I.
Pluto sighs — he's sick of life —
" Would I were a single man!
Since my married life began
I have learned that hell itself
Is not hell, without a wife.
" O to be unwed! For bound
Thus to Proserpine, I crave
Only for a quiet grave!
When she scolds, the barking even
Of my Cerberus is drowned.
" Still in vain I strive for peace.
In this world of shades, such woe
None of all the damned can know!
Toiling Sisyphus I envy —
Envy the Danaides. "
II.
In the realm of shadows, in golden state,
Enthroned by the side of her royal mate,
Sits Proserpine proud,
Her sad head bowed;
And her sorrowful heart keeps crying
" For the red o' the rose and the nightingale's song,
For the kiss o' the sun, I thirst, I long.
Here, far from my meadows,
'Mid ghosts and shadows,
I lose my youth in sighing.
" I am forged to wedlock, body and soul,
In this dark, accursid, rat-like hole.
The ghosts, when I sleep,
Through my windows peep,
And the Styx has the voice of the dying.
" I invited old Charon to dinner to-day —
The man has no calves, he is bald and grey;
And the judges have faces
As dull as the place is —
The sweet o' my life is flying. "
III.
While the underworld so drear is,
And the mounting trouble grows,
On the earth above wails Ceres,
And the crazy goddess goes,
Hair dishevelled, kerchief flying;
Still she hastens, and her word
Is the old lament and crying
You have all so often heard.
" Has the spring brought back her fairness,
Is the earth renewed and young,
That the hills have lost their bareness,
And the icy bands are sprung?
Jove, with not a cloud for cover,
Laughs from out the rivers blue,
Light the wings of Zephyr hover,
And the buds are peeping through.
Every grove with song is yearning,
And the Oread whispers chill,
" All thy flowers are returning,
But thy daughter lingers still."
" Ah, how long, without her heeding,
I have toiled to win her back!
All thy rays, O Titan, speeding,
I have sent upon her track;
But her lovely face is hidden,
None hath told me where it bides,
To the day she is forbidden,
Though he findeth all besides.
Mighty Jove, art thou the snarer?
Or, enkindled by her charm,
Did the gloomy Pluto bear her
To his Stygian floods of harm?
" Who will seek her should she tarry,
To my sorrow, on that strand?
Only shades the boat will carry,
Though it put so oft from land.
Never happy eye had knowing
Of that realm of night forlorn:
Since the Styx began its flowing
None alive its wave hath borne;
Though a thousand steps lead under,
There's no stairway for return;
Earth and hell remain asunder,
Though a mother's tears may yearn. "
IV.
" Mother of my wife, good Ceres,
Weep no longer, questing sadly!
I will grant you what so dear is —
I myself have suffered badly.
" Grieve no further for your daughter;
I will honourably share her:
To the world from which I brought her,
Half of every year will spare her.
" When the orchard trees are laden,
She will help you in the summer:
Wear the straw hat of a maiden,
Wreathed with flowers that become her.
" She will dream and sigh when heaven
Sets the flames of dusk a-glowing,
And some loutish swain at even
On the shepherd's flute is blowing.
" She will lead, in harvest dances,
Lads and lasses heavy-footed:
'Mid the clowns and geese — the chance is —
Be a lioness reputed.
" Blessed peace! In comfort single
I can breathe and live my life now!
Can my punch with Lethe mingle,
And forget I have a wife now. "
V.
" Some grief, I think, thy cheek has paled,
And secret yearning dims thine eye —
I know thy sorrow and its cry:
O life, O love, whose fruit has failed!
" Thy head droops sad! I cannot put
The seasons back and make thee young,
Nor heal the heart that pain has wrung:
O life, O love, that have failed of fruit! "
Pluto sighs — he's sick of life —
" Would I were a single man!
Since my married life began
I have learned that hell itself
Is not hell, without a wife.
" O to be unwed! For bound
Thus to Proserpine, I crave
Only for a quiet grave!
When she scolds, the barking even
Of my Cerberus is drowned.
" Still in vain I strive for peace.
In this world of shades, such woe
None of all the damned can know!
Toiling Sisyphus I envy —
Envy the Danaides. "
II.
In the realm of shadows, in golden state,
Enthroned by the side of her royal mate,
Sits Proserpine proud,
Her sad head bowed;
And her sorrowful heart keeps crying
" For the red o' the rose and the nightingale's song,
For the kiss o' the sun, I thirst, I long.
Here, far from my meadows,
'Mid ghosts and shadows,
I lose my youth in sighing.
" I am forged to wedlock, body and soul,
In this dark, accursid, rat-like hole.
The ghosts, when I sleep,
Through my windows peep,
And the Styx has the voice of the dying.
" I invited old Charon to dinner to-day —
The man has no calves, he is bald and grey;
And the judges have faces
As dull as the place is —
The sweet o' my life is flying. "
III.
While the underworld so drear is,
And the mounting trouble grows,
On the earth above wails Ceres,
And the crazy goddess goes,
Hair dishevelled, kerchief flying;
Still she hastens, and her word
Is the old lament and crying
You have all so often heard.
" Has the spring brought back her fairness,
Is the earth renewed and young,
That the hills have lost their bareness,
And the icy bands are sprung?
Jove, with not a cloud for cover,
Laughs from out the rivers blue,
Light the wings of Zephyr hover,
And the buds are peeping through.
Every grove with song is yearning,
And the Oread whispers chill,
" All thy flowers are returning,
But thy daughter lingers still."
" Ah, how long, without her heeding,
I have toiled to win her back!
All thy rays, O Titan, speeding,
I have sent upon her track;
But her lovely face is hidden,
None hath told me where it bides,
To the day she is forbidden,
Though he findeth all besides.
Mighty Jove, art thou the snarer?
Or, enkindled by her charm,
Did the gloomy Pluto bear her
To his Stygian floods of harm?
" Who will seek her should she tarry,
To my sorrow, on that strand?
Only shades the boat will carry,
Though it put so oft from land.
Never happy eye had knowing
Of that realm of night forlorn:
Since the Styx began its flowing
None alive its wave hath borne;
Though a thousand steps lead under,
There's no stairway for return;
Earth and hell remain asunder,
Though a mother's tears may yearn. "
IV.
" Mother of my wife, good Ceres,
Weep no longer, questing sadly!
I will grant you what so dear is —
I myself have suffered badly.
" Grieve no further for your daughter;
I will honourably share her:
To the world from which I brought her,
Half of every year will spare her.
" When the orchard trees are laden,
She will help you in the summer:
Wear the straw hat of a maiden,
Wreathed with flowers that become her.
" She will dream and sigh when heaven
Sets the flames of dusk a-glowing,
And some loutish swain at even
On the shepherd's flute is blowing.
" She will lead, in harvest dances,
Lads and lasses heavy-footed:
'Mid the clowns and geese — the chance is —
Be a lioness reputed.
" Blessed peace! In comfort single
I can breathe and live my life now!
Can my punch with Lethe mingle,
And forget I have a wife now. "
V.
" Some grief, I think, thy cheek has paled,
And secret yearning dims thine eye —
I know thy sorrow and its cry:
O life, O love, whose fruit has failed!
" Thy head droops sad! I cannot put
The seasons back and make thee young,
Nor heal the heart that pain has wrung:
O life, O love, that have failed of fruit! "