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 Pan 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 dryads 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 nymph slips over the flowered bank of a clear stream hi waters ripple about her t ghs . ui ! O naiads, 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 , 1 3 S Y R I N X 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 ! I 7 S Y R I N X 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 . 2 1 S Y R I N X 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 .