ORPHEUS.

Unto the realm of Pluto many roads Lead with dark winding from the bright abodes Of men, and when life’s last detaining thread Is cut by Iris, and the body, dead, With Charon’s coin in palm, rests in the tomb Or on the pyre, the dæmon of its doom After much pitiful forbearance tears The soul from its environment of cares With promise sweet of love’s awaiting kiss, Of old friends greeting, and much holy bliss On shores Elysian, where all ways are peace, And all existence virtue without cease; But ere the fields of Asphodel are won Dire labours manifold must first be done By soul and dæmon. All the paths descend To four great streams, whose turgid waters blend With suffering souls: here flows sad Acheron On whose black banks impatient spirits run And call to that grim boatman, ferrying o’er His last embarker to the nether shore In silence, bent with duty’s measured pull, Certain of all to follow; there, too, full Of awful lamentations from lost souls Cocytus its fierce waves of sorrow rolls Wherein dwells one whose face is only seen— Above the surface, human and serene, Below, her horrid serpent-form encoils And stings the hapless spirits in her toils With scorpion venom; Phlegethon rolls by Flaming with waves that hiss, and mount on high To lick with burning tongue each crusted shore Where not the vilest weed dare clamber o’er, There swim huge salamanders, whose desire Grows with the maddening tumult of the fire; And lastly, Styx, that pool of pitchy slime Whereby the great gods swear their vows sublime, In whose black channel hatred finds a home, And breeds with fury many a plague-born gnome Loathsome to gods and men. These rivers run Far to the West, beyond the sinking sun, Beyond old Ocean’s limits, past the range Of starry travel or where comets strange Rush in hot madness; there too Lethe flows Where souls must drink to gain the sweet repose Of all-forgetfulness, before the Fates Lose power to plague them, or their bygone states Haunt them like ghosts. These waters safely crossed, The plains beneath thick filled with spirits lost, Avernus meets the view, vast, horrid lake At Hades’ entrance; who its waters take, Sicken and die in torture that must rend With endless tooth, for such death has no end. Beyond Avernus stands the gate of Hell, With Cerberus to guard its portals well. Unto that gate came Orpheus with his lute Whose most melodious music had made mute The wailing souls on Acheron’s sad shore, And charmed old Charon, as he ferried o’er The son of great Apollo in his quest For her whom of all women he loved best, And as he came fierce Cerberus stood still Fixed by the magic of the player’s skill: On Orpheus went and played, for he knew well The wondrous potency of this great spell Would by a pause be broken, and his fate Never to pass alive the solemn gate; He roused the Harpies, those most fearful things With heads and breasts of women and the wings Of birds, and talons of the lion fierce, Whose breath is poison and whose venoms pierce Deep in man’s soul—the hags were planning then Foul plots for planting grief in hearts of men; He stayed stern Nemesis, now poised for flight As she in darkness left her mother Night; The three great judges of the soul now paused In giving sentence, for the music caused Minos and Æacus and Rhadamanthus think What change the gods had wrought, that at the brink Of Tartarus such heavenly sounds should rise To make the heart upleap and to the eyes Communicate swift tears of sudden joy— Had Jupiter grown mad to let this boy, This gold-haired stripling with the silver strings Enter dark Hades with such sound that brings Pity to their stern breasts? The Gorgons stare In vain at Orpheus through their viper-hair, He sings and heeds them not, and he alone Looks at them, eye for eye, and not to stone Is turned; the Lemures, that spectral swarm, That fill the space of Hades without form, Halt in their wanderings to hear the notes That fall as from a thousand song-birds’ throats. Pale Death sits sharpening her dart and hears With sad dismay the sound that soothes her ears, Her arm grows powerless—the black dart falls With echoing clang on Hades’ marbled halls; The triple sisters who turn mad the mind With envy, rage, and hatred, and make blind The heart with judgment false, hear the high strains, And knowledge of lost joy o’erwhelms their brains; Triptolemus stands still with bated breath While on his way to that great hall of death Where his stern fellow judges sit aghast Still pondering on Orpheus. Now he passed Poor Marsyas, whose love of music great Lured him to challenge for his after-fate The laurel-crowned Apollo and his lyre, Wherefore he stayed in the eternal fire; But Orpheus, passing, played so wondrous well That all the flames about him flickered, fell, And left the wretch in peace to hear once more The power of sound he staked his spirit for. Black Discord in her den of hideous noise Grew sudden silent, and her breast with joys Filled, as the gentle tremblings of the lute Found subtle ways to reach her. Resolute Strode Orpheus on his path, and to the right Stood Sisyphus, the stone just at the height Of the great mountain, ready to roll again Into the vale beneath, but that sweet strain Held it in place so long as it could reach The spot it rested on—and to beseech Eternal playing, Sisyphus held high Tired arms to Jove as Orpheus passed him by; There to the left Ixion ceased to feel The endless revolutions of the wheel Over the flaming river, and the fangs Of serpents leave him as he, listless, hangs Listening to such sweet music. Now the lake Whose tempting waters Tantalus forsake When his parched lips and maddened hands would take Of their cool touch relief, hears the new sound And Tantalus with surfeit is near drowned For this brief respite, and with hungry clutch Plucks tender fruits before he could not touch, Eating in joyous wonder that Hell’s God Gave him such feasting for a period. Now Orpheus passed the black, oblivious lair Of Sleep, a cave devoid of light or air, Paved with strange shapes and horrid phantasies Inanimate and senseless, and they rise, As through the cave’s dark mouth the music sweet Fills to the inmost parts that foul retreat, Crying for air to breathe and light to see The wondrous worker of such harmony. Pluto’s high throne within the distance looms, Built of the gold and marble of men’s tombs Upon a base of bones, and by its side Stood the pale throne of his beloved bride, Persephone.—Behind her shadowy seat Shone one blue star and at its cloud-hid feet Glared the red oval of the waning moon That tells sage shepherds of a storm in June When flocks grow restless.—When the player came Nearer to that great place a sudden flame Shot from the silent air, and blazed as fierce As though a thousand lightning strokes would pierce In one vast sheet of overwhelming fire The daring mortal who would thus aspire To reach great Plato’s love-shrine;—in the blaze Millions of serpents writhe, but Orpheus plays Heedless of all, nor dares to cease lest he Lose the safe conduct of his minstrelsy. Unharmed he passes through the floods of flame That would arrest his progress, and he came Unharmed beyond them. Lo! before his eyes A scene of wondrous beauty did arise; Such as a poet sees when every sense Leaves its abode, and the intelligence Of soul usurps the functions of the mind, When unto every object he grows blind Seeing through all beyond. For Pluto’s throne Is more magnificent than Love might own In higher regions. Orpheus stood beneath The lowest step thereof; a flowery wreath Crowned his bright golden locks—the flowers Plucked from the dew-fed meadows and fair bowers Where he had wandered with his beauteous bride In happy love-quests, ere that eventide When he was wakened by the short, sharp cry Calling his name, and saw a snake glide by Into the thicket—when he saw the breast That oft had made his head a pillowy rest Marked with the fatal venom, which his lips, Used to the honey that the love-bee sips, Closed on in vain endeavor to remove The sentence of the gods on their sweet love— When his strong hands clutched madly the thin air As unto Jove he poured his soul’s deep prayer For pity—when, with all his blood turned lead, He looked and saw Eurydice was dead, And when ’gainst all the gods he took that oath Sacred to her, Death’s awful bridal troth, That by the power of music’s magic spell Against their will he would go down to Hell And rescue his lost love. Whereat Jove laughed And said to Bacchus as they gaily quaffed In high carousal: “Let the fool take care, Pluto can mind his own. Once in the lair Of Hades, e’en Apollo’s son must stay, No goats from that black fold can ever stray.” Thus Orpheus stood; but now no longer mute, For to the rich-wrought tremblings of his lute He raised his rare-heard voice and stilled the word On Pluto’s lips, and then all Hades heard:— Persephone! Persephone! Give back my lost delight to me! By thy great love for thy great lord, By each sweet thought for him adored, By love that thrills and love that fills Thy heart as with a thousand rills Of joy, break down his frozen breast And lull his vengeful mood to rest, Till mighty Pluto joyfully Shall, from his very love for thee, Give back my soul’s delight to me— Eurydice! Eurydice! Persephone! Persephone! Recall thy lord’s great love for thee, When in sweet Enna’s golden meads Thou heard’st that rustling of the reeds, And in thy hands the love-crushed flowers Were grasped with fear, as from earth’s bowers He strained thee to his mighty breast, And bore thee, senseless, to the West Beyond the opalescent sea That nightly sings its song of thee; Give back my soul’s delight to me— Eurydice! Eurydice! Persephone! Persephone! I bring love’s garland unto thee:— She made it with her loving hands, She plaited it in golden bands, And placed it on my chosen brow When by my side she sat, as now Thou sittest by thy great lord’s side: That night no lover snatched his bride, But Death seized all remorselessly, And took her soul beyond the sea; And life became a memory— Eurydice! Eurydice! Persephone! Persephone! Let this lute’s magic minstrelsy Find with love’s music, sweet and clear, Thy heart-depths through each pearly ear: Behold! how when I strike one string The lone sound floats with cheerless ring; Behold! when double chords are driven, With harmony the air is riven; So Fate plays on our souls, and we Yield plaints of love or misery; Give back my soul’s delight to me— Eurydice! Eurydice! Persephone! Persephone! By all the joy that lovers see When first they feel the hidden fire Burst forth in blaze of heart’s desire, By all the music lovers hear When language laps against the ear, Like crystal waves on golden sands, By touch of lips and clasp of hands When long-zoned raiments are made free, By all love’s sweets that fell to thee; Give back my soul’s delight to me— Eurydice! Eurydice! Persephone! Persephone! Mark how thy lord yet frowns on me, Behold the tightening of his lip— Kiss—kiss his mouth lest there may slip One word of doom to dash my hope; Bend down on him thine eyes and cope With love the gleams that in them shine, The while I summon to me, mine; Break—break—by love and memory The bond of Hades, set me free Her soul, that is the soul of me— Eurydice! Eurydice! Persephone! Persephone! Clasp him so close he may not see; Look deep into his soul with love That from thine eyes he shall not move His own;—ah! thus I gazed on her That night and heard no serpent stir, For love, once thralling all the mind, Makes all the little senses blind; ’Tis well! he drinks love’s alchemy! Where’er in Hades thou may’st be— Come back! my love! come back to me, Eurydice! Eurydice! Persephone! Persephone! Lull him with love that unto me No thought may leap with sudden ire, And steal again my heart’s desire When she shall come. Ye Gods! that light! It shone when on that fatal night The dæmons took her from my side;— ’Tis she! they bring her back! my bride! Let Pluto wake—let Jove decree— My self—my soul—come back to me My joy in life and death to be— Eurydice! Eurydice! Persephone! Persephone! A moment more and we are free; I feel the breath of outer air, I see the upper stars so fair, I hear the lapping of salt waves, I see the light of day that saves, I feel the pulsing heart-throbs run Through her fair limbs, I watch the sun Uprising in her eyes—and see! Its living light thrills into me; She has come back! come back to me— Eurydice! Eurydice!