Collected Works (Vol. III)

192 ORPHEUS PERSEPHONE. Ah me! I fee: a stirring in my blood. Pours through my veinsa delicate pale flood Of memory. Not the pale and terrible Goddess whose throne is manifest in Hell —I am again a child, a playful child. ORPHEUS., And therefore, O most beautiful and mild Sweet mother! art the girl beloved again Of Hades mighty on the Nysian plain. And therefore are thine eyes with sorrow dim For me, and thy word powerful with Him. PERSEPHONE, Ah me! no fruit for guerdon, Who bore the blossom’s burden ; There shines no sunlight toward Persephone. Ravished, O iron-eyed ! From my young sisters’ side, Torn and dragged down below the sundered sea, No joy is mine in all thy bed, And all thy sorrow shaken on my head. Cursed above gods be thou Whose blind unruffled brow Rules the grim place of unsubstantial things ! Hated, to me thy face Turns not the glance of grace. I rule unloved above the infernal kings, And only thee in all deep Hell I charm in vain, despair my royal spell. By might of famine long And supplication strong Demeter won the swift Hermetic word : In bitter days of eld Thus by great force compelled The glad earth saw me, careless of my lord, Rise to her crystal streams and sapphire seas, And Theseus thus owed life to Heracles. Thou mockest me with power ; Thy sceptre’s awful dower Avails me nothing. Shall a mortal bring Such pity wrapped in song And Echo’s choral throng Of all things live and dead to hear me sing ;— And I by pity moved and love Have not thy voice to grant him grace thereof ? Inexorable Lord ! Accursed and abhorred Of men, begin in Hell to show thy grace ! Not to a man’s weak life, Not to thy shuddering wife, But to the queen’s unfathomable face Dread beyond sorcery and prayer, And fearful even because it is so fair! Yea, from the ghastly throne Unchallenged and unknown Let the fierce accents roll athwart the skies ! My voice is given, my power Fares forth to save the flower Broken but plucked not by these fingers wise. I love the song—be thou not mute, But turn a lucky lot towards the suit ! ORPHEUS. In vain, O thou veiled Immutable queen ! Thy strong voice bewailed, Thy fair face was seen ! It flushed up and paled ; The song echoed clean— But alas! for the veil of the night and the fear that is ever between ! Of pity unfilled And void of remorse, He moves unappealed In the terrible course. But the lyre is unchilled :— By force unto force He shall answer me power unto power at the source of its source !