Ii

The old enigmas of the deathless dawns, And riddles of the all immortal eves,-- That still o'er Delphic lawns Speak as the gods spoke through oracular leaves-- I read with new-born eyes, Remembering how, a slave, They buried me, a living sacrifice, Once in a dead king's grave.

Or, crowned with hyacinth and helichrys, How, towards the altar in the marble gloom,-- Hearing the magadis Dirge through the pale amaracine perfume,-- 'Mid chanting priests I trod, With never a sigh or pause, To give my life to pacify a god, And save my country's cause.

Again: Cyrenian roses on wild hair, And oil and purple smeared on breasts and cheeks, How, with mad torches there,-- Reddening the cedars of Cithæron's peaks,-- With gesture and fierce glance, Lascivious Mænad bands Once drew and slew me in the Pyrrhic dance With Bacchanalian hands.