名人诗歌|Bacchus

In the belly^{1 of the grape}

Or grew on vine whose tap-roots reaching through

Under the Andes to the Cape²

Suffer'd no savour of the earth to 'scape.

Let its grapes the morn salute³

From a nocturnal root

Which feels the acrid^{4 juice}

Of Styx and Erebus；

And turns the woe^{5 of Night}

By its own craft to a more rich delight.

We buy ashes for bread；

We buy diluted^{6 wine；}

Give me of the true

Whose ample leaves and tendrils curl'd

Among the silver hills of heaven

Draw everlasting^{7 dew；}

Wine of wine

Blood of the world

Form of forms and mould of statures

That I intoxicated⁸

And by the draught^{9 assimilated}

May float at pleasure through all natures；

The bird-language rightly spell

And that which roses say so well：

Wine that is shed

Like the torrents^{10 of the sun}

Up the horizon walls

Or like the Atlantic streams which run

When the South Sea calls.

Water and bread

Food which needs no transmuting¹¹

Rainbow-flowering wisdom-fruiting

Wine which is already man

Food which teach and reason can.

Wine which Music is

Music and wine are one

That I drinking this

Shall hear far Chaos^{12 talk with me；}

Kings unborn shall walk with me；

And the poor grass shall plot and plan

What it will do when it is man.

Quicken'd so will I unlock

Every crypt of every rock.

I thank the joyful^{13 juice}

For all I know；

Winds of remembering

Of the ancient being blow

And seeming-solid walls of use

Open and flow.

Pour Bacchus！ the remembering wine；

Retrieve^{14 the loss of me and mine！}

Vine for vine be antidote¹⁵

And the grape requite^{16 the lote！}

Haste to cure the old despair；

Reason in Nature's lotus drench'd

The memory of ages quench'd

Give them again to shine；

Let wine repair what this undid^17；

And where the infection slid

A dazzling memory revive；

Refresh the faded tints¹⁸

Recut the agd prints

And write my old adventures with the pen

Which on the first day drew

Upon the tablets blue

The dancing Pleiads and eternal men.