CANTO THE SECOND.

[107]The venerable grape-vine at Hampton Court Palace, near London.

[108]A title of the Sun.

[109]The zodiacal sign for July.

[110]The god of wine and sensuality.

[111]Represented in this poem as the great Mythological Musician; who fell violently in love with the nymph Daphne, famed for her modesty.

[112]A mighty hunter.

[113]The god of festivals.

[114]The sovereign lord of the Mythological Heaven.

[115]The goddess of Beauty (daughter of Jupiter).

[116]A planet known as the “Georgium Sidus:”—no mythological title.

[117]The god of Eloquence, &c.

[118]The most ancient of all the Heathen Deities; the emblem of Time.

[119]Of Bacchus.

[120]See the two preceding pages.

[121]The beloved nymph of Apollo.

[122]Apollo.

[123]One of the names of Bacchus.

[124]The Lord and Governor of Hell.

[125]The god of subterraneous fire.

[126]Pluto.

[127]A river of hell.

[128]Avernus, a lake on the borders of hell.

[129]The fiery elements.

[130]Apollo—who (having as it were come down from earth to intercede with Pluto in behalf of Bacchus) is, in this instance, to be considered one of the earth.

[131]A title of Vulcan.

[132]Son of Chaos.

[133]Pluto and Apollo.

[134]Pluto.

[135]The north wind.

Now when Apollo from the cloud came forthHe took his chariot, drove towards the north,From whence he came; while Boreas stretched a limb,And sent a whirlwind to accompany himBack to the regions of the world above:But on his way he stay’d beneath a grove,Of moderate magnificence, and where,With solemn grandeur, dwelt—in midway air—The Empress of the palls,[136]despair, and woe,Who greeted him with a most graceful bow.She saw the god was mournful in his look,Surmised his errand, and, in haste, betookHer folio, and, with her refulgent shaft,Made (as he spake) a brief but careful draftOf his demand. Apollo (whose delightDefied conception), seeing the marv’lous flightWith which her shaft had plann’d the burial-rite,Declared his acquiescence; and with voice—Conceived by him most suited to her choice—Which made the solemn goddess’ heart rejoice,Demanded when and what the hour would beThat Bacchus should go down t’eternity.She straightway answered him, and meetly named—“Within an hour the god shall be embalmed;And on the morrow, as the sun goes down,The car of death shall through the gulf be drawn.Five hundred horse,” she said, “of equal size,Shall form the vanguard to the realm of sighs;From every horse a rein shall concentrate,And mighty Hercules[137]shall drive in state;For he, alone, hath strength at his commandTo grasp the giant bridle in one hand;Whilst with the other he upholds his beam,And sends the silver lash forth with a scream:The goddess Mors[138]shall join the funeral train,Close followed by the nymphs, arranged in twain;Whose sun-brown’d faces shall be draped with care,Their bodies plaited immortelles shall wear;At each one’s side a tabour shall be slung,Which, beaten, will enhance the mournful song.”This said, Apollo wing’d his car again,And drove direct to where the god was lain;There he beheld his Daphne standing by,Still venting forth her grief with moistened eye(The faithful goddess, charitable queen,Beside poor Bacchus’ form a day had been):Her soul was sad, her lips refusèd food,Yet, like a guardian-angel, there she stoodContemplating what ought or might be doneWith the cold corpse; whilst her fair lord had goneDown to the chambers of the mighty god.He now saluted her with courtly word—“O Daphne! thou art dear t’Apollo’s heart;Look up, O nymph! and list whilst I impartPluto’s commands with reference to the dead!”She heard his voice, and rais’d her heavy head;So pleased to see her gentle lord returnShe ceas’d her tears, but did not cease to mourn:Her auburn tresses answered to the breezeWhich goodly Zephyrus[139]sent by slow degrees,—Presuming that her nearly-fainting formMight be sustain’d and succourèd from harm:But ere she’d time to utter forth a sound,A mighty rumbling shook the very ground!They turn’d and saw advancing on the plainMeek Libitina, and her sombre train;Then in an instant they were mute and calm,Whilst the black host proceeded to embalmThe still fresh-coloured, robust shape of himWho now had ceased to be—like as a dream.(The fragrant perfume of the embalming-herbs,The death-impregnant atmosphere absorbs:Round and about, the vines were still in bloom;But all a mournful posture did assume:The glassy-bumpers ev’n appearèd dull,And for awhile their liquors turn’d to gall:The azure sky was totally obscur’d;But Sol himself was not to be immured,—He stay’d, as ’twere within two leagues of Earth,And penetrated through the halo-girthIntensely red and hot, to mark his loveFor the fall’n god, the earthly friend of Jove!)This[140]done, the gloomy host returned belowUnto the palace of the queen of woe;Where preparations were going briskly on,To bury Bacchus at to-morrow’s sun,—The going-down thereof, she thought the proper courseFor the interment of his giant corpse.’Twas coming night,—the eve of that sad dayWhen all the starry gods would come to payTheir last respects unto the lifeless clod,In form of man, now lying upon the sod,—“And Daphne!” said the nymph, “to watch alone(Save the companionship of the pale moon),Throughout those dreary hours without a soul? * * *Oh, stay, my love, and o’er me have control.”This, said to Apollo, fired his sapient brain:His love for Daphne nought could now restrain!(So “in the midst of life we are in death;”And “all is vanity” the preacher saith.)—Apollo stay’d, and slept upon the field,And nursed his love as mothers nurse a child.Now, Leo’s nights were short, so day came on;Aurora[141]blush’d to see the beauteous moon:But she[142]—the virtuous angel of the night,Succumb’d; and thus withdrew her silvery light.Prodigious Sol then soared into the main;And with him soared Apollo’s tuneful strain,—His prayer in song—so pithy and so sweet,Ne’er fail’d t’imprint its influence on the greatCelestial magnates, nobles of the air.But Bacchus’ death nigh drove them to despair!They knew not that the god was lying dead,Until Apollo (not in vain) had pray’dFor them to come and join the ritual:Nor for a moment did they deign t’recallThe disappointment when they all went down,To Bacchus’ cry, and found the god was gone:They sought for no excuse, but came at once—Garb’d in their glory—through the vast expanseOf heav’n, and ’lighted on the plain, whereatThe great musician and fair Daphne sat.First, Jupiter (Jehovah of the skies,Whose silver hair, in ringlets, reach’d his thighs;And round his waist, most splendid to behold,Were jointed girdles wrought of solid gold,And golden shoes, protectors of his feet,Enhanced the splendour of his manly gait:He grasp’d a sceptre sixteen feet in length;Himself next to great Hercules in strength:Superb in mien, and venerably grand,Whose eye no mortal goddess could withstand.)Arrived; as he advanced, six feet of groundEscaped his tread at each successive bound:Twelve feet he stood; his hair fell o’er his brow,And from his chin a nevious beard did flow:Towards the soil his feather’d limbs inclined:His countenance bespoke a gentle mind:(Once the poor god, now dead, implored his aid;Who smote the fount and Bacchus’ thirst was stay’d.)Seen in the distance, thundering as he came,He look’d a god of most uncommon frame!Poor Daphne shook to see his wondrous form:Her noble blood began to mingle warm;But pale and circumspect she did remain,Impress’d with awe, her eyes straight to the plainUpon th’ incumbent god,—whose time was comeTo be removed into the dismal tomb.Next to great Jupiter, came Mercury,—His flesh as smooth and white as ivory,—Though not so tall, as handsome as the oneAlready there, and sadly looking on;Yet Mercury is both great in stature, andAppear’d a lord possessed of much commandIn the ethereal mansions; nay—in speechSo eloquent—no other gods could match.Then came his majesty the monarch Mars,In crimson robes inwoved with diamond stars;Robust and hale the god of war appear’d,With azure eyes; with saffron colour’d beard:In fight, no other god could dare offend;And seldom did the monarch condescendTo make acquaintanceship with others, forHe proudly thought himself superior;Yet he, in token of his great regardFor him who lay upon the bruised sward,Threw off his mask of pride, and came below:With him he brought his unstrung golden bow,To mark his rank and office in the skies;But here he stoop’d, and stooping yielded sighs,—Griev’d to the heart to see poor Bacchus so:—Him once so warm, but now as cold as snow.That other belted god, mysterious being,Saturnus came, and stood fourth in the ringWhich now began to encompass Bacchus round;His hair jet-black, his aspect most profound:A purple garb hung loose around his loins,To which his badge of honour meetly joins;His eagle eyes were now bedimm’d with tears,—He mourn’d for him he’d known a thousand years;And more than once his sighs were loud indeed:In his sad countenance the heart could readTh’ amount of sorrow his grave breast contained;His strength of mind increasing tears restrained;And to denote his senatorial rights,Brought down with him his seven satellites:He, punctual as to time, was at his post,—There murm’ring forth “O Bacchus, Bacchus, lost”The Georgian Planet, stripling[143]of the air,In grand habiliments forth did repairUnto the scene of grief; not over tall,Yet bore the image of his master, Sol;He saw the corpse, and plainly did foreshow(Though stratagem allowed no tears to flow)His feelings at the sight of death; but he—Child of the skies—bore up courageously:He (with his satellites—six beauteous lads,Esteemèd much among the greatest gods—Attending in their robes of lightish-blue,’Terwoven with fine gimp of golden hue),Attract’d the grave attention of old Mars;Who hail’d him as the “Herschel of the Stars,”—And beckon’d him t’advance, and kiss’d his hand:The stripling blushed; he could not understandWhy, or wherefore, such favour should be shownTo one so young by one so olden grown;Yet felt much pleasure on being recognis’d,Whilst more superior gods (as though despis’d)Array’d in gorgeous dress, of greater growth,And, in his estimation, greater worth,—Stood silently and mournfully around,Intent upon the death-inclosure mound.Earth,[144]most profound, in her unfeigned grief—Smote her bare breast; her speech was very brief;She felt a pressure on her noble heart,But in the rite she took an ample part,—Survey’d the gulf down which the corpse would pass,And lined its edges with resplendent moss:Most modest, and most generous soul,She’d oft contributed to Bacchus’ bowl,—Prolong’d his life in most abundant ease,Until decrepitude besought release;And still regarded him as one of thoseWhom she, herself, could least afford to lose:“But he is gone! and with his corpse a tearShall stray,” said she, “upon the sinking bier;And when regenerated he shall rise,Earth shall be first, for joy, to dim her eyes.”Revolving Venus, Empress of the globes,Extremely beautiful, in purple robes,Came now majestically o’er the sward;In rev’rence to the dead, spoke not a word:Though, in her joy, her voice was like a lute,She wept in silence, and remainèd mute:Her rosy crown with jew’ls shone like the Sun,And tipp’d her tear-drops as they trickled down:On either side a Cupid, doubly fair,Bore up the tresses of her golden hair;The Graces guarded her upon the plain;And fair Adonis held her diamond train:Her shell-shaped chariot (rearward on the field)Of ivory wrought, no eye had e’er beheldMore beautiful or more enchanting beams,Carved in one solid mass—devoid of seams.Behold Diana, goddess of the chase;Mark well her features, and her lovely face!She, with dear Venus, set the world on fireWith love and beauty, which induced satire:Fair daughter of great Jupiter, she stood—Eyes fix’d upon the ground—in pensive mood;Her bow, her quiver, deer-skin on her breast,Distinctly pointed her from out the rest.Poor Actæon (youth, most skilful with the bow—Whose eyes betray’d him, and led on to woe)Beheld, by chance, the goddess in the lake;Dreamt not his own existence was at stake;But in an instant Fate, with double wrath,Transform’d into a stag th’ incautious youth;And there, upon the bank, before her face—His end was wrought by his own dogs of chase.(To contemplate his end we stand aghast;For dire indeed was the poor stripling’s last!)Among the other goddesses and nymphs,We scan the circle, and at once we glimpseGood Agenora, most industrious child,Laborious maiden on the barren wild;Who toil’d for ages, and (’twas not in vain)Made a vast wilderness bear lovely grain:She by Diana stood, meek, yet sedate,And trespass’d not beyond her own estate.Aurora, lovely nymph with wings outspread,Having heard with sorrow that the god was dead,Came like a cloud across the purple field;And, as she swept along the air, did gildWith the reflection of her crimson foldsHills, valleys, mountains, plains, and gorsèd wolds.(O lovely nymph! more lovely in the morn,When o’er the heav’ns thy radiancy is borne;When thou, with magic touch, the gates unbar,And bid to rest that struggling little star—Last in the field of night, which fain would stayTo see the beauties of th’ advancing dayBut weak in its endeavours to withstandThe saffron firmament, holds forth its handTo shield its face from the bedimming flood;And in its turn forsakes the neighbourhoodOf heaven.) And now she ’lights among the gods:To every one she, sweet enchantress, nods;And, calmly drawing her gorgeous mantle round,Pores o’er the lifeless body on the ground.Four other goddesses, for virtue famed,Who, for their sweet demeanour, should be named:Minerva, Astrea, and Concordia, three;First, for her wisdom and sagacity;The second, for her justice much renown’d;And next, the third, for peace and concord found;The fourth, for loveliness, Hygeia stands,—Health in her face, and garlands in her hands.Omphale, nymph beloved by Hercules;And Hero, “beauteous woman,” came from Thrace.Besides all these, there came Historia forth:Fair Ceres,[145]benefactress of the Earth:Lubentia, cheerful goddess, draped her face,And came with all her charms veil’d o’er with lace:Fair Flora, graceful child, herself a flower,Brought all the beauties from her fairy bower:Pure Febrüa, who never once did feignHer love to any, joined the mournful train.Now came high Juno, lovely queen of heaven,August in form; by whom were peacocks drivenThrough the blue path which led unto the scene;Her crown and sceptre graced her noble mien;She, mother of great Mars, and Vulcan, too,Bedoff’d her smiles, as solemnly she drewUnto the place where stood the sorrowing nymphs,And sigh’d whilst on the corpse she cast a glimpse.In the first rank the famed Cybele was;(The spouse of Saturn, who gain’d such applauseFor all his exploits in the heavenly space,—Described before with those of equal race;)—She, as fair Vesta, is the bounteous globe;[146]And came arrayed in spring’s delightful robe:Her crown of towers pointed to the skies,Which proved a landmark for a thousand eyes:Of many flow’rs her vestment bore the print,And charmed the eye with their impressive tint;With her great key spring’s treasures she lets loose,And with a generous hand deals them profuse’.These[147]formed the host of mourners that were bidden,Beneath the cloudless concave of great heaven,To bear their witness to the last remainsOf him, who now was past all mortal pains.(Though not a cloud that day[148]was ever seen,Sol wore a halo, and look’d very dim,—The only way the god could mark his love,As through the heavens he slowly seem’d to move,Towards the one who’d revelled in his ray,And welcomed him at each successive day.)But now the hour was fast approaching whenThey expected forth the sad and sombre train:There stood Apollo, foremost on the plain,To watch with his bewitching eyes, the vastTerrestrial space. At length he heard a blast,Which Boreas bore towards th’ assembled throng;And furthermore, he heard the mournful song,As they advanc’d upon the wings of woe:(’Round and about the corpse tears freely flow,For gods and goddesses, resplendent clad,Turn’d deathly pale, and certainly look’d sad:)Swift as the winds would bear them, on they came;In front a herald to proclaim the nameOf the deceasèd god. “Behold,” he said,“This body here upon the field now laid,Is that of Bacchus, the great god of wine,Who till’d the ground, and rear’d the lovely vine;The great dictator of the heathen laws:His numerous talents gain’d him much applause:Wise, though lascivious, he to powèr grew;Was surnam’d Bassareus, and Iacchus, too:Built many cities, and won victories:The benefactor of societies:Son of great Jupiter,—Semele’s child,—On whom, in early life, Silenus smil’d;And whom the nymphs embraced with filial love,Through which they gain’d their access unto Jove:Phœnicia’s King,—his wisdom he unfurl’d;His subjects taught to navigate the world,For which—and other exploits—thus shall heBe grandly welcom’d to Eternity:”—And then he blew his trumpet, call’d aloud—“Bear witness to the deed, ye assembled crowd,Whilst I the fallen god’s remains enshroud.”Then, as they alight upon th’ adjacent ground,Five hundred horse sent forth a trampling sound;And mighty Hercules was in the rear(For not another god could bear the gear)—High in the air, upon the funeral car,His helmet shining like a glorious star:From his great beam a scream resound the skiesAs they progress—swift as an eagle flies.With him came Mors, who gave two heavy sighs;A hundred deaths she had attended to,But never one like this—so fraught with woe!Her vesture hanging in loose folds of black,Her hair all straighten’d o’er her graceful back,Betokened grief; she ne’er conceived to cravePoor Bacchus for the dread and dismal grave:No, no, ’twas he himself,—his great excess,That brought upon the earth such dire distress:Yea, had he been a little circumspect,Another thousand years his brow may’ve deck’d;But his lascivious habits, silly god,Brought him thus soon to grace the viny sod.* * * * *Now to the grave!—a gulf six fathoms wide,Six in its length, and straight on every side;Down which no eye doth dare to penetrate;For to the realm of sighs this was the gate:Four cedar beams, exactly wrought to shape,Lie, near each brink, across the dreadful gap;Four other beams of equal size extendTowards the heav’ns, and centre in one end;To which a chain, wrought out of Ætna’s fire,Pass’d through an aperture a cubit higher(Its length ten leagues, and polish’d every link);One end in hell, and one upon the brink,Upon the side whereat the funeral trainWould yield the corpse; there, on the sacred plain,To be uplifted, and then gently swungO’er the abyss! Hark to the obit’s song!As on the sad procession wend their way,In funeral paces, at the wane of day:The sound increases as they, slower still—Far on the plain, come o’er a gradual hill,On which an arch built up with lovely pines—Entwined with olives and selected vines—Bore on its top a crimson flame, which ’roseTo light the cortége as it onward goes;For now the sun was sinking fast belowThe dark horizon of the western brow.’Tis now indeed a melancholy hour;For, as they line the brink, they hear the roar—The thunder of great Vulcan’s mighty gong:Besides, they hear, though faint, th’ Infernals’ songOf joy; and there, as round the vault they stand,Is heard the clamour of th’ uproarious bandLet loose below, to revel at their will,Till Mulciber shall bid them to be still.Then suddenly up shot into the airFrom out the gulf a stream of yellow flare;And then a sulph’rous cloud involved the pit,In which a thousand infant demons flit,Most wretched to behold; but joy for them,And all the spirits who were waiting him—The dead! Now griev’d Apollo, standing near,Waved his white rod (but waved it with a tear),The signal to uplift the ponderous bierAbove the gulf. Below, a sound arose,As round the giant-axle slowly moves;Contracting, every turn, the clinking chain,Which lifted Bacchus from the purple plain.* * * * *When (as the body swung into the cloud)Apollo struck his harp, the noble crowdOf gods and goddesses their tabours rung,And peal’d the requiem in most glorious song!Said Hercules, who almost long’d to die—When first the anthem broke into the sky—(The corpse was then descending the abyss,)“Oh, give me death, and bury me like this!”He doff’d his helmet (noble was his brow),And as a child the hero seemèd now;For while he listen’d to th’ harmonious flowOf sound, unmatch’d on earth, his heart did leap.And Pan was there with his melodious pipe;Who—god of woods, of shepherds, most divine—On this occasion made his genius shine,—His reed he blew with such delightful force,That Hercules rejoic’d, so did his horse.Apollo’s nine companions[149]there with him,Enhanced the grandeur of the mournful hymn:Fair Terpsichore look’d sad, but sang most sweet,And timed most gracefully the poet’s feet:Euterpe, too, th’ inventor of the flute,Was only rivall’d by fair Clio’s lute:And Calliope’s sweet enchanting voice,Made heart and soul and flesh rejoice:The songs of Polyhymnia were so dealt,Gods, great and small, turn’d gravely as they kneltTo see from whence the melody arose:She heeded not,—and on her singing goesTill e’en the ground beneath them, where they stood,Seem’d to give ear: and Mars was much subdued.Erato, Thalia, blest Urania, andMelpŏmene the grave, complete the band,Who came from far their tuneful aid to lend;And with their songs their prayers for Bacchus sendTo Him, the Sovereign of continual death,Of woe, of mis’ry, and eternal wrath!* * * * *For one whole hour the requiem did not cease;Its words, interpreted, were writ as these—“O mighty king! O Pluto, lord of hell!Extend thy grace to his departed soul:Receive his corpse, and furnish it with breath,That he may revel in the realms of death:—So that our loss may be thy kingdom’s gain.”A pause ensued: and then a dreadful cryCame up the grave, which rent the gloomy sky.With it arose a wave of crimson flameUp straight towards a cloud that cover’d them;Which shaped itself into a feather’d beam,And wrote upon the cloud, thus: “Bassareus lives!”To their wits’ end the gods and goddessesWere driv’n: they scan the cloud and there beholdThe marv’lous scrip in letters of bright gold:Anon they gazed, until it vanishèd,And gods conferr’d like men astonishèd.They now resolved to wend their way from earth;Some East, some West, some South, and others North:Their minds, indeed, impressed with mighty things;Such as did baffle all their reasonings.As Hercules flew swiftly to the East,Apollo and fair Daphne to the West,Straight from the North great Boreas swept the plain,And bore a portion of the mystic trainTo the south region of the mournful height,(For not a star had deign’d to shine that night,)—Yea, all was dark. Earth, Air, and Ocean, nowWere void. Not so in the dread realms below:—Where there were spirits—tens of thousands, fiends,Whose shrieks were borne upon the various windsOf hell; and who with awful vengeance sworeThat such should be for ever, evermore!Where mountains labour in the trough of woe,And topple over on the host below:Where valleys lift themselves, and roll in waves:Where grim idolaters rise from their gravesAnd walk the plains like skeletons of death,Imparting oaths at each receding breath;Whose tongues hang down upon their fleshless breasts,And waste their foam like over-burthen’d beasts.But there were, also, those grandees of state;And in their midst that mighty Autocrat,The Governor of all therein; and heUnbarr’d the gate of immortality:While Vulcan, in attendance on the god,Had watch’d his master, and observed his nod:Towards the corpse he went, and breathed one breath,—When Bacchus ’rose, and doff’d his robe of death!* * * * *This was the moment when upwent that cryWhich, as ’twas said, had rent the gloomy sky:This was the moment that the fiery wavesWrote on the cloud above them—“Bassareus lives!”And this the hour that Earth, and Air, and Sea,Was one vast waste of transient misery!When all the gods and goddesses were thrownInto a state of tremulous concern,And took themselves to flight, each one their way,To write their records of the dismal day.Now, Proserpine,[150]she, Pluto’s august queen,Was present to augment the novel scene:(No goddess, Pluto—though his power was great—Could e’er induce to share his vast estate;He, vex’d, enraged, deformed, despised, went forth,Stole Proserpine, and sunk into the earth;Which deed, great consternation then provokedAmong the Virgins, where he ’rose: they look’d,But ’twas in vain, for suddenly they’d goneDown to the caverns of the mighty one.)She saw poor Bassareus lift his ruffled head,—Observ’d his deathied checks flush to a red:And saw his eyes revolve, as ’round he gazedUpon the crowd, and stood—as though amazed—Contemplating with evident deep thoughtThe strange transfiguration which was wrought.Forth Pluto stepp’d, and, holding out his hand,Embraced the god. * * * The then surrounding bandOf wondering magnates, vie[151]and send abroad—“Long live great Bassareus!” “Hail our new-born god!”Then all the multitude join’d in the song,And ceasèd not, till Vulcan beat his gong;When to the palace the great concourse went;And on the mount, where dwelt th’ omnipotentUnmerciful, great god, to light the wayTen thousand torches flamed towards the sky;And all within, and out, was revelry.Uninterruptedly, for nine whole daysThe carnival endured: a fervent blaze—Meanwhile continuing—cast a melting heatUpon the host assembled round the seatOf Pluto. But poor Bacchus grew afraid,[152]—He being an alien in the land of dread:When first he saw the gloomy element,His heart forsook him, and much tears he spent;When first he heard the thunderings of hell,He beat his breast, and cursed his living soul;When he beheld the fiends fly ’cross the course,He stamp’d the ground, and grumbled with remorse;When at a furnace-heat the winds did blow,More sad, dejected, did poor Bassareus grow;—His anguish now became so great, he foamed,Inclined his head towards the ground, and moaned:Now raved aloud for that he loved on Earth,To cool his tongue and wash his frothy mouth:Then shook his head, and swung it like a plumb,Reviling bitterly his mother’s womb:Discomfited, he sent a piteous cry * * *(Which all the host interpreted for joy.)And roar’d aloud—“Ye gods of hell, be damn’d”(The more he cried less did they understand.)Upon his ears their hideous chorus dwelt;And as the direful strain of discords swell’dHe roll’d himself upon the heated earth,(They misconstrued it into signs of mirth;)Then bit his flesh, and pluck’d his bearded chin;Besought the gods to disembowel him!(But more and more the tumult did increase:Awhile he swore—they sent into the spaceTheir boisterous shouts in honour of their king,And unto Bacchus tuned their welcoming.)Yes—he, poor god, grew more and more depress’d;His temples swoll’n, and every joint oppress’dWith pain intense, he cried—“None so distress’dAs I, * * * none half so wretched, * * * none so lorn, * * *Not one so miserable was ever born!”Great Pluto, seeing the god most sorely wroth,(For on his bearded chin there lurk’d the froth,)Said unto him—“O Bassareus! why so sad?Pray doff thy sorrow, and uplift thine head,—Behold the grandeur of my Palestine:On yonder mountain, next in rank to mine,And in the clouds, a castle I will raise,—In which (my will is) thou shalt pass thy days,And there remain, till Jupiter shall call,Shall call thee hence unto the world of Sol!”(These words electrified the mournful god,Who rubbed his eyes, and scann’d the multitude.)Continued Pluto: “Thine the fault shall be,If thou dost not enjoy felicity:—For in thy mansion vassals thou shalt have;A guard of honour, powerful and brave,Shall be, Friend Bassareus, at thy own command;And in my senate thou, at my right hand,Shall hold the sceptre of unrighteousness;Thy chief attendants shall be Lachesis,And Clotho, and their sister Atropos;[153]Those noted creatures of fatality:And with them, as companions, there shall beMegæra, Alecto, and Tisiphone,[154]Endowed with gifts most suitable to thee:And, furthermore, to enhance thy glory here,My orders shall go forth to Mulciber,To forge a chariot of Corinthian brass,Of great dimensions, that thou mightest passAbout the regions of thy residenceWith solemn grandeur, and magnificence.”* * * * *As now when Bassareus, with derision, smiled,And grew, dissemblingly, more reconciled,He clench’d his hands and ’rose a cubit higher(Red as the elements that raged with fire),And turned his sweating face towards the sky:Unheeding the vast crowd’s tumultuous cry,His lips, with much emotion, seemed to move:At last he thunder’d out this prayer to Jove,—“O Sovereign Jove! lord, god of air and earth,—Thou benefactor, guardian of my youth,—Behold my sorrow, and mine agony! * * *Sustain me, Jove, in my adversity! * * *My flesh is melting with the dreadful blazeRevolving round the vast infernal space:My hunger and my thirst’s unbearable;The noise of hell—most incomparable!—From which, O Jove! with Pluto intercede,That of these torments Bacchus may be freed:And if ’tis possible, O Jupiter!With all thy majesty in Earth and Air,Thy wit, thy wisdom, and unrivalled power;Whose eloquence of speech, whose well-earn’d storeOf heav’nly honours, none can e’er surpass,—Speak thou to Pluto, that I may repassThrough that great gulf, back to those orient plains,There bask again among those teeming vines;—There——” but as he spake this word[155](and ’twas his last!)Loud thunders clapp’d, and lightnings rent the VastTornadoes, furiously the plains career’d;And all the host of hell aghast appear’d!Now Bassareus cried; tears mingled with his sweat:He lash’d his body, and defined a threat,And coupled with it a most horrid oath;Which Pluto could not bear. So, in his wroth,He turn’d an Enemy; and, with disdain,Commanded all the Elements to rainA torrent of red flame!—Down came the flood!The merc’less fluid, mingled with the bloodOf tens of thousands (in an instant slain),Rush’d like an ocean o’er the smoking plain.* * * * *From his high towers—the deluge, Pluto saw.The dissolution of the host belowChang’d not his countenance. A thousand timesThis haughty monarch (and for lesser crimesThan those of Bassareus’) scourged the land with fire,Durst any magnate to provoke his ire.Said he to Proserpine—“Lift I my hand,Ten thousand demons are at my command:Burn I as many every day, nay hour,Lift it again, and lo! ten thousand moreAre at my feet. * * * Weep not, O Proserpine!No such destruction shall be ever thine;Nor Vulcan’s fate: he, Pluto’s chief, shall dwellFor ever in those glorious realms of hell.Nox,[156]ancient creature, shall for ever findMy heart in favour, and my edicts kind:Though dark her ways, her manners I approve,—She makes no prayers to Jupiter or Jove,—And next to Proserpine doth share my love;Contented, amiable, and circumspect,The good old goddess, Pluto shall protect.Nor giant Charon,[157]constant at his post,Conductor of the dead from coast to coast;Though rude his mien, him will I not despise;Him will I shelter from the flaming skies.My Judges, also, for their integrity,Shall know no sorrow, nor adversity.Nor Cerberus,[158]my faithful, at the gate(For ever ready to defend my state),Shall never die, shall never lack my careWhilst hell is hell, and Pluto master there!”

Now when Apollo from the cloud came forth

He took his chariot, drove towards the north,

From whence he came; while Boreas stretched a limb,

And sent a whirlwind to accompany him

Back to the regions of the world above:

But on his way he stay’d beneath a grove,

Of moderate magnificence, and where,

With solemn grandeur, dwelt—in midway air—

The Empress of the palls,[136]despair, and woe,

Who greeted him with a most graceful bow.

She saw the god was mournful in his look,

Surmised his errand, and, in haste, betook

Her folio, and, with her refulgent shaft,

Made (as he spake) a brief but careful draft

Of his demand. Apollo (whose delight

Defied conception), seeing the marv’lous flight

With which her shaft had plann’d the burial-rite,

Declared his acquiescence; and with voice—

Conceived by him most suited to her choice—

Which made the solemn goddess’ heart rejoice,

Demanded when and what the hour would be

That Bacchus should go down t’eternity.

She straightway answered him, and meetly named—

“Within an hour the god shall be embalmed;

And on the morrow, as the sun goes down,

The car of death shall through the gulf be drawn.

Five hundred horse,” she said, “of equal size,

Shall form the vanguard to the realm of sighs;

From every horse a rein shall concentrate,

And mighty Hercules[137]shall drive in state;

For he, alone, hath strength at his command

To grasp the giant bridle in one hand;

Whilst with the other he upholds his beam,

And sends the silver lash forth with a scream:

The goddess Mors[138]shall join the funeral train,

Close followed by the nymphs, arranged in twain;

Whose sun-brown’d faces shall be draped with care,

Their bodies plaited immortelles shall wear;

At each one’s side a tabour shall be slung,

Which, beaten, will enhance the mournful song.”

This said, Apollo wing’d his car again,

And drove direct to where the god was lain;

There he beheld his Daphne standing by,

Still venting forth her grief with moistened eye

(The faithful goddess, charitable queen,

Beside poor Bacchus’ form a day had been):

Her soul was sad, her lips refusèd food,

Yet, like a guardian-angel, there she stood

Contemplating what ought or might be done

With the cold corpse; whilst her fair lord had gone

Down to the chambers of the mighty god.

He now saluted her with courtly word—

“O Daphne! thou art dear t’Apollo’s heart;

Look up, O nymph! and list whilst I impart

Pluto’s commands with reference to the dead!”

She heard his voice, and rais’d her heavy head;

So pleased to see her gentle lord return

She ceas’d her tears, but did not cease to mourn:

Her auburn tresses answered to the breeze

Which goodly Zephyrus[139]sent by slow degrees,—

Presuming that her nearly-fainting form

Might be sustain’d and succourèd from harm:

But ere she’d time to utter forth a sound,

A mighty rumbling shook the very ground!

They turn’d and saw advancing on the plain

Meek Libitina, and her sombre train;

Then in an instant they were mute and calm,

Whilst the black host proceeded to embalm

The still fresh-coloured, robust shape of him

Who now had ceased to be—like as a dream.

(The fragrant perfume of the embalming-herbs,

The death-impregnant atmosphere absorbs:

Round and about, the vines were still in bloom;

But all a mournful posture did assume:

The glassy-bumpers ev’n appearèd dull,

And for awhile their liquors turn’d to gall:

The azure sky was totally obscur’d;

But Sol himself was not to be immured,—

He stay’d, as ’twere within two leagues of Earth,

And penetrated through the halo-girth

Intensely red and hot, to mark his love

For the fall’n god, the earthly friend of Jove!)

This[140]done, the gloomy host returned below

Unto the palace of the queen of woe;

Where preparations were going briskly on,

To bury Bacchus at to-morrow’s sun,—

The going-down thereof, she thought the proper course

For the interment of his giant corpse.

’Twas coming night,—the eve of that sad day

When all the starry gods would come to pay

Their last respects unto the lifeless clod,

In form of man, now lying upon the sod,—

“And Daphne!” said the nymph, “to watch alone

(Save the companionship of the pale moon),

Throughout those dreary hours without a soul? * * *

Oh, stay, my love, and o’er me have control.”

This, said to Apollo, fired his sapient brain:

His love for Daphne nought could now restrain!

(So “in the midst of life we are in death;”

And “all is vanity” the preacher saith.)—

Apollo stay’d, and slept upon the field,

And nursed his love as mothers nurse a child.

Now, Leo’s nights were short, so day came on;

Aurora[141]blush’d to see the beauteous moon:

But she[142]—the virtuous angel of the night,

Succumb’d; and thus withdrew her silvery light.

Prodigious Sol then soared into the main;

And with him soared Apollo’s tuneful strain,—

His prayer in song—so pithy and so sweet,

Ne’er fail’d t’imprint its influence on the great

Celestial magnates, nobles of the air.

But Bacchus’ death nigh drove them to despair!

They knew not that the god was lying dead,

Until Apollo (not in vain) had pray’d

For them to come and join the ritual:

Nor for a moment did they deign t’recall

The disappointment when they all went down,

To Bacchus’ cry, and found the god was gone:

They sought for no excuse, but came at once—

Garb’d in their glory—through the vast expanse

Of heav’n, and ’lighted on the plain, whereat

The great musician and fair Daphne sat.

First, Jupiter (Jehovah of the skies,

Whose silver hair, in ringlets, reach’d his thighs;

And round his waist, most splendid to behold,

Were jointed girdles wrought of solid gold,

And golden shoes, protectors of his feet,

Enhanced the splendour of his manly gait:

He grasp’d a sceptre sixteen feet in length;

Himself next to great Hercules in strength:

Superb in mien, and venerably grand,

Whose eye no mortal goddess could withstand.)

Arrived; as he advanced, six feet of ground

Escaped his tread at each successive bound:

Twelve feet he stood; his hair fell o’er his brow,

And from his chin a nevious beard did flow:

Towards the soil his feather’d limbs inclined:

His countenance bespoke a gentle mind:

(Once the poor god, now dead, implored his aid;

Who smote the fount and Bacchus’ thirst was stay’d.)

Seen in the distance, thundering as he came,

He look’d a god of most uncommon frame!

Poor Daphne shook to see his wondrous form:

Her noble blood began to mingle warm;

But pale and circumspect she did remain,

Impress’d with awe, her eyes straight to the plain

Upon th’ incumbent god,—whose time was come

To be removed into the dismal tomb.

Next to great Jupiter, came Mercury,—

His flesh as smooth and white as ivory,—

Though not so tall, as handsome as the one

Already there, and sadly looking on;

Yet Mercury is both great in stature, and

Appear’d a lord possessed of much command

In the ethereal mansions; nay—in speech

So eloquent—no other gods could match.

Then came his majesty the monarch Mars,

In crimson robes inwoved with diamond stars;

Robust and hale the god of war appear’d,

With azure eyes; with saffron colour’d beard:

In fight, no other god could dare offend;

And seldom did the monarch condescend

To make acquaintanceship with others, for

He proudly thought himself superior;

Yet he, in token of his great regard

For him who lay upon the bruised sward,

Threw off his mask of pride, and came below:

With him he brought his unstrung golden bow,

To mark his rank and office in the skies;

But here he stoop’d, and stooping yielded sighs,—

Griev’d to the heart to see poor Bacchus so:—

Him once so warm, but now as cold as snow.

That other belted god, mysterious being,

Saturnus came, and stood fourth in the ring

Which now began to encompass Bacchus round;

His hair jet-black, his aspect most profound:

A purple garb hung loose around his loins,

To which his badge of honour meetly joins;

His eagle eyes were now bedimm’d with tears,—

He mourn’d for him he’d known a thousand years;

And more than once his sighs were loud indeed:

In his sad countenance the heart could read

Th’ amount of sorrow his grave breast contained;

His strength of mind increasing tears restrained;

And to denote his senatorial rights,

Brought down with him his seven satellites:

He, punctual as to time, was at his post,—

There murm’ring forth “O Bacchus, Bacchus, lost”

The Georgian Planet, stripling[143]of the air,

In grand habiliments forth did repair

Unto the scene of grief; not over tall,

Yet bore the image of his master, Sol;

He saw the corpse, and plainly did foreshow

(Though stratagem allowed no tears to flow)

His feelings at the sight of death; but he—

Child of the skies—bore up courageously:

He (with his satellites—six beauteous lads,

Esteemèd much among the greatest gods—

Attending in their robes of lightish-blue,

’Terwoven with fine gimp of golden hue),

Attract’d the grave attention of old Mars;

Who hail’d him as the “Herschel of the Stars,”—

And beckon’d him t’advance, and kiss’d his hand:

The stripling blushed; he could not understand

Why, or wherefore, such favour should be shown

To one so young by one so olden grown;

Yet felt much pleasure on being recognis’d,

Whilst more superior gods (as though despis’d)

Array’d in gorgeous dress, of greater growth,

And, in his estimation, greater worth,—

Stood silently and mournfully around,

Intent upon the death-inclosure mound.

Earth,[144]most profound, in her unfeigned grief—

Smote her bare breast; her speech was very brief;

She felt a pressure on her noble heart,

But in the rite she took an ample part,—

Survey’d the gulf down which the corpse would pass,

And lined its edges with resplendent moss:

Most modest, and most generous soul,

She’d oft contributed to Bacchus’ bowl,—

Prolong’d his life in most abundant ease,

Until decrepitude besought release;

And still regarded him as one of those

Whom she, herself, could least afford to lose:

“But he is gone! and with his corpse a tear

Shall stray,” said she, “upon the sinking bier;

And when regenerated he shall rise,

Earth shall be first, for joy, to dim her eyes.”

Revolving Venus, Empress of the globes,

Extremely beautiful, in purple robes,

Came now majestically o’er the sward;

In rev’rence to the dead, spoke not a word:

Though, in her joy, her voice was like a lute,

She wept in silence, and remainèd mute:

Her rosy crown with jew’ls shone like the Sun,

And tipp’d her tear-drops as they trickled down:

On either side a Cupid, doubly fair,

Bore up the tresses of her golden hair;

The Graces guarded her upon the plain;

And fair Adonis held her diamond train:

Her shell-shaped chariot (rearward on the field)

Of ivory wrought, no eye had e’er beheld

More beautiful or more enchanting beams,

Carved in one solid mass—devoid of seams.

Behold Diana, goddess of the chase;

Mark well her features, and her lovely face!

She, with dear Venus, set the world on fire

With love and beauty, which induced satire:

Fair daughter of great Jupiter, she stood—

Eyes fix’d upon the ground—in pensive mood;

Her bow, her quiver, deer-skin on her breast,

Distinctly pointed her from out the rest.

Poor Actæon (youth, most skilful with the bow—

Whose eyes betray’d him, and led on to woe)

Beheld, by chance, the goddess in the lake;

Dreamt not his own existence was at stake;

But in an instant Fate, with double wrath,

Transform’d into a stag th’ incautious youth;

And there, upon the bank, before her face—

His end was wrought by his own dogs of chase.

(To contemplate his end we stand aghast;

For dire indeed was the poor stripling’s last!)

Among the other goddesses and nymphs,

We scan the circle, and at once we glimpse

Good Agenora, most industrious child,

Laborious maiden on the barren wild;

Who toil’d for ages, and (’twas not in vain)

Made a vast wilderness bear lovely grain:

She by Diana stood, meek, yet sedate,

And trespass’d not beyond her own estate.

Aurora, lovely nymph with wings outspread,

Having heard with sorrow that the god was dead,

Came like a cloud across the purple field;

And, as she swept along the air, did gild

With the reflection of her crimson folds

Hills, valleys, mountains, plains, and gorsèd wolds.

(O lovely nymph! more lovely in the morn,

When o’er the heav’ns thy radiancy is borne;

When thou, with magic touch, the gates unbar,

And bid to rest that struggling little star—

Last in the field of night, which fain would stay

To see the beauties of th’ advancing day

But weak in its endeavours to withstand

The saffron firmament, holds forth its hand

To shield its face from the bedimming flood;

And in its turn forsakes the neighbourhood

Of heaven.) And now she ’lights among the gods:

To every one she, sweet enchantress, nods;

And, calmly drawing her gorgeous mantle round,

Pores o’er the lifeless body on the ground.

Four other goddesses, for virtue famed,

Who, for their sweet demeanour, should be named:

Minerva, Astrea, and Concordia, three;

First, for her wisdom and sagacity;

The second, for her justice much renown’d;

And next, the third, for peace and concord found;

The fourth, for loveliness, Hygeia stands,—

Health in her face, and garlands in her hands.

Omphale, nymph beloved by Hercules;

And Hero, “beauteous woman,” came from Thrace.

Besides all these, there came Historia forth:

Fair Ceres,[145]benefactress of the Earth:

Lubentia, cheerful goddess, draped her face,

And came with all her charms veil’d o’er with lace:

Fair Flora, graceful child, herself a flower,

Brought all the beauties from her fairy bower:

Pure Febrüa, who never once did feign

Her love to any, joined the mournful train.

Now came high Juno, lovely queen of heaven,

August in form; by whom were peacocks driven

Through the blue path which led unto the scene;

Her crown and sceptre graced her noble mien;

She, mother of great Mars, and Vulcan, too,

Bedoff’d her smiles, as solemnly she drew

Unto the place where stood the sorrowing nymphs,

And sigh’d whilst on the corpse she cast a glimpse.

In the first rank the famed Cybele was;

(The spouse of Saturn, who gain’d such applause

For all his exploits in the heavenly space,—

Described before with those of equal race;)—

She, as fair Vesta, is the bounteous globe;[146]

And came arrayed in spring’s delightful robe:

Her crown of towers pointed to the skies,

Which proved a landmark for a thousand eyes:

Of many flow’rs her vestment bore the print,

And charmed the eye with their impressive tint;

With her great key spring’s treasures she lets loose,

And with a generous hand deals them profuse’.

These[147]formed the host of mourners that were bidden,

Beneath the cloudless concave of great heaven,

To bear their witness to the last remains

Of him, who now was past all mortal pains.

(Though not a cloud that day[148]was ever seen,

Sol wore a halo, and look’d very dim,—

The only way the god could mark his love,

As through the heavens he slowly seem’d to move,

Towards the one who’d revelled in his ray,

And welcomed him at each successive day.)

But now the hour was fast approaching when

They expected forth the sad and sombre train:

There stood Apollo, foremost on the plain,

To watch with his bewitching eyes, the vast

Terrestrial space. At length he heard a blast,

Which Boreas bore towards th’ assembled throng;

And furthermore, he heard the mournful song,

As they advanc’d upon the wings of woe:

(’Round and about the corpse tears freely flow,

For gods and goddesses, resplendent clad,

Turn’d deathly pale, and certainly look’d sad:)

Swift as the winds would bear them, on they came;

In front a herald to proclaim the name

Of the deceasèd god. “Behold,” he said,

“This body here upon the field now laid,

Is that of Bacchus, the great god of wine,

Who till’d the ground, and rear’d the lovely vine;

The great dictator of the heathen laws:

His numerous talents gain’d him much applause:

Wise, though lascivious, he to powèr grew;

Was surnam’d Bassareus, and Iacchus, too:

Built many cities, and won victories:

The benefactor of societies:

Son of great Jupiter,—Semele’s child,—

On whom, in early life, Silenus smil’d;

And whom the nymphs embraced with filial love,

Through which they gain’d their access unto Jove:

Phœnicia’s King,—his wisdom he unfurl’d;

His subjects taught to navigate the world,

For which—and other exploits—thus shall he

Be grandly welcom’d to Eternity:”—

And then he blew his trumpet, call’d aloud—

“Bear witness to the deed, ye assembled crowd,

Whilst I the fallen god’s remains enshroud.”

Then, as they alight upon th’ adjacent ground,

Five hundred horse sent forth a trampling sound;

And mighty Hercules was in the rear

(For not another god could bear the gear)—

High in the air, upon the funeral car,

His helmet shining like a glorious star:

From his great beam a scream resound the skies

As they progress—swift as an eagle flies.

With him came Mors, who gave two heavy sighs;

A hundred deaths she had attended to,

But never one like this—so fraught with woe!

Her vesture hanging in loose folds of black,

Her hair all straighten’d o’er her graceful back,

Betokened grief; she ne’er conceived to crave

Poor Bacchus for the dread and dismal grave:

No, no, ’twas he himself,—his great excess,

That brought upon the earth such dire distress:

Yea, had he been a little circumspect,

Another thousand years his brow may’ve deck’d;

But his lascivious habits, silly god,

Brought him thus soon to grace the viny sod.

* * * * *

Now to the grave!—a gulf six fathoms wide,Six in its length, and straight on every side;Down which no eye doth dare to penetrate;For to the realm of sighs this was the gate:Four cedar beams, exactly wrought to shape,Lie, near each brink, across the dreadful gap;Four other beams of equal size extendTowards the heav’ns, and centre in one end;To which a chain, wrought out of Ætna’s fire,Pass’d through an aperture a cubit higher(Its length ten leagues, and polish’d every link);One end in hell, and one upon the brink,Upon the side whereat the funeral trainWould yield the corpse; there, on the sacred plain,To be uplifted, and then gently swungO’er the abyss! Hark to the obit’s song!As on the sad procession wend their way,In funeral paces, at the wane of day:The sound increases as they, slower still—Far on the plain, come o’er a gradual hill,On which an arch built up with lovely pines—Entwined with olives and selected vines—Bore on its top a crimson flame, which ’roseTo light the cortége as it onward goes;For now the sun was sinking fast belowThe dark horizon of the western brow.’Tis now indeed a melancholy hour;For, as they line the brink, they hear the roar—The thunder of great Vulcan’s mighty gong:Besides, they hear, though faint, th’ Infernals’ songOf joy; and there, as round the vault they stand,Is heard the clamour of th’ uproarious bandLet loose below, to revel at their will,Till Mulciber shall bid them to be still.Then suddenly up shot into the airFrom out the gulf a stream of yellow flare;And then a sulph’rous cloud involved the pit,In which a thousand infant demons flit,Most wretched to behold; but joy for them,And all the spirits who were waiting him—The dead! Now griev’d Apollo, standing near,Waved his white rod (but waved it with a tear),The signal to uplift the ponderous bierAbove the gulf. Below, a sound arose,As round the giant-axle slowly moves;Contracting, every turn, the clinking chain,Which lifted Bacchus from the purple plain.

Now to the grave!—a gulf six fathoms wide,

Six in its length, and straight on every side;

Down which no eye doth dare to penetrate;

For to the realm of sighs this was the gate:

Four cedar beams, exactly wrought to shape,

Lie, near each brink, across the dreadful gap;

Four other beams of equal size extend

Towards the heav’ns, and centre in one end;

To which a chain, wrought out of Ætna’s fire,

Pass’d through an aperture a cubit higher

(Its length ten leagues, and polish’d every link);

One end in hell, and one upon the brink,

Upon the side whereat the funeral train

Would yield the corpse; there, on the sacred plain,

To be uplifted, and then gently swung

O’er the abyss! Hark to the obit’s song!

As on the sad procession wend their way,

In funeral paces, at the wane of day:

The sound increases as they, slower still—

Far on the plain, come o’er a gradual hill,

On which an arch built up with lovely pines—

Entwined with olives and selected vines—

Bore on its top a crimson flame, which ’rose

To light the cortége as it onward goes;

For now the sun was sinking fast below

The dark horizon of the western brow.

’Tis now indeed a melancholy hour;

For, as they line the brink, they hear the roar—

The thunder of great Vulcan’s mighty gong:

Besides, they hear, though faint, th’ Infernals’ song

Of joy; and there, as round the vault they stand,

Is heard the clamour of th’ uproarious band

Let loose below, to revel at their will,

Till Mulciber shall bid them to be still.

Then suddenly up shot into the air

From out the gulf a stream of yellow flare;

And then a sulph’rous cloud involved the pit,

In which a thousand infant demons flit,

Most wretched to behold; but joy for them,

And all the spirits who were waiting him—

The dead! Now griev’d Apollo, standing near,

Waved his white rod (but waved it with a tear),

The signal to uplift the ponderous bier

Above the gulf. Below, a sound arose,

As round the giant-axle slowly moves;

Contracting, every turn, the clinking chain,

Which lifted Bacchus from the purple plain.

* * * * *

When (as the body swung into the cloud)Apollo struck his harp, the noble crowdOf gods and goddesses their tabours rung,And peal’d the requiem in most glorious song!Said Hercules, who almost long’d to die—When first the anthem broke into the sky—(The corpse was then descending the abyss,)“Oh, give me death, and bury me like this!”He doff’d his helmet (noble was his brow),And as a child the hero seemèd now;For while he listen’d to th’ harmonious flowOf sound, unmatch’d on earth, his heart did leap.And Pan was there with his melodious pipe;Who—god of woods, of shepherds, most divine—On this occasion made his genius shine,—His reed he blew with such delightful force,That Hercules rejoic’d, so did his horse.Apollo’s nine companions[149]there with him,Enhanced the grandeur of the mournful hymn:Fair Terpsichore look’d sad, but sang most sweet,And timed most gracefully the poet’s feet:Euterpe, too, th’ inventor of the flute,Was only rivall’d by fair Clio’s lute:And Calliope’s sweet enchanting voice,Made heart and soul and flesh rejoice:The songs of Polyhymnia were so dealt,Gods, great and small, turn’d gravely as they kneltTo see from whence the melody arose:She heeded not,—and on her singing goesTill e’en the ground beneath them, where they stood,Seem’d to give ear: and Mars was much subdued.Erato, Thalia, blest Urania, andMelpŏmene the grave, complete the band,Who came from far their tuneful aid to lend;And with their songs their prayers for Bacchus sendTo Him, the Sovereign of continual death,Of woe, of mis’ry, and eternal wrath!

When (as the body swung into the cloud)

Apollo struck his harp, the noble crowd

Of gods and goddesses their tabours rung,

And peal’d the requiem in most glorious song!

Said Hercules, who almost long’d to die—

When first the anthem broke into the sky—

(The corpse was then descending the abyss,)

“Oh, give me death, and bury me like this!”

He doff’d his helmet (noble was his brow),

And as a child the hero seemèd now;

For while he listen’d to th’ harmonious flow

Of sound, unmatch’d on earth, his heart did leap.

And Pan was there with his melodious pipe;

Who—god of woods, of shepherds, most divine—

On this occasion made his genius shine,—

His reed he blew with such delightful force,

That Hercules rejoic’d, so did his horse.

Apollo’s nine companions[149]there with him,

Enhanced the grandeur of the mournful hymn:

Fair Terpsichore look’d sad, but sang most sweet,

And timed most gracefully the poet’s feet:

Euterpe, too, th’ inventor of the flute,

Was only rivall’d by fair Clio’s lute:

And Calliope’s sweet enchanting voice,

Made heart and soul and flesh rejoice:

The songs of Polyhymnia were so dealt,

Gods, great and small, turn’d gravely as they knelt

To see from whence the melody arose:

She heeded not,—and on her singing goes

Till e’en the ground beneath them, where they stood,

Seem’d to give ear: and Mars was much subdued.

Erato, Thalia, blest Urania, and

Melpŏmene the grave, complete the band,

Who came from far their tuneful aid to lend;

And with their songs their prayers for Bacchus send

To Him, the Sovereign of continual death,

Of woe, of mis’ry, and eternal wrath!

* * * * *

For one whole hour the requiem did not cease;Its words, interpreted, were writ as these—“O mighty king! O Pluto, lord of hell!Extend thy grace to his departed soul:Receive his corpse, and furnish it with breath,That he may revel in the realms of death:—So that our loss may be thy kingdom’s gain.”A pause ensued: and then a dreadful cryCame up the grave, which rent the gloomy sky.With it arose a wave of crimson flameUp straight towards a cloud that cover’d them;Which shaped itself into a feather’d beam,And wrote upon the cloud, thus: “Bassareus lives!”To their wits’ end the gods and goddessesWere driv’n: they scan the cloud and there beholdThe marv’lous scrip in letters of bright gold:Anon they gazed, until it vanishèd,And gods conferr’d like men astonishèd.They now resolved to wend their way from earth;Some East, some West, some South, and others North:Their minds, indeed, impressed with mighty things;Such as did baffle all their reasonings.As Hercules flew swiftly to the East,Apollo and fair Daphne to the West,Straight from the North great Boreas swept the plain,And bore a portion of the mystic trainTo the south region of the mournful height,(For not a star had deign’d to shine that night,)—Yea, all was dark. Earth, Air, and Ocean, nowWere void. Not so in the dread realms below:—Where there were spirits—tens of thousands, fiends,Whose shrieks were borne upon the various windsOf hell; and who with awful vengeance sworeThat such should be for ever, evermore!Where mountains labour in the trough of woe,And topple over on the host below:Where valleys lift themselves, and roll in waves:Where grim idolaters rise from their gravesAnd walk the plains like skeletons of death,Imparting oaths at each receding breath;Whose tongues hang down upon their fleshless breasts,And waste their foam like over-burthen’d beasts.But there were, also, those grandees of state;And in their midst that mighty Autocrat,The Governor of all therein; and heUnbarr’d the gate of immortality:While Vulcan, in attendance on the god,Had watch’d his master, and observed his nod:Towards the corpse he went, and breathed one breath,—When Bacchus ’rose, and doff’d his robe of death!

For one whole hour the requiem did not cease;

Its words, interpreted, were writ as these—

“O mighty king! O Pluto, lord of hell!

Extend thy grace to his departed soul:

Receive his corpse, and furnish it with breath,

That he may revel in the realms of death:—

So that our loss may be thy kingdom’s gain.”

A pause ensued: and then a dreadful cry

Came up the grave, which rent the gloomy sky.

With it arose a wave of crimson flame

Up straight towards a cloud that cover’d them;

Which shaped itself into a feather’d beam,

And wrote upon the cloud, thus: “Bassareus lives!”

To their wits’ end the gods and goddesses

Were driv’n: they scan the cloud and there behold

The marv’lous scrip in letters of bright gold:

Anon they gazed, until it vanishèd,

And gods conferr’d like men astonishèd.

They now resolved to wend their way from earth;

Some East, some West, some South, and others North:

Their minds, indeed, impressed with mighty things;

Such as did baffle all their reasonings.

As Hercules flew swiftly to the East,

Apollo and fair Daphne to the West,

Straight from the North great Boreas swept the plain,

And bore a portion of the mystic train

To the south region of the mournful height,

(For not a star had deign’d to shine that night,)—

Yea, all was dark. Earth, Air, and Ocean, now

Were void. Not so in the dread realms below:—

Where there were spirits—tens of thousands, fiends,

Whose shrieks were borne upon the various winds

Of hell; and who with awful vengeance swore

That such should be for ever, evermore!

Where mountains labour in the trough of woe,

And topple over on the host below:

Where valleys lift themselves, and roll in waves:

Where grim idolaters rise from their graves

And walk the plains like skeletons of death,

Imparting oaths at each receding breath;

Whose tongues hang down upon their fleshless breasts,

And waste their foam like over-burthen’d beasts.

But there were, also, those grandees of state;

And in their midst that mighty Autocrat,

The Governor of all therein; and he

Unbarr’d the gate of immortality:

While Vulcan, in attendance on the god,

Had watch’d his master, and observed his nod:

Towards the corpse he went, and breathed one breath,—

When Bacchus ’rose, and doff’d his robe of death!

* * * * *

This was the moment when upwent that cryWhich, as ’twas said, had rent the gloomy sky:This was the moment that the fiery wavesWrote on the cloud above them—“Bassareus lives!”And this the hour that Earth, and Air, and Sea,Was one vast waste of transient misery!When all the gods and goddesses were thrownInto a state of tremulous concern,And took themselves to flight, each one their way,To write their records of the dismal day.Now, Proserpine,[150]she, Pluto’s august queen,Was present to augment the novel scene:(No goddess, Pluto—though his power was great—Could e’er induce to share his vast estate;He, vex’d, enraged, deformed, despised, went forth,Stole Proserpine, and sunk into the earth;Which deed, great consternation then provokedAmong the Virgins, where he ’rose: they look’d,But ’twas in vain, for suddenly they’d goneDown to the caverns of the mighty one.)She saw poor Bassareus lift his ruffled head,—Observ’d his deathied checks flush to a red:And saw his eyes revolve, as ’round he gazedUpon the crowd, and stood—as though amazed—Contemplating with evident deep thoughtThe strange transfiguration which was wrought.Forth Pluto stepp’d, and, holding out his hand,Embraced the god. * * * The then surrounding bandOf wondering magnates, vie[151]and send abroad—“Long live great Bassareus!” “Hail our new-born god!”Then all the multitude join’d in the song,And ceasèd not, till Vulcan beat his gong;When to the palace the great concourse went;And on the mount, where dwelt th’ omnipotentUnmerciful, great god, to light the wayTen thousand torches flamed towards the sky;And all within, and out, was revelry.Uninterruptedly, for nine whole daysThe carnival endured: a fervent blaze—Meanwhile continuing—cast a melting heatUpon the host assembled round the seatOf Pluto. But poor Bacchus grew afraid,[152]—He being an alien in the land of dread:When first he saw the gloomy element,His heart forsook him, and much tears he spent;When first he heard the thunderings of hell,He beat his breast, and cursed his living soul;When he beheld the fiends fly ’cross the course,He stamp’d the ground, and grumbled with remorse;When at a furnace-heat the winds did blow,More sad, dejected, did poor Bassareus grow;—His anguish now became so great, he foamed,Inclined his head towards the ground, and moaned:Now raved aloud for that he loved on Earth,To cool his tongue and wash his frothy mouth:Then shook his head, and swung it like a plumb,Reviling bitterly his mother’s womb:Discomfited, he sent a piteous cry * * *(Which all the host interpreted for joy.)And roar’d aloud—“Ye gods of hell, be damn’d”(The more he cried less did they understand.)Upon his ears their hideous chorus dwelt;And as the direful strain of discords swell’dHe roll’d himself upon the heated earth,(They misconstrued it into signs of mirth;)Then bit his flesh, and pluck’d his bearded chin;Besought the gods to disembowel him!(But more and more the tumult did increase:Awhile he swore—they sent into the spaceTheir boisterous shouts in honour of their king,And unto Bacchus tuned their welcoming.)Yes—he, poor god, grew more and more depress’d;His temples swoll’n, and every joint oppress’dWith pain intense, he cried—“None so distress’dAs I, * * * none half so wretched, * * * none so lorn, * * *Not one so miserable was ever born!”

This was the moment when upwent that cry

Which, as ’twas said, had rent the gloomy sky:

This was the moment that the fiery waves

Wrote on the cloud above them—“Bassareus lives!”

And this the hour that Earth, and Air, and Sea,

Was one vast waste of transient misery!

When all the gods and goddesses were thrown

Into a state of tremulous concern,

And took themselves to flight, each one their way,

To write their records of the dismal day.

Now, Proserpine,[150]she, Pluto’s august queen,

Was present to augment the novel scene:

(No goddess, Pluto—though his power was great—

Could e’er induce to share his vast estate;

He, vex’d, enraged, deformed, despised, went forth,

Stole Proserpine, and sunk into the earth;

Which deed, great consternation then provoked

Among the Virgins, where he ’rose: they look’d,

But ’twas in vain, for suddenly they’d gone

Down to the caverns of the mighty one.)

She saw poor Bassareus lift his ruffled head,—

Observ’d his deathied checks flush to a red:

And saw his eyes revolve, as ’round he gazed

Upon the crowd, and stood—as though amazed—

Contemplating with evident deep thought

The strange transfiguration which was wrought.

Forth Pluto stepp’d, and, holding out his hand,

Embraced the god. * * * The then surrounding band

Of wondering magnates, vie[151]and send abroad—

“Long live great Bassareus!” “Hail our new-born god!”

Then all the multitude join’d in the song,

And ceasèd not, till Vulcan beat his gong;

When to the palace the great concourse went;

And on the mount, where dwelt th’ omnipotent

Unmerciful, great god, to light the way

Ten thousand torches flamed towards the sky;

And all within, and out, was revelry.

Uninterruptedly, for nine whole days

The carnival endured: a fervent blaze—

Meanwhile continuing—cast a melting heat

Upon the host assembled round the seat

Of Pluto. But poor Bacchus grew afraid,[152]—

He being an alien in the land of dread:

When first he saw the gloomy element,

His heart forsook him, and much tears he spent;

When first he heard the thunderings of hell,

He beat his breast, and cursed his living soul;

When he beheld the fiends fly ’cross the course,

He stamp’d the ground, and grumbled with remorse;

When at a furnace-heat the winds did blow,

More sad, dejected, did poor Bassareus grow;—

His anguish now became so great, he foamed,

Inclined his head towards the ground, and moaned:

Now raved aloud for that he loved on Earth,

To cool his tongue and wash his frothy mouth:

Then shook his head, and swung it like a plumb,

Reviling bitterly his mother’s womb:

Discomfited, he sent a piteous cry * * *

(Which all the host interpreted for joy.)

And roar’d aloud—“Ye gods of hell, be damn’d”

(The more he cried less did they understand.)

Upon his ears their hideous chorus dwelt;

And as the direful strain of discords swell’d

He roll’d himself upon the heated earth,

(They misconstrued it into signs of mirth;)

Then bit his flesh, and pluck’d his bearded chin;

Besought the gods to disembowel him!

(But more and more the tumult did increase:

Awhile he swore—they sent into the space

Their boisterous shouts in honour of their king,

And unto Bacchus tuned their welcoming.)

Yes—he, poor god, grew more and more depress’d;

His temples swoll’n, and every joint oppress’d

With pain intense, he cried—“None so distress’d

As I, * * * none half so wretched, * * * none so lorn, * * *

Not one so miserable was ever born!”

Great Pluto, seeing the god most sorely wroth,(For on his bearded chin there lurk’d the froth,)Said unto him—“O Bassareus! why so sad?Pray doff thy sorrow, and uplift thine head,—Behold the grandeur of my Palestine:On yonder mountain, next in rank to mine,And in the clouds, a castle I will raise,—In which (my will is) thou shalt pass thy days,And there remain, till Jupiter shall call,Shall call thee hence unto the world of Sol!”(These words electrified the mournful god,Who rubbed his eyes, and scann’d the multitude.)Continued Pluto: “Thine the fault shall be,If thou dost not enjoy felicity:—For in thy mansion vassals thou shalt have;A guard of honour, powerful and brave,Shall be, Friend Bassareus, at thy own command;And in my senate thou, at my right hand,Shall hold the sceptre of unrighteousness;Thy chief attendants shall be Lachesis,And Clotho, and their sister Atropos;[153]Those noted creatures of fatality:And with them, as companions, there shall beMegæra, Alecto, and Tisiphone,[154]Endowed with gifts most suitable to thee:And, furthermore, to enhance thy glory here,My orders shall go forth to Mulciber,To forge a chariot of Corinthian brass,Of great dimensions, that thou mightest passAbout the regions of thy residenceWith solemn grandeur, and magnificence.”

Great Pluto, seeing the god most sorely wroth,

(For on his bearded chin there lurk’d the froth,)

Said unto him—“O Bassareus! why so sad?

Pray doff thy sorrow, and uplift thine head,—

Behold the grandeur of my Palestine:

On yonder mountain, next in rank to mine,

And in the clouds, a castle I will raise,—

In which (my will is) thou shalt pass thy days,

And there remain, till Jupiter shall call,

Shall call thee hence unto the world of Sol!”

(These words electrified the mournful god,

Who rubbed his eyes, and scann’d the multitude.)

Continued Pluto: “Thine the fault shall be,

If thou dost not enjoy felicity:—

For in thy mansion vassals thou shalt have;

A guard of honour, powerful and brave,

Shall be, Friend Bassareus, at thy own command;

And in my senate thou, at my right hand,

Shall hold the sceptre of unrighteousness;

Thy chief attendants shall be Lachesis,

And Clotho, and their sister Atropos;[153]

Those noted creatures of fatality:

And with them, as companions, there shall be

Megæra, Alecto, and Tisiphone,[154]

Endowed with gifts most suitable to thee:

And, furthermore, to enhance thy glory here,

My orders shall go forth to Mulciber,

To forge a chariot of Corinthian brass,

Of great dimensions, that thou mightest pass

About the regions of thy residence

With solemn grandeur, and magnificence.”

* * * * *

As now when Bassareus, with derision, smiled,And grew, dissemblingly, more reconciled,He clench’d his hands and ’rose a cubit higher(Red as the elements that raged with fire),And turned his sweating face towards the sky:Unheeding the vast crowd’s tumultuous cry,His lips, with much emotion, seemed to move:At last he thunder’d out this prayer to Jove,—“O Sovereign Jove! lord, god of air and earth,—Thou benefactor, guardian of my youth,—Behold my sorrow, and mine agony! * * *Sustain me, Jove, in my adversity! * * *My flesh is melting with the dreadful blazeRevolving round the vast infernal space:My hunger and my thirst’s unbearable;The noise of hell—most incomparable!—From which, O Jove! with Pluto intercede,That of these torments Bacchus may be freed:And if ’tis possible, O Jupiter!With all thy majesty in Earth and Air,Thy wit, thy wisdom, and unrivalled power;Whose eloquence of speech, whose well-earn’d storeOf heav’nly honours, none can e’er surpass,—Speak thou to Pluto, that I may repassThrough that great gulf, back to those orient plains,There bask again among those teeming vines;—There——” but as he spake this word[155](and ’twas his last!)Loud thunders clapp’d, and lightnings rent the VastTornadoes, furiously the plains career’d;And all the host of hell aghast appear’d!Now Bassareus cried; tears mingled with his sweat:He lash’d his body, and defined a threat,And coupled with it a most horrid oath;Which Pluto could not bear. So, in his wroth,He turn’d an Enemy; and, with disdain,Commanded all the Elements to rainA torrent of red flame!—Down came the flood!The merc’less fluid, mingled with the bloodOf tens of thousands (in an instant slain),Rush’d like an ocean o’er the smoking plain.

As now when Bassareus, with derision, smiled,

And grew, dissemblingly, more reconciled,

He clench’d his hands and ’rose a cubit higher

(Red as the elements that raged with fire),

And turned his sweating face towards the sky:

Unheeding the vast crowd’s tumultuous cry,

His lips, with much emotion, seemed to move:

At last he thunder’d out this prayer to Jove,—

“O Sovereign Jove! lord, god of air and earth,—

Thou benefactor, guardian of my youth,—

Behold my sorrow, and mine agony! * * *

Sustain me, Jove, in my adversity! * * *

My flesh is melting with the dreadful blaze

Revolving round the vast infernal space:

My hunger and my thirst’s unbearable;

The noise of hell—most incomparable!—

From which, O Jove! with Pluto intercede,

That of these torments Bacchus may be freed:

And if ’tis possible, O Jupiter!

With all thy majesty in Earth and Air,

Thy wit, thy wisdom, and unrivalled power;

Whose eloquence of speech, whose well-earn’d store

Of heav’nly honours, none can e’er surpass,—

Speak thou to Pluto, that I may repass

Through that great gulf, back to those orient plains,

There bask again among those teeming vines;—

There——” but as he spake this word[155](and ’twas his last!)

Loud thunders clapp’d, and lightnings rent the Vast

Tornadoes, furiously the plains career’d;

And all the host of hell aghast appear’d!

Now Bassareus cried; tears mingled with his sweat:

He lash’d his body, and defined a threat,

And coupled with it a most horrid oath;

Which Pluto could not bear. So, in his wroth,

He turn’d an Enemy; and, with disdain,

Commanded all the Elements to rain

A torrent of red flame!—Down came the flood!

The merc’less fluid, mingled with the blood

Of tens of thousands (in an instant slain),

Rush’d like an ocean o’er the smoking plain.

* * * * *

From his high towers—the deluge, Pluto saw.The dissolution of the host belowChang’d not his countenance. A thousand timesThis haughty monarch (and for lesser crimesThan those of Bassareus’) scourged the land with fire,Durst any magnate to provoke his ire.Said he to Proserpine—“Lift I my hand,Ten thousand demons are at my command:Burn I as many every day, nay hour,Lift it again, and lo! ten thousand moreAre at my feet. * * * Weep not, O Proserpine!No such destruction shall be ever thine;Nor Vulcan’s fate: he, Pluto’s chief, shall dwellFor ever in those glorious realms of hell.Nox,[156]ancient creature, shall for ever findMy heart in favour, and my edicts kind:Though dark her ways, her manners I approve,—She makes no prayers to Jupiter or Jove,—And next to Proserpine doth share my love;Contented, amiable, and circumspect,The good old goddess, Pluto shall protect.Nor giant Charon,[157]constant at his post,Conductor of the dead from coast to coast;Though rude his mien, him will I not despise;Him will I shelter from the flaming skies.My Judges, also, for their integrity,Shall know no sorrow, nor adversity.Nor Cerberus,[158]my faithful, at the gate(For ever ready to defend my state),Shall never die, shall never lack my careWhilst hell is hell, and Pluto master there!”

From his high towers—the deluge, Pluto saw.

The dissolution of the host below

Chang’d not his countenance. A thousand times

This haughty monarch (and for lesser crimes

Than those of Bassareus’) scourged the land with fire,

Durst any magnate to provoke his ire.

Said he to Proserpine—“Lift I my hand,

Ten thousand demons are at my command:

Burn I as many every day, nay hour,

Lift it again, and lo! ten thousand more

Are at my feet. * * * Weep not, O Proserpine!

No such destruction shall be ever thine;

Nor Vulcan’s fate: he, Pluto’s chief, shall dwell

For ever in those glorious realms of hell.

Nox,[156]ancient creature, shall for ever find

My heart in favour, and my edicts kind:

Though dark her ways, her manners I approve,—

She makes no prayers to Jupiter or Jove,—

And next to Proserpine doth share my love;

Contented, amiable, and circumspect,

The good old goddess, Pluto shall protect.

Nor giant Charon,[157]constant at his post,

Conductor of the dead from coast to coast;

Though rude his mien, him will I not despise;

Him will I shelter from the flaming skies.

My Judges, also, for their integrity,

Shall know no sorrow, nor adversity.

Nor Cerberus,[158]my faithful, at the gate

(For ever ready to defend my state),

Shall never die, shall never lack my care

Whilst hell is hell, and Pluto master there!”

Note.—It is the author’s intention (if spared, and his friends—subscribers to this little work—appreciate his motive) to represent, in a subsequent poem, “The Resurrection of Bacchus,”—his return and glorious reception upon Earth, etc.

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