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Silenus

By Thomas Woolner

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Having beheld thy lustrous countenance
How have I, great Athena, fallen and sinned!
Once to have felt Thy smile; calm, less severe
Than so divinely true, that Cytherea's
Before it pales as starlight in the morn;
And shameless afterward breathe like a beast
Knowing no purpose but his mate and food!
“Beneath Thine azure gaze all troubles cease;
And hopelessly confused entanglement
Opens to clearness like a simple flower.
“My face withdrawn from Wisdom's smile, I lay
Befooled by sorrow, useless as a bow
Drawn by some hasty hand and overstrained.
“By Thy resplendency in olden time

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I wrought with Dionysus in wild lands
To give men safety by well-ordered ways;
Enriching to content with fruit and corn
Strange peoples, rough and turbulent, who knew
No law but will, no pity more than fire
From tempest hurled at random throughout space.
Then toiling dawn as restful eve was sweet;
Then sang the whole great dome of day for joy;
From darkness shone the glory of the stars.
“Athwart my glory swept a blighting wind,
That fouled the air with murky hate and death
And evil-doing; and dismayed I fell
Adown the deep inevitable past;
When, bracing up my being, unto Thee
I should have turned for succour and for strength.
“As Dionysus taught, so mixed was mine
With fleeting life, the mortal weighed me down:
Lacking meanwhile Thy presence and Thine aid,
I never rose again to God-like state.

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Now feeding lowly wants, I dwell amid
Coarse satyrs, coarser clowns of sheep and herds;
Drinking the grape for comfort and a cloud
To cover horrors past. Thus, having grown,
Wasteful and aimless, to unwieldy shape;
With scarce the power of motion save to hold
The well-filled cup that swells but keeps me down,
The grossest churls grin, urging me to sing
Ribald and wanton tunes for their disport.
And they would make me dance, but well they know
Unknitted my frail joints; I shout instead,
And chant them prophecies about themselves
They do not understand. For while the heat
Burns in me, they all change to sudden sheep,
And kine, and snarling beasts; or things that pierce
To suck the juice of fruit.
“How changed, alas!

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From that Silenus whose long spear in weight
Equalled the spear of Ares; who could wrench
A rooted ash out from the solid ground,
And slay a monster at a single blow.
Who half a summer day could hold enthralled,
By exhortation unto deeds of worth,
A fierce innumerable multitude!
“Now, tarnished, bloat Silenus will be borne
In tales, thro' lapses of far time to come,
As a great wine-skin gurgling laughter-noise
That made dull shepherds dance. For shallow gaze
On some poor failing dwells and sees the whole,
Tho' but a halt upon his lengthened march
Whose movements were of God-like stateliness,
Abundant in fair issues of delight.
Let man once stumble, or forget; once err
From weakness, or fierce passion's goad, the fault,
Alone remembered, wings his cruel fame;
His worth all cancelled, or uncredited!

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The splendour of Hephaestion's skill forgot,
Each scornful tattler gossips of his hurt.
The God who makes the thunderbolts of Zeus
Is known to mortals as the God that limps!