Look beloved! Why do you hide your face? Look, in the centre there, above the fire, They are bearing the boy who blasphemed love! They are playing a piercing music upon him With a bow of living wire! . . . The virgin harlot sings, She leans above the beautiful anguished body, And draws slow music from those strings. They dance around him, they fling red roses upon him, They trample him with their naked feet, His cries are lost in laughter, Their feet grow dark with his blood, they beat and beat, They dance upon him, until he cries no more . . . Have we not heard that cry before? Somewhere, somewhere, Beside a sea, in the green evening, Beneath green clouds, in a copper sky . . . Was it you? was it I? They have quenched the fires, they dance in the darkness, The satyrs have run among them to seize and tear, Look! he has caught one by the hair, She screams and falls, he bears her away with him, And the night grows full of whistling wings. Far off, one voice, serene and sweet, Rises and sings . . . 'By the clear waters where once I died, In the calm evening bright with stars. . . .' Where have I heard these words? Was it you who sang them? It was long ago. Let us hurry, beloved! the hard hooves trample; The treetops tremble and glow. * * * * * In the clear dark, on silent wings, The red bat hovers beneath her moon; She drops through the fragrant night, and clings Fast in the shadow, with hands like claws, With soft eyes closed and mouth that feeds, To the young white flesh that warmly bleeds. The maidens circle in dance, and raise From lifting throats, a soft-sung praise; Their knees and breasts are white and bare, They have hung pale roses in their hair, Each of them as she dances by Peers at the blood with a narrowed eye. See how the red wing wraps him round, See how the white youth struggles in vain! The weak arms writhe in a soundless pain; He writhes in the soft red veiny wings, But still she whispers upon him and clings. . . . This is the secret feast of love, Look well, look well, before it dies, See how the red one trembles above, See how quiet the white one lies! . . . . Wind through the trees. . . . and a voice is heard Singing far off. The dead leaves fall. . . . 'By the clear waters where once I died, In the calm evening bright with stars, One among numberless avatars, I wedded a mortal, a mortal bride, And lay on the stones and gave my flesh, And entered the hunger of him I loved. How shall I ever escape this mesh Or be from my lover's body removed?' Dead leaves stream through the hurrying air And the maenads dance with flying hair. * * * * *