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Silenus

By Thomas Woolner

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“A babe,” spake Pallas, “beauty in thee moved
Immeasurable joy; the idlest note
Enticed thee, as a gaudy Western sky
At eventide some careless shepherd boy,
Lost and enraptured in its golden light,
His flock neglected wandering wide astray.
“Thou didst, while drifting into sidelong ways,

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Pursue delusive splendour that delayed
And frittered thy advance; and courage failed
When halting thou beheldst the scanty space
Trod by thy footsteps in the vanished time.
“Ill portioned and ill mixed thy nature held
Too much of heaven's fire to herd with men;
Too little for the Gods. Hopeless to find
An equal, and thence loving, as thou didst,
A forest nymph, to make the balance true,
More than was fitting gavest her of thyself,
And losing her wast dragged so nigh to death
Thou couldst not spring to healthy poise again.
“Instead of nymph hadst thou a Goddess loved
She might have scorned thee; and in fierce despair
Thou hadst, as conqueror, destroyed with fire,
As now with revelry and crimson wine.
“Save Zeus my Father and loved Hebe, none
Of Gods divine have ever touched my hand;
Nor great Prometheus whom I loved and took

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Within my shield and guarded him against
The Horrors vigilant, that, hid or seen,
Beset Olympian fire, when bent on theft
He dared encounter them for love of man.
“But thou in thy intent hast guileless been;
Whose fair young love was torn and crushed as life
Unfolded in her to the perfect flower;
Thou in thine innocence a helpless babe
Shalt clasp my hand; and, as I lead thee hence,
Thou shalt, tho' late, enjoy the blessed peace
Found but within my guard.
“Strange is thy Fate!
As one great star, beyond thy sight remote,
Ringed by lone splendour in the space of worlds,
Encircled has thy being been with love!
And, as that splendour to the central orb,
It never nears but moves for ever round,
Thy passion is to thee!”

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“O Goddess dread!
And yet I dread Thee not. My hand in Thine,
I seem an infant led. That haunting fear
Of dire and unimaginable wrong,
Hovering malign for the appointed swoop,
Is past. Around is calm, and hope beyond.”
“Thou art, Silenus, now within the light
Of life. In joyful ease they dwell who tread
The ground that bears thee now; and spirits here,
Unmixed with transient offspring of decay,
Presenting aspects perfect to themselves,
Are pure in sympathy with all around.
“Behold these graceful reeds that waving turn
Their edges to the breeze. Thy Syrinx dwells
Within them, they are she. The water-flags,
With purple candour gazing to thy gaze,
Asking thy love, are Leto. Loving thee
She pined to death; and dying hoped to grow
In stately water-flags anear her friend,

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The graceful Syrinx whom on earth she loved.
“Will but to see them in their mortal guise,
Lo, they appear! Behold them bending low
To thee, as thou art bending low to them!
“Tall Eriphia whom thou loved'st to watch
Because her movements had the measured charm
Of music when innumerable leaves
Sing their thanksgiving with the wind of heaven,
Loftily now she droops in yonder birch,
Fingering delightedly released perfumes
That pause in lingering eddies on their way.
“Here are no wooings as on earth are known;
Each spirit here loves all, and all love each;
Those who fulfil their lives are here and blessed;
The base as base remain resolved to earth,
Becoming food and mansion of the worm.
“When here perfection ripens, new desire,
Breaking its bounds, attains sublimer worlds
And rarer fineness in the living air,
And inspiration, throbbing passionately,

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Joins in the music of the sounding spheres!
“That spheral region is remote from this
Far as thou now art from thy slumbering form
Breathing hoarse thunder in the midnight gloom
That shudders at the sound. Thou wilt awake
Believing this to be a sleep of dreams.
Ere entering again that house of flesh,
First learn thy fate from me:
“No evil aim
Has stained thy soul that weakness has debased,
And, tho' to others thou hast been a bane,
It was by ways unmeant. Therefore dread not
Fire of exasperate wrath; nor Furies' scourge
Of serpents, poison-fanged, more than thou fear'st
An azure noon, or love-sick nightingale
Warbling his ardour to the evening breeze.
“Piercing the dimmest future thou canst reach,
Thou seest thyself a wine-skin gurgling mirth,
Jeered and bemocked by unborn multitudes.

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Comfort thyself in weakness. Thou canst see
Into the cycles of immensity,
Compared with vision of Olympian Gods,
About so far as might a sparrow hop
Against my Father's eagle at his speed.
“In punishment thy name will bear the weight
Of well-deserved reproach thro' countless years.
But years will end: bright wilt thou reappear
Purged of thy grossness; splendid, as when she,
Syrinx, beheld thee hurl thy mighty spear.
For truth is strong, and, when unclouded, rules
Omnipotent. Men's ignorance and guile
Are ofttimes clad in adamantine scales,
Impenetrable as this golden mail
Guarding my breast; dashed from the arc of which
A God-hurled thunderbolt would fly in dust
Leaving assault no hope. Impregnable
May error be against attack without;
Corrupt within it loosens into ruin.

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“Doubt not thy gentle life and storied woe
Will soften harsh decree and conquer love.
Then courage! Dread no more! Pursue thy Fate!
I shall be nigh thee in thine hour of need!”