Atalanta in Calydon | Page 5

my son,
Meleager, a goodly flower in fields of fight, Felt the light touch him
coming forth, and waited Childlike; but yet he was not; and in time I
bare him, and my heart was great; for yet So royally was never strong
man born, Nor queen so nobly bore as noble a thing As this my son was:
such a birth God sent And such a grace to bear it. Then came in Three
weaving women, and span each a thread, Saying This for strength and
That for luck, and one Saying Till the brand upon the hearth burn down,
So long shall this man see good days and live. And I with gathered
raiment from the bed Sprang, and drew forth the brand, and cast on it
Water, and trod the flame bare-foot, and crushed With naked hand

spark beaten out of spark And blew against and quenched it; for I said,
These are the most high Fates that dwell with us, And we find favour a
little in their sight, A little, and more we miss of, and much time Foils
us; howbeit they have pitied me, O son, And thee most piteous, thee a
tenderer thing Than any flower of fleshly seed alive. Wherefore I
kissed and hid him with my hands, And covered under arms and hair,
and wept, And feared to touch him with my tears, and laughed; So light
a thing was this man, grown so great Men cast their heads back, seeing
against the sun Blaze the armed man carven on his shield, and hear The
laughter of little bells along the brace Ring, as birds singing or flutes
blown, and watch, High up, the cloven shadow of either plume Divide
the bright light of the brass, and make His helmet as a windy and
wintering moon Seen through blown cloud and plume-like drift, when
ships Drive, and men strive with all the sea, and oars Break, and the
beaks dip under, drinking death; Yet was he then but a span long, and
moaned With inarticulate mouth inseparate words, And with blind lips
and fingers wrung my breast Hard, and thrust out with foolish hands
and feet, Murmuring; but those grey women with bound hair Who
fright the gods frighted not him; he laughed Seeing them, and pushed
out hands to feel and haul Distaff and thread, intangible; but they
Passed, and I hid the brand, and in my heart Laughed likewise, having
all my will of heaven. But now I know not if to left or right The gods
have drawn us hither; for again I dreamt, and saw the black brand burst
on fire As a branch bursts in flower, and saw the flame Fade
flower-wise, and Death came and with dry lips Blew the charred ash
into my breast; and Love Trampled the ember and crushed it with swift
feet This I have also at heart; that not for me, Not for me only or son of
mine, O girls, The gods have wrought life, and desire of life, Heart's
love and heart's division; but for all There shines one sun and one wind
blows till night. And when night comes the wind sinks and the sun,
And there is no light after, and no storm, But sleep and much
forgetfulness of things. In such wise I gat knowledge of the gods Years
hence, and heard high sayings of one most wise, Eurythemis my
mother, who beheld With eyes alive and spake with lips of these As
one on earth disfleshed and disallied From breath or blood corruptible;
such gifts Time gave her, and an equal soul to these And equal face to
all things, thus she said. But whatsoever intolerable or glad The swift

hours weave and unweave, I go hence Full of mine own soul, perfect of
myself, Toward mine and me sufficient; and what chance The gods cast
lots for and shake out on us, That shall we take, and that much bear
withal. And now, before these gather to the hunt, I will go arm my son
and bring him forth, Lest love or some man's anger work him harm.
CHORUS.
Before the beginning of years There came to the making of man Time,
with a gift of tears, Grief, with a glass that ran; Pleasure, with pain for
leaven; Summer, with flowers that fell; Remembrance fallen from
heaven, And madness risen from hell; Strength without hands to smite,
Love that endures for a breath, Night, the shadow of light, And life, the
shadow of death.
And the high gods took in hand Fire, and the falling of tears, And a
measure of sliding sand From under the feet of the years, And froth and
drift of the sea; And dust of the labouring earth; And bodies