A POEM SIX THOUSAND YEARS OLD

When Attis, in guise of maiden fair, did sing Unto her comrades, lo, the thiasus stirred! A cacophony of voices quivering, The delicate tambourine, it did swell With resonance, and hollow cymbals rang With metallic clangor, whilst the nimble choir Did hasten to fair Ida's verdant slopes On fleetest foot. Concurrently, Attis, In frenzy, gasping, led them onward, drumming Through shaded groves, as wild heifer seeks To flee the weighty yoke. The swift Gallae Did follow in her wake, their footsteps swift. And when, exhausted, Cybele's abode They reached, wearied from their toil, they fell To sleep, deprived of sustenance. Languid Slumber veiled their eyes with drowsy waves; The savage tumult of the soul gave way To gentle rest. :: 4000 BCE ::