 | Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature |  |
117
ORPHEUS IN THRACE.
How shall I sing in Thrace? Be hushed, my lute!
Amid the mockeries of this grovelling people
There is no reverence for song the immortal.
Amid the mockeries of this grovelling people
There is no reverence for song the immortal.
How shall they bear to hear of glorious deeds,
Who have no passion save for gathering riches,
The slaves of appetite all gross and carnal?
Who have no passion save for gathering riches,
The slaves of appetite all gross and carnal?
How shall the tender music of my chant,
Born of the touch of all divine emotions,
Throb through the pulses of a swine-like rabble—
Born of the touch of all divine emotions,
Throb through the pulses of a swine-like rabble—
That feels not sympathy—that knows not Love—
That gibes at Truth—that jeers and laughs at Pity,
And undervalues all the gods hold sacred?
That gibes at Truth—that jeers and laughs at Pity,
And undervalues all the gods hold sacred?
118
What though the forest trees and ancient hills,
The flow'rets at my feet, and Ocean's billows,
Respond for ever to my heavenly music;—
The flow'rets at my feet, and Ocean's billows,
Respond for ever to my heavenly music;—
If men reply not, useless is my song;
My voice is as the voice of one in deserts,
And makes no ripple on the stagnant air.
My voice is as the voice of one in deserts,
And makes no ripple on the stagnant air.
And men are deserts if they have no hearts—
Deserts and worse; for deserts breed no evils
Worse than themselves! Hush evermore, O music!
Deserts and worse; for deserts breed no evils
Worse than themselves! Hush evermore, O music!
Be silent, O thou once entrancing song,
That shaped the people's fancies to thy pleasure,
And swayed their callous minds to noble effort!
That shaped the people's fancies to thy pleasure,
And swayed their callous minds to noble effort!
Be silent, silent, silent evermore!
It is not music that such people merit,
But rods to scourge, and thunderbolts to blast them!—
It is not music that such people merit,
But rods to scourge, and thunderbolts to blast them!—
Not music and sweet song, and words divine,
But fire from heaven to wither and consume them,
For mockery of the gods and scorn of virtue!
But fire from heaven to wither and consume them,
For mockery of the gods and scorn of virtue!
119
I will go forth alone unto the sea,
And hold communion with the moaning waters,
And melancholy winds, and chafing foreland!
And hold communion with the moaning waters,
And melancholy winds, and chafing foreland!
I will go forth alone, and sad of heart,
And talk with gods, not men; with fauns and satyrs;
With wandering winds and echoes of the valleys;
And talk with gods, not men; with fauns and satyrs;
With wandering winds and echoes of the valleys;
With shadows of the rocks; with night and morn;
With savage beasts; with birds upon the branches;
With all that God has made, save man the scorner!
With savage beasts; with birds upon the branches;
With all that God has made, save man the scorner!
| Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature | |