A HEAP of low, dark, rocky coast, <br />Unknown to foot or feather! <br />A sea-voice moaning like a ghost; <br />And fits of fiery weather! <br /> <br />The flying Syrinx turned and sped <br />By dim, mysterious hollows, <br />Where night is black, and day is red, <br />And frost the fire-wind follows. <br /> <br />Strong, heavy footfalls in the wake <br />Came up with flights of water: <br />The gods were mournful for the sake <br />Of Ladon’s lovely daughter. <br /> <br />For when she came to spike and spine, <br />Where reef and river gather, <br />Her feet were sore with shell and chine; <br />She could not travel farther. <br /> <br />Across a naked strait of land <br />Blown sleet and surge were humming; <br />But trammelled with the shifting sand, <br />She heard the monster coming! <br /> <br />A thing of hoofs and horns and lust: <br />A gaunt, goat-footed stranger! <br />She bowed her body in the dust <br />And called on Zeus to change her; <br /> <br />And called on Hermes, fair and fleet, <br />And her of hounds and quiver, <br />To hide her in the thickets sweet <br />That sighed above the river. <br /> <br />So he that sits on flaming wheels, <br />And rules the sea and thunder, <br />Caught up the satyr by the heels <br />And tore his skirts asunder. <br /> <br />While Arcas, of the glittering plumes, <br />Took Ladon’s daughter lightly, <br />And set her in the gracious glooms <br />That mix with moon-mist nightly; <br /> <br />And touched her lips with wild-flower wine, <br />And changed her body slowly, <br />Till, in soft reeds of song and shine, <br />Her life was hidden wholly.<br /><br />Henry Kendall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/syrinx-2/
