Collected Works (Vol. III)

LIBER QUARTUS VEL MORTIS 203 LIBER QUARTUS VEL MORTIS MY WIFE LYSANDER (reads). ‘* The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage." That is an old device. Midsummer Night's Dream, What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore The Muse herself, for her enchanting son Whom universal Nature did lament When by the rout that made the hideous roar His gory body down the stream was sent Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore? Lycidas. A brighter Hellas rears its mountains From waves serener far; A new Peneus rolls his fountains Against the morning star. Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep. Another Orpheus sings again And loves, and weeps, and dies, MOUNT IDA. THE COMPANY OF THE M<AENADS. M-ENADS. Evoe! Evoe Ho! Iacche! Iacche! Hail, O Dionysus ! Hail ! Wingéd Son of Semelé ! Hail, O Hail! The:stars are pale. Hidden the moonlight in the vale ; Hidden the sunlight in the sea. Fellas. Blessed is her happy lot Who beholdeth God ; who moves Mighty-souled without a spot, Mingling in the godly rout Of the-many mystic loves. Holy maidens, duly weave Dances for the mighty mother ! Bacchanal to Bacchus cleave! Wave his narthex wand, and leave Earthy joys to earth to smother!