O High Priest of Iacchus! Madness of Iacchus, O High Priest of Iacchus, Breathe! O High Priest of Iacchus, Thy magic in parting! O High Priest of Iacchus, Encinctureth the maiden Whom thou lovest, O High Priest of Iacchus, Shalt encircle all sands, O High Priest of Iacchus, Let the gods speak softly of us The shadowy flowers of Orcus smother me! —save the new. There is no summer in the leaves, How shall we weave a coronal, [1] "Venus Reclining," by Jacopo del Sellaio (1442-93). [1]
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