Across the Styx, where serpents hissed,
Where tortured souls in woe exist,
In Charon’s hold: a stowaway.
To Death’s dim doors he made his way,
With his true love he had a tryst.
With music gods nor men resist
The minstrel made hard Hades sway
While Cerberus in slumber lay
Across the Styx.
He won her back, the one he kissed,
Now freed from Pluton’s iron fist.
“Leave now. She follows. Don’t delay.
And don’t look back!” the Fates insist.
He did as told but stopped midway,
By dread and doubt was led astray.
He turned. She vanished in a mist,
Across the Styx.
Across the Styx where serpents hissed,
Sweet Orpheus in woe subsists.
Eurydice he grieves all day,
In fields of gloom his lute he’ll play
Till he meets Death, his final tryst.
