Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/284

246 And the attentive muses said,—

"Marsyas, thou art vanquishèd!"

Then Apollo's minister

Hanged upon a branching fir

Marsyas, that unhappy Faun,

And began to whet his knife.

But the Mænads, who were there,

Left their friend, and with robes flowing

In the wind, and loose dark hair

O'er their polished bosoms blowing,

Each her ribboned tambourine

Flinging on the mountain-sod,

With a lovely frightened mien

Came about the youthful god.

But he turned his beauteous face

Haughtily another way,

From the grassy sun-warmed place

Where in proud repose he lay,

With one arm over his head,

Watching how the whetting sped.

But aloof, on the lake-strand,

Did the young Olympus stand,

Weeping at his master's end;

For the Faun had been his friend.

For he taught him how to sing,

And he taught him flute-playing.

Many a morning had they gone

To the glimmering mountain lakes,

And had torn up by the roots

The tall crested water-reeds

With long plumes and soft brown seeds,

And had carved them into flutes,

Sitting on a tabled stone