Since Zeus to bliss these eyes unsealed;
The feast of quivering flesh I shared
While through the dark strange thunder pealed.
The Mountain-Mother heard my vows,
And saw my torch the darkness ride;
The Hunter named me for his priest,
A mail-clad Bacchant sanctified.
Now robed in white I keep me pure
From food that e’er has throbbed with breath;
I shun the new-born infant’s cry,