Orpheus in Hades.
By W. P. Palmer.
"Manesque adiit Regemque tremedum."—Virgil.
Is this awful presence real?
This grim Pluto's dread domain?
Or not, rather, some ideal
Phantom of a troubled brain?
Nay, it is no mocking vision
Born of frenzied hope or fear,
And my heart with calm decision,
Whispers, Minstrel, be of cheer!
Lo! the first of living mortals
That e'er crossed the Stygian wave!
Do not spurn me from your portals,
Hold not back the boon I crave!
By that queenly form beside thee,
Rapt from Enna's flowery fold,
King of Hades, do not chide me
If I seem unseemly bold!
Rocks and woods my footsteps follow,
Wildest streams in silence stand,
When thy golden gift, Apollo,
Melts in music to my hand
Shall its tones prove less enchanting
Here, than in yon world above,
When its master, pale and panting,
Pleads the cause of life and love?
This grim Pluto's dread domain?
Or not, rather, some ideal
Phantom of a troubled brain?
Nay, it is no mocking vision
Born of frenzied hope or fear,
And my heart with calm decision,
Whispers, Minstrel, be of cheer!
Lo! the first of living mortals
That e'er crossed the Stygian wave!
Do not spurn me from your portals,
Hold not back the boon I crave!
By that queenly form beside thee,
Rapt from Enna's flowery fold,
King of Hades, do not chide me
If I seem unseemly bold!
Rocks and woods my footsteps follow,
Wildest streams in silence stand,
When thy golden gift, Apollo,
Melts in music to my hand
Shall its tones prove less enchanting
Here, than in yon world above,
When its master, pale and panting,
Pleads the cause of life and love?
Let me try what magic slumbers,
Lyre, in thy melodious chords,
When to music's sweetest numbers
Sorrow lends still sweeter words:
See! the Furies lean to listen,
Atropos relenting hears;
Nay, e'en Pluto's stern eyes glisten;
Proserpine's are drowned in tears!
Lyre, in thy melodious chords,
When to music's sweetest numbers
Sorrow lends still sweeter words:
See! the Furies lean to listen,
Atropos relenting hears;
Nay, e'en Pluto's stern eyes glisten;
Proserpine's are drowned in tears!
Oh! how sweet your answer falleth
On my spirit, rapt and still!
"Fate thy loved one's doom recalleth,
Mortal, thou shalt have thy will:
She for whom thy soul is yearning,
Sunward shall thy steps retrace;
But beware, the while, of turning
Once to gaze upon her face!"
On my spirit, rapt and still!
"Fate thy loved one's doom recalleth,
Mortal, thou shalt have thy will:
She for whom thy soul is yearning,
Sunward shall thy steps retrace;
But beware, the while, of turning
Once to gaze upon her face!"
Shall I, then, again behold her,
As in days so fondly blest?
Shall these widowed arms enfold her,
These lorn lips to hers be prest?
Oh! the sad yet sweet confession
Of a rapture so intense!
Silence were its best expression,
Tears its truest eloquence!
As in days so fondly blest?
Shall these widowed arms enfold her,
These lorn lips to hers be prest?
Oh! the sad yet sweet confession
Of a rapture so intense!
Silence were its best expression,
Tears its truest eloquence!
See, yon golden gate discloses
Glimpses of the blissful bowers,
Where immortal youth reposes,
Crowned with amaranthine flowers;
And as SHE the threshold crosses,
From the fields of asphodel
Comes a swell of spirit-voices,
Softly murmuring, Fare thee well!
Glimpses of the blissful bowers,
Where immortal youth reposes,
Crowned with amaranthine flowers;
And as SHE the threshold crosses,
From the fields of asphodel
Comes a swell of spirit-voices,
Softly murmuring, Fare thee well!
Kindly ones, your parting blessing
Fate shall tenderly fulfill!
In my arms, caressed, caressing,
She shall find Elysium still;
For wherever truth and duty
Link the loving, heart to heart,
Your fair world in all its beauty
Sees its perfect counterpart.
Fate shall tenderly fulfill!
In my arms, caressed, caressing,
She shall find Elysium still;
For wherever truth and duty
Link the loving, heart to heart,
Your fair world in all its beauty
Sees its perfect counterpart.
Grieve not, dearest, that thy lover
Leads thee with averted face;
Once the Stygian bourne well over,
How he 'll fly to thy embrace!
But till that dear consummation,
Let the thought bring mutual cheer,
That in deepest obscuration
Each to each is ever near.
Leads thee with averted face;
Once the Stygian bourne well over,
How he 'll fly to thy embrace!
But till that dear consummation,
Let the thought bring mutual cheer,
That in deepest obscuration
Each to each is ever near.
Lo! already, faintly gleaming,
Far Avernus dawns to sight!
Down whose dusky caverns streaming
Glance the golden shafts of light:
As they brighter fall around thee,
Fainter pleads my hapless vow;
Nay, though thousand oaths had bound me,
I must see thee, here and now!
Far Avernus dawns to sight!
Down whose dusky caverns streaming
Glance the golden shafts of light:
As they brighter fall around thee,
Fainter pleads my hapless vow;
Nay, though thousand oaths had bound me,
I must see thee, here and now!
Fairest of all fairest faces,
Oh! the rapture, once, once more,
To behold those dimpled graces
Lovelier than e'er before!
But, alas, the hopes they waken
Vanish like a frighted bird,
Ah! so soon to be forsaken
By a bliss so long deferred!
Oh! the rapture, once, once more,
To behold those dimpled graces
Lovelier than e'er before!
But, alas, the hopes they waken
Vanish like a frighted bird,
Ah! so soon to be forsaken
By a bliss so long deferred!
Back, ye Gorgons, grimly glaring
Where the rosy vision fled;
All your banded fury daring,
I again will seek the dead!
Vain, vain boast! for ever vanished
Is thy dream the loved to free;
By thine own blind passion vanished,
Justest Fates, too, banish thee.
Where the rosy vision fled;
All your banded fury daring,
I again will seek the dead!
Vain, vain boast! for ever vanished
Is thy dream the loved to free;
By thine own blind passion vanished,
Justest Fates, too, banish thee.
Yet ye have not all bereft me,
Parcæ, spurned from Lethe's shore;
This dear solace still is left me,
That I' ve seen her face once more!
And whatever hence betide me,
That fair vision, day and night,
Like a cynosure shall guide me
To her own blest Land of Light!
Parcæ, spurned from Lethe's shore;
This dear solace still is left me,
That I' ve seen her face once more!
And whatever hence betide me,
That fair vision, day and night,
Like a cynosure shall guide me
To her own blest Land of Light!
New-York, 1854.