Far in the hills she wanders, proud, possessed,
following the call.
Temptation of a godly lust lures Lamia
to Elysian Fields.
In greening glade, he regards his prize. Lamia -
dusk-head mortal, splendid to his sight.
Zeus, as Eros guides his mighty swelling sword,
is sorely cruel and swift and strong.
Under midday Sun, Zeus takes her basely, deeply
in godly fashion.
In terror the maid finds truth: god is...
mere a man.
Lamia lashes out her pain in body, soul
and mind. She draws his sacred blood.
Beaten, battered blind, she scores his perfect flesh.
Zeus incensed! This mortal dares to wound! Cursed, lovely Lamia.
For this, deems Zeus in terrible thunderous voice,
are you damned!
No man shall want your lethal love, save
when he sleeps.
You will go not in this beauteous form,
but as the lowest of the beasts.
And when your pleasing him is over, done,
then shall you drain his pounding blood.
You are eternally banished from brilliant hours - hated,
abhorred, and cold.
Rouse not a god with your ripened fruit
and then withhold!
So spake Zeus. And Lamia lay forlorn, forgotten
until the Sun prods her to shade.
At last Selene appears in the darkling sky
argentine-white, bestowing moonbeams on the Fields.
From the confines of her cave Lamia comes,
and she weeps.
Bitter salt sluices the veil from her eyes,
soothing her sorrow.
She thrusts her fisted hands toward expectant stars.
A clear, cool resolve escapes her throat:
Attend me then, O gods on yonder Mount!
What Zeus has wrought, so will be.
For my revenge, I swim the sensuous streams
as Goddess Snake.
He that evokes me with uncaring carnal fantasy
will find release. His final request.
Thus vows Lamia. And bows her weary head.
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