Atalanta in Calydon Part 7

Speak thou their chance; but some bring flowers and crown These G.o.ds and all the lintel, and shed wine, Fetch sacrifice and slay, for heaven is good.

HERALD.

Some furlongs northward where the brakes begin West of that narrowing range of warrior hills Whose brooks have bled with battle when thy son Smote Acarnania, there all they made halt, And with keen eye took note of spear and hound, Royally ranked; Laertes island-born, The young Gerenian Nestor, Panopeus, And Cepheus and Ancaeus, mightiest thewed, Arcadians; next, and evil-eyed of these, Arcadian Atalanta, with twain hounds Lengthening the leash, and under nose and brow Glittering with lipless tooth and fire-swift eye; But from her white braced shoulder the plumed shafts Rang, and the bow shone from her side; next her Meleager, like a sun in spring that strikes Branch into leaf and bloom into the world, A glory among men meaner; Iphicles, And following him that slew the biform bull Pirithous, and divine Eurytion, And, bride-bound to the G.o.ds, Aeacides.

Then Telamon his brother, and Argive-born The seer and sayer of visions and of truth, Amphiaraus; and a four-fold strength, Thine, even thy mother's and thy sister's sons.

And recent from the roar of foreign foam Jason, and Dryas twin-begot with war, A blossom of bright battle, sword and man s.h.i.+ning; and Idas, and the keenest eye Of Lynceus, and Admetus twice-espoused, And Hippasus and Hyleus, great in heart.

These having halted bade blow horns, and rode Through woods and waste lands cleft by stormy streams, Past yew-trees and the heavy hair of pines, And where the dew is thickest under oaks, This way and that; but questing up and down They saw no trail nor scented; and one said, Plexippus, Help, or help not, Artemis, And we will flay thy boarskin with male hands; But saying, he ceased and said not that he would, Seeing where the green ooze of a sun-struck marsh Shook with a thousand reeds untunable, And in their moist and mult.i.tudinous flower Slept no soft sleep, with violent visions fed, The blind bulk of the immeasurable beast.

And seeing, he shuddered with sharp l.u.s.t of praise Through all his limbs, and launched a double dart, And missed; for much desire divided him, Too hot of spirit and feebler than his will, That his hand failed, though fervent; and the shaft, Sundering the rushes, in a tamarisk stem Shook, and stuck fast; then all abode save one, The Arcadian Atalanta; from her side Sprang her hounds, labouring at the leash, and slipped, And plashed ear-deep with plunging feet; but she Saying, Speed it as I send it for thy sake, G.o.ddess, drew bow and loosed, the sudden string Rang, and sprang inward, and the waterish air Hissed, and the moist plumes of the songless reeds Moved as a wave which the wind moves no more.

But the boar heaved half out of ooze and slime His tense flank trembling round the barbed wound, Hateful, and fiery with invasive eyes And bristling with intolerable hair Plunged, and the hounds clung, and green flowers and white Reddened and broke all round them where they came.

And charging with sheer tusk he drove, and smote Hyleus; and sharp death caught his sudden soul, And violent sleep shed night upon his eyes.

Then Peleus, with strong strain of hand and heart, Shot; but the sidelong arrow slid, and slew His comrade born and loving countryman, Under the left arm smitten, as he no less Poised a like arrow; and bright blood brake afoam, And falling, and weighed back by clamorous arms, Sharp rang the dead limbs of Eurytion.

Then one shot happier; the Cadmean seer, Amphiaraus; for his sacred shaft Pierced the red circlet of one ravening eye Beneath the brute brows of the sanguine boar, Now bloodier from one slain; but he so galled Sprang straight, and rearing cried no lesser cry Than thunder and the roar of wintering streams That mix their own foam with the yellower sea; And as a tower that falls by fire in fight With ruin of walls and all its archery, And breaks the iron flower of war beneath, Crus.h.i.+ng charred limbs and molten arms of men; So through crushed branches and the reddening brake Clamoured and crashed the fervour of his feet, And trampled, springing sideways from the tusk, Too tardy a moving mould of heavy strength, Ancaeus; and as flakes of weak-winged snow Break, all the hard thews of his heaving limbs Broke, and rent flesh fell every way, and blood Flew, and fierce fragments of no more a man.

Then all the heroes drew sharp breath, and gazed, And smote not; but Meleager, but thy son, Right in the wild way of the coming curse Rock-rooted, fair with fierce and fastened lips, Clear eyes, and springing muscle and shortening limb-- With chin aslant indrawn to a tightening throat, Grave, and with gathered sinews, like a G.o.d,-- Aimed on the left side his well-handled spear Grasped where the ash was knottiest hewn, and smote, And with no missile wound, the monstrous boar Right in the hairiest hollow of his hide Under the last rib, sheer through bulk and bone, Peep in; and deeply smitten, and to death, The heavy horror with his hanging shafts Leapt, and fell furiously, and from raging lips Foamed out the latest wrath of all his life.

And all they praised the G.o.ds with mightier heart, Zeus and all G.o.ds, but chiefliest Artemis, Seeing; but Meleager bade whet knives and flay, Strip and stretch out the splendour of the spoil; And hot and horrid from the work all these Sat, and drew breath and drank and made great cheer And washed the hard sweat off their calmer brows.

For much sweet gra.s.s grew higher than grew the reed, And good for slumber, and every holier herb, Narcissus, and the low-lying melilote, And all of goodliest blade and bloom that springs Where, hid by heavier hyacinth, violet buds Blossom and burn; and fire of yellower flowers And light of crescent lilies, and such leaves As fear the Faun's and know the Dryad's foot; Olive and ivy and poplar dedicate, And many a well-spring overwatched of these.

There now they rest; but me the king bade bear Good tidings to rejoice this town and thee.

Wherefore be glad, and all ye give much thanks, For fallen is all the trouble of Calydon.

ALTHAEA.

Laud ye the G.o.ds; for this they have given is good, And what shall be they hide until their time.

Much good and somewhat grievous hast thou said, And either well; but let all sad things be, Till all have made before the prosperous G.o.ds Burnt-offering, and poured out the floral wine.

Look fair, O G.o.ds, and favourable; for we Praise you with no false heart or flattering mouth, Being merciful, but with pure souls and prayer.

HERALD.

Thou hast prayed well; for whoso fears not these, But once being prosperous waxes huge of heart, Him shall some new thing unaware destroy.

CHORUS.

O that I now, I too were By deep wells and water-floods, Streams of ancient hills; and where All the wan green places bear Blossoms cleaving to the sod, Fruitless fruit, and gra.s.ses fair, Or such darkest ivy-buds As divide thy yellow hair, Bacchus, and their leaves that nod Round thy fawnskin brush the bare Snow-soft shoulders of a G.o.d; There the year is sweet, and there Earth is full of secret springs, And the fervent rose-cheeked hours, Those that marry dawn and noon, There are sunless, there look pale In dim leaves and hidden air, Pale as gra.s.s or latter flowers Or the wild vine's wan wet rings Full of dew beneath the moon, And all day the nightingale Sleeps, and all night sings; There in cold remote recesses That nor alien eyes a.s.sail, Feet, nor imminence of wings, Nor a wind nor any tune, Thou, O queen and holiest, Flower the whitest of all things, With reluctant lengthening tresses And with sudden splendid breast Save of maidens unbeholden, There art wont to enter, there Thy divine swift limbs and golden.

Maiden growth of unbound hair, Bathed in waters white, s.h.i.+ne, and many a maid's by thee In moist woodland or the hilly Flowerless brakes where wells abound Out of all men's sight; Or in lower pools that see All their marges clothed all round With the innumerable lily, Whence the golden-girdled bee Flits through flowering rush to fret White or duskier violet, Fair as those that in far years With their buds left luminous And their little leaves made wet From the warmer dew of tears, Mother's tears in extreme need, Hid the limbs of Iamus, Of thy brother's seed; For his heart was piteous Toward him, even as thine heart now Pitiful toward us; Thine, O G.o.ddess, turning hither A benignant blameless brow; Seeing enough of evil done And lives withered as leaves wither In the blasting of the sun; Seeing enough of hunters dead, Ruin enough of all our year, Herds and harvests slain and shed, Herdsmen stricken many an one, Fruits and flocks consumed together, And great length of deadly days.

Yet with reverent lips and fear Turn we toward thee, turn and praise For this lightening of clear weather And prosperities begun.

For not seldom, when all air As bright water without breath s.h.i.+nes, and when men fear not, fate Without thunder unaware Breaks, and brings down death.

Joy with grief ye great G.o.ds give, Good with bad, and overbear All the pride of us that live, All the high estate, As ye long since overbore, As in old time long before, Many a strong man and a great, All that were.

But do thou, sweet, otherwise, Having heed of all our prayer, Taking note of all our sighs; We beseech thee by thy light, By thy bow, and thy sweet eyes, And the kingdom of the night, Be thou favourable and fair; By thine arrows and thy might And Orion overthrown; By the maiden thy delight, By the indissoluble zone And the sacred hair.

MESSENGER.

Maidens, if ye will sing now, s.h.i.+ft your song, Bow down, cry, wail for pity; is this a time For singing? nay, for strewing of dust and ash, Rent raiment, and for bruising of the breast.

CHORUS.

What new thing wolf-like lurks behind thy words?

What snake's tongue in thy lips? what fire in the eyes?

MESSENGER.

Bring me before the queen and I will speak.

CHORUS.

Lo, she comes forth as from thank-offering made.

MESSENGER.

A barren offering for a bitter gift.

ALTHAEA.

What are these borne on branches, and the face Covered? no mean men living, but now slain Such honour have they, if any dwell with death.

MESSENGER.

Queen, thy twain brethren and thy mother's sons.

ALTHAEA.

Lay down your dead till I behold their blood If it be mine indeed, and I will weep.

MESSENGER,

Weep if thou wilt, for these men shall no more.

ALTHAEA.

O brethren, O my father's sons, of me Well loved and well reputed, I should weep Tears dearer than the dear blood drawn from you But that I know you not uncomforted, Sleeping no shameful sleep, however slain, For my son surely hath avenged you dead.

MESSENGER.

Nay, should thine own seed slay himself, O queen?