Two Charades

Of Cypress twined, and rue,
A funeral wreath I bring,
Him that Hymettus knew,
A singer sweet I sing,
Grentle and void of bane,
The lover of a queen,
By female weapons slain.
What sting could be more keen,
What death give greater pain ?

Sisters of Jael and the drunken crew
That world-enchanting Orpheus slew,
The fates are not unkind like you ;
Your victim, though my first my last no more,
Sups not with Pluto on the Stygian shore ;
Transformed in sex, in heaven above
She ministers to Jove and Love,
Smiles as she bids the immortal nectar flow,
Nor mourns the sweets begrudged him here below.

Didst thou my first, my second, on that night
Thou found’st Endymion naked on the steep,
Beauteous forever in Jove-given sleep ?
Did shepherd’s love thy goddess-love requite,
Or did he, slumbering on in Love’s despite,
There teach thy breast to know why mortals weep
Or plunge like Sappho in the kindly deep
To quench that fire that quencheth all delight ?

I see thee pale and wan, thy rounded limb,
That made the night enchantment, bowed with age ;
Thou movest earth and ocean, but not him, —
He sleeps forever. So my whole in rage
Howls at the portals of great Ammon’s shrine,
But wakes no more the oracle divine.