Being queen, to have borne her daughter like a queen,
Righteous; and though mine own fire burn me too,
She shall have honour and these her sons, though dead.
But all the gods will, all they do, and we
Not all we would, yet somewhat, and one choice
We have, to live and do just deeds and die.
CHORUS.
Terrible words she communes with, and turns
Swift fiery eyes in doubt against herself,
And murmurs as who talks in dreams with death.
ALTHAEA.
For the unjust also dieth, and him all men
Hate, and himself abhors the unrighteousness,
And seeth his own dishonour intolerable.
But I being just, doing right upon myself,
Slay mine own soul, and no man born shames me.
For none constrains nor shall rebuke, being done,
What none compelled me doing, thus these things fare.
Ah, ah, that such things should so fare, ah me,
That I am found to do them and endure,
Chosen and constrained to choose, and bear myself
Mine own wound through mine own flesh to the heart
Violently stricken, a spoiler and a spoil,
A ruin ruinous, fallen on mine own son.
Ah, ah, for me too as for these; alas,
For that is done that shall be, and mine hand
Full of the deed, and full of blood mine eyes,
That shall see never nor touch anything
Save blood unstanched and fire unquenchable.
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 passing in
Flecked with the sudden sanguine drops of death.
CHORUS.
Alas that time is stronger than strong men,
Fate than all gods: 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 gods.
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 God.
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 god 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 God.
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 gods laugh at us. Fate’s are we,
Yet fate is ours a breathing-space; yea, mine,
Fate is made mine for ever; he is my son,
My bedfellow, my brother. You strong gods,
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.
CHORUS.
For this thy face and hair are as one fire.
ALTHAEA.
A tongue that licks and beats upon the dust.
CHORUS.
And in thine eyes are hollow light and heat.
ALTHAEA.
Of flame not fed with hand or frankincense.
CHORUS.
I fear thee for the trembling of thine eyes.
ALTHAEA.
Neither with love they tremble nor for fear.
CHORUS.
And thy mouth shuddering like a shot bird.
ALTHAEA.
Not as the bride’s mouth when man kisses it.
CHORUS.
Nay, but what thing is this thing thou hast done?
ALTHAEA.
Look, I am silent, speak your eyes for me.
CHORUS.
I see
a faint fire lightening from the hall.
ALTHAEA.
Gaze, stretch your eyes, strain till the lids drop off.
CHORUS.
Flushed pillars down the flickering vestibule.
ALTHAEA.
Stretch with your necks like birds: cry, chirp as they.
CHORUS.
And a long brand that blackens: and white dust
ALTHAEA.
O children, what is this ye see? your eyes
Are blinder than night’s face at fall of moon.
That is my son, my flesh, my fruit of life,
My travail, and the year’s weight of my womb,
Meleager, a fire enkindled of mine hands
And of mine hands extinguished, this is he.
CHORUS.
O gods, what word has flown out at thy mouth?
ALTHAEA.
I did this and I say this and I die.
CHORUS.
Death stands upon the doorway of thy lips,
And in thy mouth has death set up his house.
ALTHAEA.
O death, a little, a little while, sweet death,
Until I see the brand burnt down and die.
CHORUS.
She reels as any reed under the wind,
And cleaves unto the ground with staggering feet.
ALTHAEA.
Girls, one thing will I say and hold my peace.
I that did this will weep not nor cry out,
Cry ye and weep: I will not call on gods,
Call ye on them; I will not pity man,
Shew ye your pity. I know not if I live;
Save that I feel the fire upon my face
And on my cheek the burning of a brand.
Yea the smoke bites me, yea I drink the steam
With nostril and with eyelid and with lip
Insatiate and intolerant; and mine hands
Burn, and fire feeds upon mine eyes; I reel
As one made drunk with living, whence he draws
Drunken delight; yet I, though mad for joy,
Loathe my long living and am waxen red
As with the shadow of shed blood; behold,
I am kindled with the flames that fade in him,
I am swollen with subsiding of his veins,
I am flooded with his ebbing; my lit eyes
Flame with the falling fire that leaves his lids
Bloodless, my cheek is luminous with blood
Because his face is ashen. Yet, O child,
Son, first-born, fairest — O sweet mouth, sweet eyes,
That drew my life out through my suckling breast,
That shone and clove mine heart through — O soft knees
Clinging, O tender treadings of soft feet,
Cheeks warm with little kissings — O child, child,
What have we made each other? Lo, I felt
Thy weight cleave to me, a burden of beauty, O son,
Thy cradled brows and loveliest loving lips,
The floral hair, the little lightening eyes,
And all thy goodly glory; with mine hands
Delicately I fed thee, with my tongue
Tenderly spake, saying, Verily in God’s time,
For all the little likeness of thy limbs,
Son, I shall make thee a kingly man to fight,
A lordly leader; and hear before I die,
’She bore the goodliest sword of all the world.’
Oh! oh! For all my life turns round on me;
I am severed from myself, my name is gone,
My name that was a healing, it is changed,
My name is a consuming. From this time,
Though mine eyes reach to the end of all these things,
My lips shall not unfasten till I die.
SEMICHORUS.
She has filled with sighing the city,
And the ways thereof with tears;
She arose, she girdled her sides,
She set her face as a bride’s;
She wept, and she had no pity,
Trembled, and felt no fears.
SEMICHORUS.
Her eyes were clear as the sun,
Her brows were fresh as the day;
She girdled herself with gold,
Her robes were manifold;
But the days of her worship are done,
Her praise is taken away.
SEMICHORUS.
For she set her hand to the fire,
With her mouth she kindled the same,
As the mouth of a flute-player,
So was the mouth of her;
With the might of her strong desire
She blew the breath of the flame.
SEMICHORUS.
She set her hand to the wood,
She took the fire in her hand;
As one who is nigh to death,
She panted with strange breath;
She opened her lips unto blood,
She breathed and kindled the brand.
SEMICHORUS.
As a wood-dove newly shot,
She sobbed and lifted her breast;
She sighed and covered her eyes,
Filling her lips with sighs;
She sighed, she withdrew herself not,
She refrained not, taking not rest;
SEMICHORUS.
But as the wind which is drouth,
And as the air which is death,
As storm that severeth ships,
Her breath severing her lips,
The breath came forth of her mouth
And the fire came forth of her breath.
SECOND MESSENGER.
Queen, and you maidens, there is come on us
A thing more deadly than the face of death;
Meleager the good lord is as one slain.
SEMICHORUS.
Without sword, without sword is he stricken;
Slain, and slain without hand.
SECOND MESSENGER.
For as keen ice divided of the sun
His limbs divide, and as thawed snow the flesh
Thaws from off all his body to the hair.
SEMICHORUS.
He wastes as the embers quicken;
With the brand he fades as a brand
SECOND MESSENGER.
Even while they sang and all drew hither and he
Lifted both hands to crown the Arcadian’s hair
And fix the looser leaves, both hands fell down.
SEMICHORUS.
With rending of cheek and of hair
Lament ye, mourn for him, weep.
SECOND MESSENGER.
Straightway the crown slid off and smote on earth,
First fallen; and he, grasping his own hair, groaned
And cast his raiment round his face and fell.
SEMICHORUS.
Alas for visions that were,
And soothsayings spoken in sleep.
SECOND MESSENGER.
But the king twitched his reins in and leapt down
And caught him, crying out twice ‘O child’ and thrice,
So that men’s eyelids thickened with their tears.
SEMICHORUS.
Lament with a long lamentation,
Cry, for an end is at hand.
SECOND MESSENGER.
O son, he said, son, lift thine eyes, draw breath,
Pity me; but Meleager with sharp lips
Gasped, and his face waxed like as sunburnt grass.
SEMICHORUS.
Cry aloud, O thou kingdom, O nation,
O stricken, a ruinous land.
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,
Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) Page 7