Page:Atalanta in Calydon - a tragedy (IA atalantaincalydo00swinrich).pdf/31

For if sleep have no mercy, and man’s dreams
Bite to the blood and burn into the bone,
What shall this man do waking? By the gods,
He shall not pray to dream sweet things to-night,
Having dreamt once more bitter things than death.

CHORUS.

Queen, but what is it that hath burnt thine heart?

For thy speech flickers like a blown-out flame.

ALTHÆA.

Look, ye say well, and know not what ye say;

For all my sleep is turned into a fire,
And all my dreams to stuff that kindles it.

CHORUS.

Yet one doth well being patient of the gods.

ALTHÆA.

Yea, lest they smite us with some four-foot plague.

CHORUS.

But when time spreads find out some herb for it.

ALTHÆA.

And with their healing herbs infect our blood.