SEMICHORUS. My heart, my heart is freed. Now can I sing. I loose a shaft from my bow, 1430 A song from my heart to heaven, and watch it speed. It revels in the air, and straight to its goal doth go. I have no fear. I praise distinguishing duly: I praise the love that I love and I worship truly. Goodness I praise, not might, Nor more will I speak of wrong, But of lovingkindness and right; And the god of my love shall rejoice at the sound of my song. I praise him whom I have seen: As a man he is beautiful, blending prime and youth, 1440 Of gentle and lovely mien, With the step and the eyes of truth, As a god,--O were I a god, but thus to be man! As a god, I set him above The rest of the gods; for his gifts are pledges of love, The words of his mouth rare and precious, His eyes' glance and the smile of his lips are love. He is the one Alone of all the gods, Of righteous Themis the lofty-spirited son, 1450 Who hates the wrongs they have done. He is the one I adore. For if there be love in heaven with evil to cope,-- And he promised us more and more,-- For what may we not hope? _ODE._ My soul is drunk with joy, her new desire In far forbidden places wanders away. Her hopes with free bright-coloured wings of fire Upon the gloom of thought Are sailing out. 1460 Awhile they rise, awhile to rest they softly fall, Like butterflies, that flit Across the mountains, or upon a wall Winking their idle fans at pleasure sit. O my vague desires! Ye lambent flames of the soul, her offspring fires: That are my soul herself in pangs sublime Rising and flying to heaven before her time: What doth tempt you forth To melt in the south or shiver in the frosty north? 1470 What seek ye or find ye in your random flying, For ever soaring aloft, soaring and dying? Joy, the joy of flight; They hide in the sun, they flare and dance in the night. Gone up, gone out of sight--and ever again Follow fresh tongues of fire, fresh pangs of pain. Ah! could I control These vague desires, these leaping flames of the soul: Could I but quench the fire, ah! could I stay My soul that flieth, alas, and dieth away! 1480 [_Enter other part of_ CHORUS. _Part of_ CHOR. Here is wood to feed the fire-- Never let its flames expire. Sing ye still while we advance Round the fire in measured dance, While the sun in heaven descending Sees our happy feast have ending. Weave ye still your joyous song, While we bear the wood along.