Complete Poussiniana

Deep in myth, these galleries keep their counsel
but redistribute all the elements.

Nymph rides goat, attended by a satyr
who pats her rump to help her keep her seat;

putto rides goat, attended by a nymph.
Two other satyrs from behind a bush

leer at a nymph reclining in a grot.
By a Maenadic, irrepressibly

chortling nurse-attendant, infant Bacchus
is given wine to drink. And over here

Eurydice sees the viper, lifts her skirt,
scurries—in vain, we know, but she does not.

This story isn’t over yet. Behind them
all, a massive hilltop fortress built

of solid stone is somehow catching fire.
Perspective, possibilities peel back:

reluctantly we leave one world, reenter
another, where we have already seen

stone burning and a crane collapsing. Now
get ready for the sea-son of the snake.