pices could
distil, seemed gathered into one ineffable and ambrosial essence: from
the light columns that sprang upwards to the airy roof, hung draperies
of white, studded with golden stars. At the extremities of the room two
fountains cast up a spray, which, catching the rays of the roseate
light, glittered like countless diamonds. In the centre of the room as
they entered there rose slowly from the floor, to the sound of unseen
minstrelsy, a table spread with all the viands which sense ever devoted
to fancy, and vases of that lost Myrrhine fabric, so glowing in its
colors, so transparent in its material, were crowned with the exotics of
the East. The couches, to which this table was the centre, were covered
with tapestries of azure and gold; and from invisible tubes the vaulted
roof descended showers of fragrant waters, that cooled the delicious
air, and contended with the lamps, as if the spirits of wave and fire
disputed which element could furnish forth the most delicious odorous.
And now, from behind the snowy draperies, trooped such forms as Adonis
beheld when he lay on the lap of Venus. They came, some with garlands,
others with lyres; they surrounded the youth, they led his steps to the
banquet. They flung the chaplets round him in rosy chains. The
earth--the thought of earth, vanished from his soul. He imagined
himself in a dream, and suppressed his breath lest he should wake too
soon; the senses, to which he had never yielded as yet, beat in his
burning pulse, and confused his dizzy and reeling sight. And while thus
amazed and lost, once again, but in brisk and Bacchic measures, rose the
magic strain:
ANACREONTIC
In the veins of the calix foams and glows
The blood of the mantling vine,
But oh! in the bowl of Youth there glows
A Lesbian, more divine!
Bright, bright,
As the liquid light,
Its waves through thine eyelids shine!
Fill up, fill up, to the sparkling brim,
The juice of the young Lyaeus;
The grape is the key that we owe to him
From the gaol of the world to free us.
Drink, drink!
What need to shrink,
When the lambs alone can see us?
Drink, drink, as I quaff from thine eyes
The wine of a softer tree;
Give the smiles to the god of the grape--thy sighs,
Beloved one, give to me.
Tur
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