THE WITCHES' ORGY.
"WHAT, O ye gods, who from the sky
Rule earth and human destiny,
What means this coil? And wherefore be
These cruel looks all bent on me?
Thee by thy children I conjure,
If at their birth Lucina pure
Stood by; thee by this vain array
Of purple, thee by Jove I pray,
Who views with anger deeds so foul,
Why thus on me like stepdame scowl,
Or like some wild beast, that doth glare
Upon the hunter from its lair?"
As thus the boy in wild distress,
Bewailed, of bulla stripped and dress,-
So fair, that ruthless breasts of Thrace
Had melted to behold his face,--
Canidia, with dishevelled hair,
And short crisp vipers coiling there,
Beside a fire of Colchos stands,
And her attendant hags commands,
To feed the flames with fig-trees torn
From dead men's sepulchres forlorn,
With dismal cypress, eggs rubbed o'er
With filthy toads' envenomed gore,
With screech-owls' plumes, and herbs of bane,
From far Iolchos fetched and Spain,
And fleshless bones, by beldam witch
Snatched from the jaws of famished bitch.
And Sagana, the while, with gown
Tucked to the knees, stalks up and down,
Sprinkling in room and hall and stair
Her magic hell-drops, with her hair
Bristling on end, like furious boar,
Or some sea-urchin washed on shore ;
Whilst Veia, by remorse unstayed,
Groans at her toil, as she with spade
That flags not digs a pit, wherein
The boy embedded to the chin,
With nothing seen save head and throat,
Like those who in the water float,
Shall dainties see before him set,
A maddening appetite to whet,
Then snatched away before his eyes,
Till, famished, in despair he dies;
That when his glazing eyeballs should
Have closed on the untasted food,
His sapless marrow and dry spleen
May drug a philtre-draught obscene.
Nor were these all the hideous crew,
But Ariminian Folia, too,
Who with insatiate lewdness swells,
And drags, by her Thessalian spells,
The moon and stars down from the sky,*
Ease-loving Naples vows, was by ;
And every hamlet round about
Declares she was, beyond a doubt.
Now forth the fierce Canidia sprang, And still she gnawed with rotten fang
* "For he by words could call out of the sky Both sun and moon, and make them him obey." -Fairy Queen, III. iii. 12.
Her long sharp unpared thumb-nail. What Then said she? Yea, what said she not?
"O Night and Dian, who with true
And friendly eyes my purpose view,
And guardian silence keep, whilst I
My secret orgies safely ply,
Assist me now, now on my foes
With all your wrath celestial close!
Whilst, stretched in soothing sleep, amid
Their forests grim the beasts lie hid,
May all Suburra's mongrels bark
At yon old wretch, who through the dark
Doth to his lewd encounters crawl,
And on him draw the jeers of all !
He's with an ointment smeared, that is
My masterpiece. But what is this?
Why, why should poisons brewed by me
Less potent than Medea's be,
By which, for love betrayed, beguiled,
On mighty Creon's haughty child
She wreaked her vengeance sure and swift,
And vanished, when the robe, her gift,
In deadliest venom steeped and dyed,
Swept off in flame the new-made bride?
No herb there is, nor root in spot
However wild, that I have not;
Yet every common harlot's bed
Seems with some rare Nepenthe spread,
For there he lies in swinish drowse,
Of me oblivious, and his vows!
He is, aha! protected well
By some more skilful witch's spell !
But, Varus, thou (doomed soon to know
The rack of many a pain and woe !)
By potions never used before
Shalt to my feet be brought once more.
And 'tis no Marsian charm shall be
The spell that brings thee back to me !
A draught I'll brew more strong, more sure,
Thy wandering appetite to cure ;
And sooner 'neath the sea the sky
Shall sink, and earth upon them lie,
Than thou not burn with fierce desire
For me, like pitch in sooty fire!"
On this the boy by gentle tones
No more essayed to move the crones,
But wildly forth with frenzied tongue
These curses Thyestéan flung:
"Your sorceries, and spells, and charms
To man may compass deadly harms,
But heaven's great law of Wrong and Right
Will never bend before their might.
My curse shall haunt you, and my hate
No victim's blood shall expiate.
But when at your behests I die,
Like Fury of the Night will I
From Hades come, a phantom sprite,--
Such is the Manes' awful might,—
With crooked nails your cheeks I'll tear,
And squatting on your bosoms scare
With hideous fears your sleep away! *
Then shall the mob, some future day,
Insequar et vultus ossea larva tuos:
Me vigilans cernes, tacitis ego noctis in umbris
Excutiam somnos, visus adesse, tuos."
"A bony phantom, I will haunt thine eyes;
Waking thou shalt behold me; in the night's
Still watches, through the shadows of the dark
Descried, I'll dash the slumber from thy lids."
Pelt you from street to street with stones,
Till falling dead, ye filthy crones,
The dogs and wolves, and carrion fowl,
That make on Esquiline their prowl,
In banquet horrible and grim
Shall tear your bodies limb from limb.
Nor shall my parents fail to see
That sight,-alas, surviving me!
For like Molossian mastiff stout,
Or dun Laconian hound,
That keeps sure ward, and sharp look-out
For all the sheepfolds round,
Through drifted snows with ears thrown back,
I'm ready, night or day,
To follow fearless on the track
Of every beast of prey.
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