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Silenus

By Thomas Woolner

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The Gods themselves, scanning events to come,
May see with vision blurred; or make a lapse
In sequence and mistake the drift. The stars
May not in orbits self-determined roll,
But swayed by other stars perform their parts.
And Dionysus, late triumphantly
Returning victor from the teeming East,
There having cast the tendrilled witchery,
Enthralling peoples with the conquering vine,
Assured and satisfied beheld success
Upon the people of Lycurgus, King,
As he would meditate a cup inwrought
With forms by great Hephaestion, for the play
And action of their shapes divine.

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As soon
Had he imagined those bright forms could turn
Storming upon him in an ash-faced rage,
Ferocious, uncontrollable, as gift
So rich in promise scornfully refused!
While meditating fondly his great boon,
A sharp and distant din he heard; and cries
From many quarters, lengthened shouts that swelled
And gathered, like the tempest from the hills
Sucked down the valley round the log-built town,
That threw blank chill and silence on his host.