Poems 1918-21, Including Three Portraits and Four CantosPound, Ezra
General
Poems 1918-21, Including Three Portraits and Four Cantos
Pound, Ezra
Poetry
You will say that you succumbed to a danger identical,
charmingly identical, with Semele’s,
And believe it, and she also will believe it,
being expert from experience,
And amid all the gloried and storied beauties of Maeonia
There shall be none in a better seat, not one denying
your prestige,
Now you may bear fate’s stroke unperturbed,
Or Jove, harsh as he is, may turn aside your ultimate day,
Old lecher, let not Juno get wind of the matter,
Or perhaps Juno herself will go under,
If the young lady is taken?
There will be, in any case, a stir on Olympus.
IX
1
The twisted rhombs ceased their clamour of accompaniment;
The scorched laurel lay in the fire-dust;
The moon still declined to descend out of heaven,
But the black omnious owl hoot was audible.
And one raft bears our fates
on the veiled lake toward Avernus
Sails spread on Cerulean waters, I would shed tears for two;
I shall live, if she continue in life,
If she dies, I shall go with her.
Great Zeus, save the woman,
or she will sit before your feet in a veil,
and tell out the long list of her troubles.
2
Persephone and Dis, Dis, have mercy upon her,
There are enough women in hell,
quite enough beautiful women,
Iope, and Tyro, and Pasiphae, and the formal girls of Achaia,
And out of Troad, and from the Campania,
Death has its tooth in the lot,
Avernus lusts for the lot of them,
Beauty is not eternal, no man has perennial fortune,
Slow foot, or swift foot, death delays but for a season.
3
My light, light of my eyes,
you are escaped from great peril,
Go back to Great Dian’s dances bearing suitable gifts,
Pay up your vow of night watches
to Dian goddess of virgins,
And unto me also pay debt: the ten nights of your company you
have promised me.
X
Light, light of my eyes, at an exceeding late hour
I was wandering,
And intoxicated,
and no servant was leading me,
And a minute crowd of small boys came from opposite,
I do not know what boys,
And I am afraid of numerical estimate,
And some of them shook little torches,
and others held onto arrows,
And the rest laid their chains upon me,
and they were naked, the lot of them,
And one of the lot was given to lust.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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