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"But sweeter even than Life's rich wine, As, hot from the kill ah-h! draught divine! It trickles adown my ravished throat, Is my gaunt mate's deep-toned, chesty note. As o'er hill and plain She calls amain Till the welkin quivers with ecstasy: Ai y-u-u yu yu-u-u-u! 'Oh come, Beloved, to Love and me! Ai yu-u-u-u-u-u! "Manlings spawned in the cities' slime. Weaklings, withered before your prime.
What ken ye of the joys there be Of Life and of Love and of Liberty! Better hill and dell As free Ishmael Than the shackles of pomp and pageantry: Ai yu-u-u yu yu-u-u-u! Come out, oh! faint hearts, and howl with me! Ai yu-u-u-u-u-u!" In the storm of applause that rewarded his unique performance he rose and went over to the fireplace.
Ai yu-u-u-u-u-u! "Oh! sweet is the scent in the evening gale, Of the dun deer wending adown the trail Where I lie, grim ambushed, with bated breath, A gray lance couched in the hand of Death! At that maddening tang White-bared each fang, Dripping anon with ambrosia red; Ai y-u-u yu yu-u-u-u! Haste, sweetheart, to the feast outspread! Ai yu-u-u-u-u-u!
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