And over him, who stood but Herakles!
There smiled the mighty presence, all one smile
And no touch more of the world-weary God,
Through the brief respite. Just a garland's grace
About the brow, a song to satisfy
Head, heart and breast, and trumpet-lips at once,
A solemn draught of true religious wine,
And—how should I know?—half a mountain-goat
Tom up and swallowed down,—the feast was fierce
But brief: all cares and pains took wing and flew,