Erechtheus | Page 7

forth, [_Str._ 1. And the shining of a sword out of the sea.?Yea, of old the first-blown blast blew the prelude of this last, The blast of his trumpet upon Rhodope.?Out of the north skies full of his cloud,?With the clamour of his storms as of a crowd 560 At the wheels of a great king crying aloud,?At the axle of a strong king's car?That has girded on the girdle of war--?With hands that lightened the skies in sunder?And feet whose fall was followed of thunder,?A God, a great God strange of name,?With horse-yoke fleeter-hoofed than flame,?To the mountain bed of a maiden came,?Oreithyia, the bride mismated,?Wofully wed in a snow-strewn bed 570 With a bridegroom that kisses the bride's mouth dead; Without garland, without glory, without song,?As a fawn by night on the hills belated,?Given over for a spoil unto the strong.?From lips how pale so keen a wail [_Ant._ 1. At the grasp of a God's hand on her she gave,?When his breath that darkens air made a havoc of her hair, It rang from the mountain even to the wave;?Rang with a cry, _Woe's me, woe is me!_?From the darkness upon H?mus to the sea: 580 And with hands that clung to her new lord's knee,?As a virgin overborne with shame,?She besought him by her spouseless fame,?By the blameless breasts of a maid unmarried?And locks unmaidenly rent and harried,?And all her flower of body, born?To match the maidenhood of morn,?With the might of the wind's wrath wrenched and torn. Vain, all vain as a dead man's vision?Falling by night in his old friends' sight, 590 To be scattered with slumber and slain ere light;?Such a breath of such a bridegroom in that hour?Of her prayers made mock, of her fears derision,?And a ravage of her youth as of a flower.?With a leap of his limbs as a lion's, a cry from his lips as
of thunder, [_Str._ 2. In a storm of amorous godhead filled with fire,?From the height of the heaven that was rent with the roar of his
coming in sunder,?Sprang the strong God on the spoil of his desire.?And the pines of the hills were as green reeds shattered, And their branches as buds of the soft spring scattered, 600 And the west wind and east, and the sound of the south, Fell dumb at the blast of the north wind's mouth,?At the cry of his coming out of heaven.?And the wild beasts quailed in the rifts and hollows?Where hound nor clarion of huntsman follows,?And the depths of the sea were aghast, and whitened,?And the crowns of their waves were as flame that lightened, And the heart of the floods thereof was riven.?But she knew not him coming for terror, she felt not her wrong
that he wrought her, [_Ant._ 2. When her locks as leaves were shed before his breath, 610 And she heard not for terror his prayer, though the cry was a
God's that besought her,?Blown from lips that strew the world-wide seas with death. For the heart was molten within her to hear,?And her knees beneath her were loosened for fear,?And her blood fast bound as a frost-bound water,?And the soft new bloom of the green earth's daughter?Wind-wasted as blossom of a tree;?As the wild God rapt her from earth's breast lifted,?On the strength of the stream of his dark breath drifted, From the bosom of earth as a bride from the mother, 620 With storm for bridesman and wreck for brother,?As a cloud that he sheds upon the sea.
Of this hoary-headed woe [_Epode._ Song made memory long ago;?Now a younger grief to mourn?Needs a new song younger born.?Who shall teach our tongues to reach?What strange height of saddest speech,?For the new bride's sake that is given to be?A stay to fetter the foot of the sea, 630 Lest it quite spurn down and trample the town,?Ere the violets be dead that were plucked for its crown,
Or its olive-leaf whiten and wither??Who shall say of the wind's way?That he journeyed yesterday,?Or the track of the storm that shall sound to-morrow, If the new be more than the grey-grown sorrow??For the wind of the green first season was keen,?And the blast shall be sharper than blew between
That the breath of the sea blows hither. 640
HERALD OF EUMOLPUS.
Old men, grey borderers on the march of death,?Tongue-fighters, tough of talk and sinewy speech,?Else nerveless, from no crew of such faint folk?Whose tongues are stouter than their hands come I?To bid not you to battle; let them strike?Whose swords are sharper than your keen-tongued wail,?And ye, sit fast and sorrow; but what man?Of all this land-folk and earth-labouring herd?For heart or hand seems foremost, him I call?If heart be his to hearken, him bid forth 650 To try if one be in the sun's sight born?Of all that