Hero, the fair,
Who snared Apollo
And praised the goddess,
The divine whose domain
Made her beauty incarnate,
Love personified, Aphrodite
In all her glory.
Hero loved one,
And he loved her true till rue,
The swimmer of the Hellespont,
He who crossed each dusk and dawn
To be with his love.
He was Leander, the night's pilgrim.
Yet love so deep and profound
Rarely ends in happiness.
Hero's light that shined,
Profoundly bright,
Was his wayfinder,
To his love, to his home.
Yet one fateful, sorrowful night,
The light was lost,
The life was dimmed,
For the tide forsook him.
Each day, as was tradition,
Hero would come to port to see her lover,
And saw she did.
What eyes once held love
Now held nothing else.
What arms once embraced her
Now failed her, beloved.
What soul once completed her
Now went to the underworld without her.
To put in words what sorrow
She felt deep within the marrow,
Her tears would eclipse Poseidon's realm,
Her shout would break the thunder's roar,
Her sorrow would drown the underworld.
So, in pain and sorrow,
Hero wanted what all do:
Love, and her lover.
So Hero climbed the tower,
And so she fell.
And fell she did,
Away from the middle realm,
Straight into the bottom realm.
Some say she found Leander,
Some say he found Hero.
Yet all believe they still meet by the river Styx,
The flamebearer and the drowned flame,
Separated in life, united in death.