Atalanta in Calydon Part 10

CHORUS.

What wilt thou do? what ails thee? for the house Shakes ruinously; wilt thou bring fire for it?

ALTHAEA.

Fire in the roofs, and on the lintels fire.

Lo ye, who stand and weave, between the doors, There; and blood drips from hand and thread, and stains Threshold and raiment and me pa.s.sing in Flecked with the sudden sanguine drops of death.

CHORUS.

Alas that time is stronger than strong men, Fate than all G.o.ds: and these are fallen on us.

ALTHAEA.

A little since and I was glad; and now I never shall be glad or sad again.

CHORUS.

Between two joys a grief grows unaware.

ALTHAEA.

A little while and I shall laugh; and then I shall weep never and laugh not any more.

CHORUS.

What shall be said? for words are thorns to grief.

Withhold thyself a little and fear the G.o.ds.

ALTHAEA.

Fear died when these were slain; and I am as dead, And fear is of the living; these fear none.

CHORUS.

Have pity upon all people for their sake.

ALTHAEA.

It is done now, shall I put back my day?

CHORUS.

An end is come, an end; this is of G.o.d.

ALTHAEA.

I am fire, and burn myself, keep clear of fire.

CHORUS.

The house is broken, is broken; it shall not stand.

ALTHAEA.

Woe, woe for him that breaketh; and a rod Smote it of old, and now the axe is here.

CHORUS.

Not as with sundering of the earth Nor as with cleaving of the sea Nor fierce foreshadowings of a birth Nor flying dreams of death to be Nor loosening of the large world's girth And quickening of the body of night, And sound of thunder in men's ears And fire of lightning in men's sight, Fate, mother of desires and fears, Bore unto men the law of tears; But sudden, an unfathered flame, And broken out of night, she shone, She, without body, without name, In days forgotten and foregone; And heaven rang round her as she came Like smitten cymbals, and lay bare, Clouds and great stars, thunders and snows, The blue sad fields and folds of air, The life that breathes, the life that grows, All wind, all fire, that burns or blows, Even all these knew her: for she is great; The daughter of doom, the mother of death, The sister of sorrow; a lifelong weight That no man's finger lighteneth, Nor any G.o.d can lighten fate, A landmark seen across the way Where one race treads as the other trod; An evil sceptre, an evil stay, Wrought for a staff, wrought for a rod, The bitter jealousy of G.o.d.

For death is deep as the sea, And fate as the waves thereof.

Shall the waves take pity on thee Or the southwind offer thee love?

Wilt thou take the night for thy day Or the darkness for light on thy way, Till thou say in thine heart Enough?

Behold, thou art over fair, thou art over wise; The sweetness of spring in thine hair, and the light in thine eyes.

The light of the spring in thine eyes, and the sound in thine ears; Yet thine heart shall wax heavy with sighs and thine eyelids with tears.

Wilt thou cover thine hair with gold, and with silver thy feet?

Hast thou taken the purple to fold thee, and made thy mouth sweet?

Behold, when thy face is made bare, he that loved thee shall hate; Thy face shall be no more fair at the fall of thy fate.

For thy life shall fall as a leaf and be shed as the rain; And the veil of thine head shall be grief: and the crown shall be pain.

ALTHAEA.

Ho, ye that wail, and ye that sing, make way Till I be come among you. Hide your tears, Ye little weepers, and your laughing lips, Ye laughers for a little; lo mine eyes That outweep heaven at rainiest, and my mouth That laughs as G.o.ds laugh at us. Fate's are we, Yet fate is ours a breathing-s.p.a.ce; yea, mine, Fate is made mine for ever; he is my son, My bedfellow, my brother. You strong G.o.ds, Give place unto me; I am as any of you, To give life and to take life. Thou, old earth, That hast made man and unmade; thou whose mouth Looks red from the eaten fruits of thine own womb; Behold me with what lips upon what food I feed and fill my body; even with flesh Made of my body. Lo, the fire I lit I burn with fire to quench it; yea, with flame I burn up even the dust and ash thereof.

CHORUS.

Woman, what fire is this thou burnest with?

ALTHAEA.

Yea to the bone, yea to the blood and all.