(To the sacred memory of Petronius)
AGAIN the agate chalices are filled,
And of a sudden orgiasts are stilled
In wonder, when jet Nubians outpour
The liquid flames instilled from mandragore,
Allured but fearful of their potent sway.
The lantern fruit glow succulent and gay,
Blue-veinéd grapes in massing pendulous,
Small raisins, oranges acidulous
Contracting eyelids till the features wince,
Towering domes of pineapple and quince,
And apples like a film of virgin’s breath,
Strange berries, (you would think they bleed to death!)
Piled pappy plums opaquely amethyst,
Pink furry peaches like a morning mist,
Green mangoes, mellow apricots of gold,
Figs puffed and oozy, melons crystal-cold,
Red mammals of persimmon from the South
And curious pears that glitter in the mouth,
’Mid Tyrian silk, soft laughter, drapery
Of fine-spun damask gleam white napery
Bedizened bosoms, arms baptismal white.
The guests are surfeited with food, and Night
With Sleep and Lust, her ill-assorted sons,
Creeps through the porphyry pavilions.
“Hither and sing, oh Syrian eunuch-boy,
“Those chaste and still-born songs that never cloy
“The prurient senses kindling in the flesh ...
“Come, Aphrodite, send to me a fresh
“Virginal body for my violence,
“That I may more enjoy the somnolence
“Of after-dreams!”
Thus prayed the men of Tyre
And other towns demolished by God’s ire.
But we to-day have learned and waxed more wise.
We look into dear Lady Dodo’s eyes
And sip champagne and eat our fricassee,
Discuss her spaniel’s noble pedigree;
We praise the chef. “And what a pretty dress!
Worth, dear, or Callot?” (Christ! what bashfulness).
And if we wish to have a little game,
Beguile the night in homes of evil fame.