TEARS OF THE SUN

Tears of the Sun glide outward, loosen’d free,
To Kerberos, star-hound of nether gloom.
There, in that threefold serpent-fire, they burn,
Wide, wakeful eyes that track the turning worlds,
And never close throughout their endless watch.
Black Night falls back before the sovereign blaze;
She folds her darkness over pallid Moon;
Dim light becomes her, far from noon’s full glare.

Four steadfast flames within that twisted coil  
Keep ward. Beside the Lyre, Alcides kneels—
The Arrow poised above the Eagle’s wings—
And grips in heav’n that writhing, starry Beast:
Kerberos, fierce beyond all mortal sway,
Ekhidna’s baleful son, abyssal fiend,
Who guards the gates of Hell, with venom’d tail,
Unwearied, barking; few can soothe his rage.

Then Kharon comes to row the shades across,
And claims the obol due from bloodless lips.
A red exomis girt above the knee,
The pilos cap drawn low upon his brow,
With iron pole he sounds the sluggish deep;
The stern guide drives the shadow-burden’d bark,
Bearing them down by measured oar through reeds,
Along the buried waters—pale fish drift—
Toward fathomless Death.