Orpheus

One soul with all spirits drawn nigher From invisible worlds to the lyre ;— They throng me and silently press The strings as I need them, and quicken my fingers and loosen my tongue! And thou, O supreme, O Apollo! I have lived in Thy lands for a year, Under skies, where the azure was hollow, The vault of black midnight was clear. Think ! I who have borne Thee, nor tire— May I not lift up on Thy lyre Most reverent fingers, and follow Thy path, take Thy reins, drive Thy chariot and horses of song without fear? Let the lightning be harnessed before me, The thunder be chained to my car, The sea roll asunder that bore me, The sky peal my clarion of war! | As a warrior’s my chariot shall gyre ! As a lord I will sharpen the lyre! The stars and the moon shall adore me, Not seeing mean me, but Thyself in the glory, the splendidest star. Around me the planets shall thunder, And earth lift her voice to the sea; The moon shall be smitten with wonder, The starlight look love unto me. 18