[TISIPHONE blocks his way.

  TISIPHONE.

  Nay, seek not back to turn! 
    Vain is thy weeping, all thy words are vain. 
    Eurydice may not complain
    Of aught but thee—­albeit her grief is great. 
    Vain are thy verses ’gainst the voice of Fate! 
    How vain thy song!  For Death is stern! 
    Try not the backward path:  thy feet refrain! 
    The laws of the abyss are fixed and firm remain.

  SCENE VI

  ORPHEUS.

  What sorrow-laden song shall e’er be found
    To match the burden of my matchless woe? 
    How shall I make the fount of tears abound,
    To weep apace with grief’s unmeasured flow? 
    Salt tears I’ll waste upon the barren ground,
    So long as life delays me here below;
    And since my fate hath wrought me wrong so sore,
    I swear I’ll never love a woman more! 
  Henceforth I’ll pluck the buds of opening spring,
    The bloom of youth when life is loveliest,
    Ere years have spoiled the beauty which they bring: 
    This love, I swear, is sweetest, softest, best! 
    Of female charms let no one speak or sing;
    Since she is slain who ruled within my breast. 
    He who would seek my converse, let him see
    That ne’er he talk of woman’s love to me! 
  How pitiful is he who changes mind
    For woman! for her love laments or grieves! 
    Who suffers her in chains his will to bind,
    Or trusts her words lighter than withered leaves,
    Her loving looks more treacherous than the wind! 
    A thousand times she veers; to nothing cleaves: 
    Follows who flies; from him who follows, flees;
    And comes and goes like waves on stormy seas! 
  High Jove confirms the truth of what I said,
    Who, caught and bound in love’s delightful snare,
    Enjoys in heaven his own bright Ganymed: 
    Phoebus on earth had Hyacinth the fair: 
    Hercules, conqueror of the world, was led
    Captive to Hylas by this love so rare.—­
    Advice for husbands!  Seek divorce, and fly
    Far, far away from female company!

  [Enter a MAENAD leading a train of BACCHANTES.

  A MAENAD.

  Ho!  Sisters!  Up!  Alive! 
    See him who doth our sex deride! 
    Hunt him to death, the slave! 
  Thou snatch the thyrsus!  Thou this oak-tree rive! 
    Cast down this doeskin and that hide! 
    We’ll wreak our fury on the knave! 
  Yea, he shall feel our wrath, the knave! 
    He shall yield up his hide
    Riven as woodmen fir-trees rive! 
    No power his life can save;
    Since women he hath dared deride! 
    Ho!  To him, sisters!  Ho!  Alive!

  [ORPHEUS is chased off the scene and slain:  the MAENADS
  then return.

  A MAENAD.