1905 · CLOSE READING
Collected Works (Vol. I)
Collected Works (Vol. I) (1905), PDF p. 32
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THE TALE OF ARCHAIS
25
CHARICLES.
Join our chorus, tread the turf
‘Yo the beating of the surf.
Dance together, ere we part,
And Selene’s dart
Give the signal for your slumber and the
rapture of our heart.
Sentt-Chorus of Mer.
Exalted with immeasurable gladness ;
Bonds touched with tears and melted like
the snow :—
Wake the song loudly; loose the leash of
madness,
Beat the loud drum, and bid the trumpet
blow !
Semt-Chorus of Women.
Let the lute thrill divinely low,
Let the harp strike a tender note of sad-
ness5
Louder and louder, till the full song flow,
One earth-dissolving stream of utter glad-
ness !
CHORUS.
Free! ye are free!
hear us !
Smile, Artemis, thy virgin leaves thy fold !
Star of the morning, fling thy blussom near
us !
Phoibos, re-kindle us with molten gold !
Starbeams and woven tresses of the ocean,
Vlowers of the rolling mountains and the
lea,
Trees, and innumerable flocks and herds,
Wild cattle and bright birds,
Tremble above the sea
With song more noble, the divinest potion
Of poet’s wonder and bard’s melody.
Delight, thou Moon, to
ARCHAIS,
Cold is the kiss of the stars to the sea,
The kiss of the earth to the orient grey
That heralds the day ;
Warmer the kiss of a love that is free
As the wind of the sea,
Quick and resurgent and splendid.
CIARICLES,
Night her bright bow-string has bended ;
last flies her arrow unsparing
Through the beech-leaves,
“lsther it cleaves
Rapid and daring.
Ah! how it strikes as with silver! how the
sun’s laughter is ended !
ARCHAIS.
Llow the moon’s arms are extended !
Semi-Chorus of Men.
Rejoicing, inarticulate with pleasure,
Joy streams a comet in the strong con-
trol
Of the sun’s love; weave, weave the eager
measure,
Fill the sea’s brim from vleasure’s foaming
bowl]!
Semt-Chorus of Women.
Weave, weave the dance; the stars are not
your goal.
Freed slaves of Fortune, love’s your only
treasure,
While the gold plancts toward the sunlight
roll,
Weave, weave the dance!
the eager measure !
Weave, weave
CIARICLES.,
Of your revels I’ll be king,
ARCHAIS.
I the queen of your array.
Foot it nimbly in the ring,
CHARICLES.
Strewn with violet and may.
9
ARCHAIS.
Apple-blossom pile on high,
Till the bridal bed is duly
Panoplied with bloonis that sigh.
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