Kadmeian Mysteries

Sing to me, Muse, of the rockbound land of the olive and grape Of the high mountain peaks and deep gorges and valleys where shepherds abide Of the palaces proud, where kings raised by Hubris by Nemesis tumble Their companions riding in chariots swift and with armor embronzed Rush to conquer with death-dealing spears the Arete that poets extol Ere the Boatman ferries them into the Gloom whence no one ever returns   From the harbors the sea-cleaving ships carry wares to and from distant lands From the lands of the purple dye fiercely desired by kings Aphrodite’s own isle - rich in copper beloved by heroes and smiths To the land of the bulldancers - weavers and crafters of artifice fine To the Realm of the Sun ruled by Phoibos himself and showered with gold All are carried by traders who sail on the waves of the wine darkened sea   And these faraway lands abound in creatures wondrous and strange Spawned by celestial gods and titans imprisoned below Sirens singing so sweetly and luring good men to their death in the depths Dragons guarding mystical scrolls and ambrosia and nectar besides Scaly gorgons and lamias, suffering former affronts to the gods And cyclops, now wild and unruly, now builders of towering walls   Now behind mighty walls, on hilltops, in groves and labyrinths dark Haruspices crafty and oracles wise work divinations In service of rulers and heroes seeking to know the will of the gods Ere Dawns’s rosy fingertips caressing the vault of the sky Appear, in grottoes and crypts dark sorcerers dig at the strands Of the weft and the woof woven by Fates for all mortals and gods.