From"THE HELOT"
HELOT, drink—nor spare the wine;Drain the deep, the maddening bowl;Flesh and sinews, slave, are mine,Now I claim thy Helot soul.Gods! ye love our Sparta; yeGave with vine that leaps and runsO'er her slopes, these slaves to beMocks and warnings to her sons!Thou, my Hermos, turn thy eyes(God-touched still their frank, bold blue)On the Helot—mark the riseOf the Bacchic riot throughKnotted vein and surging breast:Mark the wild, insensate mirth:God-ward boast—the drivelling jest,Till he grovel to the earth."Drink, dull slave!" the Spartan cried:Meek the Helot touched the brim;Scented all the purple tide;Drew the Bacchic soul to him.Cold the thin-lipped Spartan smiled:Couched beneath the weighted vine,Large-eyed gazed the Spartan childOn the Helot and the wine.Rose pale Doric shafts behind,Stern and strong, and thro' and thro',Weaving with the grape-breathed wind,Restless swallows called and flew.Dropped the rose-flushed doves and hungOn the fountains' murmuring brims;To the bronzed vine Hermos clung—Silver-like his naked limbsFlashed and flushed: rich coppered leaves,Whitened by his ruddy hair;Pallid as the marble eaves,Awed he met the Helot's stare.Clanged the brazen goblet down;Marble-bred loud echoes stirred:With fixed fingers, knotted, brown,Dumb, the Helot grasped his beard.Heard the far pipes mad and sweet,All the ruddy hazes thrill:Heard the loud beam crash and beatIn the red vat on the hill.Wide his nostrils as a stag'sDrew the hot wind's fiery bliss:Red his lips as river flagsFrom the strong Cæcuban kiss.On his swarthy temples grewPurple veins like clustered grapes;Past his rolling pupils blewWine-born, fierce, lascivious shapes.Cold the haughty Spartan smiled—His the power to knit that dayBacchic fires, insensate, wild,To the grand Achean clay.His the might—hence his the right!Who should bid him pause? nor FateWarning passed before his sight,Dark-robed and articulate...."Lo," he said, "he maddens now!Flames divine do scathe the clod:Round his reeling Helot browStings the garland of the god."
HELOT, drink—nor spare the wine;Drain the deep, the maddening bowl;Flesh and sinews, slave, are mine,Now I claim thy Helot soul.Gods! ye love our Sparta; yeGave with vine that leaps and runsO'er her slopes, these slaves to beMocks and warnings to her sons!Thou, my Hermos, turn thy eyes(God-touched still their frank, bold blue)On the Helot—mark the riseOf the Bacchic riot throughKnotted vein and surging breast:Mark the wild, insensate mirth:God-ward boast—the drivelling jest,Till he grovel to the earth."Drink, dull slave!" the Spartan cried:Meek the Helot touched the brim;Scented all the purple tide;Drew the Bacchic soul to him.Cold the thin-lipped Spartan smiled:Couched beneath the weighted vine,Large-eyed gazed the Spartan childOn the Helot and the wine.Rose pale Doric shafts behind,Stern and strong, and thro' and thro',Weaving with the grape-breathed wind,Restless swallows called and flew.Dropped the rose-flushed doves and hungOn the fountains' murmuring brims;To the bronzed vine Hermos clung—Silver-like his naked limbsFlashed and flushed: rich coppered leaves,Whitened by his ruddy hair;Pallid as the marble eaves,Awed he met the Helot's stare.Clanged the brazen goblet down;Marble-bred loud echoes stirred:With fixed fingers, knotted, brown,Dumb, the Helot grasped his beard.Heard the far pipes mad and sweet,All the ruddy hazes thrill:Heard the loud beam crash and beatIn the red vat on the hill.Wide his nostrils as a stag'sDrew the hot wind's fiery bliss:Red his lips as river flagsFrom the strong Cæcuban kiss.On his swarthy temples grewPurple veins like clustered grapes;Past his rolling pupils blewWine-born, fierce, lascivious shapes.Cold the haughty Spartan smiled—His the power to knit that dayBacchic fires, insensate, wild,To the grand Achean clay.His the might—hence his the right!Who should bid him pause? nor FateWarning passed before his sight,Dark-robed and articulate...."Lo," he said, "he maddens now!Flames divine do scathe the clod:Round his reeling Helot browStings the garland of the god."
HELOT, drink—nor spare the wine;Drain the deep, the maddening bowl;Flesh and sinews, slave, are mine,Now I claim thy Helot soul.
HELOT, drink—nor spare the wine;
Drain the deep, the maddening bowl;
Flesh and sinews, slave, are mine,
Now I claim thy Helot soul.
Gods! ye love our Sparta; yeGave with vine that leaps and runsO'er her slopes, these slaves to beMocks and warnings to her sons!
Gods! ye love our Sparta; ye
Gave with vine that leaps and runs
O'er her slopes, these slaves to be
Mocks and warnings to her sons!
Thou, my Hermos, turn thy eyes(God-touched still their frank, bold blue)On the Helot—mark the riseOf the Bacchic riot through
Thou, my Hermos, turn thy eyes
(God-touched still their frank, bold blue)
On the Helot—mark the rise
Of the Bacchic riot through
Knotted vein and surging breast:Mark the wild, insensate mirth:God-ward boast—the drivelling jest,Till he grovel to the earth.
Knotted vein and surging breast:
Mark the wild, insensate mirth:
God-ward boast—the drivelling jest,
Till he grovel to the earth.
"Drink, dull slave!" the Spartan cried:Meek the Helot touched the brim;Scented all the purple tide;Drew the Bacchic soul to him.
"Drink, dull slave!" the Spartan cried:
Meek the Helot touched the brim;
Scented all the purple tide;
Drew the Bacchic soul to him.
Cold the thin-lipped Spartan smiled:Couched beneath the weighted vine,Large-eyed gazed the Spartan childOn the Helot and the wine.
Cold the thin-lipped Spartan smiled:
Couched beneath the weighted vine,
Large-eyed gazed the Spartan child
On the Helot and the wine.
Rose pale Doric shafts behind,Stern and strong, and thro' and thro',Weaving with the grape-breathed wind,Restless swallows called and flew.
Rose pale Doric shafts behind,
Stern and strong, and thro' and thro',
Weaving with the grape-breathed wind,
Restless swallows called and flew.
Dropped the rose-flushed doves and hungOn the fountains' murmuring brims;To the bronzed vine Hermos clung—Silver-like his naked limbs
Dropped the rose-flushed doves and hung
On the fountains' murmuring brims;
To the bronzed vine Hermos clung—
Silver-like his naked limbs
Flashed and flushed: rich coppered leaves,Whitened by his ruddy hair;Pallid as the marble eaves,Awed he met the Helot's stare.
Flashed and flushed: rich coppered leaves,
Whitened by his ruddy hair;
Pallid as the marble eaves,
Awed he met the Helot's stare.
Clanged the brazen goblet down;Marble-bred loud echoes stirred:With fixed fingers, knotted, brown,Dumb, the Helot grasped his beard.
Clanged the brazen goblet down;
Marble-bred loud echoes stirred:
With fixed fingers, knotted, brown,
Dumb, the Helot grasped his beard.
Heard the far pipes mad and sweet,All the ruddy hazes thrill:Heard the loud beam crash and beatIn the red vat on the hill.
Heard the far pipes mad and sweet,
All the ruddy hazes thrill:
Heard the loud beam crash and beat
In the red vat on the hill.
Wide his nostrils as a stag'sDrew the hot wind's fiery bliss:Red his lips as river flagsFrom the strong Cæcuban kiss.
Wide his nostrils as a stag's
Drew the hot wind's fiery bliss:
Red his lips as river flags
From the strong Cæcuban kiss.
On his swarthy temples grewPurple veins like clustered grapes;Past his rolling pupils blewWine-born, fierce, lascivious shapes.
On his swarthy temples grew
Purple veins like clustered grapes;
Past his rolling pupils blew
Wine-born, fierce, lascivious shapes.
Cold the haughty Spartan smiled—His the power to knit that dayBacchic fires, insensate, wild,To the grand Achean clay.
Cold the haughty Spartan smiled—
His the power to knit that day
Bacchic fires, insensate, wild,
To the grand Achean clay.
His the might—hence his the right!Who should bid him pause? nor FateWarning passed before his sight,Dark-robed and articulate....
His the might—hence his the right!
Who should bid him pause? nor Fate
Warning passed before his sight,
Dark-robed and articulate....
"Lo," he said, "he maddens now!Flames divine do scathe the clod:Round his reeling Helot browStings the garland of the god."
"Lo," he said, "he maddens now!
Flames divine do scathe the clod:
Round his reeling Helot brow
Stings the garland of the god."