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?
