Orpheus

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 .