Upsilon's Ballad

Upsilon's Ballad

I.

Come now, friend! Sit down and listen.

  ‘tis the time for myths and stories;

‘tis the time for stars to glisten,

  And to witness drunken glories!

II.

Youthful Upsilon, brought by chance,

  Lonely soul and shameless wight,

Although roguish in his glance

  Yet mysterious like the night.

III.

He always sought the vaunted sky, 

  His thoughts churning like the sea,

'Till someone caught his curious eye;

  A maiden of ethereal glee.

IV.

And thus his face was crimson red,

  Mischievous and bright-eyed,

He slipped with quick yet steady tread

  To his comely maiden's side.

V.

“Come with me, O cheerful dear,

  Heed my golden lyre's song,

For you've no need to linger here

  And we'd wander all day long!

VI.

And as I gaze into thy face, 

  Pervade me with your charm,

And flood my soul in sunlit grace

  And time's eternal calm.”

VII.

What she witnessed was supernal,

  A stern poet ruled by passion,

One possessing youth eternal,

  And singing in a bardic fashion.

VIII.

Yet as celebration raged about;

  Falernian wine and vaunted thyrses,

The maiden's heart was filled with doubt

  From his Apollonian verses.

IX.

“O, beautiful thou art, good Sire!

  As supernal as one may be,

But to the cause you much desire

  I'm afraid I don't agree.

X.

For your words and gestures show

  That you're lost within your head,

And thine eyes possess a glow

  Which fills my soul with dread.”

XI.

Daylight flew as he departed.

  Lonely Upsilon went on his way,

For he sought the passion-hearted

  That revelled only at close of day.

XII.

These are ancient ethnic revels

  Of a god long since forgotten 

Where all Satyrs - drunken devils -

  Follow Bacchus in logic rotten.

XIII.

Youthful Upsilon, bloated, drunken 

  Led by the inebriate Fauns
On his breast his head was sunken,
  Lost betwixt wild dreams and yawns.

XIV.

Wide eyes he had that seemed to tell

  Of strange, accursed bonds;

And deep they were as drinking's spell,

  And dark as moonlit ponds.

XV.

Like an angel he had flown,

  Though inebriate his flight, 

He cast aside Apollo's crown

  And disappeared into the night.

XVI.

And as the moon waved bright above,

  His dreams of her were borne,

His heart again by aching love

  And cruel longing torn.

XVII.

Thus his face was crimson red,

  Mischievous and bright-eyed,

He flowed with quick and drunken tread

  To his comely maiden's side.

XVIII.

“Come with me, O cheerful dear!

  Heed my passion's Bacchic song,

For you've no need to linger here

  And we'd wander all night long!

XIX.

And we shall nothing of this life regret

  But joyous live and sprightly,

'Till soon your problems you'll forget,

  Nor dream your worries nightly.”

XX.

What she witnessed was infernal:

  A frenzied poet ruled by passion, 

One possessing youth eternal,

  And singing in a bardic fashion.

XXI.

And there were Bacchantes all about

  Bearing cymbals, flutes, and thyrses,

Yet her heart was filled with doubt 

  From his Dionysian verses.

XXII.

“O, beautiful thou art, good Sire!

  As infernal as one may be,

But to the cause you much desire,

  I'm afraid I don't agree.

XXIII.

For you wound me with your crude behest;

  I dread what you extol;

Your frenzied eyes, as though possessed,

  Thrust deep into my bosom's soul.”

XXIV.

Thus he knew in reckless vigour,

  Much this mystic song expresses:

Apollo was the type of rigour,

  Dionysus of excesses. 

XXV.

So come now, friend! Sit down and listen,

  As this part is wholly ending,

How the waters churn and glisten

  In his head, forever blending.