The World’s Tragedy

6 THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. LYSANDER Ah ! but Erotion beckons me yonder ! Beautiful curls on her bosom that wander Tempt me to folly. HYLAS Indeed, let us press The exquisite doubt in a certain caress ! LYSANDER Even as the feet of the maid on the grapes — Crush the wine of delight from ambiguous shapes ! OLYMPAS Shrill, shrill the never-cloying Thirst of maid’s enthusiasm ! Atthis with her Doris toying In the moonlight filled with laughter, Wrestling, kissing — follow after To the summit of the spasm ! CHIRON Ho, shall we sit idle gazing On such beauty spirit-crazing ? No, my ladies, I’m the song !