by Tenebris

Created on: July 01, 2008

Actaeon

My feet itched to hunt
That eve, I knew not why:
Range o'er hill with my pack
Chase through vale with my friends
Seeking the deer, the bone-horned stag:
Seeking a trophy for my wall.

The moon!
Pulsing in my blood, pulsing
In my blood,
Pulsing in my blood
Drove me from them,
My companions;
Drove me quite raving
Feverish from her beams.

I wandered far
Looked upon
That I should have shunned,

Never should have seen
Goddess terrible
Huntress supreme
Brilliant in her power
Naked in her glory
And the moonbeams shining
In her long, black hair.

Her nymphs screamed loudly
Quickly ran to hide her
Shield her with their bodies
From me standing there
Speechless
With a bow in his hand
And a wild-eyed stare.

O'er their heads she saw me
Raised her arm straight at me
Naught did I see
Turning to run
From her dreadful presence:
Too late.

Crystal lake before me
Limpid eyes before me
What, this my hair?
What, this my head?
What, these my horns?
What hast Thou done?

Run, feet, if thou be swift
Escape her power
Outrun her mocking laughter
Wouldst weep now at her bright words?
"Run, slave, and tell them
Of a naked goddess."

Where, where to run?
Not to my companions
Not with string and bow
Strung to set upon me.

Whither should I fly
From a goddess' anger?
Not to my parents:
Sire of a hunter
Dam of a chaser.

Listen! My pack calls
They have flushed a quarry
They won't lose its track now
Can't be far from here
On, on brave comrades
Hunt the quarry down
Spear the deer right bravely
For its regal crown.

Deer? Why, 'tis me
They hunt with such persistence.
Nowhere to turn
Nowhere to hide
My dogs already on me
Glaucus, dost not know me?
Save me from my kennel
Tear them from my throat
Bright moon goddess

Ah, Hecate!

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