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Cupid is a casuist, a mystic, and a cabalist,--
Can your lurking thought surprise,
And interpret your read more
Cupid is a casuist, a mystic, and a cabalist,--
Can your lurking thought surprise,
And interpret your device,
. . . .
All things wait for and divine him,--
How shall I dare to malign him?
Nature's self's thy Ganymede.
Nature's self's thy Ganymede.
Never, believe me,
Appear the Immortals,
Never alone.
Never, believe me,
Appear the Immortals,
Never alone.
Shakes his ambroisal curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god.
Shakes his ambroisal curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god.
I, Phoebus, sang those songs that gained so much renown
I, Phoebus, sang them; Homer only wrote them down.
I, Phoebus, sang those songs that gained so much renown
I, Phoebus, sang them; Homer only wrote them down.
Say, Bacchus, why so placid? What can there be
In commune held by Pallas and by thee?
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Say, Bacchus, why so placid? What can there be
In commune held by Pallas and by thee?
Her pleasure is in darts and battles; thine
In joyous feasts and draughts of rosy wine.
Speak of the gods as they are.
Speak of the gods as they are.
And that dismal cry rose slowly
And sank slowly through the air,
Full of spirit's melancholy
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And that dismal cry rose slowly
And sank slowly through the air,
Full of spirit's melancholy
And eternity's despair!
And they heart the words it said--
Pan is dead! great Pan is dead!
Pan, Pan is dead!
