Hercules and his Twelve Labors

The Gift of Satyr Pan

Authors note: I know the music distracts from the rhythm of the poem so you can watch it before or after. I just wanted you to hear what I imagined in my head.

At crack of dawn the boy does rise
To hunt in woods and win the prize
Of roasted meat from comely game
And revel deep in hunters fame.

But woods are bare and quite that day
The birds don't sing and trees don't sway.
For many hours he stalks the land
Despairing loss of hunters plan.

Then ghostly hind the boy does spy
That flicks at edge of hero's eye.
And leaves as quick as child does turn
In hopes the hunters snare to spurn.

And after deer he gives to chase
And both through forest dense do race.
From noon to dusk he hunts the doe
Who leaves a spectral trail that glows.

And sun below the earth does hide
Away from world of prying eyes.
Then boy with weary form does fall
To ground to answer slumbers call.

But sudden the sound of flutes are heard
From deepest sleep the boy is spurred.
To find unworldly sound that's played
In total darkness walks to glade.

And sees in clearing massive fire
Where nymphs do dance to tunes of lyres.
That sound to songs that fauns did strum
And boy with wonders stricken dumb.

In center sat the largest form
With horns by curly hair adorned.
And cloven hooves that stomp to beat
And mouth that plays the fluted reeds.

And boy's enslaved to drunken sounds
And joins the crowds that dance around.
The fire that's bright and warm that night
With eerie heat and strangest light.

And boy does jolt awake to morn
By light of day from slumber torn.
In forest floor where first he laid
No sign of fire, nymphs, or glade.

A wooden club he finds in hand
From ground the boy does briskly stand.
Inspecting tool he gained in sleep
By strangest fate in slumber deep.

Against a bolder test the rod
With single swing it turns to sod.
And proudly take his weapon home
To Chiron centaur father shown.

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