Ephemera (Buck)/The Orgy
THE ORGY
—Plunge thy wreath . . . into the wine, as I do. Now drink from the blossoms. It is delicious. . . . Ho, there! My friend is thirsty. I am sure he is thirsty. Give him the Cretan wine; he likes it because it is red . . .
—O lassitude! . . . Thy lips are like a flower at my throat . . .
—This roasted fowl, I swear, is daintier than a beautiful woman. Now I maintain that pleasures such as this . . .
—Let her alone, thou ape; she is a Lesbian . . . What is it to thee? . . . Who threw that cup? O shame! It was a rare Etruscan glaze! How strangely the fragments gleam . . .
—O lovely, glowing limbs! O skin like petals of the rose! More maddening than all wines the fair breath sobbing past thy crimsoned lips . . .
—Gods! Gods! I weep. See, my sleeve is all wet with tears! I can drink . . . no more . . . I can drink . . .
—O Dionysos, strike the profaner dead!