…the carven hall has fallen
She’s Priestess of Apollo’s prophecies
Cleansed in Parnassus’s blessed waters
Speaks in tongues — Castalia poetry
And riddles seers as lambs to the slaughter
The home of music — Apollo’s muses
Under shining peaks — Delphi’s singing spring
Where two eagles once met, whom were Zeus’s
Now a muse of muses must charm her king
Whilst Apollo sought the nymph Parnassos
Daphne was her name — the Gaia Priestess
Now worn as laurels and chewed in pathos
As offerings for the god’s new temptress
Four wars forlorn, to win this hand maiden
Such is sacred power to overawe
An enemy's pursuit — overladen
But Roman emperors were her last straw
Pythia freed the slaves; sent kings to graves
Read the future; and to seers — a tutor
Lest Roman emperors leave their enclaves
And repent her fall — with need, consult her
Emperor Julian saw her decay:
“Tell the king the carven hall has fallen
Apollo’s chapel, prophesying bay
The chattering spring dry — won’t be called on”
Millenia: contest and defiance
And just like that — Pythia’s final say
