Erechtheus | Page 3

beagles hounding;
Break thou his bow, make short his hand,?Maim his fleet foot whose passage kills the living land. 190 Let a third wave smite not us, father, [_Str._ 4. Long since sore smitten of twain,?Lest the house of thy son's son perish?And his name be barren on earth.?Whose race wilt thou comfort rather?If none to thy son remain??Whose seed wilt thou choose to cherish
If his be cut off in the birth?
For the first fair graft of his graffing [_Ant._ 4.
Was rent from its maiden root 200
By the strong swift hand of a lover
Who fills the night with his breath;
On the lip of the stream low-laughing?Her green soft virginal shoot?Was plucked from the stream-side cover
By the grasp of a love like death.
For a God's was the mouth that kissed her [_Str._ 5.
Who speaks, and the leaves lie dead,?When winter awakes as at warning?To the sound of his foot from Thrace. 210 Nor happier the bed of her sister?Though Love's self laid her abed?By a bridegroom beloved of the morning
And fair as the dawn's own face.
For Procris, ensnared and ensnaring [_Ant._ 5.
By the fraud of a twofold wile,?With the point of her own spear stricken?By the gift of her own hand fell.?Oversubtle in doubts, overdaring?In deeds and devices of guile, 220 And strong to quench as to quicken,
O Love, have we named thee well?
By thee was the spear's edge whetted [_Str._ 6.
That laid her dead in the dew,?In the moist green glens of the midland?By her dear lord slain and thee.?And him at the cliff's end fretted?By the grey keen waves, him too,?Thine hand from the white-browed headland
Flung down for a spoil to the sea. 230
But enough now of griefs grey-growing [_Ant._ 6.
Have darkened the house divine,?Have flowered on its boughs and faded,?And green is the brave stock yet.?O father all-seeing and all-knowing,?Let the last fruit fall not of thine?From the tree with whose boughs we are shaded,?From the stock that thy son's hand set.
ERECHTHEUS.
O daughter of Cephisus, from all time?Wise have I found thee, wife and queen, of heart 240 Perfect; nor in the days that knew not wind?Nor days when storm blew death upon our peace?Was thine heart swoln with seed of pride, or bowed?With blasts of bitter fear that break men's souls?Who lift too high their minds toward heaven, in thought Too godlike grown for worship; but of mood?Equal, in good time reverent of time bad,?And glad in ill days of the good that were.?Nor now too would I fear thee, now misdoubt?Lest fate should find thee lesser than thy doom, 250 Chosen if thou be to bear and to be great?Haply beyond all women; and the word?Speaks thee divine, dear queen, that speaks thee dead,?Dead being alive, or quick and dead in one?Shall not men call thee living? yet I fear?To slay thee timeless with my proper tongue,?With lips, thou knowest, that love thee; and such work?Was never laid of Gods on men, such word?No mouth of man learnt ever, as from mine?Most loth to speak thine ear most loth shall take 260 And hold it hateful as the grave to hear.
PRAXITHEA.
That word there is not in all speech of man,?King, that being spoken of the Gods and thee?I have not heart to honour, or dare hold?More than I