AMBERGRIS 
137 
 
 
 
FROM ORPHEUS 
 
The Star-Goddess sings of Orpheus dead 
 
Enough.  It is ended, the story 
Of magical æons of song ; 
The sun is gone down in his glory 
To the Houses of Hate and of Wrong. 
Would ye see if he rise ? 
In Hesperian skies 
Ye may look for his rising for long. 
 
The magical æon beginneth 
Of song in the heart of desire, 
That smiteth and striveth and sinneth, 
But burns up the soul of the lyre :— 
There is pain in the note :— 
In the sorcerer’s throat 
Is a sword, and his brain is afire ! 
 
Long after (to men :  but a moment 
To me in my mansion of rest) 
Is a sundawn to blaze what the glow meant 
Seen long after death in the west ; 
A magical æon ! 
Nor love-song nor pæan, 
But a flame with a silvery crest. 
 
There shall rise a sweet song of the soul 
Far deeper than love or distress ; 
Beyond mortals and gods shall it roll ; 
It shall find me, and crave, and caress. 
Ah !  me it shall capture 
In torrents of rapture ; 
It shall flood me, and fill, and possess.