Page:Suppliant Maidens (Morshead) 1883.djvu/18

4 One skilled to read from bird-notes augury,

That man, when through his ears shall thrill our tearful wail,

Shall deem he hears the voice, the plaintive tale

Of her, the piteous spouse of Tereus, lord of guile—

Whom the hawk harries yet, the mourning nightingale.

She, from her happy home and fair streams scared away,

Wails wild and sad for haunts beloved erewhile.

Yea, and for Itylus—ah, well-a-day!

Slain by her own, his mother's hand,

Maddened by lustful wrong, the deed by Tereus planned!

Like her I wail and wail, in soft Ionian tones,

And as she wastes, even so

Wastes my soft cheek, once ripe with Nilus' suns,

And all my heart dissolves in utter woe.

Sad flowers of grief I cull,

Fleeing from kinsmen's love unmerciful—

Yea, from the clutching hands, the lustful crowd,

I sped across the waves, from Egypt's land of cloud.

Gods of the birthplace of my race,

Hear me, just gods! With righteous grace

On me, on me look down!

Grant not to youth its heart's unchaste desire,

But, swiftly spurning Lust's unholy fire,

Bless only love and willing wedlock's crown!