VIII
Now J have told you all the ingredients
That go to make the elixir for our shame.
Already make the fumes their spired ascents ;
The bubbles burst in tiny jets of flame,
And you and J are half-intoxicated
(I hid the heart of madness in my verse)
Therewith, like Maenads ready to be mated
Betfcre the Lord of bassara and thyrse.
Yea ! we are lifted up! Crested Kithairon
Shakes his black mane of pines, and roars for prey.
Heave all his bristling flanks of barbéd iron!
Fiesh thy red hunger on the bleeding day,
O tanreéd night ! till from thy mother maw
We wrench the lion child of wonder and awe!
— 26 —
IX
This wine is sovereign against all complaints.
This is the wine the great king-angels use
To inspire the souls of sinners and of saints
Unto the deeds that win the world or lose.
One drop of this raised Attis from the cead ;
One drop of this, and slain Osiris stirs;
One drop of this; before young Horus fled
Thine hosts, Typhon ! — this wine is mine and hers
Ye Gods that gaveit! not in trickling gonts,
But from the very fountain whence 'tis drawn
Gushing in crystal jets and ruby spouts
From the authentic throne and shrine of dawn.
Drink it? Ay, so! and bathe therein — and ‘swim
Out to the wide world’s everlasting rim: