Harmonies (Howe collection)/Laus Dionysi

LAUS DIONYSI (For Music)

Chorus: Men, Women, Boys

SPRING ON THE LAND

Spring on the vineyards of Attica! Spring on the land,
All the dear land of the Hellenes loved of the sun!
The god Dionysus immortally breathes his command,
And the bars of the prison of winter dissolve, and are gone!

He hath slept—he awakes; he stirs on the hills—he is free,
And the blood at the bountiful heart of the earth throbs again;
Blue is the sky overhead and blue is the sea,
And green roll the billows on laughing valley and plain.

The sap, to the uttermost tendrils, is quick in the vine;
It shall creep, it shall mount, till the spheres of delight take form;
They shall blush, they shall swell,—and their blood flowing red in the wine
Shall be one with the life-blood of men, all vibrant and warm.

Who but thee, Dionysus, hath guarded the vineyards at first?
Their fruit at the last shall be turned to thy kingly employ;
And cool at the lips of sorrowing mortals athirst
Flows ever thy chalice of kinship and freedom and joy.

Chorus: Women

THE BIRTH OF DIONYSUS

Semele, a woman, bore thee:
We, her mortal sisters, know
All she won and suffered for thee—
All her ecstasy and woe.
Io Bacche,
Io Bacche,
Daughters of the sun-kissed grape
Joy nor anguish may escape.

Semele besought her lover:
"Zeus, effulgent king, draw nigh!
All thy splendor now uncover
As to Hera throned on high!"
Io Bacche,
Io Bacche,
Daughters of the mystic vine
Ever crave a heavenly sign.

"Semele, I come." And round her
Blazed a glory, lightning-torn.
Blinded, stricken, dead, they found her—
Yet was Dionysus born.
Io Bacche,
Io Bacche,
Daughters of the mortal race
Dying still to life give place.

Child of Semele, we sing thee
Hymns of holy mysteries;
Nature's next of kin we bring thee
Earth's eternal sympathies.
Io Bacche,
Io Bacche,
Daughters of the soul's desire
Joyful guard thy death-lit fire.

Chorus: Men

THE TOKENS OF DIONYSUS

By the cup at thy leathern girdle,
For the draught that sweetens toil,
Thou art brother to all the brethren
That conquer the stubborn soil.
For thou hast yoked to our service
The sun, the night, and the rain;
And thy grateful vinesmen pay thee
With toll of sweat and pain.
That the wine of the victors' vintage
May gush from the barren sod
Thou sealest thy sons, the chosen ones,
To follow the victor-god.
By the fawnskin on thy shoulder,
Got with the price of blood,
Thou art one with the creature kindred
Of thicket and field and wood.
But the comrades of the forest
Must fall at thy children's will
When the lust of blood is on them,
The passion of man to kill;
For the spell of a savage fury
Reigns where the brutes have trod,
And ever thy sons, the chosen ones,
Must follow the victor-god.

By the bull's horn at thy forehead
The Chosen share thy might—
Lusty of limb and fibre,
Framed for the hard-won fight.
By the pledge of the fertile pine-cone
That crowns thy wreathèd staff
With the token of life's renewals,
Men fling at Death their laugh:
O'er all his conquests conqueror,
Thy feet with triumph shod,
Thou sealest thy sons, the chosen ones,
To follow the victor-god.

Chorus: Boys

THE WINE OF YOUTH

With shout and song and Bacchic cry
Thy worshippers go reeling by,
Their lips all dyed with ruddy juice,
Their tattered goatskins flying loose.
Wild creatures from the coverts come
To join the rout with antics dumb,
And man and satyr mingled seem
Like some mad figment of a dream.
Women with streaming locks unbound
Whirl tempest-like thine altars round;
For men with eyes of roving fire
The sacrifice flames high and higher.
The grape, the grape! on every tongue
Its praise and thine together sung!

And we—the youngest-born of earth,
O youngest of immortal birth,
Need yet no draught of autumn wine
To bring our hearts in tune with thine.
We press no grape to drink our fill
Of exaltation: ours to thrill
From heart to prickling finger-tip
With wine that staineth not the lip,
The wine of youth, the wine of youth:—
Who drink it need not seek thy truth;
'T is theirs unasked—a heavenly flood,
Wine of the young heart's leaping blood!

Chorus: Men, Women, Boys

SPRING IN THE HEART

Spring in the heart, Eleutherios, highest of names!
The bonds of the spirit are broken; the prisoned go free!
Mortal to mortal, emancipate, joyous, proclaims
Spring in the heart, Dionysus, springtime from thee!

Fettered of darkness and cold lay the children of men,—
For vision a dimness, the soul but a perishing slave,—
Till the light and the warmth of thy being spread earthward, and then—
Then what a glamor and glory thy godhead out-gave!

Eyes that were lustreless shine with all beauty's delight,
Flashing to grace and to color their signal, their gleam;
Murmurs of song thrill sweet on the soundless night,
Music of reeds and the wind on a magical stream.

Lips that were dumb break forth in thy passionate praise,
For spring in the heart, Dionysus, is light to the blind;
The ways of the spirit of song, love and life are thy ways—
Flame of the fires of youth at the heart of mankind!