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LOVE OF THE WOODLAND by Victor Hugo
     ("Orphée au bois du Caystre.")

     {Bk. I. ii.}
     Orpheus, through the hellward wood
     Hurried, ere the eve-star glowed,
     For the fauns' lugubrious hoots
     Followed, hollow, from crookèd roots;
     Aeschylus, where Aetna smoked,
     Gods of Sicily evoked
     With the flute, till sulphur taint
     Dulled and lulled the echoes faint;
     Pliny, soon his style mislaid,
     Dogged Miletus' merry maid,
     As she showed eburnean limbs
     All-multiplied by brooklet brims;
     Plautus, see! like Plutus, hold
     Bosomfuls of orchard-gold,
     Learns he why that mystic core
     Was sweet Venus' meed of yore?
     Dante dreamt (while spirits pass
     As in wizard's jetty glass)
     Each black-bossed Briarian trunk
     Waved live arms like furies drunk;
     Winsome Will, 'neath Windsor Oak,
     Eyed each elf that cracked a joke
     At poor panting grease-hart fast—
     Obese, roguish Jack harassed;
     At Versailles, Molière did court
     Cues from Pan (in heron port,
     Half in ooze, half treeward raised),
     "Words so witty, that Boileau's 'mazed!"

     Foliage! fondly you attract!
     Dian's faith I keep intact,
     And declare that thy dryads dance
     Still, and will, in thy green expanse!


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