Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.
James Thomson 183482Lifes Hebe
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Of a certain day divine,
I beheld a Maiden stand
With a pitcher in her hand;
Whence she pour’d into a cup,
Until it was half fill’d up,
Nectar that was golden light
In the cup of crystal bright.
With pure water fill’d it up;
As he drank then, it was more
Ruddy golden then before:
And he leap’d and danced and sang
As to Bacchic cymbals’ clang.
With the red wine fill’d it up;
What he drank then was in hue
Of a heavy sombre blue:
First he reel’d and then he crept,
Then lay faint but never slept.
With the white milk fill’d it up;
What he drank at first seem’d blood,
Then turn’d thick and brown as mud:
And he mov’d away as slow
As a weary ox may go.
With sweet honey fill’d it up;
Nathless that which he did drink
Was thin fluid black as ink:
As he went he stumbled soon,
And lay still in deathlike swoon.
Unto all the cup preferr’d;
Blandly smil’d and sweetly laugh’d
As each mingled his own draught.
To the sunshine held it up,
Gave it back and did not taste;
It was empty when replaced:
First he bow’d a reverent bow,
Then he kiss’d her on the brow.
Without mixture drank it up;
When she took it back from him
It was full unto the brim:
He with a right bold embrace
Kiss’d her sweet lips face to face.
Who has thirst, come here, come here!
Nectar that is golden light
In the cup of crystal bright,
Nectar that is sunny fire
Warm as warmest heart’s desire:
Pitcher never lacketh more,
Arm is never tir’d to pour:
Honey, water, milk, or wine
Mingle with the draught divine,
Drink it pure, or drink it not;
Each is free to choose his lot;
Am I old? or am I cold?
Only two have kiss’d me bold!
As that young and glorious day.