@3The satyrs sing to Ariadne. She is deserted by Theseus on Naxos, where Dionysus sues and wins her. The marriage-rout recedes into the forest@1. Round the ivied bowl Rapturous in revels dear, Maidens all, wild of soul, Gaily footing, curtsy here! You whose wreaths aslant Show faun faces 'neath the green, In mad shaggy mirth the chant Raise to this new woodland queen! Airy legion -- O'er your region Phoebus in his tent above -- Shower our singing With your winging Golden darts of mirth and love! Brilliant feathered, Sunny-weathered Birds of this our dream demesne, -- As your chant is, Fauns, bacchantes, Hail the queen! Toss the flowery chains! All the rosy rout delays. Bronze, wild woodland swains, Twinkling horns, the paean raise! Cloven hooves, bare feet, beat time, -- Brown-coned thyrses, sway and swing Round the riot of this rhyme To our trolling woodland king! As to Bacchus In Lampsacus Roared the festal fires by night, Where mad riot Shook the quiet Of dark forests crimson-bright, Let this even Ruddy levin Roll around our bonfires' blaze! Hearts beat quicker To rich liquor Broached in woodland ways! Now these covert aisles Gloom from green. The furry folk Steal to join our wiles. Dusk from alder and from oak. Hares and dappled deer, Wonder-eyed they hem us round -- Forms familiar drawing near Phantoms of their hunting-ground. Rosy misting From this trysting, Maenads, whirled in dizzy dance -- Cymbals clashing, White limbs flashing -- Lure your lovers, laugh and glance! Dark-shanked, swarthy Satyrs for ye Gambol gleesome, cry and call. The dim moon swimming Night o'erbrimming Drenches gleams o'er all! Bound with green and gay Flowery and leafy chains On our swaying way Rollick mirth with tumult reigns! Sleep the fresh warm mornings through, Sleep not while dark skies so deep Dazzle -- myriad-starred -- our crew! Casual day for sleep! Night hath spilt her Purple philter From the wine-skin of the sky! Waking, leaping, Our unsleeping Comrades of the copse draw nigh. Shake the staining Lees remaining From your carven goblets! Fill! By the soaring Bonfire's roaring Mirth shall have its will! Queen new-won of us, (Sun thy crown, thy face the moon, Pale and luminous!) Wane not from our sight too soon! House not with thy glorious spouse Till once more the flaming wine Drench our throats and dash our brows To our queen divine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...APOLLO by THOMAS HOLLEY CHIVERS THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES; THE 10TH SATIRE OF JUVENAL, IMITATED by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1709-1784) THE HEART KNOWETH ITS OWN BITTERNESS' (2) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI GARDEN DAYS: 6. AUTUMN FIRES by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON BEAUREGARD by CATHERINE ANNE WARFIELD WHAT BEST I SEE; TO U.S.G. RETURN'D FROM HIS WORLD'S TOUR by WALT WHITMAN |