 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
POCULA CIRCES.
They were gathered around the festive board,
At the wan and witching hour,
When the moon has a magic power,
And the trees shed their shadows deep and broad,
On the miser creeping to his hoard,
And the ivy athwart the tower—
On the swan in the silver wave that oared,
And it peeped through the lady's bower.
At the wan and witching hour,
When the moon has a magic power,
And the trees shed their shadows deep and broad,
On the miser creeping to his hoard,
And the ivy athwart the tower—
On the swan in the silver wave that oared,
And it peeped through the lady's bower.
They were scions of many a lordly line,
And of commoners greater still,
Who their country had saved from ill,
With the deeds that kingdoms shake, and shine
Through the darkness they make more fair and fine;
They had different posts to fill,
But they each took delight in the red red wine,
As it flashed at their wanton will.
And of commoners greater still,
Who their country had saved from ill,
With the deeds that kingdoms shake, and shine
Through the darkness they make more fair and fine;
They had different posts to fill,
But they each took delight in the red red wine,
As it flashed at their wanton will.
They were crowned with every gift and grace,
In their stature strong and tall,
And the treasures came at call
That unite to adorn a lofty race,
But in lowlier cottage find no place;
And they laughed at the dice's fall;
But one had a statelier nobler face,
And he was the king of all.
In their stature strong and tall,
And the treasures came at call
That unite to adorn a lofty race,
But in lowlier cottage find no place;
And they laughed at the dice's fall;
But one had a statelier nobler face,
And he was the king of all.
He was heir to a glorious ancient stock,
That had sprung of a crimson seed,
From the fights in which heroes bleed,
And was shaped by the iron wear and shock,
When the royallest heads rolled on the block,
And the stoutest were a reed;
Yet his fathers had stood, as a stalwart rock,
To which nations cling in need.
That had sprung of a crimson seed,
From the fights in which heroes bleed,
And was shaped by the iron wear and shock,
When the royallest heads rolled on the block,
And the stoutest were a reed;
Yet his fathers had stood, as a stalwart rock,
To which nations cling in need.
Yea, he was the chief of that brilliant band,
With the light of a larger morn
On the brow raised in regal scorn,
For he looked as if wrought to enrich a land,
Or to break a poor captive people's band,
Of their rights and freedom shorn;
And his voice breathed the habit of command,
That is theirs in the purple born,
With the light of a larger morn
On the brow raised in regal scorn,
For he looked as if wrought to enrich a land,
Or to break a poor captive people's band,
Of their rights and freedom shorn;
And his voice breathed the habit of command,
That is theirs in the purple born,
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And they jested and gaily slid the night,
As if earth could bequeathe no pain,
Nor the bosom put on a stain;
But they took no heed of the heavenly light,
And the beam that stared through the curtain bright,
While a pleasure was left to gain;
In the careless ease of their youthful might,
When the warning knocks in vain.
As if earth could bequeathe no pain,
Nor the bosom put on a stain;
But they took no heed of the heavenly light,
And the beam that stared through the curtain bright,
While a pleasure was left to gain;
In the careless ease of their youthful might,
When the warning knocks in vain.
For the red, red wine went flowing fast,
And the mirth waxed louder yet,
As they bigger framed each bet,
And the cup its bewitching glamour cast,
That the future paints and obscures the past;
Till the hideous seal was set
Upon every soul, that would even at last
All the faiths of Heaven forget.
And the mirth waxed louder yet,
As they bigger framed each bet,
And the cup its bewitching glamour cast,
That the future paints and obscures the past;
Till the hideous seal was set
Upon every soul, that would even at last
All the faiths of Heaven forget.
And the Circe with transforming spell,
Though unbidden shared the feast,
With her juggling never ceast,
Till the swinish lusts that darkly dwell,
In the heart so cheaply made a hell,
When the door is guarded least,
With the curse of discord fiercely fell,
And turned man divine to beast.
Though unbidden shared the feast,
With her juggling never ceast,
Till the swinish lusts that darkly dwell,
In the heart so cheaply made a hell,
When the door is guarded least,
With the curse of discord fiercely fell,
And turned man divine to beast.
And the foremost in the drunken fray,
Who was marked for mightier things
A companion meet for kings,
Yet the farthest left the royal way,
And the lowliest down in miry clay,
Had defiled his angel wings;
When upon them broke the blushing day,
And remorse with venom stings.
Who was marked for mightier things
A companion meet for kings,
Yet the farthest left the royal way,
And the lowliest down in miry clay,
Had defiled his angel wings;
When upon them broke the blushing day,
And remorse with venom stings.
CHORUS.
It is joyous, the cup,Brimming o'er, flashing up,
Out of silver and gold,
That makes timid ones bold;
With red fire of the grape,
Giving substance and shape,
In its magical gleams,
To the lordliest dreams;
With insatiable flood,
Drinking deep of man's blood,
As drank never the knife,
Sucking out the rich life,
From the treasures of all,
Silly slaves to its call;
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Through the changing and chance,
For each passionate lip
Not content with a sip,—
For each petulant hand,
Lifted high to demand;
Yet it kisses at last,
When the summer is past,
With delirious breath,
—Unto Death.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |