Collected Works (Vol. I)

THE TALE OF ARCHAIS 15 The queen clapped dainty hands, caressed _ of dew, And bade the love-lorn wanderer sing anew. ‘His muse came trembling, soon through starry air it flew. SONG OF CHARICLES. Within the forest gloom There lies a lover’s bower, A lotus-flower In bloom. O lotus-flower too white, Starred purple, round and sweet, Rich golden wheat Of night ! Pll kiss thee, lotus-flower, I'll pluck thee, yellow grain, Once and again This hour. There coos a dove to me Across the waves of space} O passionate face To see! I’ll woo thee, silver dove, Caress thee, lotus-flower; It is the hour Of Love. Cypris blushed deep; albeit for love did swoon At the song’s sweetness, while the cold dead moon Was still and pale; her nymphs are fain to sigh ‘With sudden longing filled, and like to die For vain delight, for still across the sea Stole sensuous breaths of Sapphic melody Ifrom the far strand of Lesbos; then there cume Into their eyes a new and awful flame Suddenly burning; now upon the beach The waves kept tune in unexpressive speech As the sad voice drew nigh ; the hero shrank Like one in awe ; the flame shot up and sank From the crimson-vestured altar; then the song Found in the wavering breeze from over sea a tongue. Here, on the crimson strand of blood-red waters, We, Cypris, not thy daughters, Clad in bright flame, filled with unholy wine, O Cypris, none of thine !-— Here, kissing in the dim red dusk, we linger, Striking with amorous finger Our lyres, whose fierce delights are all divine— O Cypris, none of thine! Quenchless, insatiable, the unholy fire Floods our red lips’ desire ; Our kisses sting, as barren as the brine— O Cypris, none of thine ! Our songs are awful, that the heavens shrink back Into their void of black. We worship at a sad insatiate shrine— © Cypris, none of thine! Scarcely the song did cease when out of heaven A little cloud grew near, all thunder-riven, Searred by the lightning, torn of ravaging wind 3 Upon it sate the herald, who should find The home of Aphrodite, and should bring A message from high Zeus. ‘The mighty king Had bidden him to speed. nigh And hushed the Jast faint echoed melody With silver waving. As the messenger Of mighty Zeus descending unto her We stood before her, and called loud her name, Wrapped in a cloud of amber-scented flame Befitting his high office ; but his word, Too terrible for mortals, passed unheard Itis wings drew