II.

My goblet was exceeding beautiful. Sometimes my brothers of the woods, the fauns, Held gay carousals with me in my cave; I had a skin of Chian wine therein, Of which I made a feast; and all who drank From out my cup, a feast within itself, Made songs about the bright immortal shapes Engraven on the side below their lips: But we shall never drain it any more, And never sing about it any more; For I have broken my divinest cup And trod its fragments in the dust of Earth!