Classic Poem

The sun leapt up the rose-flushed sky
And yellowed all the sea's pale blue
The Tyrrhene crew
Uprose and hailed the God on high.

But Dionysos made no sign
The shipmen hailed their Lord again,
Acclaimed His reign,
Then stared upon their guest divine.

" The deep shall swallow thee, fair sir
The sea-things shall make thee their prey —
The God obey
Or meet swift death ere thou canst stir! "

" Ere ye arose, my spirit bowed
To the Great God unrisen then: —
Take heed, O men,
Your clamour grow not overloud. "

" A priest of Bacchus thou! Behold:
On sea-wave here could whelm thy God —
His mystic rod
Would float foam-crown'd 'mid this wave-gold. "

" Ai Evoi! Thy voice might fill
The waste of sea, the waste of sky,
Yet thou wouldst die,
Thy god supine on some green hill! "

Ai Evoi! The cry thrilled wide
The startled rowers shrank — they saw
With trembling awe
The conscious waters surge aside.

Ai Evoi! The waves turn green;
In tendril masses twist and twine
A mighty vine
Uprises and o'erhead doth lean:

Ai Evoi! The tendrils cling
About the shipmen as they swim
The Bacchic hymn
The waves chant and the wild winds sing.

Evoi! Dionysos cries,
The seamen and the boat no more
The shingly shore
Shall feel 'neath known or alien skies.

Blue dolphins guide the wave-born vine
To caves near mystic Ind:
Only the wind
Murmurs for aye the tale divine.

Ye who deride the gods, beware
They are with us evermore; they brook
No scornful look;
Their vengeance fills our mortal air.

Yea, of the jealous gods, take heed:
One day the earth or sea shall ope
And vanquish hope
Ai Evoi be vain indeed!