Classic Poem

Oh, thrice holy and delightful golden phallus!
Now before thee in dumb ecstasy we kneel;
To our prayers and supplications be not callous,
Mighty Vul, whose sign we worship with all zeal!

We have bathed our bodies pure in the Araxes,
To be fairer and more supple at thy rites,
For the ardor in our bodies stronger waxes,
And we long to know thy sweet voluptuous nights!

Listen, Vul! unto our lyre's serene vibrations;
Make us fertile as the blossoms on the plain;
Grant us pleasure much and exquisite sensations;
Let thy kisses fall upon us like a rain!

For behold thy glorious phallus decked and flowerful,
With a star of gold that glitters far above,
And behold our lamps that burn beneath, Oh powerful,
Ever holy god that lives and breathes in love.

Here in monstrous Bit-Saggath, thy temple splendid,
We adore thee with the timbrel's silvery noise,
And we beg of thee until our lives are ended
Sweet continuance of all warm and fleshly joys!

For, oh Vul! thou art the symbol of creation,
And sweet Beltis is thy consort white and warm,
And we worship thee with passion's exultation
In the beauty of thy gold-terrestrial form!

We have amulets that bear thy sign engraven,
And when ardors burn upon our bosoms bare,
In thy temple we can find a precious haven,
And are cloyed by all the sweetness hidden there.

Oh thrice holy, all-delightful golden phallus!
Hover o'er us when we toil and when we dream;
Haunt our humble home and haunt our monarch's palace,
And upon us all shower down thy gifts supreme!

A priest of Nebo, the great god supreme,
A priest whose mouth was warm with flowery words
And lovely phrasings of his mother tongue,
Gentle and supple, twisted like a reed
By his fair fancy, in the temple rose
And taught the children, who assembled there,
Some of the signs of worship of the gods.
In Chaldee, the sweet idiom of the town,
He spake to them, and told them seven stars,
Five planets and the sun, yea, and the moon,
Timed the advance of this the fertile earth
To heavenly music, by no mortal heard.
He told them of the brilliant thirty stars
That were revered and called “consulting gods,”
And how twelve stars that shimmered in the north,
And others, twelve, that burned within the south,
Compelled the destinies of live and dead
And were revered as “Judges of the World.”

And as he burned sweet spices at the shrines,
He told them that the months were sacred all,
And bade them learn to cherish and repeat
Their names and hold them holy in their hearts.
Therefore the children sang with treble tones:

“Hail to the month of Nisan, the month of Anu and of Bel!
And hail to Hea the fair, who rules all the month Iyya
Hail to the month of Sivan, belonging of right to Si
And hail to the month Tammuz, of
Nini the lawful month!
Hail to the month of Elui, the
Month of the Queen Ishtàr!
And also to Tisri, hail, the month of Shamos, the god!
Hail to fair Marchesvan, great
Merodach's holy month!
Hail to the month of Kislev, to
Nergal made sacred now!
And hail to Tebat, the month of
Papsukul famed and great!
And hail to Sebat, the month the chosen of amorous Vul!
And hail to the month of gods, the seven great gods Adar!
And hail to the month Veadar, the month of the fathers of gods!”