What mortal hath greeted
Thy shrine, but shall sing
Not earthly but tunes of thine own, in the vaults of
Aornos that ring?
Nor caring nor hearing
For hearts that be bowed,
Nor hating nor fearing
Man’s crying aloud,
Solemnly spearing _
The single, the crowd,
Thou sittest remote and alone, unprofane, with due silence
endowed ! ,
I call thee by Nature,
My mother and friend !
By every creature! |
By life and its end!
By love, the true teacher,
My chanting I send,
Invoking thy stature immense, the terrible form of a fiend!
I hear not a word,
' Though my music be rolled
As the song of a bird
Through fields of gold.
Hast thou not heard?
Have I not told
The magic that bridleth the Gods, the Gods in their
houses of old? , :
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