11 INVOCATION: TO THE DARK VENUS

Hearken and heed, Melænis! For all that the litany ceased When time had pilfered the victim, And flouted thy pale-lipped priest, And set astir in the temple Where burned the fires of thy shrine The owls and wolves of the desert— Yet hearken, (the issue is thine!) And let the heart of Atys, At last, at last, be mine! For I have followed, nor faltered— Adrift in a land of dreams Where laughter and pity and terror Commingle as confluent streams, I have seen and adored the Sidonian, Implacable, fair and divine,— And bending low, have implored thee To hearken, (the issue is thine!) And let the heart of Atys, At last, at last, be mine! There are taller lads than Atys, And many are wiser than he,— How should I heed them?—whose fate is Ever to serve and to be Ever the lover of Atys, And die that Atys may dine, Live if he need me—Then heed me, And speed me, (the moment is thine!) And let the heart of Atys, At last, at last, be mine! HIC TONAT: DEA ADEST Fair is the form unbeholden, And golden the glory of thee Whose voice is the voice of a vision, Whose face is the foam of the sea, And the fall of whose feet is the flutter Of breezes in birches and pine, When thou drawest near me, to hear me, And cheer me, (the moment is thine!) And let the heart of Atys, At last, at last, be mine! Long I besought thee, nor vainly, Daughter of Water and Air,— Charis! Idalia! Hortensis! Hast thou not heard the prayer, When the blood stood still with loving, And the blood in me leapt like wine, And I cried on thy name, Melænis?— That heard me, (the glory is thine!) And let the heart of Atys, At last, at last, be mine! Falsely they tell of thy dying, Thou that art older than death; And never the Hörselberg hid thee, Whatever the slanderer saith; For the stars are as heralds forerunning. When laughter and love combine At twilight, in thy light, Melænis— That heard me, (the glory is thine!) And let the heart of Atys, At last, at last, be mine!