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… tremulous chorus. Oh, it is vague and vacillatin; Aucta. Love, ‘Young love of maidens, is the soul thereof. And in the midst, behold, O man! The image of great Pan. at
…hter of foot Than a syiph or a fairy, Sinuous, wary, T passed from the airy Lawns, where the flute Of the winds made tremulous music for man. 13
Aurcta. The secret’s in a kiss. Here are no kisses. Here great Artemis Rules; only in the woodland may a man Hide his eyes from her, pledge himself to Pan. Come! through the tangled arches Of cypresses and larches, Stoop; under Artemis we walked upright; But this is Pan’s home, and the House of Night. (They enter the wood. Crassus. So when I stoop, my cheek comes close to yours. Give mea kiss. Autcta. The poisonous apple lures ‘Thus the boy’s mouth. Beware! Crassus. O you ate fairl Fairer than ever! In this tangle of trees, ‘Your hot breath wra…
Crassus. Pan spoke. Autcra. Pan never speaks till man is dumb, And only then if he be like a child Silently curled within its mother's womb, Or feeding at her breast. There is a wild Way also—when his dumbness is of death, And there’s a first and second death. Remember To die so that no god's or ange!’s breath May quicken into life the wasted ember! Crassus. lam dead now. Auta. But I must raise you up. The night grows darker; all Pan's light is gone, And you and I are pledged to sup Upon a secret. Crassus. All your secret shone. [She laughs aga…
Crassus. ‘What will you then? Aurcta. No gift from men. Of my own free will I give you wit, (O man so sorely in need of it!) And happiness; and the flame that hath dwindled On this dull hearth shall be rekindled. But this you must swear: To will, and to dare, To seck the spirit and slay the sense; And for this hour To give me power To lead you in silent obedience, ‘Though I bade you fall on your sword. . . . Crassus. Enough! I give my life as I gave my love. Aucu. 1! love you have not understood. ‘You have not guessed its secret food. ‘You have…
…throb and the thrust!) In death, in the dust, The silence, the stillness, of satiate lust, The solemn pause ‘When the veil withdraws And man looks on his god, on the Causeless Cause. Still, stilt, Under the hill! The hunter is dead—this is the kill! ge