Page:Atalanta in Calydon - a tragedy (IA atalantaincalydo00swinrich).pdf/113

CHORUS.

Death stands upon the doorway of thy lips,

And in thy mouth has death set up his house.

ALTHÆA.

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.

ALTHÆA.

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,