I4 
THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. 
 
EROTION 
 
Now the drowsy Lord unloose 
All his store of poppy-juice ! 
To the murmurous bell-clear fret 
Of the tremulous rivulet 
Let us lisp the lullaby 
Of Arcady — in Arcady ! 
 
Me ye know, the dazzling dream 
Of the swimmer in the stream. 
Boy to girl and maid to man, 
Mine are all joys of Pan. 
Chrysis seeks the darling dove, 
Gets the eagle to her love. 
Hylas, trembling towards the pine, 
Finds the soft voluptuous vine. 
 
RHODOPE 
 
Curl ye close !  Curl ye close ! 
Fold your petals like the rose ! 
All the satyr’s lust of limb ; 
All the delicate and slim 
Slenderness of laughing faun 
Twine like serpents on the lawn ;