May He Die With No Joy At

Surely Again, To Heal Men's Wounds By Music's Spell.

Silence And Chaste Reserve Is Woman's Genuine Praise, And To Remain Quiet Within The House.

He Is Life's Liberating Force. He Is Release Of Limbs And Communion Through Dance. He Is Laughter, And Music In Flutes. He Is Repose From All Cares -- He Is Sleep! When His Blood Bursts From The Grape And Flows Across Tables Laid In His Honor To Fuse With Our Blood, He Gently, Gradually, Wraps Us In Shadows Of Ivy-cool Sleep.

Venus, Thy Eternal Sway All The Race Of Men Obey. Euripides, Iphigenia In Aulis. He Is Not A Lover Who Does Not Love For Ever.

They Who Are Sad Find Somehow Sweetness In Tears.