Dithyramb
by
Dithyramb.[1]
Believe me, together
The bright gods come ever,
Still as of old;
Scarce see I Bacchus, the giver of joy,
Than comes up fair Eros, the laugh-loving boy,
And Phoebus, the stately, behold!
They come near and nearer,
The heavenly ones all–
The gods with their presence
Fill earth as their hall!
Say, how shall I welcome,
Human and earthborn,
Sons of the sky?
Pour out to me–pour the full life that ye live!
What to ye, O ye gods! can the mortal one give?
The joys can dwell only
In Jupiter’s palace–
Brimmed bright with your nectar,
Oh, reach me the chalice!
“Hebe, the chalice
Fill full to the brim!
Steep his eyes–steep his eyes in the bath of the dew,
Let him dream, while the Styx is concealed from his view,
That the life of the gods is for him!”
It murmurs, it sparkles,
The fount of delight;
The bosom grows tranquil–
The eye becomes bright.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] This has been paraphrased by Coleridge.