftness of foot and a strong, steady pace,
He stole Hermes’ glory in one epic race!
He climbed the Acropolis, gave them the news,
But found the Athenians feeling the blues.

“We’ve no place to sing and express our good cheer!”
The Man of Quince said, “Build the Parthenon here.”
They all found his judgment quite sound and correct,
And that’s why they named him the chief architect.

Of all his exploits, these are only a few—
There was no adventure he feared to pursue,
But finally, he felt it would not be amiss
To settle and live in Arcadian bliss.

Some say you might find him in some distant land
Ruling some realm with a strong but fair hand.
But no doubt he’ll ponder the old days in spells
’Til one day he wanders amongst asphodels.

By Steve Nunes