"Drink, dull slave!" the Spartan said,
"Drink, until the Helot clod
"Feel within him subtly bred
"Kinship to the drunken God!
XXX.
"Drink, until the leaden blood
"Stirs and beats about thy brain:
"Till the hot Caecuban flood
"Drown the iron of thy chain.
XXXI.
"Drink, till even madness flies
"At the nimble wine's pursuit;
"Till the God within thee lies
"Trampled by the earth-born brute.
XXXII.
"Helot drink—nor spare the wine;
"Drain the deep, the madd'ning bowl,
"Flesh and sinews, slave, are mine,
"Now I claim thy Helot soul.
XXXIII.
"Gods! ye love our Sparta; ye
"Gave with vine that leaps and runs
"O'er her slopes, these slaves to be
"Mocks and warnings to her sons!
XXXIV.