Collected Works (Vol. II)

ACTUS QUARTUS 109 ORPHEWUS. The hearts of Greeks with sharper flames Burn than with one fire of all fire, We have the Races and the Games, The song, the chisel, and the lyre ; We have the altar, we the shrine, . And ours the joy of love and wine. Why take one pleasure, put aside The myriad bliss of life diverse? Unchanging joy will soon divide Into the likeness of a curse. Have we no maidens, slender, strong, Daughters of tender-throated song? I swear by Aphrodite’s eyes Our Grecian maids are fairer far ! What love as sweet as theirs is lies In Sun or planet, moon or star? What nymphs as sweet as ours are dwell By foreign grove and alien well? With every watchman’s cheery cry, ‘‘Land ho!” through all the journeying years Our ever-hoping hearts reply, ‘A land of bliss at last appears.” But what land laps a foreign foam So sweet as is the hero's home? At every port the novel sights Charm for an hour—delusive bliss. On every shore the false delights Of maidens ply the barbarous kiss. But where did hero think to stay Lulled in their love beyond a day? No shoreland whistles to the wind So musically as Thrace: no town So gladdens the toil-weary mind As brave Athenae: no renown Stands so divine in war and peace As the illustrious name of Greece. This island of the subtle song Shall vanish as the shaken spray Tossed by the billow far and strong On marble coasts: we will not stay ! Dreams lure not those who ply the sail Before, the home! behind, the gale! JASON. Ah ! Iam torn, I am torn! MEDEA, God’s poet, hail ! Help us, Apollo! Light of Sun, awake ! This is the desperate hour. JASON. I have no strength. MEDEA. Beware the third, the awful ecstasy ! ORPHEUS. A higher spell controls a lower song. Listen, they sing! JASON. Joy! Joy! they sing, they sing! LEUCOSIA. O lover, I am lonely here! O lover, I am weeping ! Each pearl of ocean is a tear Let fall while love was sleeping. A tear is made of fire and dew And saddened with a smile; The sun’s laugh in the curving blue Lasts but a little while. The night-winds kiss the deep: the stars Shed laughter from above; But night must pass dawn’s prison bars : Night hath not tasted love.