1910 · CLOSE READING
The World’s Tragedy
The World’s Tragedy (1910), PDF p. 95
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42
THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY.
The god hath on harsh face.
Take me home now !
ALEXANDER to the Ist satyr
What next ?
How shall a babe scarce- sexed
Avail when the dread offering
Of the world’s mightiest king
Is not received ?
IST SATYR
Impale
You trembling fawn too frail
Upon that ivory ruby rod
That juts from the azure throne of God !
Then — as the scream chills the blue air,
Draw the curved steel along
The snow-pure throat ! Hold the bright hair
Firm in one swarthy grip ;
And ere the blood leap strong
Suck with insensate lip
That wine of Pan ! Ah, drink !
Great king — as if the brink
Of Ganymede’s own cup flowed over,
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