Orpheus, seated upon Olympus, tunes his lyre.
ORPHEUS
FIRST word of my song,
First tune of my lyre,
Muse, loved of me long,
Be near and inspire!
Bright heart! Mother strong!
Sweet sense of desire!
Be near as I lift the first notes impassioned of fervour
and fire!
Not ever before
Since Nature began
Hath one cloven her core,
Found the soul of her span ;
No son that she bore
Her spirit might scan ;
But I, being born beyond Nature, have known her and yet
am a man.
Ye fieriest flowers,
Life-stream of the world,
In passionate bowers
Of mystery curled,
ct 33