RODIN

V

LA FORTUNE

Published in the Weekly Critical Review

Paris, France

18 June 1903

(page 19)

“O Tyche! From the Amalthean horn

Pour forth the store of love! I lowly bend

Before thee; I invoke thee at the end

When other gods are fallen and put to scorn.

Thy foot is to my lips; my sighs unborn

Rise, touch and curl about thy heart; they spend

Pitiful love. Lovelier pity, descend

And bring me luck who am lonely and forlorn.”

Fortune sits idle on her throne. The scent

Of honeyed incense wreathes her lips with pleasure.

For pure delight of luxury she turns,

Smooth in her goddess rapture. So she spurns

And crushes the pale suppliant. Softly bent,

Her body laughs in ecstasy of leisure.