Part 3 (1/2)

She walked slowly past the houses, in the deserted street bathed in moonlight. A little flickering shadow danced behind her.

II

ON THE QUAY AT ALEXANDRIA

On the quay at Alexandria a singing-girl was standing singing. By her side were two flute-girls, seated on the white parapet.

I

The satyrs pursue in the woods The light-Footed oreads.

They chase the nymphs upon the mountains, They fill their eyes with affright, They seize their hair in the wind, They grasp their b.r.e.a.s.t.s in the chase, And throw their warm bodies backwards Upon the green dew-covered moss, And the beautiful bodies, their beautiful bodies half divine, Writhe with the agony . . .

O women! Eros makes your lips cry aloud With dolorous, sweet Desire.

The flute-players repeated:

”Eros!

Eros!”

and wailed in their twin reeds.

II

Cybele pursues across the plain Attys, beautiful as Apollo.

Eros has smitten her to the heart, and for him, O Totoi! but not him for her, Instead of love, cruel G.o.d, wicked Eros, Thou counsellest but hatred . . .

Across the meads, the vast distant plains, Cybele chases Attys; And because she adores the scorned, She infuses into his veins The great cold breath, the breath of death.

O dolorous, sweet Desire!

”Eros!

Eros!”

Shrill wailings poured from the flutes.

III

The Goat-foot pursues to the river Syrinx, the daughter of the fountain; Pale Eros, that loves the taste of tears, Kissed her as she ran, check to cheek; And the frail shadow of the drowned maiden s.h.i.+vers, reeds, upon the waters.

But Eros kings it over the world and the G.o.ds.

He kings it over death itself.

On the watery tomb he gathered for us All the reeds, and with them made the flute, 'Tis a dead soul that weeps here, women, Dolorous, sweet Desire.