Melpomene shone in the pyre
Of terrors that burned in her lyre;
But all of their passion divine
I lost in the life and the stress of the world ere ever the
soul of me wist.
But, Orpheus, thy splendider light
Was the veil of thyself the more splendid.
Thou leapedst as a fountain in flight,
As a bird in the rainbow descended !
From the sweet single womb risen higher
Did Calliope string thee her lyre,
Thy mother: and veiled her in night :-—
For thyself to Herself art a veil till the veils of the Heaven
be rended and ended.
Now, single myself as thy soul,
I pray to Apollo indeed!
Fling forth to the starriest goal
My spirit, invoking his rede ;
Care nought for his mercy or ire ;
Reach impious hands to his lyre.
Determined to die or control _
Those strings the immortal at last, though the strings of
this heart of me bleed.
Come life, or come death ; come disdain
Or honour from mutable men,
I cry in this passionate pain—
My blood be poured out in the pen!
16 .