Classic Poem

E VOË , come, cub of the panther,
Out of your covert come to me, quickly,
Out of the laurel hiding you thickly,
Into the moonray come!
No lean lance is waiting to pierce you,
As did the hunter's spear your dam.
Hunger is on you; I will nurse you,
Crooning a dithyramb!
Crooning a maenad-chorus, wild:
Milk divine is swelling my breast.
Do not fear to be my child,
Thirst not, in unrest!
Do not fear to suckle of tameness;
Fierce in me are cunning and strength,
Stealth to hide, like you, in the branches,
Spring — and tear, at length!
Evoi , come, whelp of the panther,
Crushing the young tree rods!
Forth to me come! for courage only.
Counts with the fearless gods!