THE TALE OF ARCHAIS 
71 
O lamp of love ! 
The hissing spray shall jet thee with desire 
And foaming fire, 
And fire from thee shall move 
Her spirit to devour, 
And fuse and mingle us in one transcendent hour. 
 
Godhead is less 
Than mortal love, the garland of the spheres, 
Than those sweet tears 
That yield no bitterness 
To the luxurious cries 
That love shrills out in death, that murmur when 
love dies. 
 
Love dies in vain. 
For breezes hasten from the summer south 
To touch his mouth 
And bid him rise again, 
Till, ere the dawn-star’s breath, 
Love kisses into sleep, Sleep swoons away to 
Death. 
 
So Zeus in her sweet arms slept daintily 
Till the sun crept into the midmost sky, 
And his own curse came back to sleep with him.