Collected Works (Vol. I)

22 THE TALE Or ARCITATIS One swift sharp beam of glory, leapt aside And raade as if to flee, but vainly plied fler tender feet amid the tangled flowers. For Zeus, enraptured, put forth all his powers, And caught her panting, timid, tremulous, And he with open lips voluptuous Closed her sweet mouth with kisses, and so pressed Her sobbing bosom with a manlicr breast That she was silent; next, with sudden force, Implacable, unshamed, without remorse, Would urge his further suit ; but so she strove That even the power of Zeus, made weak for love, Found its Jast limit, and, releasing her, Prayed for her grace, a raptured worshipper, Where but a moment earlier had he striven A sacrilegious robber. And all heaven Seemed open to his eyes as she looked down Into their love, half smiling, with a frown Coquetting with her forehead. Then a change, Angry and wonderful, began to range Over her cheeks ; she bitterly began : ‘“*T will not yield to thee—a mortal man Alone shall know my love. No God shall come From his high place and far immortal home To bend my will by force. Freeborn, I live In freedom, and the love that maidens give To men I give to one, but thou, most high, (For woman’s wits through your deceptions Spy And know ye for Olympians) shalt know A maiden’s heart no lover may win so. Farewell, and find a fairer maid to love! Farewell!” But he: ‘‘ Through all the silent grove I sought thee sighing—for thy love would I Consent to be a man, consent to die, Put off my godhead.” ‘‘ If thou sayest sooth, And thy fair words bedew the flowers of truth Nor wander in the mazy groves of lying, I will be thine—speak not to me of dying Or abdication, sith I deem so far To tempt thee were unwise—we mortals are Chary to ask too much---didst thou refuse Kither my honour or thy love to lose Were a hard portion, for in sooth I love.’ ‘Ah happy hour, sweet moment! Fairest vrove Of all fair Ida, thou hast sealed my bliss Then with one long intense unpitying kiss Pressed on her bosom, he arose and swore By heaven and earth and all the seas that roar And stars that sing, by rivers and fresh flood, By his own essence, by his body and blood, To lay his godhead down, till night drew nigh, To be a mortal Ul the vesper cry Of dying breezes. So the morning past And found them linked inexorably fast Each in the other’s arms, Their lips are wed To drink head Of lovers’ breath. Now Zeus half rises up, Sips once again from that moon-curvéd cup, And, in his passion gazing on the flower, Darker and riper for Love’s perfect hour, His clear voice through the silent atmosphere Burst rich and musical upon her ear. +? the breezes from the fountain- SONG OF ZEUS. O rosy star Within thy sky of ebony shot through With hints of blue More golden and more far Than earthly stars and flowers That beam lasciviously through night’s em- purpled hours ! O: well of fire ! O fountain of delicious spurting flame Grown sad with shame, Whose imminent desire Drinks in the dew of earth, Gives its own limpid streams to man’s deathly dearth. quench