Atalanta in Calydon - LightNovelsOnl.com
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SECOND MESSENGER.
Whereat king Oeneus, straightening feeble knees, With feeble hands heaved up a lessening weight, And laid him sadly in strange hands, and wept.
SEMICHORUS.
Thou art smitten, her lord, her desire, Thy dear blood wasted as rain.
SECOND MESSENGER.
And they with tears and rendings of the beard Bear hither a breathing body, wept upon And lightening at each footfall, sick to death.
SEMICHORUS.
Thou madest thy sword as a fire, With fire for a sword thou art slain.
SECOND MESSENGER.
And lo, the feast turned funeral, and the crowns Fallen; and the huntress and the hunter trapped; And weeping and changed faces and veiled hair.
MELEAGER.
Let your hands meet Round the weight of my head, Lift ye my feet As the feet of the dead; For the flesh of my body is molten, the limbs of it molten as lead.
CHORUS.
O thy luminous face, Thine imperious eyes!
O the grief, O the grace, As of day when it dies!
Who is this bending over thee, lord, with tears and suppression of sighs?
MELEAGER.
Is a bride so fair?
Is a maid so meek?
With unchapleted hair, With unfilleted cheek, Atalanta, the pure among women, whose name is as blessing to speak.
ATALANTA.
I would that with feet Unsandaled, unshod, Overbold, overfleet, I had swum not nor trod From Arcadia to Calydon northward, a blast of the envy of G.o.d.
MELEAGER.
Unto each man his fate; Unto each as he saith In whose fingers the weight Of the world is as breath; Yet I would that in clamour of battle mine hands had laid hold upon death.
CHORUS.
Not with cleaving of s.h.i.+elds And their clash in thine ear, When the lord of fought fields Breaketh spearshaft from spear, Thou art broken, our lord, thou art broken; with travail and labour and fear,
MELEAGER.
Would G.o.d he had found me Beneath fresh boughs Would G.o.d he had bound me Unawares in mine house, With light in mine eyes, and songs in my lips, and a crown on my brows!
CHORUS.
Whence art thou sent from us?
Whither thy goal?
How art thou rent from us, Thou that wert whole, As with severing of eyelids and eyes, as with sundering of body and soul!
MELEAGER.
My heart is within me As an ash in the fire; Whosoever hath seen me, Without lute, without lyre, Shall sing of me grievous things, even things that were ill to desire.
CHORUS.
Who shall raise thee From the house of the dead?
Or what man praise thee That thy praise may be said?
Alas thy beauty! alas thy body! alas thine head!
MELEAGER.
But thou, O mother, The dreamer of dreams, Wilt thou bring forth another To feel the sun's beams When I move among shadows a shadow, and wail by impa.s.sable streams?
OENEUS.
What thing wilt thou leave me Now this thing is done?
A man wilt thou give me, A son for my son, For the light of mine eyes, the desire of my life, the desirable one?
CHORUS.
Thou wert glad above others, Yea, fair beyond word, Thou wert glad among mothers; For each man that heard Of thee, praise there was added unto thee, as wings to the feet of a bird.
OENEUS.
Who shall give back Thy face of old years, With travail made black, Grown grey among fears, Mother of sorrow, mother of cursing, mother of tears?
