Orpheus turns to look at his wife, Eurydice, and her shadowy figure falls back toward
                        Hades. He reaches out toward her with
                        his right arm and clutches his lyre with his left. She falls backward with outstretched
                        arms. Both figures are dressed in classical
                        robes. Their clothing and Eurydice’s hair both flow as if caught by a breeze. Grasses
                        and small flowers line the ground. Full-page
                        illustration contained within a single-ruled border.
                     
                     
                     
                     
                     Orpheus and Eurydice.


As sweet Eurydice, with footfall light,1
                        
                        Roved the Thessalian woods one moonlit night,2
                        
                        Singing amidst the gentle Naiad throng,3
                        
                        Who ranged attentive to her voice, a song4
                        
                        That her own Orpheus taught her, suddenly5
                        
                        Aristæus, hot with honey-wine, comes by,6
                        
                        Follows the music ardently, and ere7
                        
                        The singer and the listening nymphs are ware,8
                        
                        Leaps in their midst, and, kindling to her charms,9
                        
                        Clasps at Eurydice with eager arms.10
                        
                        She, the sweet melody on her lovely lips,11
                        
                        Snapt with a scream, from his embraces slips,12
                        
                        And crying,  ‘ Orpheus, Orpheus,’ swift as light,13
                        
                        Flies from the woods, he following, through the night,14
                        
                        Until escaped from the pursuer’s hand15
                        
                        O’er the full Hebrus she has swum to land ;16
                        
                        When, through the shelter of the sloping sward,17
                        
                        A hooded snake that haunts the river ford18
                        
                        Shoots his lithe length to meet her from the ground,19
                        
                        And, ere she sees it, darts a deadly wound.20
                        
                        She still would flee, if but she still may reach21
                        
                        Her home, now nigh, and find a friendly leech,22
                        
                        Or die at least in her dear love’s embrace—23
                        
                        But the black poison runs a swifter race ;24
                        
                        Her footsteps fail, her limbs their force forget,25
                        
                        Her fluttering sighs came fast and faster yet
                               ;26
                        
                        The landscape swims around,—she falters, falls—27
                        
                        Thrice strives to rise, and thrice on Orpheus calls,28
                        
                        Each cry a fainter echo of the last,29
                        
                        And murmuring Orpheus still the gentle spirit passed.30
                        Then Aristæus, stricken with remorse,31
                        
                        Braves the loud flood, and kneels beside her corse,32
                        
                        And chafes her hands, and every art essays33
                        
                        From her last sleep the lovely Nymph to raise.34
                        
                        But all in vain, and, turning with a tear,35
                        
                        Slow he retraces his too swift career.36
                        
                        
Anon the Naiads from the general flight37
                        
                        Toward their Hebrus one by one unite ;38
                        
                        And when—ah !  woeful hap—they see her slain,39
                        
                        Beat their white breasts, and lift the cry of pain,40
                        
                        Wood, vale, and mountain mingle in the dirge,41
                        
                        The desolate River sobs from verge to verge ;42
                        
                        And Night herself, veiling her starry eyes,43
                        
                        Leads the lament with long-drawn tempest-sighs.44
                        O say not that two sympathetic souls45
                        
                        Can only mix as outward sense controls.46
                        
                        Far off the mother of an only daughter,47
                        
                        Pierced with her pangs, has trembling resought her :48
                        
                        The absent brother feels the fatal power49
                        
                        That strikes the partner of his natal hour ;50
                        
                        And the fond youth, beneath far distant skies,51
                        
                        Knows the sad moment when his mistress dies.52
                        
                        Thus Orpheus, who had left his lovely spouse53
                        
                        For Delphi’s steep to pay his filial vows54
                        
                        To King Apollo, starts from sleep to hear55
                        
                        His name thrice shrieked with anguish in his ear :56
                        
                        To earth he starts—a weapon wildly snatches—57
                        
                        Hies through the hall, the darkling door unlatches,58
                        
                        And stands bewildered in the moonlight clear,59
                        
                        Crying,  ‘ Eurydice, your love is here ;’60
                        
                        Till the night airs on his uncovered brows61
                        
                        Blowing awhile his woe-stunned wits arouse.62
                        
                        But sense no solace yields, and, as he flies63
                        
                        With homeward haste, still dark and darker rise64
                        
                        Death’s phantom fears, till on the dewy lea65
                        
                        Orpheus has clasped his cold Eurydice,66
                        
                        And laid alond by her with weeping strong67
                        
                        And sobs tempestuous tosses all day long.68
                        Then King Apollo, pitying the pain69
                        
                        Of his dear son, whom most he loved of men,70
                        
                        Stands by his side, his awful beauty veiling71
                        
                        In softest cloud, and thus rebukes his wailing :72
                        
                        ‘ Rise, Orpheus, rise, infatuate with grief ;73
                        
                        Orpheus, arise, Apollo brings relief ;74
                        
                        For not in vain hast thou required my favour75
                        
                        With filial vows and first-fruits sweet of savour ;76
                        
                        Nor idly did thy docile genius follow77
                        
                        The magic music of thy sire Apollo.78
                        
                        No Marsyas thou, but reverently mute79
                        
                        To hear and learn the language of my lute,80
                        
                        
And therefore thou of living men alone81
                        
                        Canst charm all cruel force with music’s moan.82
                        For this did Jason, warned of Chiron old,83
                        
                        In choice of questers for the Fleece of Gold,84
                        
                        Prefer thee helmsman of the hero crew85
                        
                        Of Argo, wisely yielding thee thy due :86
                        
                        Else had they never rowed to Colchian seas87
                        
                        Past those gray cliffs the dread Symplegades ;88
                        
                        For, as with oars that to thy harping clear89
                        
                        In cadence dipped, the desperate course they steer,90
                        
                        From the almost shock the shores resilient flew91
                        
                        Rapt to thy lay and let the questers through ;92
                        
                        Thou too, when far upon the western main93
                        
                        Fierce thirst possessed the heroes, with thy strain94
                        
                        Alone could’st win from the Hesperian Maids95
                        
                        The golden offspring of their garden shades ;96
                        
                        And after, when the Argonautic oars97
                        
                        Approached too near those bark-beguiling shores,98
                        
                        Where bleach the bones of many a music-slain99
                        
                        Mariner—and the Siren Sisters’ strain100
                        
                        Was with its amorous enchantment stealing101
                        
                        Each quester’s soul, thy heavenly pæan pealing102
                        
                        Struck dumb the weird witch-music, and reclaimed103
                        
                        Their service due who else the Quest had shamed.’104
                        ‘ And what avails that skill,’ the mourner sighs,105
                        
                        ‘ Oh !  father mine, when low my mistress lies ;106
                        
                        Though, when I luted, love stole softly o’er her,107
                        
                        The song that won her never can restore her.’108
                        ‘ Orpheus, I heard you once, when stars were clear,109
                        
                        Echoing the strains that thrill from sphere to sphere ;110
                        
                        You sang, whilst Argo o’er the ocean hoary111
                        
                        Leaped to the lay, Creation’s awful story112
                        
                        Softly you sang ;  and, though you knew it not,113
                        
                        Nature was tranced around in troubled thought,114
                        
                        Fearful lest thou shouldst wake that louder lay115
                        
                        Intolerable that shook her natal day.116
                        
                        Idly she feared, for I of gods and men,117
                        
                        Save Love alone, have knowledge of that strain,118
                        
                        And I but once its music can recall—119
                        
                        Yet, for I love thee, son, yea more than all120
                        
                        My children, and now pity, bride-bereft,121
                        
                        Thee I endue with my transcendent gift,122
                        
                        The song of songs, to whose ecstatic strain123
                        
                        Informing Love, from Chaos’ dread insane,124
                        
                        
Called the young Cosmos. Lift that psalm again,125
                        
                        And earth shall quake, the empyrean lower,126
                        
                        Seas rage, and at the last the Infernal Power127
                        
                        Ope to thy lay the inexorable door,128
                        
                        And thy lost mistress to thine arms restore.’129
                        He said, and vanished, whilst a rosy source130
                        
                        Of sudden sunset flowing found the corse,131
                        
                        Kissed her cold feet, suffused her bosom’s snow,132
                        
                        Blushed in her cheek, and melted on her brow.133
                        
                        Then Orpheus :  ‘ For the dim discoloured light134
                        
                        Of Hymen’s torch upon my nuptial night135
                        
                        This radiant omen, Phœbus, I accept ;’136
                        
                        Whilst o’er the lute his eager fingers swept,137
                        
                        Preluding softly to that mystic strain138
                        
                        Which he but wakened once, and none shall wake again.139
                        Then the sphere-music stole upon the harp,140
                        
                        Pregnant with rapturous pain and pleasure sharp,141
                        
                        All things that are, enchanted, paused to hear,142
                        
                        Save the small growths that sprang to be more near ;143
                        
                        For joy and sorrow, birth and life, and death144
                        
                        Trembled together in that tuneful breath.145
                        Anon the wild sphere-music louder grew,146
                        
                        Loud as when first the parent atoms flew,147
                        
                        Of air and water, fire and formless earth,148
                        
                        Each seed to share an elemental birth ;149
                        
                        For to that cadence arched the skyey dome,150
                        
                        The soft soil hardened, Ocean sought his home,151
                        
                        And shapes of sea and landscape loom around,152
                        
                        Till sun and moon and stars the night astound,153
                        
                        With living lustre leaping to the sound ;154
                        
                        And vendure springs, and with the breathing form155
                        
                        The earth and air and ocean sudden swarm ;156
                        
                        And last of all, to crown Creation’s plan,157
                        
                        Awakes to life the myriad-mooded man.158
                        But, on the even of that natal day,159
                        
                        Love’s louder song had died into the lay,160
                        
                        That all to subtle-sweet for mortal ears161
                        
                        Thrills with eternal music through the spheres.162
                        
                        Orpheus alone had caught that softer strain,163
                        
                        And, as he wakes it now, his eager brain,164
                        
                        Inspired by Phœbus, links the sound subdued165
                        
                        To its loud, long-forgotten parent mood.166
                        
                        
So lutes he, and so sings, with flashing eyes167
                        
                        And dark dishevelled locks that fall and rise168
                        
                        O’er his torn vestments to the cadence wild.169
                        
                        Eve fades—night blackens—and Apollo’s child,170
                        
                        Unseen as Philomel pours his passionate thought171
                        
                        Whilst round him all the universe, distraught172
                        
                        By the fierce phrenzy of awful lyre,173
                        
                        All breathing forms, earth, ocean, air, and fire,174
                        
                        Hear and make moan as each indwelling essence175
                        
                        That forms them feels the old Creative Presence176
                        
                        Maddening their rest, and drawing them to mix177
                        
                        In other moulds, and all that is perplex ;178
                        
                        Till at the sphere-song, out of centuried sleep,179
                        
                        Old Chaos rears him from the utmost deep,180
                        
                        Deeming perchance that erst obnoxious hymn,181
                        
                        Favourable now unto his empire dim ;182
                        
                        Then rocked the earth for fear, the vaulted heaven183
                        
                        Thundered aghast, far leaped th’ affrighted levin,184
                        
                        Shook the deep sea dismayed, and, at the last,185
                        
                        Through the song-severed gates of hell the poet passed.186
                        Hard by the hideous porch a spectral crew187
                        
                        Deform first meet the minstrel’s troubled view ;188
                        
                        Grief, Labour, Care, Disease, and tristful Age189
                        
                        And Fear and Famine, War, Revenge, and Rage,190
                        
                        But shape more dread of all the demon Death191
                        
                        With infant face distort, a maid beneath,192
                        
                        Yet with lean palsied arms and locks of eld,193
                        
                        Who first from far the approaching bard beheld,194
                        
                        And fain to startle him to swift retreat195
                        
                        Begins :  ‘ O fool, what strain to Death is sweet.196
                        
                        Essay no further, lest this countenance,197
                        
                        In wrath revealed, consume thee at a glance.198
                        
                        Or canst thou, front to front opposed, outstare199
                        
                        Her whose fierce eyes’ intolerable glare,200
                        
                        Spite all the horrors of her serpent brow201
                        
                        And hellish aspect, laid Medusa low.’202
                        
                        She said, but Orpheus struck his saddest chord,203
                        
                        Wept the fell fiend, and past her haunt abhorred204
                        
                        The youth unhurt pursued his darkling way,205
                        
                        Till at his feet the Stygian river lay,206
                        
                        And rustling round him stole those bloodless ranks207
                        
                        That wait expectant on the oozy banks208
                        
                        For Charon’s bark ;  but that grim senior rowed209
                        
                        Toward the further shore his goblin load.210
                        
                        Then Orpheus, for Eurydice the lost,211
                        
                        
Eager peruses all that phantom host,212
                        
                        But vainly, when outspake a giant ghost,213
                        
                        Whose shoulders topped the crowd.  ‘ Oh !  comrade dear,214
                        
                        Orpheus divine, what quest has led thee here,215
                        
                        Alive !  O strange, as first I sought this shore,216
                        
                        Admetus’ bride, Alcestis, to restore,217
                        
                        And with these hands, how forceless now, alas !218
                        
                        Fettered the Triple Hound all fear to pass ;219
                        
                        Surely some bitter cause thy suppliant dress,220
                        
                        Dishevelled hair, and downcast eyes confess.’221
                        Then Orpheus weeping,  ‘ Ah me, grief on grief,222
                        
                        No woe is single, thou too here, my chief,223
                        
                        Whom yesterday sang Victor, then she crossed224
                        
                        The ninefold stream before thy life was lost,225
                        
                        For, by a serpant slain, Eurydice,226
                        
                        My bride, is hither borne. Oh, woe is me !227
                        
                        Her now I seek ;  but what fate forced thee here,228
                        
                        Whom of old Argo’s crew I loved most dear ?’229
                        Then great Alcides tells the jealous wile230
                        
                        Of Deianeira, by the Centaur’s guile,231
                        
                        Malignant, fraught with poison fierce and fire232
                        
                        Life-ridding on the self-sought funeral pyre.233
                        ‘ Console thee, Herakles, my comrade dear,’234
                        
                        Orpheus presaged, ‘for short space art thou here.235
                        
                        It only needs to expiate the ire236
                        
                        Of Dis, conceived what time his hell-hound dire237
                        
                        Thy might o’ermastered, that as yon weak ghosts238
                        
                        As forceless thou awhile shouldst range his coasts.239
                        
                        Right soon from Hell exempt, with honours meet,240
                        
                        Thee gods shall welcome to a heavenly seat,241
                        
                        Constellate in their midst, and for the love242
                        
                        Of woman, bless with Hebe’s bower above.’243
                        Now Charon brings his boat once more to land,244
                        
                        And Orpheus hastes his service to demand ;245
                        
                        But with a hateful scowl the ferryman246
                        
                        In scornful answer to his suit began,247
                        
                        ‘ Back, rash intruder in the realms of dark,248
                        
                        For long as I direct the Stygian bark249
                        
                        No sprite embodied enters it again,’250
                        
                        He said ;  but Orpheus woke a soothing strain,251
                        
                        So sweet, so softly wildering the brain,252
                        
                        That all his grisly length old Charon slept,253
                        
                        
Then lightly to his seat the poet stepped,254
                        
                        And, singing, o’er the stream with easy oarage swept.255
                        Stretched on the further shore the Triple Hound256
                        
                        Owns with a troubled voice the magic sound,257
                        
                        Whom Orpheus passed, and through the palace-gate258
                        
                        Of Hell still presses on with hope elate,259
                        
                        Until at last before the dusky throne260
                        
                        Of Dis and Proserpine he casts him down.261
                        Whom, sternly eyeing, Pluto straight addressed :262
                        
                        ‘ Stranger, declare thy name and what thy quest,263
                        
                        No Tityos sure, nor with Alcides’ might,264
                        
                        Hast thou approached the realms of nether night ;265
                        
                        My minions have been mocked with panic error,266
                        
                        If thou, effeminate form, hast caused them terror.267
                        
                        Speak, but expect no grace.’ Then Proserpine268
                        
                        Broke in,  ‘ My Lord, ’tis Orpheus the divine,269
                        
                        Offspring of Phœbus and Calliope,270
                        
                        Who, when the Fleece-Quest neared sweet Sicily,271
                        
                        His descant turned till e’en the sea-beach smiled,272
                        
                        To bright-eyed blossom by his song beguiled.’273
                        
                        Then Orpheus, with fresh heart, awoke his litany wild.274
                        ‘ Not out of impious lust, O Nameless Name,275
                        
                        Nor friend for friend, as Herakles hither came,276
                        
                        Have I adventured to thine empire dread277
                        
                        No might of mine—aywell, this downcast head278
                        
                        And feeble limbs provoke thy sharpest scorn—279
                        
                        Not his poor prowess hath thy servant borne280
                        
                        Thus strangely past thy guardian forms of fear,281
                        
                        Charon and Cerberus, and set unscathed here,282
                        
                        A Power eternal bears me from above—283
                        
                        Now in my need forsake me not, O Love—’284
                        On whom so crying bitterly a great change,285
                        
                        With tremor fierce and sighing thick and strange,286
                        
                        Smote suddenly—his labouring limbs assume287
                        
                        Stature divine, his front immortal bloom,288
                        
                        Erect he starts, a sudden halo bright289
                        
                        Burns from his brow, beneath whose living light290
                        
                        His eyes, bright stars in bluest heaven, shed291
                        
                        Ethereal influence through that palace dread,292
                        
                        Whilst his sweet voice divine went forth amonst the dead,293
                        
                        Singing the lives of those two lovers fond,294
                        
                        How dutiful in youth, then how beyond295
                        
                        
Compare in piety ;  and how they loved296
                        
                        A long, long love, that but the purer proved297
                        
                        By bitter ordeal ;  their brief nuptial bliss298
                        
                        And latest parting ;  last the envenomed kiss299
                        
                        Of the fierce serpent, when with flying foot,300
                        
                        Scarce had Eurydice foiled the vile pursuit301
                        
                        Of Aristæus, and how she failed and fell,302
                        
                        And made her death-bed in the asphodel.303
                        Here paused the voice awhile ;  but soon again304
                        
                        Awaking, poured a most enchanting strain305
                        
                        Of a fair goddess in Sicilian meads,306
                        
                        And Eros charioting those dusky steeds307
                        
                        Soft o’er the lily leaves and grasses green,308
                        
                        And to the King of Night bearing his beauteous queen.309
                        Last the voice sang how that deep love divine310
                        
                        Had never quenched in Dis or Proserpine,311
                        
                        Or failed in anywise for Eros’ aid,312
                        
                        For which dear services that sweet voice prayed313
                        
                        Eurydice’s reprieve with its last breath,314
                        
                        Then on the darkness dies a most delicious death.315
                        The strange song ceased ;  but, ere its echo dies,316
                        
                        Pluto repents him, and to Minos cries :317
                        
                        ‘ Eurydice is free, ’tis thine to fix318
                        
                        The law that speeds the lovers o’er the Styx319
                        
                        Unto the upper light, whose stern decree320
                        
                        Bids Orpheus lead his dear Eurydice,321
                        
                        But nor to turn, nor look upon his love322
                        
                        Till they have safely reached the realms above.’323
                        
                        Then forth they fare, the living and the dead,324
                        
                        He first, she following with painful tread,325
                        
                        Till every peril passed and ghostly dread,326
                        
                        Upon the very threshold of the day,327
                        
                        Fearful lest that dear shape had gone astray,328
                        
                        Orpheus looks back, O fool !  for close behind329
                        
                        His love still followed with a faithful mind ;330
                        
                        But scarce has turned him when that well-known form,331
                        
                        Half-spectre still, yet momently more warm332
                        
                        With waking life, dissolves with shrill despair333
                        
                        And looks of anguish on the nether air.334
                        
                        Rose as she sank a universal knell,335
                        
                        And clapped in thunder the grim gates of hell336
                        Seven days and nights he strove, but strove in vain,337
                        
                        Once more to wake that elemental strain,338
                        
                        
Nourished the while on nought but tearful sorrow ;339
                        
                        But with the eighth inexorable morrow340
                        
                        He sadly rose, one look of longing cast341
                        
                        On Tænarus, and, sighing, Thraceward passed,342
                        
                        And three long years, amidst the lost one’s bowers,343
                        
                        Wandered, wild warbling to her favourite flowers,344
                        
                        Laments more melancholy sweet than ever345
                        
                        Echo had answered by the Hebrus’ river.346
                        Thus on Eurydice his constant thought347
                        
                        Still fixed, no solace of fresh love he sought,348
                        
                        Till as he sleeps outworn within that wood349
                        
                        Whence she whilere had flown towards the flood,350
                        
                        Exasperate each at Orpheus’ slights of love,351
                        
                        A Mænad troop steal on him through the grove,352
                        
                        Of whom one snatches swiftly from the ground353
                        
                        His lute, low-shivering with ill-omened sound.354
                        
                        ‘ Io, exultant !  Io !  ’ through the brakes !355
                        
                        The Bacchants shout, and shuddering Orpheus wakes,356
                        
                        But helpless quite, as of his lyre forlorn,357
                        
                        By the wild women limb from limb is torn.358
                        
                        ‘ Eurydice,’ the passing spirit cries ;359
                        
                        ‘ Eurydice,’ the troubled vale replies ;360
                        
                        ‘ Eurydice,’ afar, each snowy summit sighs.361