And throb beneath the glistening dew,
      In bamboo tufts, or mango-trees,
    In lotus bloom, and spring anew,
      In rose-tree bud, or such as these
          On Earth return again!

    And I should learn to love my mate,
      In beast or singing bird or flower,
    For kiss of love in hope could wait;
      Perhaps I then would come that hour,
          In form I have again!

    And love you say, my queen, is there,
      Where I can breathe with life anew? 
    But is it so?  My Love, beware! 
      For some things oft are false, some true,
          But I thee trust again!

    We fly away! from gates away! 
      Oh, life of bliss!  Oh, breath of balm! 
    With wings we tread the Silver Way,
      To trailing vines and feathery palm,
          To bower of love again.”

COLUMN VI

ESCAPE OF TAMMUZ FROM HADES—­HIS DEATH IN THE CLOUDS—­FUNERAL PROCESSION
OF THE GODS—­ISHTAR’S ELEGY OVER THE DEATH OF TAMMUZ—­HIS REVIVAL IN
HADES, WHERE HE IS CROWNED AS THE LORD OF HADES—­ISHTAR’S RETURN BRINGS
LIGHT AND LOVE BACK TO EARTH.

But see! they pass from those dark gates and walls,
And fly upon the breeze from Hades’ halls,
Hark! hark! the sounding harp is stilled! it falls
From Tammuz’s hands!  Oh, how its wailing calls
To you bright zi-ni[1] flying through the skies,
See! one sweet spirit of the wind swift flies
And grasps the wailing harp before it ends
Its wail of woe, and now beneath it bends,
With silent pinions listening to its strings,
Wild sobbing on the winds;—­with wailing rings
The conscious harp, and trembles in her hands. 
A rush of pinions comes from myriad lands,
With moanings sends afar the awful tale,
And mourners brings with every whispering gale. 
And see! the queen’s companion fainting sinks! 
She lays him on that cloud with fleecy brinks! 
And oh! his life is ebbing fast away! 
She wildly falls upon his breast, and gray
Her face becomes with bitter agony. 
She tearless kneels, wrapt in her misery
And now upon his breast she lays her head,
With tears that gods, alas! with men must shed;
She turning, sobs to her sweet waiting maids,
Who weeping o’er her stand with bended heads: 
“Assemble, oh, my maids, in mourning here,
The gods! and spirits of the earth bring near!”

They come! they come! three hundred spirits high,
The heavenly spirits come! the I-gi-gi! 
From Heaven’s streams and mouths and plains and vales,
And gods by thousands on the wings of gales. 
The spirits of the earth, An-un-na-ci,
Now join around their sisters of the sky. 
Hark! hear her weeping to the heavenly throng,
Imploring them to chant their mournful song: