I N D ! X

Foreword The Shep herd In the Forest ! irgin Lov e Delphi The Friend Lesbos The Ragged Cloak To the Ap hrodite Ashes o f Desire Phaon False Dawn The Isle The ! otaress At the Games The Ep icu re The Orgy Noctu rne The Seeker On the Agora Shadow Gold Circe The Falling zLeav es Lethe

F O R E ! O R D

S x One drowsy day of summer, yrin wandered in the cool depths of the forest . And there

un i Pan fo d her, singing and garlanded w th

flowers .

! m Brown limbed and supple ny ph, all the pine! crown ed satyrs and the babble

ow thy name . N even Pan himself desires thou art very fair I love thee .

But pale Syrinx only smiled in disdain for words too often heard .

’ The god s quick eyes darkened . He smiled . His ready hand leapt out The frail virgin darted away like a shadow among the trees and over the fields

9 li O i Her soft ps pen to her striv ng breath , l her eyes appea ing , the slips over the

flowered bank of a clear stream hi waters ripple about her t ghs .

ui ! O , help me q ckly

Pan reaches out His arms enfold a thicket of sighing reeds .

c ulls Later, he the swaying reeds to cut them in uneven lengths and bind them side by side .

i his Then , plac ng them to lips, he sighs

li The clear notes g de out across the fields . Sometimes they are very sad and men who hear them weep ! sometimes they are loud and clear and men who hear them laugh and sing ! sometimes they shrill and men draw their hi cloaks about them, dreaming of singular t ngs . T H E S H E P H E R D

When it is night , before the moon has risen and the skies are spattered thick with stars !

i all when , in the d stance, things blend into one e and the sleeping earth touches the arch d sky, I b t stand before my tiny u and pray .

i i Below me on the h llside, their coats glow ng softly in the starlight , lie my sheep . And from the trees, the brooks , the grasses , the incessant chorus of midsummer nights trills through the

an .

Yet I know not to what or to whom I pray . No t to the sun or moon for they are nowhere to be seen ! not to the gods for there is no temple

I I S Y R I N X

nor even a statue here ! not to the stars for there are too many and some, neglected, would be

! ealous .

Perhaps it is to the sighing wind I pray ! perhaps to the shadows and the rollin g hills ! perhaps to the night itself which seems so peaceful , all embracing , mysteriously divine . I N T H E F O R E S T

D n ow the shadowed forest glade, the nymph

flashes like a silver arrow from a bow . Her golden hair streams out like a flying veil ! her w eyes are bright ith terror ! her crimson, sobbing lips are salt with tears .

hi n Be nd her, a dark shadow darti g nimbly

his over the silent earth , a satyr speeds , cheeks i hi all flushed w th red, his clutc ng hands stretched out .

! Ho , ho , ho chuckles an old man , leaning

ff. ! ! upon a sta Ho , ho , ho Why dost thou run Thou wilt be caught ! Thou wilt be caught !

i High overhead in the sunl ght , a bird sings gloriously to the open sky . On the forest path ,

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a squirrel rushes madly ov er the grass and scampers up a mossy trunk .

— — A gasp quick steps upon the earth a cry .

! in Ho, ho , ho chuckles an old man , lean g

ff . ! upon a sta Ho , ho , ho Why didst thou run! Why didst thou run ! ! I R ! I N L O ! E

I sit before my window drawing the gleaming

ff— Ye t threads from the dista and I wait . him even when I see I am silent , clasping my longing hands over my knees to still their trembling .

Tossing the boyish curls away from his brow,

! bright eyed and lovely, how can I hope that he ! should think of me How dare I hope that he ,

0 0 ! so beautiful , should st p to love

His voice thrills in my heart ! his accidental touch flashes like fire through my veins . And i then my ve ling lashes droop , I bite my lips

I S S Y R I N X

i and lay sweet, cooling flowers aga nst my cheeks .

When he looks at me and smiles, I fear t i Ye some day, perhaps , he w ll hold me in his — arms and then then I will only love him and be very happy. D E L P H I

On the wide green slopes of Parnassus there is a marble temple, a very holy temple in the eyes of men , where a god speaks in a mysterious way .

i Purified by the ritual ablut ons, clad in spotless white and crowned with laurel , a young priestess, very pale and very beautiful , approaches the dread chasm which opens upon the un derworld .

hi Her flesh quivers at the approac ng ecstasy,

afflatio n her breast rises and falls in the divine , her eyes darken with prophecy . How frail she is to be the mouthpiece of a god !

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x But at length her rela , her head falls forward and, very slowly, she begins to speak .

— But I I lov e the simple gods of the woods and fields ! they are nearer, they speak more i gently, and their vo ce is the song of birds and i the murmurings of the n ght .

S Y R I N X

Thou hast but gone on a long !ourney, hast

! in thou not And life ebbs quickly, hand hand with death But thou wilt return .

Before I know the dream is true, surely thou wilt return L E S B O S

hi ! ! pon the bosom of t s sun kissed sea , beneath fair skies, caressed by gentle southern

si hin s winds perfumed like enamored g g , lies the

Isle of Dreams .

f i Its marble cli fs, bright w th anemone, fra grant with myrtle, rest like glorious temples on the blue waters . On the flowered grass among the olive groves or shadowed by the pines where lapping waves caress the sandy i shore , virgins and youths, inspired w th beauty,

in . walk singing , hand hand

In the bright cities, laughter fills the air, in l i m mingl g with pu s ng usic and fresh voices .

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i fila From the altars of the sanctuaries, th n i ff ments of ncense waver out, di using through the sunlight .

There Sappho to sing of lov e . There

Laric h u s ! i l young , white l mbed and beautifu , pours from the glitterin g wine cups crimson l ibations to the gods . And over all , the breath of desire floats like a perfumed cloud . T H E R A G G E D C L O A K

R 0 i i elease my arm, nsolent, and g ve me back that rose thou hast dared to steal !

I love thee .

— Thou lov estP beggar ! Then look not at me whose love is worth a mina at the least . hl ki ! Away, tattered c amys , seek thy nd

I love thee .

! Ho , friends Who wants a for a — lover! Here is one ready almost anxious . Look at his faded cloak ! Behold this rent

23 S Y R I N X through I thrust my hand ! Ah ! Off with ! rags, deceiver How wicked of thee to me so ! What ! What sayest thou!

I scorn thee . T O T H E A P H R O D I T E

Thou art the source of all the loves ! truly t thou art very fair . Ye who could say I am not fairer still!

Thy rounded limbs are cold like snow while mi di i i ne are yiel ng and warm, glow ng w th ’ quivering life at a lover s touch . Thy lips

hi u hi w ch seem so beautif l are w te and hard , i while m ne are like red poppies , tremulous and

o x sweet . N perfumed breath e hales from thee , nor canst thou gasp thine ecstasy into a silenced ear .

Yet I adore thee , for thou art immortal and divine . In the twilight of the sanctuary, thy pure and flawless limbs will glow through the

2 5 S Y R I N X

eddying incense after my own, so beautiful now, have crumbled into dust . Men will look up to thee long after remembrance of me has w passed away, and still thou ilt inflame their quickening desire when my frail shade is lost among the dead .

S Y R I N X

hurt because I call them dearly bought . — l art a man thou cou dst not understand . couldst thou know I love thee more for than for all other things P H A O N

i Must I woo thee, flower of Lesb an youth,

! i fair skinned and supple, nsensible to love, disdainful as a god! Must Sappho sing to thee and play the man , bringing her sweetest lyrics to thy scornful lov eliness!

Among these perfumed gardens where the glowing rose and hyacinth breathe out their k fragrant souls, among the tin ling fountains li i and the o ve groves, canst thou not find, with n i thine heart, one spark of glow ng love which I c an sigh into a flame!

! ic hi Alas Thy brow is y cold, t ne hand all i unresponsive to my touch . Th ne eyes look ’ in . far away, pure content of Aphrodite s gift

29 S Y R I N X

l ! Why wi t thou have it so Perhaps , in days S ’ to come, when appho s cithern sleeps and S appho wanders in the twilight land , men will look back to thee and curse thy beauty that it stilled her song Ah ! Phaon ! F A L S E D A ! N

0 S . friend, I am not he thou seekest My hair is warm and golden, mine eyes are blue ! — k like hers , my lips are sweet thou nowest .

But in thine ears my voice echoes like a voice heard long ago which calls thee still across the vast solitudes . The touch of my hand is but the shadow of some past caress which distant memory recalls to thee .

Because I too have loved , I know . And I have seen her image weaving like a phantom hi through the desire of t ne eyes .

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0 i Because I too have loved , fr end, search on ! I am not She thou seekest . T H E I S L E

How the sea glitters in the sunlight ! Far out over the flashing waters , seest thou the white sail of that speeding boat which almost seems to fly above the ripples!

hi Here on t s pebbled beach, caressed by the

S r clear blue waters, where preading reaches f om the lapping waves glide up like the pleading

o v hands of , the g ds are ery near .

mi ! They say, to this lovely island, ghty eus , hi concealed by the semblance of a w te bull,

his ! r ! bore on back u opa, the peerless irgin ,

s the source of hi desire . S Y R I N X

It may be at this very spot they came up from the waters . Perhaps among the grassy

hr dells t ough which we lately wandered , they also loved . Perhaps in this grotto by the shore they slept , wearied with love, the virgin mur muring through some happy dream, her fair

! head pillowed on a god like breast .

S Y R I N X

dr Through the long days when I am alone , I eam of sunlit meadows and crystal streams and , above the noises of the city , the call of shep

’ herds pipes whispers in my ears

i Then I close my door and , weep ng , clothe myself in a simple linen tunic lovers never see and which is marked with green and red . A T T H E G A ! E S

L si o s ! run 0 Well run, y pp Well , gleaming arrow ! herself is not one half so fleet !

!By ! eus ! nor half so marv elously agile that I swear ! See how the gliding muscles of i his th ghs ripple beneath the skin . Behold the i slender wa st, the broad, smooth bosom stirred

nfli by the breath of co ct .)

Ah ! The laurel ! The laurel to the guide of ! ! winds Ho , Nisos , why limpest thou ! Ho, ho Thou wert outrun a thousand times , thou feigner of accidents !

37 S Y R I N X

No i ! wonder that, when he shows h mself on the Agora , even the cheeks of the old men grow pale ! no wonder the philosophers cease their windy nothings and gaz e abashed ! But they are all fools Listen , I will tell thee a great secret It is I he loves ! It is I he loves ! Ah ! By ! eus ! he is coming this way !) T H E E P I C ! R E

! o , thou of the golden hair, and bathe thy self in perfumed waters ! rub thy body with wine and fragrant oils so thy suppled skin may glow and glide , softer than silk beneath my touch .

Loose thou thine hair above the smoking wi incense that, being pregnant th the divine fragrance , it may delight me as it falls about my face, over my lips .

hi Then lay upon thy slender nudity t s tunic, i these silken scarves and , over all , th s purple vestment broidered with fine gold .

3 9 S Y R I N X

i — When thou hast done these th ngs return .

miin i fin d If thou art s l g, warm des re ! if I thee fair ! perhaps thou wilt be loved . T H E O R G Y

i Plunge thy wreath into the w ne ,

No w . as I do . drink from the blossoms It is ! delicious Ho , there My friend is ! thirsty . I am sure he is thirsty . ive him the ! retan wine ! he likes it because it is red

O lassitude ! Thy lips are a flower at my throat

hi is dainter T s roasted fowl , I swear, than

i o a beaut ful woman . N w I maintain that pleasures such as this

Let her alone, thou ape ! she is a Lesbian What is it to thee! Who

41 S Y R I N X threw that cup! 0 shame ! It was a rare ! truscan glaz e ! How strangely the fragments gleam

i i ! i lik O lovely, glow ng l mbs 0 sk n e petals of the rose ! More maddening than all wines the fair breath sobbing past thy crimsoned lips

! ! ! . S ! ods ods I weep ee, my sleeve is all wet with tears ! I can no more I can drink

—0 D ! ionysos , strike the profaner dead

S Y R I N X

hair from its glittering mesh, lets it float like a deep shadow into the night The warm wind of the south caresses it with a thou sand furtive hands and , stealing between the wavering strands , sweeps on , laden with a

r singular pe fume .

Then love starts from its troubled slu mber and in the dim temples of Astarte the flowers upon the altars bloom afresh . T H E S E E K E R

They asked What seekest thou! And the old man answered ! I seek for

Truth .

—I seek for Truth all other desires are long since dead . For many years , in far lands , before strange gods, my fruitless quest has drawn me on . But in the sanctuaries all is vanity, all is lust for temporal power, all is profaned by the impious hand of man .

Many have asked ! What seekest thou! And at my answer some have laughed while others have eagerly revealed strange phantoms

hi — s tisfi e which they wors ped a d . But in the

45 S Y R I N X

sanctuaries all is vanity, all is lust for temporal power, all is profaned by impious hand of man .

him Those gathered around as he spoke , i laughed also . But one, stand ng alone, said gently

0 friend who seekest vainly, not in shadowy temples but among the fields, beneath out

S i pread ng trees , upon the bosom of the waters,

ul lies the occ t heart of thy desire . For Truth,

x . S alone, does not e ist eek Beauty if thou desirest peace . O N T H E A G O R A

Seest thou that young man in the white linen tunic a yellow sash! Look at him well .

Who is he!

He is a poet . His verses are very strange . i i In them one can hear the s ghing of the w nd, the murmur of waters, the whisperings of the trees They are very strange

But that is not all . Some which I have heard are stranger still They say he has seen the . They say he has slept in the forests among the satyrs ! that Pan himself

47 S Y R I N X once listened from a leafy bower while he sang And when he plays the no one him c an resist .

hi He is looking t s way . How piercing his eyes ! He is very beau tiful. Let us go speak

I dare not . I dare not . i ni H gh on the terrace, the hot ght close about me , the starry sky pressing down over my eyes , I lie stretched out upon a couch awaiting i forgetfulness wh ch never comes . ! rouched on the floor at my feet, a slave girl dreams gently,

n one slender arm throw out across the draperies , a cheek pillowed on a hollowed shoulder .

n Instead of the sleep for which I long in vai , innumerable visions flit across my memory gleaming visions of beauty with eyes that gaz e at me and hands that beckon I

ur c se them, shadows of ! oys which never were and, one by one, they fade away .

One vision only never fades as I toss sleepless upon my couch—one vision with golden hair

49 S Y R I N X where once my hands strayed undenied ! l alas With soft , warm ips where once I drank of immortality— one vision with averted head and white limbs fragrant with another love than mine

I stir uneasily and groan . The slave girl i awakes with a wh mpering sigh and, raising her head , looks at me with drowsy , questioning eyes .

S Y R I N X

i From far away, echoing over the flower ng

fields , gliding among the trees , hearest thou those limpid notes clear as the love ! song of a

! u bird Hearest thou those p re, sweet notes

n i i blendi g w th earth and sky, voic ng the subtle spirit of the woods and fields!

til li It is the god be s l and sten . C I R C E

i Bathed in the flooding moonl ght, thy golden palac e gleams amidst the whispering pines and cypress trees . From the wide open doors, the road winds like a pale ribbon across the fields to the dark line of the shore .

hi i Wit n thy palace, lamps are burn ng, harps and citherns whisper and sigh of love ! and the i laughter of thy guests, the clash ng of cups di and shes, echo among the trees .

— But thou thou standest alone, high on the h ik i terrace . The moonlight covers t ee l e a m sty v hi i ivi eil through w ch thy ! ewels flash l ke l ng eyes .

l l How beautiful , how darkly, dead y beautifu

u ! i un ai tho art How black th ne unbo d h r, how

53 S Y R I N X deep eyes ! How like a spirit of the night as thou standest, with arms outstretched, mur muring strange words above the smoking incense hi w le the hoarse croakings of the frogs, the fl ik shrieks of itting bats , resound l e sweetest music in thine ears ! T H E F A L L I N G L E A ! E S

When the sun sets all too soon beyond the mountains and the western skies are flooded with pallid crimson !

When the trees stand naked and black against the afterglow and the evening star shines high above the gathering mists of twilight

When the earth is chilled by sweeping winds when the water of the pools lies dead and silent and the last leaves drop, one by one , from the trees

x The naiads forsake the springs , the syrin of the satyrs is heard no more and the dryads , 55 S Y R I N X

deep in the hearts of the trees, and

in i wrap themselves the shelter of the r long ,

— And I I stand alone in the vast solitude and tremble . L E T H E

Through the yellow twilight of the under world , two shadows glided over the asphodel in bloom . At the verge of a leaden stream , they paused .

d rinkest Here thou , said One, and all remembrance will be washed from thee . It is the Law . There is no other way, no other path i from l fe to life .

! r ! I cannot Oh, I cannot d ink Why must I lose that which is greater than all other things! My heart is filled with memories S Y R I N X

Be brave . In a moment thou wilt not k even now thou hast forgotten .

Along the shore , the lotos blooms floated like pale flames ! and softly the dark water glided

its . onward , hiding the secrets in breast