Classic Poem

High o'er the waves, to Phrygia's wood-hung shore
A rapid bark th' impatient Atys bore;
Where Cybele's deep groves, and glooms profound
Circle with awful shade the hallow'd ground:
There, reft of reason, and by madness sway'd,
Man's rav'ling weights he lopp'd with flinty blade.

Now, when his limbs despoil'd of sex he found,
Saw the fresh life-blood trickling stain the ground;
Then, female stampt, her soul by conflicts rais'd,
With snowy hands the timbrel light she seiz'd,
The timbrel sacred with the trump to thee,
At thy dread rites, maternal Cybele!
And, as the loud drum her soft fingers struck,
Thus to her mates in song she trembling spoke.

“Come on, ye priestess train, to yon high groves;
“Together speed where your own goddess roves;
“Together speed where she delights to reign,
“Ye wand'ring herds of Dindymene's train;
“Ye, who, like exiles to a foreign home,
“Following my sect, led on by me, could roam;
“Ye, who through ocean's storms have plough'd “your way,
“And vanquish'd ev'ry danger of the sea;
“Ye, who to Venus too much hatred bore,
“And man's chief boast from your vile bodies tore,
“Come on! and, as your desp'rate crimes excite,
“Let your souls riot in the strange delight:
“O, stop not, think not of a dull delay;
“But thither haste where Atys points the way!
“Haste to yon Phrygian fane, yon Phrygian wood,
“Where cymbals ring, where timbrels roar aloud,
“The deep curv'd pipe where Phrygian minstrels “blow,
“Where Mænades toss fierce their ivied brow,
“Where in shrill screams their solemn rites they “pay,
“Where the dread deity's mad numbers stray
“With wonted step; there, there must we advance,
“And bounding high in mystic measures dance.”

Thus Atys, thus the new-made female sung
To all her mates; and strait with quiv'ring tongue
The chorus howls, the light-pois'd timbrels roar,
And double din from hollow cymbals pour;
Then the mad choir, with sacred rage possess'd,
Up Ida's verdant steep impetuous pass'd.
Lo, with her timbrel, e'en thro' thickest shades,
Wild, trembling, lost, the breathless Atys leads!
So furious flies the heifer yet unbroke,
When first her neck disdains the galling yoke:
With rapid step the priestess train pursue,
Following their leader; till the wearied crew,
Soon as they reach'd to Cybele's sad home,
Fasting, in slumber sunk, with toil o'ercome;
Sound sleep with stealing langour weighs their eyes,
And the soul's frenzy in a soft calm dies.

Scarce had the sun in majesty of light
O'er the pure regions of ethereal white,
O'er earth's firm globe, and o'er the billowy sea,
Darted his golden look, his visual ray;
Scarce his loud-sounding footed steeds had driv'n
Each shade reluctant from the vault of heav'n;
When, waken'd by the drowsy God who fled
On hasty wing to seek Pasithaës' bed,
Atys arose; breaking her balmy rest;
Altho' insensate, yet of sense possess'd.
Revolving in her mind those acts she'd done,
And, calmly conscious of her treasures gone,
Conscious on what ill-fated coast she stood,
Again fresh frenzy stirr'd her fever'd blood;
Quick to the shore she measur'd back her flight,
Far o'er the white waves cast her aching sight,
And, as the tears in scalding torrents ran,
Thus to her country sorrowing she began.

“Dear, parent soil! from whence I've dar'd to roam,
“Like some poor slave that flies his master's home;
“Wretch that I am! have madly dar'd to go
“Where lurid forests frown on Ida's brow,
“Mid snows, and where fierce beasts in dampness “dwell,
“Seeking, infuriate, each wild monster's cell:
“O, where dost thou, my native country, lie?
“Thee in what distant spot shall fancy spy?
“Fain, for that little space from madness free,
“Would mine eyes fix their straining balls on thee:
“O lost, o banish'd from my pleasing home!
“These foreign woods must I for ever roam?
“Quit all I have, my friends, my natal earth,
“Distant from those who gave my being birth?
“No more the Circus, or the Forum grace,
“Vie in the ring, or urge the doubtful race?
“Ah wretched soul! ah wretched in extreme!
“What boundless pity do thy sorrows claim!
“Did I not ev'ry various form assume;
“Boy, stripling, youth, and female too become?
“In all the sports I once conspicuous shone,
“From ev'ry wrestler ev'ry prize I won:
“When with the rising sun I left my bed,
“What suppliant numbers round my gates were “spread!
“My welcome house was fill'd with friendship's “throng,
“And on my door love's votive garlands hung!
“Shall I of gods the humble handmaid be;
“The tame, the abject tool of Cybele?
“Be rank'd with Mænades, and only boast
“Half of myself, a man with manhood lost?
“On verdant Ida capt with chill frost stay?
“Beneath these Phrygian heights waste life away?
“Where bounds the fleet stag thro' its native shades,
“Where prowls the restless boar mid fearful glades.
“Ah no! ah no! I mourn for what is past;
“And shame, repentant shame succeeds at last!”

Such from her rosy lips the sounds that flew;
Sounds, to the gods which bore these tidings new;
Sounds, which when heard by Cybele from far,
Quick she unyok'd her lions from their car;
And to the left hand beast, of herds the dread,
Provoking with wild fury, thus she said.

“Fly, monster, fly! and to t'ese haunts again
“Chase the bold slave who scorns my potent reign:
“Go, lashing with strong tail thy flanks around;
“Let blow succeeding blow responsive sound;
“Let dreadful echoes bellow back thy pain;
“And shake with sinewy neck thy yellow mane.”

The goddess threat'ning spoke: with vengeful hands
Then quick unloos'd her desp'rate lion's bands;
The desp'rate lion, at her awful word,
Feels his hot blood with indignation stirr'd;
He starts, he roars; with well-collected force
Uproots each sapling in his devious course;
And, reaching where the white waves bathe the strand,
Sees nigh the marble sea young Atys stand,
Then onward springs; whilst, vanquish'd by surprise,
Back to her woods of savage gloom she flies;
And there for ever, ever doom'd to stay,
In bondage vile she lingers life away.

O, mighty Cybele! o, first of pow'rs!
O, sov'reign queen, whom Dindymus adores!
Far from my mansion all thy fury turn:
Souls more intemp'rate fire, souls more impassion'd burn!