FOURTH CANTO

Troy but a heap of smouldering boundary-stones,
ANAXIFORMINGES ! Aurunculeia ! Cadmus of Golden Prows :
The Silver Mirrours catch the bright stones and flare,
Dawn, to our waking, drifts in the green cool light;
Dew-haze blurrs, in the grass,

pale ankles moving.
Beat, beat, whirr, thud, in the soft turf

under the apple trees,
Choros nympharum, goat-foot with the pale foot alternate;
Crescent of blue-shot waters, green-gold in the shallows,
A black cock crows in the sea-foam;

And by the curved carved foot of the couch,
claw-foot and lion head, an old man seated
Speaking in the low drone : ...

" Ityn !

" Et ter flebiliter, Ityn, Ityn !

" And she went toward the window and cast her down,
" All the while, the while, swallows crying :

" Ityn !

"" It is Cabestan's heart in the dish !"

"" It is Cabestan's heart in the dish ?"

"" No other taste shall change this ."

And she went toward the window, the slim white stone bar

2.

Making a double arch;
Firm even fingers held to the firm pale stone;
Swung for a moment,

and the wind out of Rhodez
Caught in the full of her sleeve.

......... the swallows crying :
" Ityn ! Ityn ! "

Actaeon ....

And a valley,
The valley is thick with leaves, with leaves, the trees,
The sunlight glitters, glitters a-top,
Like a fish-scale roof,

Like the church roof in Poictiers
If it were gold.

Beneath it, beneath it
Not a ray, not a sliver, not a spare disc of sunlight
Flaking the black, soft water;
Bathing the body of nymphs, of nymphs, and Diana,
Nymphs white-gathered about her, and the air, air,
Shahing, air alight with the goddess

fanning their hair in the dark,
Lifting, lifting and waffing :
Ivory dipping in silver,
Not a splotch, not a lost shatter of sunlight.
Then Actaeon : Vidal,
Vidal. It is old Vidal speaking,

stumbling along in the wood

3.

Not a patch, not a lost shimmer of sunlight,

The dogs leap on Actaeon,

Spotted stag of the wood;

Gold, gold, a sheaf of hair,

Thick like a wheat swath,

Blaze, blaze in the sun,

The dogs leap on Actaeon.

Stumbling, stumbling along in the wood,

Muttering, muttering Ovid:

"Pergusa ... pool ... pool ... Gargaphia

"Pool, pool of Salmacis.

moves.

The empty armour shakes as the cygnet moves.

Thus the light rains, thus pours, e'en to soleils plovil,

The liquid, and rushing crystal

whirls up the bright brown sand.

Ply over ply, thin glitter of water;

Brook film bearing white petals

"(The pines of Takasago grow with pines of Ise.)"

"Behold the Tree of the Visages"

The forked tips flaming as if with lotus,

Ply over ply

The shallow eddying fluid

beneath the knees of the gods.

Aurunculeia, toarches melt in the glare,

Set flame of the corner cook-stall,

The saffron sandal petals the slender foot, Hymenaeus.'

4.

Io Hymen, Io Hymenaee !

is

The scarlet flower cast on the bleach-white stone,
Hill
Amaracous, Rose of Urania's Son,

Meanwhile So- Gioku :

" This wind, sire, is the king's wind,
this wind is wind of the palace
Shaking imperial water-jets. "

And Ran-Ti, opening his collar :

" This wind roars in the earth's bag,
it lays the water with rushes ;
" No wind is the king's wind.

Let every cow keep her calf. "

" No wind is the king's. "

The camel drivers sit in the turn of the stairs
BEFORE AFTER ALL SEE look down to Ecbatan of plotted streets
" Danae ! Danae !

What wind is the king's ?

Smoke hangs on the stream,
bright
The peach-trees shed bright leaves in the water,
Sound drifts in the evening haze,
The barge scrapes at the ford.
Gilt rafters above black waters;

three steps in an open field
Gray stone-posts leading nowhither,

The Spanish poppies swim in an air of glass,
Pere Henri Jacques still seeks the sennin on Rokku.

Polhonac,
As Gyges on Thracian platter, set the feast;
Cabestan, Terreus.

It is Cabestan's heart in the dish.
Vidal, tracked out with dogs .. for glamour of Loba;
Upon the gilded tower in Ecbatan
Lay the god's bride, lay ever
Waiting the Golden rain.

Et saave !
But today, Garonne is thick like paint, beyond Dorada,
The worm of the Procession bores in the soup of the crowd
The blue thin voices against the crash of the crowd
Et " Salve regina "!

Stephanus pinxit:

In trellises
Wound over with small flowers, beyond Adige
In the but half-used room, thin film of images,
Age of unbodied gods, the vitreous fragile eixons
Thin as the locust's wing
Haunting the mind ... as of Guido ....
Thin as the locust's wing. The Centaur's heel
Plants in the earth-loam,

on Rokku
A jesuit seeks the gods.