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And the homeless nomad wandered
Laying waste the fertile plain.
Menacing with spear and arrow
In the woods the hunter strayed....
Woe to all poor wretches stranded
On those cruel and hostile shores!
From the peak of high Olympus
Came the mother Ceres down,
Seeking in those savage regions
Her lost daughter Proserpine.
But the Goddess found no refuge,
Found no kindly welcome there,
And no temple bearing witness
To the worship of the gods.
From the fields and from the vineyards
Came no fruits to deck the feasts,
Only flesh of bloodstained victims
Smouldered on the altar-fires,
And where’er the grieving goddess
Turns her melancholy gaze,
Sunk in vilest degradation
Man his loathsomeness displays
Mitya broke into sobs and seized Alyosha’s hand.
‘My dear, my dear, in degradation, in degradation now,
too. There’s a terrible amount of suffering for man on earth,
a terrible lot of trouble. Don’t think I’m only a brute in an
officer’s uniform, wallowing in dirt and drink. I hardly
think of anything but of that degraded man — if only I’m
not lying. I pray God I’m not lying and showing off. I think