Bl 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in 
 Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 With Notes by Marion Clyde Wier, Ph.D. of the 
 
 Department of Rhetoric in the 
 
 University of Michigan 
 
 GEORGE WAHR, Publisher 
 ANN ARBOR 
 

 
 Copyright 1922 
 by George Wahr 
 
 iRANSFERHSO FRO* 
 ©OPYRWHT OfFlOi 
 
 DEC 12 72 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 This edition of Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 was designed for those students and teachers who are in- 
 terested in Swinburne's fondness for Greek literature. No 
 attempt has been made to express a critical judgment as 
 to his place among the English poets; enough has been 
 said and written on that subject to satisfy even the most 
 censorious. Nor is there the slightest desire on the part of 
 the editor to imply that Swineburne was a plagiarist when 
 he made use of the available Greek material that suited his 
 purpose. Those who know Greek tragedy realize that his 
 work is superior to all but the very best in that field. 
 It is hoped that those who have not covered the field may 
 get from these pages some information not to be found 
 in the usual sources. 
 
THE ARGUMENT 
 
 Althaea, daughter of Thestius and Eurythemis, queen 
 of Calydon, being with child of Meleager her first-born son, 
 dreamed that she brought forth a brand burning; and upon 
 his birth came the three Fates and prophesied of him three 
 things, namely these; that he should have great strength of 
 his hands, and good fortune in this life, and that he should 
 live no longer when the brand then in the fire were con- 
 sumed: wherefore his mother plucked it forth and kept it 
 by her. And the child being a man grown sailed with Jason 
 after the fleece of gold, and won himself great praise of all 
 men living; and when the tribes of the north and west made 
 war upon ^Etolia, he fought against their army and scat- 
 tered it. But Artemis, having at the first stirred up these 
 tribes to war against (Eneus king of Calydon, because he 
 had offered sacrifice to all the gods saving her alone, but her 
 he had forgotten to honour, was yet more wroth because of 
 the destruction of this army, and sent upon the land of 
 Calydon a wild boar which slew many and wasted all their 
 increase, but him could none slay, and many went against 
 him and perished. Then were all the chief men of Greece 
 gathered together, and among them Atalanta daughter of 
 Iasius the Arcadian, a virgin; for whose sake Artemis let 
 slay the boar, seeing she favoured the maiden greatly; and 
 Meleager having despatched it gave the spoil thereof to 
 Atalanta, as one beyond measure enamoured of her; but 
 the brethren of Althaea his mother, Toxeus and Plexippus, 
 with such others as misliked that she only should bear off 
 the praise whereas many had borne the labour, laid wait 
 for her to take away her spoil; but Meleager fought against 
 them and slew them: whom when Althaea their sister 
 
6 Swinburne's Atalanla in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 beheld and knew to be slain of her son, she waxed for 
 wrath and sorrow like as one mad, and taking the brand 
 whereby the measure of her son's life was meted to him, 
 she cast it upon a fire; and with the wasting thereof his life 
 likewise wasted away, that being brought back to his 
 father's house he died in a brief space; and his mother also 
 endured not long after for very sorrow; and this was his 
 end, and the end of that hunting. 
 
Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 PERSONS 
 
 CHIEF HUNTSMAN. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 ALTHAEA. 
 
 MELEAGER. 
 
 CENEUS. 
 
 ATALANTA. 
 
 TOXEUS. 
 
 PLEXIPPUS. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 SECOND MESSENGER. 
 
8 Swinburne's Atalanla in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 laroi 5' ocrris obx inrbTrrepos 
 
 (ppovricnv daeis, 
 
 tclv a iraidokv/jLas raXaiva Gecmas fxyaaTO 
 
 irvpbaf) Tiva irpbvoiav, 
 
 Karaldovaa iraihbs ba<poivbv 
 
 bdhbv ijXiK, kird /xoXcbf 
 
 Harpbdev Kekabrjcrt; 
 
 a\)p.\xerpbv re dial /3t'ou 
 
 ptoipoKpavrov h afjLap. 
 
 JEsch. Cho. 602-612. 
 
ATALANTA IN CALYDON 
 
 CHIEF HUNTSMAN 
 
 Maiden, and mistress of the months and stars 
 
 Now folded in the flowerless fields of heaven, 
 
 Goddess whom all gods love with threefold heart, 
 
 Being treble in thy divided deity, 
 
 A light for dead men and dark hours, a foot 5 
 
 Swift on the hills as morning, and a hand 
 
 To all things fierce and fleet that roar and range 
 
 Mortal, with gentler shafts than snow or sleep; 
 
 Hear now and help and lift no violent hand, 
 
 But favourable and fair as thine eye's beam 10 
 
 Hidden and shown in heaven; for I all night 
 
 Amid the king's hounds and the hunting men 
 
 Have wrought and worshipped toward thee; nor shall man 
 
 See goodlier hounds or deadlier edge of spears; 
 
 But for the end, that lies unreached as yet 15 
 
 Between the hands and on the knees of gods. 
 
 O fair-faced sun killing the stars and dews 
 
 And dreams and desolation of the night! 
 
 Rise, up, shine, stretch thine hand out, with thy bow 
 
 Touch the most dimmest height of trembling heaven, 20 
 
 And burn and break the dark about thy ways, 
 
 Shot through and through with arrows; let thine hair 
 
 Lighten as flame above that flameless shell 
 
10 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Which was the moon, and thine eyes fill the world 
 
 And thy lips kindle with swift beams; let earth 
 
 Laugh, and the long sea fiery from thy feet 
 
 Through all the roar and ripple of streaming springs 
 
 And foam in reddening flakes and flying flowers 
 
 Shaken from hands and blown from lips of nymphs 
 
 Whose hair or breast divides the wandering wave 30 
 
 With salt close tresses cleaving lock to lock, 
 
 All gold, or shuddering and unfurrowed snow; 
 
 And all the winds about thee with their wings, 
 
 And fountain-heads of all the watered world; 
 
 Each horn of Achelous, and the green 35 
 
 Euenus, wedded with the straitening sea. 
 
 For in fair time thou comest; come also thou, 
 
 Twin-born with him, and virgin, Artemis, 
 
 And give our spears their spoil, the wild boar's hide, 
 
 Sent in thine anger against us for sin done 40 
 
 And bloodless altars without wine or fire. 
 
 Him now consume thou; for thy sacrifice 
 
 With sanguine-shining steam divides the dawn, 
 
 And one, the maiden rose of all thy maids, 
 
 Arcadian Atalanta, snowy-souled, 45 
 
 Fair as the snow and footed as the wind, 
 
 From Ladon and well-wooded Maenalus 
 
 Over the firm hills and the fleeting sea 
 
 Hast thou drawn hither, and many an armed king, 
 
 Heroes, the crown of men, like gods in fight. 50 
 
 Moreover out of all the ^Etolian land, 
 
 From the full-flowered Lelantian pasturage 
 
 To what of fruitful field the son of Zeus 
 
 Won from the roaring river and labouring sea 
 
 When the wild god shrank in his horn and fled 55 
 
Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 11 
 
 And foamed and lessened through his wrathful fords 
 Leaving clear lands that steamed with sudden sun, 
 These virgins with the lightening of the day 
 Bring thee fresh wreaths and their own sweeter hair, 
 Luxurious locks and flower-like mixed with flowers, 60 
 Clean offering, and chaste hymns; but me the time 
 Divides from these things; whom do thou not less 
 Help and give honour, and to mine hounds good speed, 
 And edge to spears, and luck to each man's hand. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 When the hounds of spring are on winter's traces, 65 
 
 The mother of months in meadow or plain 
 
 Fills the shadows and windy places 
 
 With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain; 
 
 And the brown bright nightingale amorous 
 
 Is half assuaged for Itylus, 70 
 
 For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces, 
 The tongueless vigil, and all the pain. 
 
 Come with bows bent and with emptying of quivers, 
 
 Maiden most perfect, lady of light, 
 With a noise of winds and many rivers, 75 
 
 With a clamour of waters, and with might; 
 Bind on thy sandals, thou most fleet, 
 Over the splendour and speed of thy feet; 
 For the faint east quickens, the wan west shivers, 
 
 Round the feet of the day and the feet of the night. 80 
 
 Where shall we find her, how shall we sing to her, 
 
 Fold our hands round her knees, and cling? 
 O that man's heart were as fire and could spring to her, 
 
12 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Fire, or the strength of the streams that spring! 
 For the stars and the winds are unto her 85 
 
 As raiment, as songs of the harp-player; 
 For the risen stars and the fallen cling to her, 
 
 And the southwest-wind and the west- wind sing. 
 
 For winter's rains and ruins are over, 
 
 And all the season of snows and sins; 90 
 
 The days dividing lover and lover, 
 
 The light that loses, the night that wins; 
 And time remembered is grief forgotten, 
 And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, 
 And in green underwood and cover 95 
 
 Blossom by blossom the spring begins. 
 
 The full streams feed on flower of rushes, 
 Ripe grasses trammel a travelling foot, 
 
 The faint fresh flame of the young year flushes 
 
 From leaf to flower and flower to fruit; 100 
 
 And fruit and leaf are as gold and fire, 
 
 And the oat is heard above the lyre, 
 
 And the hoofed heel of a satyr crushes 
 
 The chestnut-husk at the chestnut-root. 
 
 And Pan by noon and Bacchus by night, 105 
 
 Fleeter of foot than the fleet-foot kid, 
 Follows with dancing and fills with delight 
 
 The Maenad and the Bassarid; 
 And soft as lips that laugh and hide 
 
 The laughing leaves of the trees divide, 110 
 
 And screen from seeing and leaving in sight 
 
 The god pursuing, the maiden hid. 
 
Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 13 
 
 The ivy falls with the Bacchanal's hair 
 
 Over her eyebrows hiding her eyes; 
 The wild vine slipping down leaves bare 115 
 
 Her bright breast shortening into sighs; 
 The wild vine slips with the weight of its leaves, 
 But the berried ivy catches and cleaves 
 To the limbs that glitter, the feet that scare 
 
 The wolf that follows, the fawn that flies. 120 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 What do ye singing? What is this ye sing? 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Flowers bring we, and pure lips that please the gods, 
 And raiment meet for service: lest the day 
 Turn sharp with all its honey in our lips. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Night, a black hound, follows the white fawn day, 125 
 
 Swifter than dreams the white flown feet of sleep; 
 
 Will ye pray back the night with any prayers? 
 
 And though the spring put back a little while 
 
 Winter, and snows that plague all men for sin, 
 
 And the iron time of cursing, yet I know 130 
 
 Spring shall be ruined with the rain, and storm 
 
 Eat up like fire the ashen autumn days. 
 
 I marvel what men do with prayers awake 
 
 Who dream and die with dreaming; any god, 
 
 Yea the least god of all things called divine, 135 
 
 Is more than sleep and waking; yet we say, 
 
 Perchance by praying a man shall match his god. 
 
14 Swinburne's Atalanla in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 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, 140 
 
 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. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Look, ye say well, and know not what ye say; 145 
 
 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. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Yea, lest they smite us with some four-foot plague. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 But when time spreads find out some herb for it. 150 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 And with their healing herbs infect our blood. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 What ails thee to be jealous of their ways? 
 
Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 15 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 What if they give us poisonous drinks for wine? 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 They have their will; much talking mends it not. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 And gall for milk, and cursing for a prayer? 155 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Have they not given life, and the end of life? 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Lo, where they heal, they help not; thus they do, 
 
 They mock us with a little piteousness, 
 
 And we say prayers and weep; but at the last, 
 
 Sparing awhile, they smite and spare no whit. 160 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Small praise man gets dispraising the high gods: 
 What have they done that thou dishonourest them? 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 First Artemis for all this harried land 
 
 I praise not, and for wasting of the boar 
 
 That mars with tooth and tusk and fiery feet 165 
 
 Green pasturage and the grace of standing corn 
 
 And meadow and marsh with springs and unblown leaves, 
 
16 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Flocks and swift herds and all that bite sweet grass, 
 I praise her not; what things are these to praise? 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 But when the king did sacrifice, and gave 170 
 
 Each god fair dues of wheat and blood and wine, 
 
 Her not with bloodshed nor burnt-offering 
 
 Revered he, nor with salt or cloven cake; 
 
 Wherefore being wroth she plagued the land; but now 
 
 Takes off from us fate and her heavy things. 175 
 
 Which deed of these twain were not good to praise? 
 
 For a just deed looks always either way 
 
 With blameless eyes, and mercy is no fault. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Yea, but a curse she hath sent above all these 
 To hurt us where she healed us; and hath lit 180 
 
 Fire where the old fire went out, and where the wind 
 Slackened, hath blown on us with deadlier air. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 What storm is this that tightens all our sail? 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Love, a thwart sea-wind full of rain and foam. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Whence blown, and born under what stormier star? 185 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 17 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 Southward across Euenus from the sea. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Thy speech turns toward Arcadia like blown wind. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Sharp as the north sets when the snows are out. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Nay, for this maiden hath no touch of love. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 I would she had sought in some cold gulf of sea 190 
 
 Love, or in dens where strange beasts lurk, or fire, 
 
 Or snows on the extreme hills, or iron land 
 
 Where no spring is; I would she had sought therein 
 
 And found, or ever love had found her here. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 She is holier than all holy days or things, 195 
 
 The sprinkled water or fume of perfect fire; 
 
 Chaste, dedicated to pure prayers, and filled 
 
 With higher thoughts than heaven; a maiden clean, 
 
 Pure iron, fashioned for a sword; and man 
 
 She loves not; what should one such do with love? 200 
 
18 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 Look you, I speak not as one light of wit, 
 
 But as a queen speaks, being heart- vexed; for oft 
 
 I hear my brothers wrangling in mid hall, 
 
 And am not moved; and my son chiding them, 
 
 And these things nowise move me, but I know 205 
 
 Foolish and wise men must be to the end, 
 
 And feed myself with patience; but this most, 
 
 This moves me, that for wise men as for fools 
 
 Love is one thing, an evil thing, and turns 
 
 Choice words and wisdom into fire and air. 210 
 
 And in the end shall no joy come, but grief, 
 
 Sharp words and soul's division and fresh tears 
 
 Flower-wise upon the old root of tears brought forth, 
 
 Fruit-wise upon the old flower of tears sprung up, 
 
 Pitiful sighs, and much regrafted pain. 215 
 
 These things are in my presage, and myself 
 
 Am part of them and know not; but in dreams 
 
 The gods are heavy on me, and all the fates 
 
 Shed fire across my eyelids mixed with night, 
 
 And burn me blind, and disilluminate 220 
 
 My sense of seeing, and my perspicuous soul 
 
 Darken with vision; seeing I see not, hear 
 
 And hearing am not holpen, but mine eyes 
 
 Stain many tender broideries in the bed 
 
 Drawn up about my face that I may weep 225 
 
 And the king wake not; and my brows and lips 
 
 Tremble and sob in sleeping, like swift flames 
 
 That tremble, or water when it sobs with heat 
 
 Kindled from under; and my tears fill my breast 
 
 And speck the fair dyed pillows round the king 230 
 
Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 19 
 
 With barren showers and Salter than the sea, 
 
 Such dreams divide me dreaming; for long since 
 
 I dreamed that out of this my womb had sprung 
 
 Fire and a firebrand; this was ere my son, 
 
 Meleager, a goodly flower in fields of fight, 235 
 
 Felt the light touch him coming forth, and wailed 
 
 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 240 
 
 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 245 
 
 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 250 
 
 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, 255 
 
 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 ; 260 
 
 So light a thing was this man, grown so great 
 
 Men cast their heads back, seeing against the sun 
 
20 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 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, 265 
 
 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 270 
 
 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, 275 
 
 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 280 
 
 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 285 
 
 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, 290 
 
 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, 
 
Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechthetts 21 
 
 And there is no light after, and no storm, 295 
 
 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 300 
 
 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 305 
 
 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. 310 
 
 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 315 
 
 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, 320 
 
 And madness risen from hell; 
 Strength without hands to smite; 
 
 Love that endures for a breath: 
 
22 Swinburne's Atalanla in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Night, the shadow of light, 
 
 And life, the shadow of death. 325 
 
 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; 330 
 
 And dust of the labouring earth; 
 And bodies of things to be 
 
 In the houses of death and of birth; 
 And wrought with weeping and laughter, 
 
 And fashioned with loathing and love, 335 
 
 With life before and after 
 
 And death beneath and above, 
 For a day and a night and a morrow, 
 
 That his strength might endure for a span 
 With travail and heavy sorrow, 340 
 
 The holy spirit of man. 
 
 From the winds of the north and the south 
 
 They gathered as unto strife; 
 They breathed upon his mouth, 
 
 They filled his body with life; 345 
 
 Eyesight and speech they wrought 
 
 For the veils of the soul therein, 
 A time for labour and thought, 
 
 A time to serve and to sin; 
 They gave him light in his ways, 350 
 
 And love, and a space for delight, 
 And beauty and length of days, 
 
 And night, and sleep in the night. 
 His speech is a burning fire; 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 23 
 
 With his lips he travaileth; 355 
 
 In his heart is a blind desire, 
 
 In his eyes foreknowledge of death; 
 He weaves, and is clothed with derision; 
 
 Sows, and he shall not reap; 
 His life is a watch or a vision, 360 
 
 Between a sleep and a sleep. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 O sweet new heaven and air without a star, 
 
 Fair day, be fair and welcome, as to men 
 
 With deeds to do and praise to pluck from thee. 
 
 Come forth a child, born with clear sound and light, 365 
 
 With laughter and swift limbs and prosperous looks; 
 
 That this great hunt with heroes for the hounds 
 
 May leave thee memorable and us well sped. 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 Son, first I praise thy prayer, then bid thee speed; 
 
 But the gods hear men's hands before their lips, 370 
 
 And heed beyond all crying and sacrifice 
 
 Light of things done and noise of labouring men. 
 
 But thou, being armed and perfect for the deed, 
 
 Abide; for like rain-flakes in a wind they grow, 
 
 The men thy fellows, and the choice of the world, 375 
 
 Bound to root out the tusked plague, and leave 
 
 Thanks and safe days and peace in Calydon. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 For the whole city and all the low-lying land 
 
 Flames, and the soft air sounds with them that come; 
 
 The gods give all these fruit of all their works. 380 
 
24 Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Set thine eye thither and fix thy spirit and say 
 Whom there thou knowest; for sharp mixed shadow and 
 
 wind 
 Blown up between the morning and the mist, 
 With steam of steeds and flash of bridle or wheel, 
 And fire, and parcels of the broken dawn, 385 
 
 And dust divided by hard light, and spears 
 That shine and shift as the edge of wild beasts' eyes, 
 Smite upon mine; so fiery their blind edge 
 Burns, and bright points break up and baffle day. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 The first, for many I know not, being far off, 390 
 
 Peleus the Larissaean, couched with whom 
 
 Sleeps the white sea-bred wife and silver-shod, 
 
 Fair as fled foam, a goddess; and their son 
 
 Most swift and splendid of men's children born, 
 
 Most like a god, full of the future fame. 395 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Who are these shining like one sundered star? 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Thy sister's sons, a double flower of men. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 O sweetest kin to me in all the world, 
 
 O twin-born blood of Leda, gracious heads 
 
 Like kindled lights in untempestuous heaven, 400 
 
 Fair flower-like stars on the iron foam of fight, 
 
Swinburne'' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 25 
 
 With what glad heart and kindliness of soul, 
 
 Even to the staining of both eyes with tears 
 
 And kindling of warm eyelids with desire, 
 
 A great way off I greet you, and rejoice 405 
 
 Seeing you so fair, and moulded like as gods. 
 
 Far off ye come, and least in years of these, 
 
 But lordliest, but worth love to look upon. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Even such (for sailing hither I saw far hence, 
 
 And where Eurotas hollows his moist rock 410 
 
 Nigh Sparta with a strenuous-hearted stream) 
 
 Even such I saw their sisters; one swan- white, 
 
 The little Helen, and less fair than she 
 
 Fair Clytaemnestra, grave as pasturing fawns 
 
 Who feed and fear some arrow; but at whiles, 415 
 
 As one smitten with love or wrung with joy, 
 
 She laughs and lightens with her eyes, and then 
 
 Weeps; whereat Helen, having laughed, weeps too, 
 
 And the other chides her, and she being chid speaks 
 
 nought, 
 But cheeks and lips and eyelids kisses her, 420 
 
 Laughing; so fare they, as in their bloomless bud 
 And full of unblown life, the blood of gods. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Sweet days befall them and good loves and lords, 
 And tender and temperate honours of the hearth, 
 Peace, and a perfect life and blameless bed. 425 
 
 But who shows next an eagle wrought in gold, 
 That flames and beats broad wings against the sun 
 And with void mouth gapes after emptier prey? 
 
26 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Know by that sign the reign of Telamon 
 
 Between the fierce mouths of the encountering brine 430 
 
 On the strait reefs of twice-washed Salamis. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 For like one great of hand he bears himself, 
 
 Vine-chapleted, with savours of the sea, 
 
 Glittering as wine and moving as a wave. 
 
 But who girt round there roughly follows him? 435 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Ancaeus, great of hand, an iron bulk, 
 
 Two-edged for fight as the axe against his arm, 
 
 Who drives against the surge of stormy spears 
 
 Full-sailed; him Cepheus follows, his twin-born, 
 
 Chief name next his of all Arcadian men. 440 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 Praise be with men abroad; chaste lives with us, 
 Home-keeping days and household reverences. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Next by the left unsandalled foot know thou 
 
 The sail and oar of this ^Etolian land, 
 
 Thy brethren, Toxeus and the violent-souled 445 
 
 Plexippus, over-swift with hand and tongue; 
 
 For hands are fruitful, but the ignorant mouth 
 
 Blows and corrupts their work with barren breath. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 27 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Speech too bears fruit, being worthy; and air blows down 
 Things poisonous, and high-seated violences, 450 
 
 And with charmed words and songs have men put out 
 Wild evil, and the fire of tyrannies. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Yea, all things have they, save the gods and love. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Love thou the law and cleave to things ordained. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Law lives upon their lips whom these applaud. 455 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 How sayest thou these? what god applauds new things? 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Zeus, who hath fear and custom under foot. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 But loves not laws thrown down and lives awry. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Yet is not less himself than his own law. 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 Nor shifts and shuffles old things up and down. 460 
 
28 Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 But what he will remoulds and discreates. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Much, but not this, that each thing live its life. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Nor only live, but lighten and lift up higher. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Pride breaks itself, and too much gained is gone. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Things gained are gone, but great things done endure. 465 
 
 althaea 
 
 Child, if a man serve law through all his life 
 
 And with his whole heart worship, him all gods 
 
 Praise; but who loves it only with his lips, 
 
 And not in heart and deed desiring it 
 
 Hides a perverse will with obsequious words, 470 
 
 Him heaven infatuates and his twin-born fate 
 
 Tracks, and gains on him, scenting sins far off, 
 
 And the swift hounds of violent death devour. 
 
 Be man at one with equal-minded gods, 
 
 So shall he prosper; not through laws torn up, 475 
 
 Violated rule and a new face of things. 
 
 A woman armed makes war upon herself, 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 29 
 
 Unwomanlike, and treads down use and wont 
 
 And the sweet common honour that she hath, 
 
 Love, and the cry of children, and the hand 480 
 
 Trothplight and mutual mouth of marriages. 
 
 This doth she, being unloved; whom if one love, 
 
 Not fire nor iron and the wide-mouthed wars 
 
 Are deadlier than her lips or braided hair. 
 
 For of the one comes poison, and a curse 485 
 
 Falls from the other and burns the lives of men. 
 
 But thou, son, be not filled with evil dreams, 
 
 Nor with desire of these things; for with time 
 
 Blind love burns out; but if one feed it full 
 
 Till some discolouring stain dyes all his life, 490 
 
 He shall keep nothing praiseworthy, nor die 
 
 The sweet wise death of old men honourable, 
 
 Who have lived out all the length of all their years 
 
 Blameless, and seen well-pleased the face of gods, 
 
 And without shame and without fear have wrought 495 
 
 Things memorable, and while their days held out 
 
 In sight of all men and the sun's great light 
 
 Have gat them glory and given of their own praise 
 
 To the earth that bare them and the day that bred, 
 
 Home friends and far-off hospitalities, 500 
 
 And filled with gracious and memorial fame 
 
 Lands loved of summer or washed by violent seas, 
 
 Towns populous and many unfooted ways, 
 
 And alien lips and native with their own. 
 
 But when white age and venerable death 505 
 
 Mow down the strength and life within their limbs, 
 
 Drain out the blood and darken their clear eyes, 
 
 Immortal honour is on them, having past 
 
 Through splendid life and death desirable 
 
30 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 To the clear seat and remote throne of souls, 510 
 
 Lands indiscoverable in the unheard-of west, 
 
 Round which the strong stream of a sacred sea 
 
 Rolls without wind for ever, and the snow 
 
 There shows not her white wings and windy feet, 
 
 Nor thunder nor swift rain saith anything, 515 
 
 Nor the sun burns, but all things rest and thrive; 
 
 And these, filled full of days, divine and dead, 
 
 Sages and singers fiery from the god, 
 
 And such as loved their land and all things good 
 
 And, best beloved of best men, liberty, 520 
 
 Free lives and lips, free hands of men free-born, 
 
 And whatsoever on earth was honourable 
 
 And whosoever of all the ephemeral seed, 
 
 Live there a life no liker to the gods 
 
 But nearer than their life of terrene days. 525 
 
 Love thou such life and look for such a death. 
 
 But from the light and fiery dreams of love 
 
 Spring heavy sorrows and a sleepless life, 
 
 Visions not dreams, whose lids no charm shall close 
 
 Nor song assuage them waking; and swift death 530 
 
 Crushes with sterile feet the unripening ear, 
 
 Treads out the timeless vintage; whom do thou 
 
 Eschewing embrace the luck of this thy life, 
 
 Not without honour; and it shall bear to thee 
 
 Such fruit as men reap from spent hours and wear, 535 
 
 Few men, but happy; of whom be thou, O son, 
 
 Happiest, if thou submit thy soul to fate, 
 
 And set thine eyes and heart on hopes high-born 
 
 And divine deeds and abstinence divine. 
 
 So shalt thou be toward all men all thy days 540 
 
 As light and might communicable, and burn 
 
Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 31 
 
 From heaven among the stars above the hours, 
 
 And break not as a man breaks nor burn down. 
 
 For to whom other of all heroic names 
 
 Have the gods given his life in hand as thine? 545 
 
 And gloriously hast thou lived, and made thy life 
 
 To me that bare thee and to all men born 
 
 Thankworthy, a praise for ever; and hast won fame 
 
 When wild wars broke all round thy father's house, 
 
 And the mad people of windy mountain ways 550 
 
 Laid spears against us like a sea, and all 
 
 ^Etolia thundered with Thessalian hoofs; 
 
 Yet these, as wind baffles the foam, and beats 
 
 Straight back the relaxed ripple, didst thou break 
 
 And loosen all their lances, till undone 555 
 
 And man from man they fell; for ye twain stood 
 
 God against god, Ares and Artemis, 
 
 And thou the mightier; wherefore she unleashed 
 
 A sharp-toothed curse thou too shalt overcome; 
 
 For in the greener blossom of thy life 560 
 
 Ere the full blade caught flower, and when time gave 
 
 Respite, thou didst not slacken soul nor sleep, 
 
 But with great hand and heart seek praise of men 
 
 Out of sharp straits and many a grievous thing, 
 
 Seeing the strange foam of undivided seas, 565 
 
 On channels never sailed in, and by shores 
 
 Where the old winds cease not blowing, and all the night 
 
 Thunders, and day is no delight to men. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Meleager, a noble wisdom and fair words 
 
 The gods have given this woman; hear thou these. 570 
 
32 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 mother, I am not fain to strive in speech 
 Nor set my mouth against thee, who art wise 
 Even as they say and full of sacred words. 
 
 But one thing I know surely, and cleave to this; 
 That though I be not subtle of wit as thou 575 
 
 Nor womanlike to weave sweet words, and melt 
 Mutable minds of wise men as with fire, 
 
 1 too, doing justly and reverencing the gods, 
 Shall not want wit to see what things be right. 
 
 For whom they love and whom reject, being gods, 580 
 
 There is no man but seeth, and in good time 
 
 Submits himself, refraining all his heart. 
 
 And I too as thou sayest have seen great things; 
 
 Seen otherwhere, but chiefly when the sail 
 
 First caught between stretched ropes the roaring west, 585 
 
 And all our oars smote eastward, and the wind 
 
 First flung round faces of seafaring men 
 
 White splendid snow-flakes of the sundering foam, 
 
 And the first furrow in virginal green sea 
 
 Followed the plunging ploughshare of hewn pine, 590 
 
 And closed, as when deep sleep subdues man's breath 
 
 Lips close and heart subsides; and closing, shone 
 
 Sunlike with many a Nereid's hair, and moved 
 
 Round many a trembling mouth of doubtful gods, 
 
 Risen out of sunless and sonorous gulfs 595 
 
 Through waning water and into shallow light, 
 
 That watched us; and when flying the dove was snared 
 
 As with men's hands, but we shot after and sped 
 
 Clear through the irremeable Symplegades; 
 
 And chiefliest when hoar beach and herbless cliff 600 
 
 Stood out ahead from Colchis, and we heard 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 33 
 
 Clefts hoarse with wind, and saw through narrowing reefs 
 The lightning of the intolerable wave 
 Flash, and the white wet flame of breakers burn 
 Far under a kindling south-wind, as a lamp 605 
 
 Burns and bends all its blowing flame one way; 
 Wild heights untravelled of the wind, and vales 
 Cloven seaward by their violent streams, and white 
 With bitter flowers and bright salt scurf of brine; 
 Heard sweep their sharp swift gales, and bowing bird- 
 wise 610 
 Shriek with birds' voices, and with furious feet 
 Tread loose the long skirts of a storm; and saw 
 The whole wh ite Euxine clash together and fall 
 Full-mouthed, and thunderous from a thousand throats: 
 Yet we drew thither and won the fleece and won 615 
 Medea, deadlier than the sea; but there 
 Seeing many a wonder and fearful things to men 
 I saw not one thing like this one seen here, 
 Most fair and fearful, feminine, a god, 
 Faultless; whom I that love not, being unlike, 620 
 Fear, and give honour, and choose from all the gods. 
 
 CENEUS 
 
 Lady, the daughter of Thestius, and thou, son, 
 Not ignorant of your strife nor light of wit, 
 Scared with vain dreams and fluttering like spent fire, 
 I come to judge between you, but a king 625 
 
 Full of past days and wise from years endured. 
 Nor thee I praise, who art fain to undo things done: 
 Nor thee, who art swift to esteem them overmuch. 
 For what the hours have given is given, and this 
 Changeless; howbeit these change, and in good time 630 
 Devise new things and good, not one thing still. 
 
34 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Us have they sent now at our need for help 
 
 Among men armed a woman, foreign born, 
 
 Virgin, not like the natural flower of things 
 
 That grows and bears and brings forth fruit and dies ; 635 
 
 Unlovable, no light for a husband's house, 
 
 Espoused; a glory among unwedded girls, 
 
 And chosen of gods who reverence maidenhood. 
 
 These too we honour in honouring her; but thou, 
 
 Abstain thy feet from following, and thine eyes 640 
 
 From amorous touch; nor set toward hers thine heart, 
 
 Son, lest hate bear no deadlier fruit than love. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 O king, thou art wise, but wisdom halts; and just, 
 
 But the gods love not justice more than fate, 
 
 And smite the righteous and the violent mouth, 645 
 
 And mix with insolent blood the reverent man's, 
 
 And bruise the holier as the lying lips. 
 
 Enough; for wise words fail me, and my heart 
 
 Takes fire and trembles namewise, O my son, 
 
 child, for thine head's sake; mine eyes wax thick, 650 
 Turning toward thee, so goodly a weaponed man, 
 
 So glorious; and for love of thine own eyes 
 
 They are darkened, and tears burn them, fierce as fire, 
 
 And my lips pause and my soul sinks with love. 
 
 But by thine hand, by thy sweet life and eyes, 655 
 
 By thy great heart and these clasped knees, O son, 
 
 1 pray thee that thou slay me not with thee. 
 For there was never a mother woman-born 
 Loved her sons better; and never a queen of men 
 
 More perfect in her heart toward whom she loved. 660 
 For what lies light on many and they forget, 
 
Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 35 
 
 Small things and transitory as a wind o' the sea, 
 
 I forget never; I have seen thee all thine years 
 
 A man in arms, strong and a joy to men 
 
 Seeing thine head glitter and thine hand burn its way 665 
 
 Through a heavy and iron furrow of sundering spears; 
 
 But always also a flower of three suns old, 
 
 The small one thing that lying drew down my life 
 
 To lie with thee and feed thee; a child and weak, 
 
 Mine, a delight to no man, sweet to me. 670 
 
 Who then sought to thee? who gat help? who knew 
 
 If thou wert goodly? nay, no man at all. 
 
 Or what sea saw thee, or sounded with thine oar, 
 
 Child? or what strange land shone with war through thee? 
 
 But fair for me thou wert, O little life, 675 
 
 Fruitless, the fruit of mine own flesh, and blind, 
 
 More than much gold, ungrown, a foolish flower. 
 
 For silver nor bright snow nor feather of foam 
 
 Was whiter, and no gold yellower than thine hair, 
 
 child, my child; and now thou art lordlier grown, 680 
 Not lovelier, nor a new thing in mine eyes, 
 
 1 charge thee by thy soul and this my breast, 
 Fear thou the gods and me and thine own heart, 
 Lest all these turn against thee; for who knows 
 
 What wind upon what wave of altering time 685 
 
 Shall speak a storm and blow calamity? 
 
 And there is nothing stabile in the world 
 
 But the gods break it; yet not less, fair son, 
 
 If but one thing be stronger, if one endure, 
 
 Surely the bitter and the rooted love 690 
 
 That burns between us, going from me to thee, 
 
 Shall more endure than all things. What dost thou, 
 
 Following strange loves? why wilt thou kill mine heart? 
 
36 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Lo, I talk wild and windy words, and fall 
 
 From my clear wits, and seem of mine own self 695 
 
 Dethroned, dispraised, disseated; and my mind, 
 
 That was my crown, breaks, and mine heart is gone, 
 
 And I am naked of my soul, and stand 
 
 Ashamed, as a mean woman; take thou thought: 
 
 Live if thou wilt, and if thou wilt not, look, 700 
 
 The gods have given thee life to lose or keep, 
 
 Thou shalt not die as men die, but thine end 
 
 Fallen upon thee shall break me unaware. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Queen, my whole heart is molten with thy tears, 
 
 And my limbs yearn with pity of thee, and love 705 
 
 Compels with grief mine eyes and labouring breath; 
 
 For what thou art I know thee, and this thy breast 
 
 And thy fair eyes I worship, and am bound 
 
 Toward thee in spirit and love thee in all my soul. 
 
 For there is nothing terribler to men 710 
 
 Than the sweet face of mothers, and the might. 
 
 But what shall be let be; for us the day 
 
 Once only lives a little, and is not found. 
 
 Time and the fruitful hour are more than we, 
 
 And these lay hold upon us; but thou, God, 715 
 
 Zeus, the sole steersman of the helm of things, 
 
 Father, be swift to see us, and as thou wilt 
 
 Help: or if adverse, as thou wilt, refrain. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 We have seen thee, Love, thou art fair; thou art goodly, 
 O Love; 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 37 
 
 Thy wings make light in the air as the wings of a dove. 720 
 Thy feet are as winds that divide the stream of the sea; 
 Earth is thy covering to hide thee, the garment of thee. 
 Thou art swift and subtle and blind as a flame of fire; 
 Before thee the laughter, behind thee the tears of desire; 
 And twain go forth beside thee, a man with a maid; 725 
 Her eyes are the eyes of a bride whom delight makes 
 
 afraid; 
 As the breath in the buds that stir is her bridal breath: 
 But Fate is the name of her; and his name is Death. 
 
 For an evil blossom was born 
 
 Of sea-foam and the frothing of blood, 730 
 
 Blood-red and bitter of fruit, 
 
 And the seed of it laughter and tears, 
 And the leaves of it madness and scorn; 
 A bitter flower from the bud, 
 
 Sprung of the sea without root, 735 
 
 Sprung without graft from the years. 
 
 The weft of the world was untorn 
 
 That is woven of the day on the night, 
 
 The hair of the hours was not white 
 Nor the raiment of time overworn, 740 
 
 When a wonder, a world's delight, 
 A perilous goddess was born; 
 
 And the waves of the sea as she came 
 Clove, and the foam at her feet, 
 
 Fawning, rejoiced to bring forth 745 
 
 A fleshly blossom, a flame 
 Filling the heavens with heat 
 
 To the cold white ends of the north. 
 
38 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 And in air the clamorous birds, 
 
 And men upon earth that hear 750 
 
 Sweet articulate words 
 
 Sweetly divided apart, 
 And in shallow and channel and mere 
 The rapid and footless herds, 
 
 Rejoiced, being foolish of heart. 755 
 
 For all they said upon earth, 
 
 She is fair, she is white like a dove, 
 And the life of the world in her breath 
 Breathes, and is born at her birth; 
 
 For they knew thee for mother of love, 760 
 
 And knew thee not mother of death. 
 
 What hadst thou to do being born, 
 
 Mother, when winds were at ease, 
 As a flower of the springtime of corn, 
 
 A flower of the foam of the seas? 765 
 
 For bitter thou wast from thy birth, 
 
 Aphrodite, a mother of strife; 
 For before thee some rest was on earth, 
 A little respite from tears, 
 A little pleasure of life; 770 
 
 For life was not then as thou art, 
 But as one that waxeth in years 
 Sweet-spoken, a fruitful wife; 
 Earth had no thorn, and desire 
 No sting, neither death any dart; 775 
 
 What hadst thou to do amongst these, 
 Thou, clothed with a burning fire, 
 Thou, girt with sorrow of heart, 
 
 Thou, sprung of the seed of the seas 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 39 
 
 As an ear from a seed of corn, 780 
 
 As a brand plucked forth of a pyre, 
 As a ray shed forth of the morn, 
 
 For division of soul and disease, 
 For a dart and a sting and a thorn? 
 What ailed thee then to be born? 785 
 
 Was there not evil enough, 
 Mother, and anguish on earth 
 Born with a man at his birth, 
 Wastes underfoot, and above 
 
 Storm out of heaven, and dearth 790 
 
 Shaken down from the shining thereof, 
 Wrecks from afar overseas 
 And peril of shallow and firth, 
 
 And tears that spring and increase 
 In the barren places of mirth, 795 
 
 That thou, having wings as a dove, 
 Being girt with desire for a girth, 
 That thou must come after these, 
 That thou must lay on him love? 
 
 Thou shouldst not so have been born: 800 
 
 But death should have risen with thee, 
 Mother, and visible fear, 
 
 Grief, and the wringing of hands, 
 And noise of many that mourn; 
 
 The smitten bosom, the knee 805 
 
 Bowed, and in each man's ear 
 A cry as of perishing lands, 
 A moan as of people in prison, 
 A tumult of infinite griefs; 
 
40 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 And thunder of storm on the sands, 810 
 
 And wailing of wives on the shore; 
 And under thee newly arisen 
 
 Loud shoals and shipwrecking reefs, 
 
 Fierce air and violent light; 
 Sail rent and sundering oar, 815 
 
 Darkness, and noises of night; 
 Clashing of streams in the sea, 
 Wave against wave as a sword, 
 Clamour of currents, and foam; 
 
 Rains making ruin on earth, 820 
 
 Winds that wax ravenous and roam 
 As wolves in a wolfish horde; 
 Fruits growing faint in the tree, 
 
 And blind things dead in their birth; 
 Famine, and blighting of corn, 825 
 
 When thy time was come to be born. 
 
 All these we know of; but thee 
 Who shall discern or declare? 
 In the uttermost ends of the sea 
 
 The light of thine eyelids and hair, 830 
 
 The light of thy bosom as fire 
 Between the wheel of the sun 
 And the flying flames of the air? 
 
 Wilt thou turn thee not yet nor have pity, 
 But abide with despair and desire 835 
 
 And the crying of armies undone, 
 
 Lamentation of one with another, 
 And breaking of city by city; 
 The dividing of friend against friend, 
 
 The severing of brother and brother; 840 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 41 
 
 Wilt thou utterly bring to an end? 
 Have mercy, mother! 
 
 For against all men from of old 
 Thou hast set thine hand as a curse, 
 
 And cast out gods from their places. 845 
 
 These things are spoken of thee. 
 Strong kings and goodly with gold 
 Thou hast found out arrows to pierce, 
 And made their kingdoms and races 
 
 As dust and surf of the sea. 850 
 
 All these, overburdened with woes 
 
 And with length of their days waxen weak, 
 Thou slewest; and sentest moreover 
 Upon Tyro an evil thing, 
 Rent hair and a fetter and blows 855 
 
 Making bloody the flower of the cheek, 
 Though she lay by a god as a lover, 
 Though fair, and the seed of a king. 
 For of old, being full of thy fire, 
 
 She endured not longer to wear 860 
 
 On her bosom a saffron vest, 
 
 On her shoulder an ashwood quiver; 
 Being mixed and made one through desire 
 With Enipeus, and all her hair 
 
 Made moist with his mouth, and her breast 865 
 Filled full of the foam of the river. 
 
 ATALANTA 
 
 Sun, and clear light among green hills, and day 
 Late risen and long sought after, and you just gods 
 Whose hands divide anguish and recompense, 
 
42 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 But first the sun's white sister, a maid in heaven, 870 
 
 On earth of all maids worshipped — hail, and hear, 
 
 And witness with me if not without sign sent, 
 
 Not without rule and reverence, I a maid 
 
 Hallowed, and huntress holy as whom I serve, 
 
 Here in your sight and eyeshot of these men 875 
 
 Stand, girt as they toward hunting, and my shafts 
 
 Drawn; wherefore all ye stand up on my side, 
 
 If I be pure and all ye righteous gods, 
 
 Lest one revile me, a woman, yet no wife, 
 
 That bear a spear for spindle, and this bow strung 880 
 
 For a web woven; and with pure lips salute 
 
 Heaven, and the face of all the gods, and dawn 
 
 Filling with maiden flames and maiden flowers 
 
 The starless fold o' the stars, and making sweet 
 
 The warm wan heights of the air, moon-trodden ways 885 
 
 And breathless gates and extreme hills of heaven. 
 
 Whom, having offered water and bloodless gifts, 
 
 Flowers, and a golden circlet of pure hair, 
 
 Next Artemis I bid be favourable 
 
 And make this day all golden, hers and ours, 890 
 
 Gracious and good and white to the unblamed end. 
 
 But thou, O well-beloved, of all my days 
 
 Bid it be fruitful, and a crown for all, 
 
 To bring forth leaves and bind round all my hair 
 
 With perfect chaplets woven for thine of thee. 895 
 
 For not without the word of thy chaste mouth, 
 
 For not without law given and clean command, 
 
 Across the white straits of the running sea 
 
 From Elis even to the Acheloian horn, 
 
 I with clear winds came hither and gentle gods, 900 
 
 Far off my father's house, and left uncheered 
 
Swinburne'' s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 43 
 
 Iasius, and uncheered the Arcadian hills 
 
 And all their green-haired waters, and all woods 
 
 Disconsolate, to hear no horn of mine 
 
 Blown, and behold no flash of swift white feet. 905 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 For thy name's sake and awe toward thy chaste head, 
 
 O holiest Atalanta, no man dares 
 
 Praise thee, though fairer than whom all men praise, 
 
 And godlike for thy grace of hallowed hair 
 
 And holy habit of thine eyes, and feet 910 
 
 That make the blown foam neither swift nor white 
 
 Though the wind winnow and whirl it; yet we praise 
 
 Gods, found because of thee adorable 
 
 And for thy sake praiseworthiest from all men: 
 
 Thee therefore we praise also, thee as these, 915 
 
 Pure, and a light lit at the hands of gods. 
 
 TOXEUS 
 
 How long will ye whet spears with eloquence, 
 Fight, and kill beasts dry-handed with sweet words? 
 Cease, or talk still and slay thy boars at home. 
 
 PLEXIPPUS 
 
 Why, if she ride among us for a man, 920 
 
 Sit thou for her and spin; a man grown girl 
 Is worth a woman weaponed; sit thou here. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Peace, and be wise; no gods love idle speech. 
 
44 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 PLEXIPPUS 
 
 Nor any man a man's mouth woman-tongued. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 For my lips bite not sharper than mine hands. 925 
 
 PLEXIPPUS 
 
 Nay, both bite soft, but no whit softly mine. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Keep thine hands clean; they have time enough to stain. 
 
 PLEXIPPUS 
 
 For thine shall rest and wax not red to-day. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Have all thy will of words; talk out thine heart. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Refrain your lips, brethren, and my son, 930 
 
 Lest words turn snakes and bite you uttering them. 
 
 TOXEUS 
 
 Except she give her blood before the gods, 
 What profit shall a maid be among men? 
 
 PLEXIPPUS 
 
 Let her come crowned and stretch her throat for a knife, 
 Bleat out her spirit and die, and so shall men 935 
 
Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 45 
 
 Through her too prosper and through prosperous gods, 
 
 But nowise through her living; shall she live 
 
 A flower-bud of the flower-bed, or sweet fruit 
 
 For kisses and the honey-making mouth, 
 
 And play the shield for strong men and the spear? 940 
 
 Then shall the heifer and her mate lock horns, 
 
 And the bride overbear the groom, and men 
 
 Gods; for no less division sunders these; 
 
 Since all things made are seasonable in time, 
 
 But if one alter unseasonable are all. 945 
 
 But thou, O Zeus, hear me that I may slay 
 
 This best before thee and no man halve with me 
 
 Nor woman, lest these mock thee, though a god, 
 
 Who hast made men strong, and thou being wise be held 
 
 Foolish; for wise is that thing which endures. 950 
 
 ATALANTA 
 
 Men, and the chosen of all this people, and thou, 
 
 King, I beseech you a little bear with me. 
 
 For if my life be shameful that I live, 
 
 Let the gods witness and their wrath; but these 
 
 Cast no such word against me. Thou, O mine, 955 
 
 O holy, O happy goddess, if I sin 
 
 Changing the words of women and the works 
 
 For spears and strange men's faces, hast not thou 
 
 One shaft of all thy sudden seven that pierced 
 
 Seven through the bosom or shining throat or side, 960 
 
 All couched about one mother's loosening knees, 
 
 All holy born, engrafled of Tantalus? 
 
 But if toward any of you I am overbold 
 
 That take thus much upon me, let him think 
 
46 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 How I, for all my forest holiness, 965 
 
 Fame, and this armed and iron maidenhood, 
 
 Pay thus much also; I shall have no man's love 
 
 For ever, and no face of children born 
 
 Or feeding lips upon me or fastening eyes 
 
 For ever, nor being dead shall kings my sons 970 
 
 Mourn me and bury, and tears on daughters' cheeks 
 
 Burn; but a cold and sacred life, but strange, 
 
 But far from dances and the back-blowing torch, 
 
 Far off from flowers or any bed of man, 
 
 Shall my life be for ever: me the snows 975 
 
 That face the first o' the morning, and cold hills 
 
 Full of the land-wind and sea-travelling storms 
 
 And many a wandering wing of noisy nights 
 
 That know the thunder and hear the thickening wolves — 
 
 Me the utmost pine and footless frost of woods 980 
 
 That talk with many winds and gods, the hours 
 
 Re-risen, and white divisions of the dawn, 
 
 Springs thousand-tongued with the intermitting reed 
 
 And streams that murmur of the mother snow — 
 
 Me these allure, and know me; but no man 985 
 
 Knows, and my goddess only. Lo now, see 
 
 If one of all you these things vex at all. 
 
 Would God that any of you had all the praise 
 
 And I no manner of memory when I die, 
 
 So might I show before her perfect eyes 990 
 
 Pure, whom I follow, a maiden to my death. 
 
 But for the rest let all have all they will; 
 
 For is it a grief to you that I have part, 
 
 Being woman merely, in your male might and deeds 
 
 Done by main strength? yet in my body is throned 995 
 
 As great a heart, and in my spirit, O men, 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 47 
 
 I have not less of godlike. Evil it were 
 
 That one a coward should mix with you, one hand 
 
 Fearful, one eye abase itself; and these 
 
 Well might ye hate and well revile, not me. 1000 
 
 For not the difference of the several flesh 
 
 Being vile or noble or beautiful or base 
 
 Makes praiseworthy, but purer spirit and heart 
 
 Higher than these meaner mouths and limbs, that feed, 
 
 Rise, rest, and are and are not; and for me, 1005 
 
 What should I say? but by the gods of the world 
 
 And this my maiden body, by all oaths 
 
 That bind the tongue of men and the evil will, 
 
 I am not mighty-minded, nor desire 
 
 Crowns, nor the spoil of slain things nor the fame; 1010 
 
 Feed ye on these, eat and wax fat; cry out, 
 
 Laugh, having eaten, and leap without a lyre, 
 
 Sing, mix the wind with clamour, smite and shake 
 
 Sonorous timbrels and tumultuous hair, 
 
 And fill the dance up with tempestuous feet, 1015 
 
 For I will none; but having prayed my prayers 
 
 And made thank-offering for prosperities, 
 
 I shall go hence and no man see me more. 
 
 What thing is this for you to shout me down, 
 
 What, for a man to grudge me this my life 1020 
 
 As it were envious of all yours, and I 
 
 A thief of reputations? nay, for now, 
 
 If there be any highest in heaven, a god 
 
 Above all thrones and thunders of the gods 
 
 Throned, and the wheel of the world roll under him, 1025 
 
 Judge he between me and all of you, and see 
 
 If I transgress at all: but ye, refrain 
 
 Transgressing hands and reinless mouths, and keep 
 
48 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Silence, lest by much foam of violent words 
 
 And proper poison of your lips ye die. 1030 
 
 CENEUS 
 
 O flower of Tegea, maiden, fleetest foot 
 
 And holiest head of women, have good cheer 
 
 Of thy good words: but ye, depart with her 
 
 In peace and reverence, each with blameless eye 
 
 Following his fate; exalt your hands and hearts, 1035 
 
 Strike, cease not, arrow on arrow and wound on wound, 
 
 And go with gods and with the gods return. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Who hath given man speech? or who hath set therein 
 
 A thorn for peril and a snare for sin? 
 
 For in the word his life is and his breath, 1040 
 
 And in the word his death, 
 That madness and the infatuate heart may breed 
 
 From the word's womb the deed 
 And life bring one thing forth ere all pass by, 
 Even one thing which is ours yet cannot die — 1045 
 
 Death. Hast thou seen him ever anywhere, 
 Time's twin-born brother, imperishable as he 
 Is perishable and plaintive, clothed with care 
 
 And mutable as sand, 
 But death is strong and full of blood and fair 1050 
 
 And perdurable and like a lord of land? 
 Nay, time thou seest not, death thou wilt not see 
 Till life's right hand be loosened from thine hand 
 
 And thy life-days from thee. 
 
Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 49 
 
 For the gods very subtly fashion 1055 
 
 Madness with sadness upon earth: 
 Not knowing in any wise compassion, 
 
 Nor holding pity of any worth; 
 And many things they have given and taken, 
 
 And wrought and ruined many things; 1060 
 
 The firm land have they loosed and shaken, 
 
 And sealed the sea with all her springs; 
 They have wearied time with heavy burdens 
 
 And vexed the lips of life with breath: 
 Set men to labour and given them guerdons, 1065 
 
 Death, and great darkness after death: 
 Put moans into the bridal measure 
 
 And on the bridal wools a stain; 
 And circled pain about with pleasure, 
 
 And girdled pleasure about with pain; 1070 
 
 And strewed one marriage-bed with tears and fire 
 For extreme loathing and supreme desire. 
 
 What shall be done with all these tears of ours? 
 
 Shall they make watersprings in the fair heaven 
 To bathe the brows of morning? or like flowers 1075 
 
 Be shed and shine before the starriest hours, 
 
 Or made the raiment of the weeping Seven? 
 Or rather, O our masters, shall they be 
 Food for the famine of the grievous sea,. 
 
 A great well-head of lamentation 1080 
 
 Satiating the sad gods? or fall and flow 
 Among the years and seasons to and fro, 
 
 And wash their feet with tribulation 
 And fill them full with grieving ere they go? 
 
 Alas, our lords, and yet alas again, 1085 
 
50 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Seeing all your iron heaven is gilt as gold 
 
 But all we smite thereat in vain; 
 Smite the gates barred with groanings manifold, 
 
 But all the floors are paven with our pain. 
 Yea, and with weariness of lips and eyes, 1090 
 
 With breaking of the bosom, and with sighs, 
 
 We labour, and are clad and fed with grief 
 And filled with days we would not fain behold 
 And nights we would not hear of; we wax old, 
 
 All we wax old and wither like a leaf. 1095 
 
 We are outcast, strayed between bright sun and moon; 
 
 Our light and darkness are as leaves of flowers, 
 Black flowers and white, that perish; and the noon 
 
 As midnight, and the night as daylight hours. 
 
 A little fruit a little while is ours, 1100 
 
 And the worm finds it soon. 
 
 But up in heaven the high gods one by one 
 
 Lay hands upon the draught that quickeneth, 
 
 Fulfilled with all tears shed and all things done, 
 
 And stir with soft imperishable breath 1105 
 
 The bubbling bitterness of life and death, 
 
 And hold it to our lips and laugh; but they 
 
 Preserve their lips from tasting night or day, 
 
 Lest they too change and sleep, the fates that spun, 
 
 The lips that made us and the hands that slay; 1110 
 
 Lest all these change, and heaven bow down to none, 
 
 Change and be subject to the secular sway 
 And terrene revolution of the sun. 
 
 Therefore they thrust it from them, putting time away. 
 
 I would the wine of time, made sharp and sweet 1115 
 With multitudinous days and nights and tears 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 51 
 
 And many mixing savours of strange years, 
 Were no more trodden of them under feet, 
 
 Cast out and spilt about their holy places: 
 That life were given them as a fruit to eat 1120 
 
 And death to drink as water; that the light 
 Might ebb, drawn backward from their eyes, and night 
 
 Hide for one hour the imperishable faces. 
 That they might rise up sad in heaven, and know 
 Sorrow and sleep, one paler than young snow, 1125 
 
 One cold as blight of dew and ruinous rain; 
 Rise up and rest and suffer a little, and be 
 Awhile as all things born with us and we, 
 
 And grieve as men, and like slain men be slain. 
 
 For now we know not of them; but one saith 1130 
 
 The gods are gracious, praising God; and one, 
 When hast thou seen? or hast thou felt his breath 
 
 Touch, nor consume thine eyelids as the sun, 
 Nor fill thee to the lips with fiery death? 
 
 None hath beheld him, none 1135 
 
 Seen above other gods and shapes of things, 
 Swift without feet and flying without wings, 
 Intolerable, not clad with death or life, 
 
 Insatiable, not known of night or day, 
 The lord of love and loathing and of strife 1140 
 
 Who gives a star and takes a sun away; 
 Who shapes the soul, and makes her a barren wife 
 
 To the earthly body and grievous growth of clay; 
 Who turns the large limbs to a little flame 
 
 And binds the great sea with a little sand; 1145 
 
 Who makes desire, and slays desire with shame; 
 
 Who shakes the heaven as ashes in his hand; 
 
52 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Who, seeing the light and shadow for the same, 
 
 Bids day waste night as fire devours a brand, 
 Smites without sword, and scourges without rod; 1150 
 
 The supreme evil, God. 
 Yea, with thine hate, O God, thou hast covered us, 
 
 One saith, and hidden our eyes away from sight, 
 And made us transitory and hazardous, 
 
 Light things and slight; 1155 
 
 Yet men have praised thee, saying, He hath made man 
 
 thus, 
 
 And he doeth right. 
 Thou hast kissed us, and hast smitten; thou hast laid 
 Upon us with thy left hand life, and said, 
 Live: and again thou hast said, Yield up your breath, 1160 
 And with thy right hand laid upon us death. 
 Thou hast sent us sleep, and stricken sleep with dreams, 
 
 Saying, Joy is not, but love of joy shall be; 
 Thou hast made sweet springs for all the pleasant streams, 
 
 In the end thou has made them bitter with the sea. 1 165 
 Thou hast fed one rose with dust of many men; 
 
 Thou hast marred one face with fire of many tears; 
 Thou hast taken love, and given us sorrow again; 
 
 With pain thou hast filled us full to the eyes and ears. 
 Therefore, because thou art strong, our father, and we 1 1 70 
 
 Feeble; and thou art against us, and thine hand 
 Constrains us in the shallows of the sea 
 
 And breaks us at the limits of the land; 
 Because thou hast bent thy lightnings as a bow, 
 
 And loosed the hours like arrows ; and let fall 1175 
 Sins and wild words and many a winged woe 
 
 And wars among us, and one end of all; 
 Because thou hast made the thunder, and thy feet 
 
 Are as a rushing water when the skies 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 53 
 
 Break, but thy face as an exceeding heat 1 1 80 
 
 And flames of fire the eyelids of thine eyes; 
 Because thou art over all who are over us; 
 
 Because thy name is life and our name death; 
 Because thou art cruel and men are piteous, 
 
 And our hands labour and thine hand scattereth; 1 185 
 Lo, with hearts rent and knees made tremulous, 
 
 Lo, with ephemeral lips and casual breath, 
 At least we witness of thee ere we die 
 That these things are not otherwise, but thus; 
 
 That each man in his heart sigheth, and saith, 1 190 
 That all men even as I, 
 All we are against thee, against thee, God most high. 
 
 But ye, keep ye on earth 
 
 Your lips from over-speech, 
 Loud words and longing are so little worth; 1195 
 
 And the end is hard to reach. 
 For silence after grievous things is good, 
 
 And reverence, and the fear that makes men whole, 
 And shame, and righteous governance of blood, 
 
 And lordship of the soul. 1200 
 
 But from sharp words and wits men pluck no fruit, 
 And gathering thorns they shake the tree at root; 
 For words divide and rend; 
 But silence is most noble till the end. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 I heard within the house a cry of news 1205 
 
 And came forth eastward hither, where the dawn 
 Cheers first these warder gods that face the sun 
 And next our eyes unrisen; for unaware 
 
54 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Came clashes of swift hoofs and trampling feet 
 
 And through the windy pillared corridor 1210 
 
 Light sharper than the frequent flames of day 
 
 That daily fill it from the fiery dawn; 
 
 Gleams, and a thunder of people that cried out, 
 
 And dust and hurrying horsemen; lo their chief, 
 
 That rode with OEneus rein by rein, returned. 1215 
 
 What cheer, O herald of my lord the king? 
 
 HERALD 
 
 Lady, good cheer and great; the boar is slain. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Praised be all gods that look toward Calydon. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Good news and brief; but by whose happier hand? 
 
 HERALD 
 
 A maiden's and a prophet's and thy son's. 1220 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Well fare the spear that severed him and life. 
 
 HERALD 
 
 Thine own, and not an alien, hast thou blest. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Twice be thou too for my sake blest and his. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 55 
 
 HERALD 
 
 At the king's word I rode afoam for thine. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Thou sayest he tarrieth till they bring the spoil? 1225 
 
 HERALD 
 
 Hard by the quarry, where they breathe, O queen. 
 
 ALTHiEA 
 
 Speak thou their chance; but some bring flowers and crown 
 These gods and all the lintel, and shed wine, 
 Fetch sacrifice and slay; for heaven is good. 
 
 HERALD 
 
 Some furlongs northward where the brakes begin 1230 
 
 West of that narrowing range of warrior hills 
 
 Whose brooks have bled with battle when thy son 
 
 Smote Acarnania, there all they made halt, 
 
 And with keen eye took note of speak and hound, 
 
 Royally ranked; Laertes island-born, 1235 
 
 The young Gerenian Nestor, Panopeus, 
 
 And Cepheus and Ancaeus, mightiest thewed, 
 
 Arcadians; next, and evil-eyed of these, 
 
 Arcadian Atalanta, with twain hounds 
 
 Lengthening the leash, and under nose and brow 1240 
 
 Glittering with lipless tooth and fire-swift eye; 
 
 But from her white braced shoulder the plumed shafts 
 
 Rang, and the bow shone from her side; next her 
 
 Meleager, like a sun in spring that strikes 
 
56 Swinburne's Alalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Branch into leaf and bloom into the world, 1245 
 
 A glory among men meaner; Iphicles, 
 
 And following him that slew the biform bull 
 
 Pirithous, and divine Eurytion, 
 
 And, bride-bound to the gods, iEacides. 
 
 Then Telamon his brother, and Argive-born 1250 
 
 The seer and sayer of visions and of truth, 
 
 Amphiaraus; and a four-fold strength, 
 
 Thine, even thy mother's and thy sister's sons. 
 
 And recent from the roar of foreign foam 
 
 Jason, and Dryas twin-begot with war, 1255 
 
 A blossom of bright battle, sword and man 
 
 Shining; and Idas, and the keenest eye 
 
 Of Lynceus, and Admetus twice-espoused, 
 
 And Hippasus and Hyleus, great in heart. 
 
 These having halted bade blow horns, and rode 1260 
 
 Through woods and waste lands cleft by stormy streams, 
 
 Past yew-trees and the heavy hair of pines, 
 
 And where the dew is thickest under oaks. 
 
 This way and that; but questing up and down 
 
 They saw no trail nor scented; and one said, 1265 
 
 Plexippus, Help, or help not, Artemis, 
 
 And we will flay thy boarskin with male hands; 
 
 But saying, he ceased and said not that he would 
 
 Seeing where the green ooze of a sun-struck marsh 
 
 Shook with a thousand reeds untunable, 1270 
 
 And in their moist and multitudinous flower 
 
 Slept no soft sleep, with violent visions fed, 
 
 The blind bulk of the immeasurable beast. 
 
 And seeing, he shuddered with sharp lust of praise 
 
 Through all his limbs, and launched a double dart, 1275 
 
 And missed; for much desire divided him, 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 57 
 
 Too hot of spirit and feebler than his will, 
 
 That his hand failed, though fervent; and the shaft, 
 
 Sundering the rushes, in a tamarisk stem 
 
 Shook, and stuck fast; then all abode save one, 1280 
 
 The Arcadian Atalanta; from her side 
 
 Sprang her hounds, labouring at the leash, and slipped, 
 
 And plashed ear-deep with plunging feet; but she 
 
 Saying, Speed it' as I send it for thy sake, 
 
 Goddess, drew bow and loosed; the sudden string 1285 
 
 Rang, and sprang inward, and the waterish air 
 
 Hissed, and the moist plumes of the songless reeds 
 
 Moved as a wave which the wind moves no more. 
 
 But the boar heaved half out of ooze and slime 
 
 His tense flank trembling round the barbed wound, 1290 
 
 Hateful; and fiery with invasive eyes 
 
 And bristling with intolerable hair 
 
 Plunged, and the hounds clung, and green flowers and 
 
 white 
 Reddened and broke all round them where they came. 
 And charging with sheer tusk he drove, and smote 1295 
 Hyleus; and sharp death caught his sudden soul, 
 And violent sleep shed night upon his eyes. 
 Then Peleus, with strong strain of hand and heart, 
 Shot; but the sidelong arrow slid, and slew 
 His comrade born and loving countryman, 1300 
 
 Under the left arm smitten, as he no less 
 Poised a like arrow; and bright blood brake afoam, 
 And falling, and weighed back .by clamorous arms, 
 Sharp rang the dead limbs of Eurytion. 
 Then one shot happier, the Cadmean seer, 1305 
 
 Amphiaraus; for his sacred shaft 
 Pierced the red circlet of one ravening eye 
 Beneath the brute brows of the sanguine boar, 
 
58 Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Now bloodier from one slain; but he so galled 
 
 Sprang straight, and rearing cried no lesser cry 1310 
 
 Than thunder and the roar of wintering streams 
 
 That mix their own foam with the yellower sea; 
 
 And as a tower that falls by fire in fight 
 
 With ruin of walls and all its archery, 
 
 And breaks the iron flower of war beneath, 1315 
 
 Crushing charred limbs and molten arms of men; 
 
 So through crushed branches and the reddening brake 
 
 Clamoured and crashed the fervour of his feet, 
 
 And trampled, springing sideways from the tusk, 
 
 Too tardy a moving mould of heavy strength, 1320 
 
 Ancaeus; and as flakes of weak- winged snow 
 
 Break, all the hard thews of his heaving limbs 
 
 Broke, and rent flesh fell every way, and blood 
 
 Flew, and fierce fragments of no more a man. 
 
 Then all the heroes drew sharp breath, and gazed, 1325 
 
 And smote not; but Meleager, but thy son, 
 
 Right in the wild way of the coming curse 
 
 Rock-rooted, fair with fierce and fastened lips, 
 
 Clear eyes, and springing muscle and shortening limb — 
 
 With chin aslant indrawn to a tightening throat, 1330 
 
 Grave, and with gathered sinews, like a god, — 
 
 Aimed on the left side his well-handled spear 
 
 Grapsed where the ash was knottiest hewn, and smote, 
 
 And with no missile wound, the monstrous boar 
 
 Right in the hairiest hollow of his hide 1335 
 
 Under the last rib, sheer through bulk and bone, 
 
 Deep in; and deeply smitten, and to death, 
 
 The heavy horror with his hanging shafts 
 
 Leapt, and fell furiously, and from raging lips 
 
 Foamed out the latest wrath of all his life. 1340 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erecktheus 59 
 
 And all they praised the gods with mightier heart, 
 
 Zeus and all gods, but chiefliest Artemis, 
 
 Seeing; but Meleager bade whet knives and flay, 
 
 Strip and stretch out the splendour of the spoil; 
 
 And hot and horrid from the work all these 1345 
 
 Sat, and drew breath and drank and made great cheer 
 
 And washed the hard sweat off their calmer brows. 
 
 For much sweet grass grew higher than grew the reed, 
 
 And good for slumber, and every holier herb, 
 
 Narcissus, and the low-lying melilote, 1350 
 
 And all of goodliest blade and bloom that springs 
 
 Where, hid by heavier hyacinth, violet buds 
 
 Blossom and burn; and fire of yellower flowers 
 
 And light of crescent lilies, and such leaves 
 
 As fear the Faun's and know the Dryad's foot; 1355 
 
 Olive and ivy and poplar dedicate, 
 
 And many a well-spring overwatched of these. 
 
 There now they rest; but me the king bade bear 
 
 Good tidings to rejoice this town and thee. 
 
 Wherefore be glad, and all ye give much thanks, 1360 
 
 For fallen is all the trouble of Calydon. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Laud ye the gods; for this they have given is good, 
 
 And what shall be they hide until their time. 
 
 Much good and somewhat grievous hast thou said, 
 
 And either well; but let all sad things be, 1365 
 
 Till all have made before the prosperous gods 
 
 Burnt-offering, and poured out the floral wine. 
 
 Look fair, O gods, and favourable; for we 
 
 Praise you with no false heart or flattering mouth, 
 
 Being merciful, but with pure souls and prayer. 1370 
 
60 Swinburne 7 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 HERALD 
 
 Thou hast prayed well; for whoso fears not these, 
 But once being prosperous waxes huge of heart, 
 Him shall some new thing unaware destroy. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 O that I now, I too were 
 
 By deep wells and water-floods, 1375 
 
 Streams of ancient hills, and where 
 
 All the wan green places bear 
 
 Blossoms cleaving to the sod, 
 
 Fruitless fruit, and grasses fair, 
 
 Or such darkest ivy-buds 1380 
 
 As divide thy yellow hair, 
 
 Bacchus, and their leaves that nod 
 
 Round thy fawnskin brush the bare 
 
 Snow-soft shoulders of a god; 
 
 There the year is sweet, and there - 1385 
 
 Earth is full of secret springs, 
 
 And the fervent rose-cheeked hours, 
 
 Those that marry dawn and noon, 
 
 There are sunless, there look pale 
 
 In dim leaves and hidden air, 1390 
 
 Pale as grass or latter flowers 
 
 Or the wild vine's wan wet rings 
 
 Full of dew beneath the moon, 
 
 And all day the nightingale 
 
 Sleeps, and all night sings; 1395 
 
 There in cold remote recesses 
 
 That nor alien eyes assail, 
 
 Feet, nor imminence of wings, 
 
Swinburne *s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 61 
 
 Nor a wind nor any tune, 
 
 Thou, O queen and holiest, 1400 
 
 Flower the whitest of all things, 
 
 With reluctant lengthening tresses 
 
 And with sudden splendid breast 
 
 Save of maidens unbeholden, 
 
 There are wont to enter, there 1405 
 
 Thy divine swift limbs and golden 
 
 Maiden growth of unbound hair, 
 
 Bathed in waters white, 
 
 Shine, and many a maid's by thee 
 
 In moist woodland or the hilly 1410 
 
 Flowerless brakes where wells abound 
 
 Out of all men's sight; 
 
 Or in lower pools that see 
 
 All their marges clothed all round 
 
 With the innumerable lily, 1415 
 
 Whence the golden-girdled bee 
 
 Flits through flowering rush to fret 
 
 White or duskier violet, 
 
 Fair as those that in far years 
 
 With their buds left luminous 1420 
 
 And their little leaves made wet, 
 
 From the warmer dew of tears, 
 
 Mother's tears in extreme need, 
 
 Hid the limbs of Iamus, 
 
 Of thy brother's seed; 1425 
 
 For his heart was piteous 
 
 Toward him, even as thine heart now 
 
 Pitiful toward us ; 
 
 Thine, O goddess, turning hither 
 
 A benignant blameless brow; 1430 
 
62 Swinburne 's Aialanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Seeing enough of evil done 
 
 And lives withered as leaves wither 
 
 In the blasting of the sun; 
 
 Seeing enough of hunters dead, 
 
 Ruin enough of all our year, 1435 
 
 Herds and harvests slain and shed, 
 
 Herdsmen stricken many an one, 
 
 Fruits and flocks consumed together, 
 
 And great length of deadly days. 
 
 Yet with reverent lips and fear 1440 
 
 Turn we toward thee, turn and praise 
 
 For this lightening of clear weather 
 
 And prosperities begun. 
 
 For not seldom, when all air 
 
 As bright water without breath 1445 
 
 Shines, and when men fear not, fate 
 
 Without thunder unaware 
 
 Breaks, and brings down death. 
 
 Joy with grief ye great gods give, 
 
 Good with bad, and overbear 1450 
 
 All the pride of us that live, 
 
 All the high estate, 
 
 As ye long since overbore, 
 
 As in old time long before, 
 
 Many a strong man and a great, 1455 
 
 All that were. 
 
 But do thou, sweet, otherwise, 
 
 Having heed of all our prayer, 
 
 Taking note of all our sighs; 
 
 We beseech thee by thy light, 1460 
 
 By thy bow, and thy sweet eyes, 
 
 And the kingdom of the night, 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 63 
 
 Be thou favourable and fair; 
 
 By thine arrows and thy might 
 
 And Orion overthrown; 1465 
 
 By the maiden thy delight, 
 
 By the indissoluble zone 
 
 And the sacred hair. 
 
 MESSENGER 
 
 Maidens, if ye will sing now, shift your song, 
 
 Bow down, cry, wail for pity; is this a time 1470 
 
 For singing? nay, for strewing of dust and ash, 
 
 Rent raiment, and for bruising of the breast. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 What new thing wolf-like lurks behind thy words? 
 What snake's tongue in thy lips? what fire in the eyes? 
 
 MESSENGER 
 
 Bring me before the queen and I will speak. 1475 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Lo, she comes forth as from thank-offering made. 
 
 MESSENGER 
 
 A barren offering for a bitter gift. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 What are these borne on branches, and the face 
 
 Covered? no mean men living, but now slain 
 
 Such honour have they, if any dwell with death. 1480 
 
64 Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtkeus 
 
 MESSENGER 
 
 Queen, thy twain brethren and thy mother's sons. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Lay down your dead till I behold their blood 
 If it be mine indeed, and I will weep. 
 
 MESSENGER 
 
 Weep if thou wilt, for these men shall no more. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 O brethren, O my father's sons, of me 1485 
 
 Well loved and well reputed, I should weep 
 
 Tears dearer than the dear blood drawn from you 
 
 But that I know you not uncomforted, 
 
 Sleeping no shameful sleep, however slain, 
 
 For my son surely hath avenged you dead. " 1490 
 
 MESSENGER 
 
 Nay, should thine own seed slay himself, O queen? 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 Thy double word brings forth a double death. 
 
 MESSENGER 
 
 Know this then singly, by one hand they fell. 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 What mutterest thou with thine ambiguous mouth? 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 65 
 
 MESSENGER 
 
 Slain by thy son's hand; is that saying so hard? 1495 
 
 ALTH.EA 
 
 Our time is come upon us: it is here. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 O miserable, and spoiled at thine own hand. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Wert thou not called Meleager from this womb? 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 A grievous huntsman hath it bred to thee. 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 Wert thou born fire, and shalt thou not devour? 1500 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 The fire thou madest, will it consume even thee? 
 
 ALTH.EA 
 
 My dreams are fallen upon me; burn thou too. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Not without God are visions born and die. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 The gods are many about me; I am one. 
 
66 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 She groaned as men wrestling with heavier gods. 1505 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 They rend me, they divide me, they destroy. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Or one labouring in travail of strange births. 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 They are strong, they are strong; I am broken, and these 
 prevail. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 The god is great against her; she will die. 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 Yea but not now; for my heart too is great. 1510 
 
 I would I were not here in sight of the sun. 
 But thou, speak all thou sawest, and I will die. 
 
 MESSENGER 
 
 O queen, for queenlike hast thou borne thyself, 
 
 A little word may hold so great mischance. 
 
 For in division of the sanguine spoil 1515 
 
 These men thy brethren wrangling bade yield up 
 
 The boar's head and the horror of the hide 
 
 That this might stand a wonder in Calydon, 
 
 Hallowed; and some drew toward them; but thy son 
 
 With great hands grasping all that weight of hair 1520 
 
 Cast down the dead heap clanging and collapsed 
 
Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 67 
 
 At female feet, saying This thy spoil not mine, 
 
 Maiden, thine own hand for thyself hath reaped, 
 
 And all this praise God gives thee: she thereat 
 
 Laughed, as when dawn touches the sacred night 1525 
 
 The sky sees laugh and redden and divide 
 
 Dim lips and eyelids virgin of the sun, 
 
 Hers, and the warm slow breasts of morning heave, 
 
 Fruitful, and flushed with flame from lamp-lit hours, 
 
 And maiden undulation of clear hair 1530 
 
 Colour the clouds; so laughed she from pure heart, 
 
 Lit with a low blush to the braided hair, 
 
 And rose-coloured and cold like very dawn, 
 
 Golden and godlike, chastely with chaste lips, 
 
 A faint grave laugh; and all they held their peace, 1535 
 
 And she passed by them. Then one cried Lo now, 
 
 Shall not the Arcadian shoot out lips at us, 
 
 Saying all we were despoiled by this one girl? 
 
 And all they rode against her violently 
 
 And cast the fresh crown from her hair, and now 1540 
 
 They had rent her spoil away, dishonouring her, 
 
 Save that Meleager, as a tame lion chafed, 
 
 Bore on them, broke them, and as fire cleaves wood 
 
 So clove and drove them, smitten in twain; but she 
 
 Smote not nor heaved up hand; and this man first, 1545 
 
 Plexippus, crying out This for love's sake, sweet, 
 
 Drove at Meleager, who with spear straightening 
 
 Pierced his cheek through; then Toxeus made for him, 
 
 Dumb, but his spear spake; vain and violent words, 
 
 Fruitless; for him too stricken through both sides 1550 
 
 The earth felt falling, and his horse's foam 
 
 Blanched thy son's face, his slayer; and these being slain, 
 
 None moved nor spake; but (Eneus bade bear hence 
 
68 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 These made of heaven infatuate in their deaths, 
 Foolish; for these would baffle fate, and fell. 1555 
 
 And they passed on, and all men honoured her, 
 Being honourable, as one revered of heaven. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 What say you, women? is all this not well done? 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 No man doth well but God hath part in him. 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 But no part here; for these my brethren born 1560 
 
 Ye have no part in, these ye know not of 
 
 As I that was their sister, a sacrifice 
 
 Slain in their slaying. I would I had died for these; 
 
 For this man dead walked with me, child by child, 
 
 And made a weak staff for my feebler feet 1565 
 
 With his own tender wrist and hand, and held 
 
 And led me softly and shewed me gold and steel 
 
 And shining shapes of mirror and bright crown 
 
 And all things fair; and threw light spears, and brought 
 
 Young hounds to huddle at my feet and thrust 1570 
 
 Tame heads against my little maiden breasts 
 
 And please me with great eyes; and those days went 
 
 And these are bitter and I a barren queen 
 
 And sister miserable, a grievous thing 
 
 And mother of many curses; and she too, 1575 
 
 My sister Leda, sitting overseas 
 
 With fair fruits round her, and her faultless lord, 
 
 Shall curse me, saying A sorrow and not a son, 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 69 
 
 Sister, thou barest, even a burning fire, 
 
 A brand consuming thine own soul and me. 1580 
 
 But ye now, sons of Thestius, make good cheer, 
 
 For ye shall have such wood to funeral fire 
 
 As no king hath; and flame that once burnt down 
 
 Oil shall not quicken or breath relume or wine 
 
 Refresh again; much costlier than fine gold, 1585 
 
 And more than many lives of wandering men. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 queen, thou hast yet with thee love- worthy things, 
 Thine husband, and the great strength of thy son. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Who shall get brothers for me while I live? 
 
 Who bear them? who bring forth in lieu of these? 1590 
 
 Are not our fathers and our brethren one, 
 
 And no man like them? are not mine here slain? 
 
 Have we not hung together, he and I, 
 
 Flowerwise feeding as the feeding bees, 
 
 With mother-milk for honey? and this man too, 1595 
 
 Dead, with my son's spear thrust between his sides, 
 
 Hath he not seen us, later born than he, 
 
 Laugh with lips filled, and laughed again for love? 
 
 There were no sons then in the world, nor spears, 
 
 Nor deadly births of women; but the gods 1600 
 
 Allowed us, and our days were clear of these. 
 
 1 would I had died unwedded, and brought forth 
 No swords to vex the world; for these that spake 
 Sweet words long since and loved me will not speak 
 Nor love nor look upon me; and all my life 1605 
 
70 Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 I shall not hear or see them living men. 
 
 But I too living, how shall I now live? 
 
 What life shall this be with my son, to know 
 
 What hath been and desire what will not be, 
 
 Look for dead eyes and listen for dead lips, 1610 
 
 And kill mine own heart with remembering them, 
 
 And with those eyes that see their slayer alive 
 
 Weep, and wring hands that clasp him by the hand? 
 
 How shall I bear my dreams of them, to hear 
 
 False voices, feel the kisses of false mouths 1615 
 
 And footless sound of perished feet, and then 
 
 Wake and hear only it may be their own hounds 
 
 Whine masterless in miserable sleep, 
 
 And see their boar-spears and their beds and seats 
 
 And all the gear and housings of their lives 1620 
 
 And not the men? shall hounds and horses mourn, 
 
 Pine with strange eyes, and prick up hungry ears, 
 
 Famish and fail at heart for their dear lords, 
 
 And I not heed at all? and those blind things 
 
 Fall off from life for love's sake, and I live? 1625 
 
 Surely some death is better than some life, 
 
 Better one death for him and these and me. 
 
 For if the gods had slain them it may be 
 
 I had endured it; if they had fallen by war 
 
 Or by the nets and knives of privy death 1630 
 
 And by hired hands while sleeping, this thing too 
 
 I had set my soul to suffer; or this hunt, 
 
 Had this despatched them, under tusk or tooth 
 
 Torn, sanguine, trodden, broken; for all deaths 
 
 Or honourable or with facile feet avenged 1635 
 
 And hands of swift gods following, all save this, 
 
 Are bearable: but not for their sweet land 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 71 
 
 Fighting, but not a sacrifice, lo these 
 
 Dead; for I had not then shed all mine heart 
 
 Out at mine eyes: then either with good speed, 1640 
 
 Being just, I had slain their slayer atoningly, 
 
 Or strewn with flowers their fire and on their tombs 
 
 Hung crowns, and over them a song, and seen 
 
 Their praise outflame their ashes: for all men, 
 
 All maidens, had come thither, and from pure lips 1645 
 
 Shed songs upon them, from heroic eyes 
 
 Tears; and their death had been a deathless life; 
 
 But now, by no man hired nor alien sword, 
 
 By their own kindred are they fallen, in peace, 
 
 After much peril, friendless among friends, 1650 
 
 By hateful hands they loved; and how shall mine 
 
 Touch these returning red and not from war, 
 
 These fatal from the vintage of men's veins, 
 
 Dead men my brethren? how shall these wash off 
 
 No festal stains of undelightful wine, 1655 
 
 How mix the blood, my blood on them, with me, 
 
 Holding mine hand? or how shall I say, son, 
 
 That am no sister? but by night and day 
 
 Shall we not sit and hate each other, and think 
 
 Things hate- worthy? not live with shamefast eyes, 1660 
 
 Brow-beaten, treading soft with fearful feet, 
 
 Each unupbraided, each without rebuke 
 
 Convicted, and without a word reviled 
 
 Each of another? and I shall let thee live 
 
 And see thee strong and hear men for thy sake 1665 
 
 Praise me, but these thou wouldest not let live 
 
 No man shall praise for ever? these shall lie 
 
 Dead, unbeloved, unholpen, all through thee? 
 
 Sweet were they toward me living, and mine heart 
 
72 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Desired them, but was then well satisfied, 1670 
 
 That now is as men hungered; and these dead 
 
 I shall want always to the day I die. 
 
 For all things else and all men may renew; 
 
 Yea, son for son the gods may give and take, 
 
 But never a brother or sister any more. 1675 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Nay, for the son lies close about thine heart, 
 
 Full of thy milk, warm from thy womb, and drains 
 
 Life and the blood of life and all thy fruit, 
 
 Eats thee and drinks thee as who breaks bread and eats, 
 
 Treads wine and drinks, thyself, a sect of thee; 1680 
 
 And if he feed not, shall not thy flesh faint? 
 
 Or drink not, are not thy lips dead for thirst? 
 
 This thing moves more than all things, even thy son, 
 
 That thou cleave to him; and he shall honour thee, 
 
 Thy womb that bare him and the breasts he knew, 1685 
 
 Reverencing most for thy sake all his gods. 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 But these the gods too gave me, and these my son, 
 
 Not reverencing his gods nor mine own heart 
 
 Nor the old sweet years nor all venerable things, 
 
 But cruel, and in his raving like a beast, 1690 
 
 Hath taken away to slay them: yea, and she, 
 
 She the strange woman, she the flower, the sword, 
 
 Red from spilt blood, a mortal flower to men, 
 
 Adorable, detestable — even she 
 
 Saw with strange eyes and with strange lips rejoiced, 1695 
 
 Seeing these mine own slain of mine own, and me 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 73 
 
 Made miserable above all miseries made, 
 
 A grief among all women in the world, 
 
 A name to be washed out with all men's tears. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Strengthen thy spirit; is this not also a god, 1700 
 
 Chance, and the wheel of all necessities? 
 Hard things have fallen upon us from harsh gods, 
 Whom lest worse hap rebuke we not for these. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 My spirit is strong against itself, and I 
 
 For these things' sake cry out on mine own soul 1705 
 
 That it endures outrage, and dolorous days, 
 
 And life, and this inexpiable impotence. 
 
 Weak am I, weak and shameful; my breath drawn 
 
 Shames me, and monstrous things and violent gods. 
 
 What shall atone? what heal me? what bring back 1710 
 
 Strength to the foot, light to the face? what herb 
 
 Assuage me? what restore me? what release? 
 
 What strange thing eaten or drunken, O great gods, 
 
 Make me as you or as the beasts that feed, 
 
 Slay and divide and cherish their own hearts? 1715 
 
 For these ye show us; and we less than these 
 
 Have not wherewith to live as all these things 
 
 Which all their lives fare after their own kind 
 
 As who doth well rejoicing; but we ill, 
 
 Weeping or laughing, we whom eyesight fails, 1720 
 
 Knowledge and light of face and perfect hearts, 
 
 And hands we lack, and wit; and all our days 
 
 Sin, and have hunger, and die infatuated. 
 
74 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 For madness have ye given us and not health, 
 
 And sins whereof we know not; and for these 1725 
 
 Death, and sudden destruction unaware. 
 
 What shall we say now? what thing comes of us? 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Alas, for all this all men undergo. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Wherefore I will not that these twain, O gods, 
 
 Die as a dog dies, eaten of creeping things, 1730 
 
 Abominable, a loathing; but though dead 
 
 Shall they have honour and such funereal flame 
 
 As strews men's ashes in their enemies' face 
 
 And blinds their eyes who hate them: lest men say, 
 
 "Lo how they lie, and living had great kin, 1735 
 
 And none of these hath pity of them, and none 
 
 Regards them lying, and none is wrung at heart, 
 
 None moved in spirit for them, naked and slain, 
 
 Abhorred, abased, and no tears comfort them:" 
 
 And in the dark this grieve Eurythemis, 1740 
 
 Hearing how these her sons come down to her 
 
 Unburied, unavenged, as kinless men, 
 
 And had a queen their sister. That were shame 
 
 Worse than this grief. Yet how to atone at all 
 
 I know not; seeing the love of my born son, 1745 
 
 A new-made mother's new-born love, that grows 
 
 From the soft child to the strong man, now soft 
 
 Now strong as either, and still one sole same love, 
 
 Strives with me, no light thing to strive withal; 
 
 This love is deep, and natural to man's blood, 1750 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 75 
 
 And ineffaceable with many tears. 
 Yet shall not these rebuke me though I die, 
 Nor she in that waste world with all her dead, 
 My mother, among the pale flocks fallen as leaves, 
 Folds of dead people, and alien from the sun; 1755 
 
 Nor lack some bitter comfort, some poor praise, 
 Being queen, to have borne her daughter like a queen, 
 Righteous; and though mine own fire burn me too, 
 She shall have honour and these her sons, though dead. 
 But all the gods will, all they do, and we 1760 
 
 Not all we would, yet somewhat; and one choice 
 We have, to live and do just deeds and die. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Terrible words she communes with, and turns 
 
 Swift fiery eyes in doubt against herself, 
 
 And murmurs as who talks in dreams with death. 1765 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 For the unjust also dieth, and him all men 
 
 Hate, and himself abhors the unrighteousness, 
 
 And seeth his own dishonour intolerable. 
 
 But I being just, doing right upon myself, 
 
 Slay mine own soul, and no man born shames me. 1770 
 
 For none constrains nor shall rebuke, being done, 
 
 What none compelled me doing; thus these things fare. 
 
 Ah, ah, that such things should so fare; ah me, 
 
 That I am found to do them and endure, 
 
 Chosen and constrained to choose, and bear myself 1775 
 
 Mine own wound through mine own flesh to the heart 
 
 Violently stricken, a spoiler and a spoil, 
 
76 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 A ruin ruinous, fallen on mine own son. 
 
 Ah, ah, for me too as for these; alas, 
 
 For that is done that shall be, and mine hand 1780 
 
 Full of the deed, and full of blood mine eyes, 
 
 That shall see never nor touch anything 
 
 Save blood unstanched and fire unquenchable. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 What wilt thou do? what ails thee? for the house 
 Shakes ruinously; wilt thou bring fire for it? 1785 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 Fire in the roofs, and on the lintels fire. 
 
 Lo ye, who stand and weave between the doors, 
 
 There; and blood drips from hand and thread, and stains 
 
 Threshold and raiment and me passing in 
 
 Flecked with the sudden sanguine drops of death. 1790 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Alas that time is stronger than strong men, 
 Fate than all gods: and these are fallen on us. 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 A little since and I was glad; and now 
 I never shall be glad or sad again. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Between two joys a grief grows unaware. 1795 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 A little while and I shall laugh; and then 
 I shall weep never and laugh not any more. 
 
Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 77 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 What shall be said? for words are thorns to grief. 
 Withhold thyself a little and fear the gods. 
 
 ALTH.EA 
 
 Fear died when these were slain; and I am as dead, 1800 
 And fear is of the living; these fear none. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Have pity upon all people for their sake. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 It is done now; shall I put back my day? 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 An end is come, an end; this is of God. 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 T am fire, and burn myself; keep clear of fire. 1805 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 The house is broken, is broken; it shall not stand. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Woe, woe for him that breaketh; and a rod 
 Smote it of old, and now the axe is here. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Not as with sundering of the earth 
 
 Nor as with cleaving of the sea 1810 
 
78 Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Nor fierce foreshadowings of a birth 
 
 Nor flying dreams of death to be 
 Nor loosening of the large world's girth 
 And quickening of the body of night, 
 
 And sound of thunder in men's ears 1815 
 
 And fire of lightning in men's sight, 
 
 Fate, mother of desires and fears, 
 
 Bore unto men the law of tears; 
 But sudden, an unfathered flame, 
 
 And broken out of night, she shone, 1820 
 
 She, without body, without name, 
 
 In days forgotten and foregone; 
 And heaven rang round her as she came 
 Like smitten cymbals and lay bare; 
 
 Clouds and great stars, thunders and snows, 1825 
 The blue sad fields and folds of air, 
 
 The life that breathes, the life that grows, 
 
 All wind, all fire, that burns or blows, 
 Even all these knew her: for she is great; 
 
 The daughter of doom, the mother of death, 1830 
 The sister of sorrow; a lifelong weight 
 
 That no man's finger lighteneth, 
 Nor any god can lighten fate; 
 A landmark seen across the way 
 
 Where one race treads as the other trod; 1835 
 An evil sceptre, an evil stay, 
 
 Wrought for a staff, wrought for a rod, 
 
 The bitter jealousy of God. 
 
 For death is deep as the sea, 
 
 And fate as the waves thereof. 1840 
 
 Shall the waves take pity on thee 
 Or the southwind offer thee love? 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 79 
 
 Wilt thou take the night for thy day 
 Or the darkness for light on thy way, 
 
 Till thou say in thine heart Enough? 1845 
 Behold, thou art over fair, thou art over wise; 
 The sweetness of spring in thine hair, and the light in thine 
 
 eyes. 
 The light of the spring in thine eyes, and the sound in thine 
 
 ears; 
 Yet thine heart shall wax heavy with sighs and thine eye- 
 lids with tears. 1849 
 Wilt thou cover thine hair with gold, and with silver thy 
 
 feet? 
 Hast thou taken the purple to fold thee, and made thy 
 
 mouth sweet? 
 Behold, when they face is made bare, he that loved thee 
 
 shall hate; 
 Thy face shall be no more fair at the fall of thy fate. 
 For thy life shall fall as a leaf and be shed as the rain; 
 And the veil of thine head shall be grief; and the crown 
 
 shall be pain. 1855 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Ho, ye that wail, and ye that sing, make way 
 
 Till I be come among you. Hide your tears, 
 
 Ye little weepers, and your laughing lips, 
 
 Ye laughers for a little; lo mine eyes 
 
 That outweep heaven at rainiest, and my mouth 1860 
 
 That laughs as gods laugh at us. Fate's are we, 
 
 Yet fate is ours a breathing-space; yea, mine, 
 
 Fate is made mine for ever; he is my son, 
 
 My bedfellow, my brother. You strong gods, 
 
 Give place unto me; I am as any of you, 1865 
 
 To give life and to take life. Thou, old earth, 
 
 That hast made man and unmade; thou whose mouth 
 
80 Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Looks red from the eaten fruits of thine own womb; 
 
 Behold me with what lips upon what food 
 
 I feed and fill my body; even with flesh 1870 
 
 Made of my body. Lo, the fire I lit 
 
 I burn with fire to quench it; yea, with flame 
 
 I burn up even the dust and ash thereof. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Woman, what fire is this thou burnest with? 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Yea to the bone, yea to the blood and all. 1875 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 For this thy face and hair are as one fire. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 A tongue that licks and beats upon the dust. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 And in thine eyes are hollow light and heat. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Of flame not fed with hand or frankincense. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 I fear thee for the trembling of thine eyes. 1880 
 
Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 81 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Neither with love thy tremble nor for fear. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 And thy mouth shuddering like a shot bird. 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 Not as the bride's mouth when man kisses it. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Nay, but what thing is this thing thou hast done? 
 
 ALTHjEA 
 
 Look, I am silent, speak your eyes for me. 1885 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 I see a faint fire lightening from the hall. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Gaze, stretch your eyes, strain till the lids drop off. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Flushed pillars down the flickering vestibule. 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Stretch with your necks like birds: cry, chirp as they. 
 
82 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 And a long brand that blackens : and white dust. 1890 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 O children, what is this ye see? your eyes 
 
 Are blinder than night's face at fall of moon. 
 
 That is my son, my flesh, my fruit of life, 
 
 My travail, and the year's weight of my womb, 
 
 Meleager, a fire enkindled of mine hands 1895 
 
 And of mine hands extinguished; this is he. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 gods, what word has flown out at thy mouth? 
 
 ALTHAEA 
 
 1 did this and I say this and I die. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Death stands upon the doorway of thy lips, 
 
 And in thy mouth has death set up in his house. 1900 
 
 ALTHiEA 
 
 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. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 83 
 
 ALTH^A 
 
 Girls, one thing will I say and hold my peace. 1905 
 
 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 1910 
 
 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 1915 
 
 As one made drunk with living, whence he draws 
 
 Drunken delight; yet I, though mad for joy, 
 
 Loathe my long living and am waxen red 
 
 As with the shadow of shed blood; behold, 
 
 I am kindled with the flames that fade in him, 1920 
 
 I am swollen with subsiding of his veins, 
 
 I am flooded with his ebbing; my lit eyes 
 
 Flame with the falling fire that leaves his lids 
 
 Bloodless; my cheek is luminous with blood 
 
 Because his face is ashen. Yet, O child, 1925 
 
 Son, first-born, fairest — O sweet mouth, sweet eyes, 
 
 That drew my life out through my suckling breast, 
 
 That shone and clove mine heart through — soft knees 
 
 Clinging, O tender treadings of soft feet, 
 
 Cheeks warm with little kissings — O child, child, 1930 
 
 What have we made each other? Lo, I felt 
 
 Thy weight cleave to me, a burden of beauty, O son, 
 
 Thy cradled brows and loveliest loving lips, 
 
 The floral hair, the little lightening eyes, 
 
84 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechlheus 
 
 And all thy goodly glory; with mine hands 1935 
 
 Delicately I fed thee, with my tongue 
 
 Tenderly spake, saying, Verily in God's time, 
 
 For all the little likeness of thy limbs, 
 
 Son, I shall make thee a kingly man to fight, 
 
 A lordly leader; and hear before I die, 1940 
 
 "She bore the goodliest sword of all the world." 
 
 Oh! oh! For all my life turns round on me; 
 
 I am severed from myself, my name is gone, 
 
 My name that was a healing, it is changed, 
 
 My name is a consuming. From this time, 1945 
 
 Though mine eyes reach to the end of all these things, 
 
 My lips shall not unfasten till I die. 
 
 SEMICHORUS 
 
 She has filled with sighing the city 
 
 And the ways thereof with tears; 
 She arose, she girdled her sides, 1950 
 
 She set her face as a bride's; 
 She wept, and she had no pity; 
 
 Trembled and felt no fears. 
 
 SEMICHORUS 
 
 Her eyes were clear as the sun, 
 
 Her brows were fresh as the day; 1955 
 
 She girdled herself with gold, 
 Her robes were manifold; 
 But the days of her worship are done, 
 
 Her praise is taken away. 
 
Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 85 
 
 SEMICHORUS 
 
 For she set her hand to the fire, 1960 
 
 With her mouth she kindled the same; 
 
 As the mouth of a flute-player, 
 
 So was the mouth of her; 
 
 With the might of her strong desire 
 
 She blew the breath of the flame. 1965 
 
 SEMICHORUS 
 
 She set her hand to the wood, 
 
 She took the fire in her hand; 
 As one who is nigh to death, 
 She panted with strange breath; 
 She opened her lips unto blood, 1970 
 
 She breathed and kindled the brand. 
 
 SEMICHORUS 
 
 As a wood-dove newly shot, 
 
 She sobbed and lifted her breast; 
 She sighed and covered her eyes, 
 Filling her lips with sighs; 1975 
 
 She sighed, she withdrew herself not, 
 
 She refrained not, taking not rest; 
 
 SEMICHORUS 
 
 But as the wind which is drouth, 
 
 And as the air which is death, 
 As storm that severeth ships, 1980 
 
 Her breath severing her lips, 
 The breath came forth of her mouth 
 
 And the fire came forth of her breath. 
 
86 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 SECOND MESSENGER 
 
 Queen, and you maidens, there is come on us 
 
 A thing more deadly than the face of death; 1985 
 
 Meleager the good lord is as one slain. 
 
 SEMICHORUS 
 
 Without sword, without sword is he stricken; 
 Slain, and slain without hand. 
 
 SECOND MESSENGER 
 
 For as keen ice divided of the sun 
 
 His limbs divide, and as thawed snow the flesh 1990 
 
 Thaws from off all his body to the hair. 
 
 SEMICHORUS 
 
 He wastes as the embers quicken; 
 With the brand he fades as a brand. 
 
 SECOND MESSENGER 
 
 Even while they sang and all drew hither and he 
 
 Lifted both hands to crown the Arcadian's hair 1995 
 
 Ans fixed the looser leaves, both hands fell down. 
 
 SEMICHORUS 
 
 With rending of cheek and of hair 
 Lament ye, mourn for him, weep. 
 
 SECOND MESSENGER 
 
 Straightway the crown slid off and smote on earth, 
 First fallen; and he, grasping his own hair, groaned 2000 
 And cast his raiment round his face and fell. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 87 
 
 SEMICHORUS 
 
 Alas for visions that were, 
 
 And soothsayings spoken in sleep. 
 
 SECOND MESSENGER 
 
 But the king twitched his reins in and leapt down 
 And caught him, crying out twice "O child" and 
 
 thrice, 2005 
 
 So that men's eyelids thickened with their tears. 
 
 SEMICHORUS 
 
 Lament with a long lamentation, 
 Cry, for an end is at hand. 
 
 SECOND MESSENGER 
 
 O son, he said, son, lift thine eyes, draw breath, 
 
 Pity me; but Meleager with sharp lips 2010 
 
 Gasped; and his face waxed like as sunburnt grass. 
 
 SEMICHORUS 
 
 Cry aloud, thou kingdom, O nation, 
 O stricken, a ruinous land. 
 
 SECOND MESSENGER 
 
 Whereat king (Eneus, straightening feeble knees, 
 
 With feeble hands heaved up a lessening weight, 2015 
 
 And laid him sadly in strange hands, and wept. 
 
 SEMICHORUS 
 
 Thou art smitten, her lord, her desire, 
 Thy dear blood wasted as rain. 
 
88 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 SECOND MESSENGER 
 
 And they with tears and rendings of the beard 
 
 Bear hither a breathing body, wept upon 2020 
 
 And lightening at each footfall, sick to death. 
 
 SEMICHORUS 
 
 Thou madest thy sword as a fire, 
 With fire for a sword thou art slain. 
 
 SECOND MESSENGER 
 
 And lo, the feast turned funeral, and the crowns 
 
 Fallen; and the huntress and the hunter trapped; 2025 
 
 And weeping and changed faces and veiled hair. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Let your hands meet 
 
 Round the weight of my head; 
 Lift ye my feet 
 
 As the feet of the dead; 2030 
 
 For the flesh of my body is molten, the limbs of it molten 
 as lead. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 O thy luminous face, 
 
 Thine imperious eyes! 
 O the grief, O the grace 
 
 As of day when it dies! 2035 
 
 Who is this bending over thee, lord, with tears and sup- 
 pression of sighs? 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 89 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Is a bride so fair? 
 
 Is a maid so meek? 
 With unchapleted hair, 
 
 With unfilleted cheek, 2040 
 
 Atalanta, the pure among women, whose name is as bless- 
 ing to speak. 
 
 ATALANTA 
 
 I would that with feet 
 
 Unsandalled, unshod, 
 Overbold, overfleet, 
 
 I had swum not nor trod 2045 
 
 From Arcadia to Calydon northward, a blast of the envy 
 of God. 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Unto each man his fate; 
 Unto each as he saith 
 In whose fingers the weight 
 
 Of the world is as breath; 2050 
 
 Yet I would that in clamour of battle mine hands had laid 
 hold upon death. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Not with cleaving of shields 
 
 And their clash in thine ear, 
 When the lord of fought fields 
 
 Breaketh spearshaft from spear, 2055 
 
 Thou art broken, our lord, thou art broken, with travail 
 and labour and fear. 
 
90 Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Would God he had found me 
 
 Beneath fresh boughs! 
 Would God he had bound me 
 
 Unawares in mine house, 2060 
 
 With light in mine eyes, and songs in my lips, and a crown 
 on my brows! 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Whence art thou sent from us? 
 
 Whither thy goal? 
 How art thou rent from us, 
 
 Thou that wert whole, 2065 
 
 As with severing of eyelids and eyes, as with sundering of 
 body and soul! 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 My heart is within me 
 As an ash in the fire; 
 Whosoever hath seen me, 
 
 Without lute, without lyre, 2070 
 
 Shall sing of me grievous things, even things that were ill 
 to desire. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Who shall raise thee 
 
 From the house of the dead? 
 Or what man praise thee 
 
 That thy praise may be said? 2075 
 
 Alas thy beauty! alas thy body! alas thine head! 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 But thou, O mother, 
 The dreamer of dreams, 
 
Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 91 
 
 Wilt thou bring forth another 
 
 To feel the sun's beams 2080 
 
 When I move among shadows a shadow, and wail by 
 impassable streams? 
 
 GENEUS 
 
 What thing wilt thou leave me 
 
 Now this thing is done? 
 A man wilt thou give me, 
 A son for my son, 2085 
 
 For the light of mine eyes, the desire of my life, the desir- 
 able one? 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Thou were glad above others, 
 
 Yea, fair beyond word; 
 Thou were glad among mothers; 
 
 For each man that heard 2090 
 
 Of thee, praise there was added unto thee, as wings to the 
 feet of a bird. 
 
 CENEUS 
 
 Who shall give back 
 
 Thy face of old years 
 With travail made black, 
 
 Grown grey among fears, 2095 
 
 Mother of sorrow, mother of cursing, mother of tears? 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Though thou art as fire 
 
 Fed with fuel in vain, 
 My delight, my desire, 
 
 Is more chaste than the rain, 2100 
 
92 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 More pure than the dewfall, more holy than stars are that 
 live without stain. 
 
 ATALANTA 
 
 I would that as water 
 
 My life's blood had thawn, 
 Or as winter's wan daughter 
 
 Leaves lowland and lawn 2105 
 
 Spring-stricken, or ever mine eyes had beheld thee made 
 dark in thy dawn. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 When thou dravest the men 
 
 Of the chosen of Thrace, 
 None turned him again 
 
 Nor endured he thy face 2110 
 
 Clothed round with the blush of the battle, with light 
 from a terrible place. 
 
 CENEUS 
 
 Thou shouldst die as he dies 
 
 For whom none sheddeth tears; 
 Filling thine eyes 
 
 And fulfilling thine ears 2115 
 
 With the brilliance of battle, the bloom and the beauty, the 
 splendour of spears. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 In the ears of the world 
 
 It is sung, it is told, 
 And the light thereof hurled 
 
 And the noise thereof rolled 2120 
 
 From the Acroceraunian snow to the ford of the fleece of 
 gold. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 93 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Would God ye could carry me 
 
 Forth of all these; 
 Heap sand and bury me 
 
 By the Chersonese 2125 
 
 Where the thundering Bosphorus answers the thunder of 
 Pontic seas. 
 
 CENEUS 
 
 Dost thou mock at our praise 
 
 And the singing begun 
 And the men of strange days 
 
 Praising my son 2130 
 
 In the folds of the hills of home, high places of Calydon? 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 For the dead man no home is; 
 
 Ah, better to be 
 What the flower of the foam is 
 
 In fields of the sea, 2135 
 
 That the sea-waves might be as my raiment, the gulf- 
 stream a garment for me. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Who shall seek thee and bring 
 
 And restore thee thy day, 
 When the dove dipt her wing 
 
 And the oars won their way 2140 
 
 Where the narrowing Symplegades whitened the straits 
 of Propontis with spray? 
 
94 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Will ye crown me my tomb 
 
 Or exalt me my name, 
 Now my spirits consume, 
 
 Now my flesh is a flame? 2145 
 
 Let the sea slake it once, and men speak of me sleeping to 
 praise me or shame. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Turn back now, turn thee, 
 
 As who turns him to wake; 
 Though the life in thee burn thee, 
 
 Couldst thou bathe it and slake 2150 
 
 Where the sea-ridge of Helle hangs heavier, and east upon 
 west waters break? 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Would the winds blow me back 
 Or the waves hurl me home? 
 Ah, to touch in the track 
 
 When the pine learnt to roam 2155 
 
 Cold girdles and crowns of the sea-gods, cool blossoms of 
 water and foam! 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 The gods may release 
 
 That they made fast; 
 Thy soul shall have ease 
 
 In thy limbs at the last; 2160 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 95 
 
 But what shall they give thee for life, sweet life that is 
 overpast? 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Not the life of men's veins, 
 
 Not of flesh that conceives; 
 But the grace that remains, 
 
 The fair beauty that cleaves 2165 
 
 To the life of the rains in the grasses, the life of the dews 
 on the leaves. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Thou wert helmsman and chief; 
 
 Wilt thou turn in an hour, 
 Thy limbs to the leaf, 
 
 Thy face to the flower, 2170 
 
 Thy blood to the water, thy soul to the gods who divide 
 and devour? 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 The years are hungry, 
 
 Thy wail all their days; 
 The gods wax angry 
 
 And weary of praise; 2175 
 
 And who shall bridle their lips? and who shall straiten 
 their ways? 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 The gods guard over us 
 
 With sword and with rod; 
 Weaving shadow to cover us, 
 
 Heaping the sod, 2180 
 
 That law may fulfil herself wholly, to darken man's face 
 before God. 
 
96 Swinburne 7 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 O holy head of (Eneus, lo thy son 
 
 Guiltless, yet red from alien guilt, yet foul 
 
 With kinship of contaminated lives, 
 
 Lo, for their blood I die; and mine own blood 2185 
 
 For bloodshedding of mine is mixed therewith, 
 
 That death may not discern me from my kin. 
 
 Yet with clean heart I die and faultless hand, 
 
 Not shamefully; thou therefore of thy love 
 
 Salute me, and bid fare among the dead 2190 
 
 Well, as the dead fare; for the best man dead 
 
 Fares sadly; nathless I now faring well 
 
 Pass without fear where nothing is to fear 
 
 Having thy love about me and thy goodwill, 
 
 O father, among dark places and men dead. 2195 
 
 CENEUS 
 
 Child, I salute thee with sad heart and tears, 
 
 And bid thee comfort, being a perfect man 
 
 In fight, and honourable in the house of peace. 
 
 The gods give thee fair wage and dues of death, 
 
 And me brief days and ways to come at thee. 2200 
 
 MELEAGER 
 
 Pray thou thy days be long before thy death, 
 
 And full of ease and kingdom; seeing in death 
 
 There is no comfort and none aftergrowth, 
 
 Nor shall one thence look up and see day's dawn 
 
 Nor light upon the land whither I go. 2205 
 
 Live thou and take thy fill of days and die 
 
 When thy day comes; and make not much of death 
 
Swinburne' } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 97 
 
 Lest ere thy day thou reap an evil thing. 
 
 Thou too, the bitter mother and mother-plague 
 
 Of this my weary body — thou too, queen, 2210 
 
 The source and end, the sower and the scythe, 
 
 The rain that ripens and the drought that slays, 
 
 The sand that swallows and the spring that feeds, 
 
 To make me and unmake me — thou, I say, 
 
 Althaea, since my father's ploughshare, drawn 2215 
 
 Through fatal seedland of a female field, 
 
 Furrowed thy body, whence a wheaten ear 
 
 Strong from the sun and fragrant from the rains 
 
 I sprang and cleft the closure of thy womb, 
 
 Mother, I dying with unforgetful tongue 2220 
 
 Hail thee as holy and worship thee as just 
 
 Who art unjust and unholy; and with my knees 
 
 Would worship, but thy fire and subtlety, 
 
 Dissundering them, devour me; for these limbs 
 
 Are as light dust and crumblings from mine urn 2225 
 
 Before the fire has touched them; and my face 
 
 As a dead leaf or dead foot's mark on snow, 
 
 And all this body a broken barren tree 
 
 That was so strong, and all this flower of life 
 
 Disbranched and desecrated miserably, 2230 
 
 And minished all that god-like muscle and might 
 
 And lesser than a man's: for all my veins 
 
 Fail me, and all mine ashen life burns down. 
 
 I would thou hadst let me live; but gods averse, 
 
 But fortune, and the fiery feet of change, 2235 
 
 And time, these would not, these tread out my life, 
 
 These and not thou; me too thou hast loved, and I 
 
 Thee; but this death was mixed with all my life, 
 
 Mine end with my beginning: and this law, 
 
98 Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechthens 
 
 This only, slays me, and not my mother at all. 2240 
 
 And let no brother or sister grieve too sore, 
 
 Nor melt their hearts out on me with their tears, 
 
 Since extreme love and sorrowing overmuch 
 
 Vex the great gods, and overloving men 
 
 Slay and are slain for love's sake; and this house 2245 
 
 Shall bear much better children; why should these 
 
 Weep? but in patience let them live their lives 
 
 And mine pass by forgotten: thou alone, 
 
 Mother, thou sole and only, thou not these, 
 
 Keep me in mind a little when I die 2250 
 
 Because I was thy first-born; let thy soul 
 
 Pity me, pity even me gone hence and dead, 
 
 Though thou wert wroth, and though thou bear again 
 
 Much happier sons, and all men later born 
 
 Exceedingly excel me; yet do thou 2255 
 
 Forget not, nor think shame; I was thy son. 
 
 Time was I did not shame thee; and time was 
 
 I thought to live and make thee honourable 
 
 With deeds as great as these men's; but they live, 
 
 These, and I die; and what thing should have been 2260 
 
 Surely I know not; yet I charge thee, seeing 
 
 I am dead already, love me not the less, 
 
 Me, O my mother; I charge thee by these gods, 
 
 My father's, and that holier breast of thine, 
 
 By these that see me dying, and that which nursed, 2265 
 
 Love me not less, thy first-born: though grief come, 
 
 Grief only, of me, and of all these great joy, 
 
 And shall come always to thee; for thou knowest, 
 
 O mother, O breasts that bare me, for ye know, 
 
 O sweet head of my mother, sacred eyes, 2270 
 
 Ye know my soul albeit I sinned, ye know 
 
Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 99 
 
 Albeit I kneel not neither touch thy knees, 
 
 But with my lips I kneel, and with my heart 
 
 I fall about thy feet and worship thee. 
 
 And ye farewell now, all my friends; and ye, 2275 
 
 Kinsmen, much younger and glorious more than I, 
 
 Sons of my mother's sister; and all farewell 
 
 That were in Colchis with me, and bare down 
 
 The waves and wars that met us: and though times 
 
 Change, and though now I be not anything, 2280 
 
 Forget not me among you, what I did 
 
 In my good time; for even by all those days, 
 
 Those days and this, and your own living souls, 
 
 And by the light and luck of you that live, 
 
 And by this miserable spoil, and me 2285 
 
 Dying, I beseech you, let my name not die. 
 
 But thou, dear, touch me with thy rose-like hands, 
 
 And fasten up mine eyelids with thy mouth, 
 
 A bitter kiss; and grasp me with thine arms, 
 
 Printing with heavy lips my light waste flesh, 2290 
 
 Made light and thin by heavy-handed fate, 
 
 And with thine holy maiden eyes drop dew, 
 
 Drop tears for dew upon me who am dead, 
 
 Me who have loved thee; seeing without sin done 
 
 I am gone down to the empty weary house 2295 
 
 Where no flesh is nor beauty nor swift eyes 
 
 Nor sound of mouth nor might of hands and feet. 
 
 But thou, dear, hide my body with thy veil, 
 
 And with thy raiment cover foot and head, 
 
 And stretch thyself upon me and touch hands 2300 
 
 With hands and lips with lips; be pitiful 
 
 As thou art maiden perfect; let no man 
 
 Defile me to despise me, saying, This man 
 
100 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Died woman-wise, a woman's offering, slain 
 
 Through female fingers in his woof of life, 2305 
 
 Dishonourable; for thou hast honoured me. 
 
 And now for God's sake kiss me once and twice 
 
 And let me go; for the night gathers me, 
 
 And in the night shall no man gather fruit. 
 
 ATALANTA 
 
 Hail thou: but I with heavy face and feet 2310 
 
 Turn homeward and am gone out of thine eyes. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Who shall contend with his lords 
 Or cross them or do them wrong? 
 
 Who shall bind them as with cords? 
 
 Who shall tame them as with song? 2315 
 
 Who shall smite them as with swords? 
 
 For the hands of their kingdom are strong. 
 
ERECHTHEUS 
 A TRAGEDY 
 
 J> ral \iirapal /cat loarkipavoL nal aolSifioi, 
 
 'EXXctSos 'ipeiapa, /cXe«>ai' kdavai, baip.6viov ■KToKlfBpov. 
 
 pind. Ft. 47. 
 
 AT. rls 8k TTOipavu>p eireari Kairidecnrb^ei arpaTod; 
 
 XO. 0%TLVOS SoOXoi K€l(\r)l>T til (fCOTOS 01)8' VTT7JKOOI. 
 
 JEscn. Pers. 241-2, 
 
 101 
 
TO 
 
 MY MOTHER 
 
 103 
 
PERSONS 
 
 ERECHTHEUS. 
 
 CHORUS OF ATHENIAN ELDERS. 
 
 PRAXITHEA. 
 
 CHTHONIA. 
 
 HERALD OF EUMOLPUS. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 ATHENIAN HERALD. 
 
 ATHENA. 
 
 104 
 
ERECHTHEUS 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 Mother of life and death and all men's days, 
 
 Earth, whom I chief of all men born would bless, 
 
 And call thee with more loving lips than theirs 
 
 Mother, for of this very body of thine 
 
 And living blood I have my breath and live, 5 
 
 Behold me, even thy son, me crowned of men, 
 
 Me made thy child by that strong cunning God 
 
 Who fashions fire and iron, who begat 
 
 Me for a sword and beacon-fire on thee, 
 
 Me fosterling of Pallas, in her shade 10 
 
 Reared, that I first might pay the nursing debt, 
 
 Hallowing her fame with flower of third-year feasts, 
 
 And first bow down the bridled strength of steeds 
 
 To lose the wild wont of their birth, and bear 
 
 Clasp of man's knees and steerage of his hand, 15 
 
 Or fourfold service of his fire-swift wheels 
 
 That whirl the four-yoked chariot; me the king 
 
 Who stand before thee naked now, and cry, 
 
 O holy and general mother of all men born, 
 
 But mother most and motherliest of mine, 20 
 
 Earth, for I ask thee rather of all the Gods, 
 
 What have we done? what word mistimed or work 
 
 Hath winged the wild feet of this timeless curse 
 
 To fall as fire upon us? Lo, I stand 
 
 Here on this brow's crown of the city's head 25 
 
 105 
 
106 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 That crowns its lovely body, till death's hour 
 
 Waste it; but now the dew of dawn and birth 
 
 Is fresh upon it from thy womb, and we 
 
 Behold it born how beauteous; one day more 
 
 I see the world's wheel of the circling sun 30 
 
 Roll up rejoicing to regard on earth 
 
 This one thing goodliest, fair as heaven or he, 
 
 Worth a God's gaze or strife of Gods; but now 
 
 Would this day's ebb of their spent wave of strife 
 
 Sweep it to sea, wash it on wreck, and leave 35 
 
 A costless thing contemned; and in our stead, 
 
 Where these walls were and sounding streets of men, 
 
 Make wide a waste for tongueless water-herds 
 
 And spoil of ravening fishes; that no more 
 
 Should men say, Here was Athens. This shalt thou 40 
 
 Sustain not, nor thy son endure to see, 
 
 Nor thou to live and look on; for the womb 
 
 Bare me not base that bare me miserable, 
 
 To hear this loud brood of the Thracian foam 
 
 Break its broad strength of billowy-beating war 45 
 
 Here, and upon it as a blast of death 
 
 Blowing, the keen wrath of a fire-souled king, 
 
 A strange growth grafted on our natural soil, 
 
 A root of Thrace in Eleusinian earth 
 
 Set for no comfort to the kindly land, 50 
 
 Son of the sea's lord and our first-born foe, 
 
 Eumolpus; nothing sweet in ears of thine 
 
 The music of his making, nor a song 
 
 Toward hopes of our auspicious; for the note 
 
 Rings as for death oracular to thy sons 55 
 
 That goes before him on the sea-wind blown 
 
 Full of this charge laid on me, to put out 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 107 
 
 The brief light kindled of mine own child's life, 
 
 Or with this helmsman hand that steers the state 
 
 Run right on the under shoal and ridge of death 60 
 
 The populous ship with all its fraughtage gone 
 
 And sails that were to take the wind of time 
 
 Rent, and the tackling that should hold out fast 
 
 In confluent surge of loud calamities 
 
 Broken, with spars of rudders and lost oars 65 
 
 That were to row toward harbour and find rest 
 
 In some most glorious haven of all the world 
 
 And else may never near it: such a song 
 
 The Gods have set his lips on fire withal 
 
 Who threatens now in all their names to bring 70 
 
 Ruin; but none of these, thou knowest, have I 
 
 Chid with my tongue or cursed at heart for grief, 
 
 Knowing how the soul runs reinless on sheer death, 
 
 Whose grief or joy takes part against the Gods. 
 
 And what they will is more than our desire, 75 
 
 And their desire is more than what we will. 
 
 For no man's will and no desire of man's 
 
 Shall stand as doth a God's will. Yet, O fair 
 
 Mother, that seest me how I cast no word 
 
 Against them, plead no reason, crave no cause, 80 
 
 Boast me not blameless, nor beweep me wronged, 
 
 By this fair wreath of towers we have decked thee with, 
 
 This chaplet that we give thee woven of walls, 
 
 This girdle of gate and temple and citadel 
 
 Drawn round beneath thy bosom, and fast linked 85 
 
 As to thine heart's root — this dear crown of thine, 
 
 This present light, this city — be not thou 
 
 Slow to take heed nor slack to strengthen her, 
 
 Fare we so short-lived howsoe'er, and pay 
 
108 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 What price we may to ransom thee thy town, 
 
 Not me my life; but thou that diest not, thou, 90 
 
 Though all our house die for this people's sake, 
 
 Keep thou for ours thy crown our city, guard 
 
 And give it life the lovelier that we died. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Sun, that hast lightened and loosed by thy might 95 
 
 Ocean and Earth from the lordships of night, 
 Quickening with vision his eye that was veiled, 
 Freshening the force in her heart that had failed, 
 That sister fettered and blinded brother 
 Should have sight by thy grace and delight of each 
 
 other, 100 
 
 Behold now and see 
 
 What profit is given them of thee; 
 What wrath has enkindled with madness of mind 
 Her limbs that were bounden, his face that was blind, 
 To be locked as in wrestle together, and lighten 105 
 
 With fire that shall darken thy fire in the sky, 
 Body to body and eye against eye 
 
 In a war against kind, 
 Till the bloom of her fields and her high hills whiten 
 
 With the foam of his waves more high. 110 
 
 For the sea-marks set to divide of old 
 The kingdoms to Ocean and Earth assigned, 
 The hoar sea-fields from the cornfield's gold, 
 His wine-bright waves from her vineyards' fold, 
 
 Frail forces we find 115 
 
 To bridle the spirit of Gods or bind 
 
 Till the heat of their hearts wax cold. 
 But the peace that was stablished between them to stand 
 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 109 
 
 Is rent now in twain by the strength of his hand 
 Who stirs up the storm of his sons overbold 120 
 
 To pluck from fight what he lost of right, 
 By council and judgment of Gods that spake 
 And gave great Pallas the strife's fair stake, 
 The lordship and love of the lovely land, 
 The grace of the town that hath on it for crown 125 
 
 But a headband to wear 
 
 Of violets one-hued with her hair: 
 For the vales and the green high places of earth 
 
 Hold nothing so fair, 
 And the depths of the sea bear no such birth 130 
 
 Of the manifold births they bear. 
 Too well, too well was the great stake worth 
 A strife divine for the Gods to judge, 
 A crowned God's triumph, a foiled God's grudge, 
 Though the loser be strong and the victress wise 135 
 
 Who played long since for so large a prize, 
 The fruitful immortal anointed adored 
 Dear city of men without master or lord, 
 Fair fortress and fostress of sons born free, 
 Who stand in her sight and in thine, O sun, 140 
 
 Slaves of no man, subjects of none; 
 A wonder enthroned on the hills and sea, 
 A maiden crowned with a fourfold glory 
 That none from the pride of her head may rend, 
 Violet and olive-leaf purple and hoary, 145 
 
 Song-wreath and story the fairest of fame, 
 Flowers that the winter can blast not or bend; 
 A light upon earth as the sun's own flame 
 A name as his name, 
 
 Athens, a praise without end. 150 
 
110 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 A noise is arisen against us of waters, [Str. 1. 
 
 A sound as of battle come up from the sea. 
 Strange hunters are hard on us, hearts without pity; 
 They have staked their nets round the fair young city, 
 That the sons of her strength and her virgin daugh- 
 ters 155 
 Should find not whither alive to flee. 
 And we know not yet of the word unwritten, [Ant. 1. 
 
 The doom of the Pythian we have not heard; 
 From the navel of earth and the veiled mid altar 
 We wait for a token with hopes that falter, 160 
 
 With fears that hang on our hearts thought-smitten 
 
 Lest her tongue be kindled with no good word. 
 O thou not born of the womb, nor bred [Str. 2. 
 
 In the bride-night's warmth of a changed God's bed, 
 But thy life as a lightning was flashed from the light of thy 
 father's head. 165 
 
 O chief God's child by a motherless birth, 
 If aught in thy sight we indeed be worth, 
 Keep death from us thou, that art none of the Gods of the 
 dead under earth. 
 Thou that hast power on us, save, if thou wilt; [Ant. 2. 
 Let the blind wave breach not thy wall scarce built; 170 
 But bless us not so as by bloodshed, impute not for grace 
 to us guilt, 
 Nor by price of pollution of blood set us free; 
 Let the hands be taintless that clasp thy knee, 
 Nor a maiden be slain to redeem for a maiden her shrine 
 from the sea. 
 O earth, O sun, turn back [Str. 3. 
 
 Full on his deadly track 176 
 
 Death, that would smite you black and mar your creatures, 
 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 111 
 
 And with one hand disroot 
 All tender flower and fruit, 
 With one strike blind and mute the heaven's fair fea- 
 tures, 180 
 Pluck out the eyes of morn, and make 
 Silence in the east and blackness whence the bright songs 
 break 
 Help, earth, help, heaven, that hear [Ant. 3. 
 The song-notes of our fear, 
 Shrewd notes and shrill, not clear or joyful-sounding; 185 
 Hear, highest of Gods, and stay 
 Death on his hunter's way, 
 Full on his forceless prey his 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 195 
 
 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 205 
 
 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, 
 
112 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 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, 216 
 
 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, 
 
 Blind, Love, they have 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 225 
 
 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, 235 
 
 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. 
 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 113 
 
 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 
 
 245 
 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 255 
 
 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 hold thee or the Gods in hate 265 
 
 Hearing; but if my heart abhor it heard 
 
114 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Being insubmissive, hold me not thy wife 
 But use me, like a stranger, whom thine hand 
 Hath fed by chance and finding thence no thanks 
 Flung off for shame's sake to forgetfulness. 270 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 O, of what breath shall such a word be made, 
 Or from what heart find utterance? Would my tongue 
 Were rent forth rather from the quivering root 
 Than made as fire or poison thus for thee. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 But if thou speak of blood, and I that hear 275 
 
 Be chosen of all for this land's love to die 
 And save to thee thy city, know this well, 
 Happiest I hold me of her seed alive. 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 O sun that seest, what saying was this of thine, 
 
 God, that thy power has breathed into my lips? 280 
 
 For from no sunlit shrine darkling it came. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 What portent from the mid oracular place 
 Hath smitten thee so like a curse that flies 
 Wingless, to waste men with its plagues? yet speak. 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 Thy blood the Gods require not; take this first. 285 
 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 115 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 To me than thee more grievous this should sound. 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 That word rang truer and bitterer than it knew. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 This is not then thy grief, to see me die? 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 Die shalt thou not, yet give thy blood to death. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 If this ring worse I know not; strange it rang. 290 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 Alas, thou knowest not; woe is me that know. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 And woe shall mine be, knowing; yet halt not here. 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 Guiltless of blood this state may stand no more. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 Firm let it stand whatever bleed or fall. 
 
116 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 O Gods, that I should say it shall and weep. 295 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 Weep, and say this? no tears should bathe such words. 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 Woe's me that I must weep upon them, woe. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 What stain is on them for thy tears to cleanse? 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 A stain of blood unpurgeable with tears. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 Whence? for thou sayest it is and is not mine. 300 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 Hear then and know why only of all men I 
 
 That bring such news as mine is, I alone 
 
 Must wash good words with weeping; I and thou, 
 
 Woman, must wail to hear men sing, must groan 
 
 To see their joy who love us; all our friends 305 
 
 Save only we, and all save we that love 
 
 This holiness of Athens, in our sight 
 
 Shall lift their hearts up, in our hearing praise 
 
 Gods whom we may not; for to these they give 
 
 Life of their children, flower of all their seed, 310 
 
 For all their travail fruit, for all their hopes 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 117 
 
 Harvest; but we for all our good things, we 
 Have at their hands which fill all these folk full 
 Death, barrenness, child-slaughter, curses, cares, 
 Sea-leaguer and land-shipwreck; which of these, 315 
 
 Which wilt thou first give thanks for? all are thine. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 What first they give who give this city good, 
 
 For that first given to save it I give thanks 
 
 First, and thanks heartier from a happier tongue, 
 
 More than for any my peculiar grace 320 
 
 Shown me and not my country; next for this, 
 
 That none of all these but for all these I 
 
 Must bear my burden, and no eye but mine 
 
 Weep of all women's in this broad land born 
 
 Who see their land's deliverance; but much more, 325 
 
 But most for this I thank them most of all, 
 
 That this their edge of doom is chosen to pierce 
 
 My heart and not my country's; for the sword 
 
 Drawn to smite there and sharpened for such stroke 
 
 Should wound more deep than any turned on me. 330 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Well fares the land that bears such fruit, and well 
 The spirit that breeds such thought and speech in man. 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 woman, thou hast shamed my heart with thine, 
 
 To show so strong a patience; take then all; 
 
 For all shall break not nor bring down thy soul. 335 
 
 The word that journeying to the bright God's shrine 
 
118 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Who speaks askance and darkling, but his name 
 
 Hath in it slaying and ruin broad writ out, 
 
 I heard, hear thou: thus saith he; There shall die 
 
 One soul for all this people; from thy womb 340 
 
 Came forth the seed that here on dry bare ground 
 
 Death's hand must sow untimely, to bring forth 
 
 Nor blade nor shoot in season, being by name 
 
 To the under Gods made holy, who require 
 
 For this land's life her death and maiden blood 345 
 
 To save a maiden city. Thus I heard, 
 
 And thus with all said leave thee; for save this 
 
 No word is left us, and no hope alive. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 He hath uttered too surely his wrath not obscurely, nor 
 wrapt as in mists of his breath, [Str. 
 
 The master that lightens not hearts he enlightens, but 
 gives them foreknowledge of death. 350 
 
 As a bolt from the cloud hath he sent it aloud and pro- 
 claimed it afar, 
 From the darkness and height of the horror of night hath 
 he shown us a star. 
 Star may I name it and err not, or flame shall I say, 
 Born of the womb that was born for the tomb of the 
 day? 
 O Night, whom other but thee for mother, and Death for 
 the father, Night, [Ant. 
 
 Shall we dream to discover, save thee and thy lover, to 
 bring such a sorrow to sight? 356 
 
 From the slumberless bed for thy bed-fellow spread and 
 his bride under earth 
 Hast thou brought forth a wild and insatiable child, an 
 unbearable birth. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 119 
 
 Fierce are the fangs of his wrath, and the pangs that 
 
 they give; 
 None is there, none that may bear them, not one that 
 
 would live. 360 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 Forth of the fine-spun folds of veils that hide 
 My virgin chamber toward the full-faced sun 
 I set my foot not moved of mine own will, 
 Unmaidenlike, nor with unprompted speed 
 Turn eyes too broad or doglike unabashed 365 
 
 On reverend heads of men and thence on thine, 
 Mother, now covered from the light and bowed 
 As hers who mourns her brethern; but what grief 
 Bends thy blind head thus earthward, holds thus mute, 
 I know not till thy will be to lift up 370 
 
 Toward mine thy sorrow-muffled eyes and speak; 
 And till thy will be would I know this not. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 Old men and childless, or if sons ye have seen 
 
 And daughters, elder-born were these than mine, 
 
 Look on this child, how young of years, how sweet, 375 
 
 How scant of time and green of age her life 
 
 Puts forth its flower of girlhood; and her gait 
 
 How virginal, how soft her speech, her eyes 
 
 How seemly smiling; wise should all ye be, 
 
 All honourable and kindly men of age; 380 
 
 Now give me counsel and one word to say 
 
 That I may bear to speak, and hold my peace 
 
 Henceforth for all time even as all ye now. 
 
 Dumb are ye all, bowed eyes and tongueless mouths, 
 
120 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Unprofitable; if this were wind that speaks, 385 
 
 As much its breath might move you. Thou then, child, 
 
 Set thy sweet eyes on mine; look through them well; 
 
 Take note of all the writing of my face 
 
 As of a tablet or a tomb inscribed 
 
 That bears me record; lifeless now, my life 390 
 
 Thereon that was think written; brief to read, 
 
 Yet shall the scripture sear thine eyes as fire 
 
 And leave them dark as dead men's. Nay, dear child, 
 
 Thou hast no skill, my maiden, and no sense 
 
 To take such knowledge; sweet is all thy lore, 395 
 
 And all this bitter; yet I charge thee learn 
 
 And love and lay this up within thine heart, 
 
 Even this my word ; less ill it were to die 
 
 Than live and look upon thy mother dead, 
 
 Thy mother-land that bare thee; no man slain 400 
 
 But him who hath seen it shall men count unblest, 
 
 None blest as him who hath died and seen it not. 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 That sight some God keep from me though I die. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 A God from thee shall keep it; fear not this. 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 Thanks all my life long shall he gain of mine. 405 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 Short gain of all yet shall he get of thee. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 121 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 Brief be my life, yet so long live my thanks. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 So long? so little; how long shall they live? 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 Even while I see the sunlight and thine eyes. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 Would mine might shut ere thine upon the sun. 410 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 For me thou pray est unkindly; change that prayer. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 Not well for me thou sayest, and ill for thee. 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 Nay, for me well, if thou shalt live, not I. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 How live, and lose these loving looks of thine? 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 It seems I too, thus praying, then, love thee not. 415 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 Lov'st thou not life? what wouldst thou do to die? 
 
122 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 Well, but not more than all things, love I life. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 And fain wouldst keep it as thine age allows? 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 Fain would I live, and fain not fear to die. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 That I might bid thee die not! Peace; no more. 420 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 A godlike race of grief the Gods have set 
 
 For these to run matched equal, heart with heart. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 Child of the chief of Gods, and maiden crowned, 
 
 Queen of these towers and fostress of their king, 
 
 Pallas, and thou my father's holiest head, 425 
 
 A living well of life nor stanched nor stained, 
 
 O God Cephisus, thee too charge I next, 
 
 Be to me judge and witness; nor thine ear 
 
 Shall now my tongue invoke not, thou to me 
 
 Most hateful of things holy, mournfullest 430 
 
 Of all old sacred streams that wash the world, 
 
 Ilissus, on whose marge at flowery play 
 
 A whirlwind-footed bridegroom found my child 
 
 And rapt her northward where mine elder-born 
 
 Keeps now the Thracian bride-bed of a God 435 
 
Swinburne 9 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 123 
 
 Intolerable to seamen, but this land 
 
 Finds him in hope for her sake favourable, 
 
 A gracious son by wedlock; hear me then 
 
 Thou likewise, if with no faint heart or false 
 
 The word I say be said, the gift be given, 440 
 
 Which might I choose I had rather die than give 
 
 Or speak and die not. Ere thy limbs were made 
 
 Or thine eyes lightened, strife, thou knowest, my child, 
 
 'Twixt God and God had risen, which heavenlier name 
 
 Should here stand hallowed, whose more liberal grace 445 
 
 Should win this city's worship, and our land 
 
 To which of these do reverence; first the lord 
 
 Whose wheels make lightnings of the foam-flowered sea 
 
 Here on this rock, whose height brow-bound with dawn 
 
 Is head and heart of Athens, one sheer blow 450 
 
 Struck, and beneath the triple wound that shook 
 
 The stony sinews and stark roots of the earth 
 
 Sprang toward the sun a sharp salt fount, and sank 
 
 Where lying it lights the heart up of the hill, 
 
 A well of bright strange brine; but she that reared 455 
 
 Thy father with her same chaste fostering hand 
 
 Set for a sign against it in our guard 
 
 The holy bloom of the olive, whose hoar leaf 
 
 High in the shadowy shrine of Pandrosus 
 
 Hath honour of us all; and of this strife 460 
 
 The twelve most high Gods judging with one mouth 
 
 Acclaimed her victress; wroth whereat, as wronged 
 
 That she should hold from him such prize and place, 
 
 The strong king of the tempest-rifted sea 
 
 Loosed reinless on the low Thriasian plain 465 
 
 The thunders of his chariots, swallowing stunned 
 
 Earth, beasts, and men, the whole blind foundering world 
 
124 Swinburne's Atalania in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 That was the sun's at morning, and ere noon 
 
 Death's; nor this only prey fulfilled his mind; 
 
 For with strange crook-toothed prows of Carian folk 470 
 
 Who snatch a sanguine life out of the sea, 
 
 Thieves keen to pluck their bloody fruit of spoil 
 
 From the grey fruitless waters, has their God 
 
 Furrowed our shores to waste them, as the fields 
 
 Were landward harried from the north with swords 475 
 
 Aonian, sickles of man-slaughtering edge 
 
 Ground for no hopeful harvest of live grain 
 
 Against us in Bceotia; these being spent, 
 
 Now this third time his wind of wrath has blown 
 
 Right on this people a mightier wave of war, 480 
 
 Three times more huge a ruin; such its ridge 
 
 Foam-rimmed and hollow like the womb of heaven, 
 
 But black for shining, and with death for life 
 
 Big now to birth and ripe with child, full-blown 
 
 With fear and fruit of havoc, takes the sun 485 
 
 Out of our eyes, darkening the day, and blinds 
 
 The fair sky's face unseasonably with change, 
 
 A cloud in one and billow of battle, a surge 
 
 High reared as heaven with monstrous surf of spears 
 
 That shake on us their shadow, till men's heads 490 
 
 Bend, and their hearts even with its forward wind 
 
 Wither, so blasts all seed in them of hope 
 
 Its breath and blight of presage; yea, even now 
 
 The winter of this wind out of the deeps 
 
 Makes cold our trust in comfort of the Gods 495 
 
 And blinds our eye toward outlook; yet not here, 
 
 Here never shall the Thracian plant on high 
 
 For ours his father's symbol, nor with wreaths 
 
 A strange folk wreathe it upright set and crowned 
 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 125 
 
 Here where our natural people born behold 500 
 
 The golden Gorgon of the shield's defence 
 
 That screens their flowering olive, nor strange Gods 
 
 Be graced, and Pallas here have praise no more. 
 
 And if this be not I must give my child, 
 
 Thee, mine own very blood and spirit of mine, 505 
 
 Thee to be slain. Turn from me, turn thine eyes 
 
 A little from me; I can bear not yet 
 
 To see if still they smile on mine or no, 
 
 If fear make faint the light in them, or faith 
 
 Fix them as stars of safety. Need have we, 510 
 
 Sore need of stars that set not in mid storm, 
 
 Lights that outlast the lightnings; yet my heart 
 
 Endures not to make proof of thine or these, 
 
 Not yet to know thee whom I made, and bare 
 
 What manner of woman; had I borne thee man, 515 
 
 I had made no question of thine eyes or heart, 
 
 Nor spared to read the scriptures in them writ, 
 
 Wert thou my son; yet couldst thou then but die 
 
 Fallen in sheer fight by chance and charge of spears 
 
 And have no more of memory, fill no tomb 520 
 
 More famous than thy fellows in fair field, 
 
 Where many share the grave, many the praise; 
 
 But one crown shall one only girl my child 
 
 Wear, dead for this dear city, and give back life 
 
 To him that gave her and to me that bare, 525 
 
 And save two sisters living; and all this, 
 
 Is this not all good? I shall give thee, child, 
 
 Thee but by fleshly nature mine, to bleed 
 
 For dear land's love; but if the city fall 
 
 What part is left me in my children then? 530 
 
 But if it stand and thou for it lie dead, 
 
126 Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Then hast thou in it a better part than we, 
 
 A holier portion than we all; for each 
 
 Hath but the length of his own life to live, 
 
 And this most glorious mother-land on earth 535 
 
 To worship till that life have end; but thine 
 
 Hath end no more than hers; thou, dead, shalt live 
 
 Till Athens live not; for the days and nights 
 
 Given of thy bare brief dark dividual life, 
 
 Shall she give thee half all her agelong own 540 
 
 And all its glory; for thou givest her these; 
 
 But with one hand she takes and gives again 
 
 More than I gave or she requires of thee. 
 
 Come therefore, I will make thee fit for death, 
 
 I that could give thee, dear, no gift at birth 545 
 
 Save of light life that breathes and bleeds, even I 
 
 Will help thee to this better gift than mine 
 
 And lead thee by this little Jiving hand 
 
 That death shall make so strong, to that great end 
 
 Whence it shall lighten like a God's, and strike 550 
 
 Dead the strong heart of battle that would break 
 
 Athens; but ye, pray for this land, old men, 
 
 That it may bring forth never child on earth 
 
 To love it less, for none may more, than we. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 
 Out of the north wind grief came forth, [Str. 1. 
 
 And the shining of a sword out of the sea. 556 
 
 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 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 127 
 
 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, 565 
 
 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, 576 
 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 Hasmus 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, 585 
 
 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 friend's sight, 590 
 
 To be scattered with slumber and slain ere light; 
 Such a breath of such a bridegroom in that hour 
 
128 Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechthcus 
 
 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, 596 
 
 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, 605 
 
 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, 615 
 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 
 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 129 
 
 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 625 
 
 Needs a new Gang 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, 635 
 
 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 645 
 
 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 
 
130 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 If heart be his to hearken, him bid forth 650 
 
 To try if one be in the sun's sight born 
 Of all that grope and grovel on dry ground 
 That may join hands in battle-grip for death 
 With them whose seed and strength is of the sea. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Know thou this much for all thy loud blast blown, 655 
 
 We lack not hands to speak with, swords to plead, 
 
 For proof of peril, not of boisterous breath, 
 
 Sea-wind and storm of barren mouths that foam 
 
 And rough rock's edge of menace; and short space 
 
 May lesson thy large ignorance and inform 660 
 
 This insolence with knowledge if there live 
 
 Men earth-begotten of no tenderer thews 
 
 Than knit the great joints of the grim sea's brood 
 
 With hasps of steel together; heaven to help, 
 
 One man shall break, even on their own flood's verge, 665 
 
 That iron bulk of battle; but thine eye 
 
 That sees it now swell higher than sand or shore 
 
 Haply shall see not when thine host shall shrink. 
 
 HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 
 
 Not haply, nay, but surely, shall not thine. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 That lot shall no God give who fights for thee. 670 
 
 HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 
 
 Shall Gods bear bit and bridle, fool, of men? 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 131 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Nor them forbid we nor shalt thou constrain. 
 
 HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 
 
 Yet say'st thou none shall make the good lot mine? 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Of thy side none, nor moved for fear of thee. 
 
 HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 
 
 Gods hast thou then to baffle Gods of ours? 675 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Nor thine nor mine, but equal-souled are they. 
 
 HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 
 
 Toward good and ill, then, equa]-eyed of soul? 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Nay, but swift-eyed to note where ill thoughts breed. 
 
 HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 
 
 Thy shaft word-feathered flies yet far of me. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Pride knows not, wounded, till the heart be cleft. 680 
 
 HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 
 
 No shaft wounds deep whose wing is plumed with words. 
 
132 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Lay that to heart, and bid thy tongue learn grace. 
 
 HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 
 
 Grace shall thine own crave soon too late of mine. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Boast thou till then, but I wage words no more. 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 Man, what shrill wind of speech and wrangling air 
 Blows in our ears a summons from thy lips 
 Winged with what message, or what gift or grace 
 Requiring? none but what his hand may take 
 Here may the foe think hence to reap, nor this 
 Except some doom from Godward yield it him. 
 
 HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 
 
 King of this land-folk, by my mouth to thee 
 Thus saith the son of him that shakes thine earth, 
 Eumolpus; now the stakes of war are set, 
 For land or sea to win by throw and wear; 
 Choose therefore or to quit thy side and give 
 The palm unfought for to his bloodless hand, 
 Or by that father's sceptre, and the foot 
 Whose tramp far off makes tremble for pure fear 
 Thy soul-struck mother, piercing like a sword 
 The immortal womb that bare thee; by the waves 
 That no man bridles and that bound thy world, 
 And by the winds and storms of all the sea, 
 He swears to raze from eveshot of the sun 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 133 
 
 This city named not of his father's name, 
 
 And wash to deathward down one flood of doom 705 
 
 This whole fresh brood of earth yeaned naturally, 
 
 Green yet and faint in its first blade, unblown 
 
 With yellow hope of harvest; so do thou, 
 
 Seeing whom thy time is come to meet, for fear 
 
 Yield, or gird up thy force to fight and die. 710 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 To fight then be it; for if to die or live, 
 
 No man but only a God knows this much yet 
 
 Seeing us fare forth, who bear but in our hands 
 
 The weapons not the fortunes of our fight; 
 
 For these now rest as lots that yet undrawn 715 
 
 Lie in the lap of the unknown hour; but this 
 
 I know, not thou, whose hollow mouth of storm 
 
 Is but a warlike wind, a sharp salt breath 
 
 That bites and wounds not; death nor life of mine 
 
 Shall give to death or lordship of strange kings 720 
 
 The soul of this live city, nor their heel 
 
 Bruise her dear brow discrowned, nor snaffle or goad 
 
 Wound her free mouth or stain her sanguine side 
 
 Yet masterless of man; so bid thy lord 
 
 Learn ere he weep to learn it, and too late 725 
 
 Gnash teeth that could not fasten on her flesh, 
 
 And foam his life out in dark froth of blood 
 
 Vain as a wind's waif of the loud-mouthed sea 
 
 Torn from the wave's edge whitening. Tell him this; 
 
 Though thrice his might were mustered for our scathe 730 
 
 And thicker set with fence of thorn-edged spears 
 
 Than sands are whirled about the wintering beach 
 
 When storms have swoln the rivers, and their blasts 
 
134 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Have breached the broad sea-banks with stress of sea, 
 
 That waves of inland and the main make war 735 
 
 As men that mix and grapple; though his ranks 
 
 Were more to number than all wildwood leaves 
 
 The wind waves on the hills of all the world, 
 
 Yet should the heart not faint, the head not fall, 
 
 The breath not fail of Athens. Say, the Gods 740 
 
 From lips that have no more on earth to say 
 
 Have told thee this the last good news or ill 
 
 That I shall speak in sight of earth and sun 
 
 Or he shall hear and see them: for the next 
 
 That ear of his from tongue of mine may take 745 
 
 Must be the first word spoken underground 
 
 From dead to dead in darkness. Hence; make haste, 
 
 Lest war's fleet foot be swifter than thy tongue 
 
 And I that part not to return again 
 
 On him that comes not to depart away 750 
 
 Be fallen before thee; for the time is full, 
 
 And with such mortal hope as knows not fear 
 
 I go this high last way to the end of all. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Who shall put a bridle in the mourner's lips to chasten 
 them, [Str. 1. 
 
 Or seal up the fountains of his tears for shame? 755 
 Song nor prayer nor prophecy shall slacken tears nor 
 hasten them, 
 Till grief be within him as a burnt-out flame; 
 Till the passion be broken in his breast 
 And the might thereof molten into rest, 
 And the rain of eyes that weep be dry, 760 
 
 And the breath be stilled of lips that sigh. 
 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 135 
 
 Death at last for all men is a harbour; yet they flee from it, 
 
 [Ant. 1. 
 Set sails to the storm-wind and again to sea; 
 Yet for all their labour no whit further shall they be from it, 
 Nor longer but wearier shall their life's work be. 765 
 And with anguish of travail until night 
 Shall they steer into shipwreck out of sight, 
 And with oars that break and shrouds that strain 
 Shall they drive whence no ship steers again. 
 Bitter and strange is the word of the God most high, [Str . 2. 
 And steep the strait of his way, 771 
 
 Through a pass rock-rimmed and narrow the light that 
 
 gleams 
 On the faces of men falls faint as the dawn of dreams, 
 The dayspring of death as a star in an under sky 
 
 Where night is the dead men's day. 775 
 
 As darkness and storm is his will that on earth is done, 
 
 [Ant. 2. 
 As a cloud is the face of his strength. 
 King of kings, holiest of holies, and mightiest of might, 
 Lord of the lords of thine heaven that are humble in thy 
 
 sight, 
 Hast thou set not an end for the path of the fires of the sun, 
 
 780 
 
 To appoint him a rest at length? 
 
 Hast thou told not by measure the waves of the waste wide 
 
 sea, [Str. 2. 
 
 And the ways of the wind their master and thrall to thee? 
 
 Hast thou filled not the furrows with fruit for the 
 
 world's increase? 
 
 Has thine ear not heard from of old or thine eye not read 
 
 785 
 The thought and the deed of us living, the doom of us dead? 
 Hast thou made not war upon earth, and again 
 made peace? 
 Therefore, O father, that seest us whose lives are a breath, 
 
 [Ant. 3. 
 
136 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Take off us thy burden, and give us not wholly to death. 
 For lovely is life, and the law wherein all things 
 live, 
 And gracious the season of each, and the hour of its kind, 
 
 791 
 And precious the seed of his life in a wise man's mind; 
 But all save life for his life will a base man give. 
 But a life that is given for the life of the whole live land, 
 
 [Str. 4. 
 From a heart unspotted a gift of a spotless hand, 795 
 Of pure will perfect and free, for the land's life's sake, 
 What man shall fear not to put forth his hand and take? 
 For the fruit of a sweet life plucked in its pure green prime 
 
 [Ant. 4. 
 On his hand who plucks is as blood, on his soul as crime. 
 With cursing ye buy not blessing, nor peace with strife, 800 
 And the hand is hateful that chaffers with death for life. 
 Hast thou heard, O my heart, and endurest [Str. 5. 
 
 The word that is said, 
 What a garland by sentence found surest 
 
 Is wrought for what head? 805 
 
 With what blossomless flowerage of sea-foam and blood- 
 coloured foliage inwound 
 It shall crown as a heifer's for slaughter the forehead for 
 marriage uncrowned? 
 
 How the veils and the wreaths that should cover 
 
 [Ant. 5. 
 The brows of the bride 
 Shall be shed by the breath of what lover 810 
 
 And scattered aside? 
 With a blast of the mouth of what bridegroom the crowns 
 
 shall be cast from her hair, 
 And her head by what altar made humble be left of them 
 
 naked and bare? 
 At a shrine unbeloved of a God unbeholden a gift shall be 
 given for the land, [Str. 6. 
 
Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 137 
 
 That its ramparts though shaken with clamour and horror 
 
 of manifold waters may stand: 815 
 
 That the crests of its citadels crowned and its turrets that 
 
 thrust up their heads to the sun 
 May behold him unblinded with darkness of waves over- 
 mastering their bulwarks begun. 
 As a bride shall they bring her, a prey for the bridegroom, a 
 flower for the couch of her lord; [Ant. 6. 
 
 They shall muffle her mouth that she cry not or curse them, 
 
 and cover her eyes from the sword. 
 
 They shall fasten her lips as with bit and with bridle, and 
 
 darken the light of her face, 820 
 
 That the soul of the slayer may not falter, his heart be not 
 
 molten, his hand give not grace. 
 
 If she weep then, yet may none that hear take pity; 
 
 [Str. 7. 
 If she cry not, none should hearken though she cried. 
 Shall a virgin shield thine head for love, O city, 
 
 With a virgin's blood anointed as for pride? 825 
 
 Yet we held thee dear and hallowed of her favour, [Ant. 7. 
 
 Dear of all men held thy people to her heart; 
 Nought she loves the breath of blood, the sanguine 
 
 savour, 
 Who hath built with us her throne and chosen her part, 
 Bloodless are her works, and sweet [Epode. 
 
 All the ways that feel her feet; 831 
 
 From the empire of her eyes 
 Light takes life and darkness flies; 
 From the harvest of her hands 
 Wealth strikes root in prosperous lands; 835 
 
 Wisdom of her word is made; 
 At her strength is strength afraid; 
 From the beam of her bright spear 
 War's fleet foot goes back for fear; 
 
138 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 In her shrine she reared the birth 840 
 
 Fire-begotten on live earth; 
 
 Glory from her helm was shed 
 
 On his olive-shadowed head; 
 
 By no hand but his shall she 
 
 Scourage the storms back of the sea, 845 
 
 To no fame but his shall give 
 
 Grace being dead with hers to live, 
 
 And in double name divine 
 
 Half the godhead of their shrine. 
 But now with what word, with what woe may we meet 850 
 The timeless passage of piteous feet, 
 Hither that bend to the last way's end 
 
 They shall walk upon earth? 
 What song be rolled for a bride black-stoled 
 And the mother whose hand of her hand hath hold? 855 
 For anguish of heart is my soul's strength broken 
 And the tongue sealed fast that would fain have spoken, 
 To behold thee, O child of so bitter a birth 
 
 That we counted so sweet, 
 What way thy steps to what bride-feast tend, 860 
 
 What gift he must give that shall wed thee for token 
 If the bridegroom be goodly to greet. 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 People, old men of my city, lordly wise and hoar of head, 
 I a spouseless bride and crownless but with garlands of the 
 
 dead 
 From the fruitful light turn silent to my dark unchilded 
 
 bed. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Wise of word was he too surely, but with deadlier wisdom 
 wise, 866 
 
Swinburne'' s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 139 
 
 First who gave thee name from under earth, no breath 
 from upper skies, 
 
 When, foredoomed to this day's darkness, their first day- 
 light filled thine eyes. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 Child, my child that wast and art but death's and now no 
 
 more of mine, 
 Half my heart is cloven with anguish by the sword made 
 
 sharp for thine, 870 
 
 Half exalts its wing for triumph, that I bare thee thus 
 
 divine. 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 Though for me the sword's edge thirst that sets no point 
 
 against thy breast, 
 Mother, O my mother, where I drank of life and fell on rest. 
 Thine, not mine, is all the grief that marks this hour 
 
 accurst and blest. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Sweet thy sleep and sweet the bosom was that gave thee 
 sleep and birth; 875 
 
 Harder now the breast, and girded with no marriage-band 
 for girth, 
 
 Where thine head shall sleep, the namechild of the lords of 
 under earth. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 Dark the name and dark the gifts they gave thee, child, in 
 
 childbirth were, 
 Sprung from him that rent the womb of earth, a bitter seed 
 
 to bear, 
 Born with groanings of the ground that gave him way 
 
 toward heaven's dear air. 880 
 
140 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 Day to day makes answer, first to last, and life to death; 
 
 but I, 
 Born for death's sake, die for life's sake, if indeed this be to 
 
 die, 
 This my doom that seals me deathless til] the springs of 
 
 time run dry. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Children shalt thou bear to memory, that to man shalt 
 
 bring forth none; 
 Yea, the lordliest that lift eyes and hearts and songs to 
 
 meet the sun, 885 
 
 Names to fire men's ears like music till the round world's 
 
 race be run. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 I thy mother, named of Gods that wreak revenge and 
 
 brand with blame, 
 Now for thy love shall be loved as thou, and famous with 
 
 thy fame, 
 While this city's name on earth shall be for earth her 
 
 mightiest name. 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 That I may give this poor girl's blood of mine 890 
 
 Scarce yet sun-warmed with summer, this thin life 
 
 Still green with flowerless growth of seedling days, 
 
 To build again my city; that no drop 
 
 Fallen of these innocent veins on the cold ground 
 
 But shall help knit the joints of her firm walls 895 
 
 To knead the stones together, and make sure 
 
 The band about her maiden girdlestead 
 
 Once fastened, and of all men's violent hands 
 
 Inviolable for ever; these to me 
 
Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erecktheus 141 
 
 Were no such gifts as crave no thanksgiving, 900 
 
 If with one blow dividing the sheer life 
 
 I might make end, and one pang wind up all 
 
 And seal mine eyes from sorrow; for such end 
 
 The Gods give none they love not; but my heart, 
 
 That leaps up lightened of all sloth or fear 905 
 
 To take the sword's point, yet with one thought's load 
 
 Flags, and falls back, broken of wing, that halts 
 
 Maimed in mid flight for thy sake and borne down, 
 
 Mother, that in the places where I played 
 
 An arm's length from thy bosom and no more 910 
 
 Shalt find me never, nor thine eye wax glad 
 
 To mix with mine its eyesight and for love 
 
 Laugh without word, filled with sweet light, and speak 
 
 Divine dumb things of the inward spirit and heart, 
 
 Moved silently; nor hand or lip again 915 
 
 Touch hand or lip of either, but for mine 
 
 Shall thine meet only shadows of swift night, 
 
 Dreams and dead thoughts of dead things; and the bed 
 
 Thou strewedst, a sterile place for all time, strewn 
 
 For my sleep only, with its void sad sheets 920 
 
 Shall vex thee, and the unfruitful coverlid 
 
 For empty days reproach me dead, that leave 
 
 No profit of my body, but am gone 
 
 As one not worth being born to bear no seed, 
 
 A sapless stock and branchless; yet thy womb 925 
 
 Shall want not honour of me, that brought forth 
 
 For all this people freedom, and for earth 
 
 From the unborn city born out of my blood 
 
 To light the face of all men evermore 
 
 Glory; but lay thou this to thy great heart 930 
 
 Whereunder in the dark of birth conceived 
 
142 Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechiheus 
 
 Mine unlit life lay girdled with the zone 
 
 That bound thy bridal bosom; set this thought 
 
 Against all edge of evil as a sword 
 
 To beat back sorrow, that for all the world 935 
 
 Thou brought'st me forth a saviour, who shall save 
 
 Athens; for none but I from none but thee 
 
 Shall take this death for garland; and the men 
 
 Mine unknown children of unsounded years, 
 
 My sons unrisen shall rise up at thine hand, 940 
 
 Sown of thy seed to bring forth seed to thee, 
 
 And call thee most of all most fruitful found 
 
 Blessed; but me too for my barren womb 
 
 More than my sisters for their children born 
 
 Shall these give honour, yea in scorn's own place 945 
 
 Shall men set love and bring for mockery praise 
 
 And thanks for curses; for the dry wild vine 
 
 Scoffed at and cursed of all men that was I 
 
 Shall shed them wine to make the world's heart warm, 
 
 That all eyes seeing may lighten, and all ears 950 
 
 Hear and be kindled; such a draught to drink 
 
 Shall be the blood that bids this dust bring forth, 
 
 The chaliced life here spilt on this mine earth, 
 
 Mine, my great father's mother; whom I pray 
 
 Take me now gently, tenderly take home, 955 
 
 And softly lay in his my cold chaste hand 
 
 Who is called of men by my name, being of Gods 
 
 Charged only and chosen to bring men under earth, 
 
 And now must lead and stay me with his staff 
 
 A silent soul led of a silent God, 960 
 
 Toward sightless things led sightless; and on earth 
 
 I see now but the shadow of mine end, 
 
 And this last night of all for me in heaven. 
 
Swinburne' } s Alalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 143 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 Farewell I bid thee; so bid thou not me, 
 
 Lest the Gods hear and mock us; yet on these 965 
 
 I lay the weight not of this grief, nor cast 
 
 111 words for ill deeds back; for if one say 
 
 They have done men wrong, what hurt have they to hear 
 
 Or he what help to have said it? surely, child, 
 
 If one among men born might say it and live 970 
 
 Blameless, none more than I may, who being vexed 
 
 Hold yet my peace; for now through tears enough 
 
 Mine eyes have seen the sun that from this day 
 
 Thine shall see never more; and in the night 
 
 Enough has blown of evil, and mine ears 975 
 
 With wail enough the winds have filled, and brought 
 
 Too much of cloud from over the sharp sea 
 
 To mar for me the morning; such a blast 
 
 Rent from these wide void arms and helpless breast 
 
 Long since one graft of me disbranched, and bore 980 
 
 Beyond the wild ways of the unwandered world 
 
 And loud wastes of the thunder-throated sea, 
 
 Springs of the night and openings of the heaven, 
 
 The old garden of the Sun; whence never more 
 
 From west or east shall winds bring back that blow 985 
 
 From folds of opening heaven or founts of night 
 
 The flower of mine once ravished, born my child 
 
 To bear strange children; nor on wings of theirs 
 
 Shall comfort come back to me, nor their sire 
 
 Breathe help upon my peril, nor his strength 990 
 
 Raise up my weakness; but of Gods and men 
 
 I drift unsteered on ruin, and the wave 
 
 Darkens my head with imminent height, and hangs 
 
144 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Dumb, filled too full with thunder that shall leave 
 These ears death-deafened when the tide finds tongue 995 
 And all its wrath bears on them; thee, O child, 
 I help not, nor am holpen; fain, ah, fain, 
 More than was ever mother born of man, 
 Were I to help thee; fain beyond all prayer, 
 Beyond all thought fain to redeem thee, torn 1000 
 
 More timeless from me sorrowing than the dream 
 That was thy sister; so shalt thou be too, 
 Thou but a vision, shadow-shaped of sleep, 
 By grief made out of nothing; now but once 
 I touch, but once more hold thee, one more kiss 1005 
 
 This last time and none other ever more 
 Leave on thy lips and leave them. Go; thou wast 
 My heart, my heart's blood, life-blood of my life, 
 My child, my nursling: now this breast once thine 
 Shall rear again no children; never now 1010 
 
 Shall any mortal blossom born like thee 
 Lie there, nor ever with small silent mouth 
 Draw the sweet springs dry for an hour that feed 
 The blind blithe life that knows not; never head 
 Rest here to make these cold veins warm, nor eye 1015 
 Laugh itself open with the lips that reach 
 Lovingly toward a fount more loving; these 
 Death makes as all good lesser things now dead, 
 And all the latter hopes that flowered from these 
 And fall as these fell fruitless; no joy more 1020 
 
 Shall man take of thy maidenhood, no tongue 
 Praise it; no good shall eyes get more of thee 
 That lightened for thy love's sake. Now, take note, 
 Give ear, O all ye people, that my word 
 May pierce your hearts through, and the stroke that 
 cleaves 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 145 
 
 Be fruitful to them; so shall all that hear 1026 
 
 Grow great at heart with child of thought most high 
 
 And bring forth seed in season; this my child, 
 
 This flower of this my body, this sweet life, 
 
 This fair live youth I give you, to be slain, 1030 
 
 Spent, shed, poured out, and perish; take my gift 
 
 And give it death and the under Gods who crave 
 
 So much for that they give; for this is more, 
 
 Much more is this than all we; for they give 
 
 Freedom, and for a blast, an air of breath, 1035 
 
 A little soul that is not, they give back 
 
 Light for all eyes, cheer for all hearts, and life 
 
 That fills the world's width full of fame and praise 
 
 And mightier love than children's. This they give, 
 
 The grace to make thy country great, and wrest 1040 
 
 From time and death power to take hold on her 
 
 And strength to scathe for ever; and this gift, 
 
 Is this no more than man's love is or mine, 
 
 Mine and all mothers'? nay, where that seems more, 
 
 Where one loves life of child, wife, father, friend, 1045 
 
 Son, husband, mother, more than this, even there 
 
 Are all these lives worth nothing, all loves else 
 
 With this love slain and buried, and their tomb 
 
 A thing for shame to spit on; for what love 
 
 Hath a slave left to love with? or the heart 1050 
 
 Base-born and bound in bondage fast to fear, 
 
 What should it do to love thee? what hath he, 
 
 The man that hath no country? Gods nor men 
 
 Have such to friend, yoked beast-like to base life, 
 
 Vile, fruitless, grovelling at the foot of death, 1055 
 
 Landless and kinless thralls of no man's blood, 
 
 Unchilded and unmothered, abject limbs 
 
146 Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 That breed things abject; but who loves on earth 
 
 Not friend, wife, husband, father, mother, child, 
 
 Nor loves his own life for his own land's sake, 1060 
 
 But only this thing most, more this than all, 
 
 He loves all well and well of all is loved, 
 
 And this love lives for ever. See now, friends, 
 
 My countrymen, my brothers, with what heart 
 
 I give you this that of your hands again 1065 
 
 The Gods require for Athens; as I give 
 
 So give ye to them what their hearts would have 
 
 Who shall give back things better; yea, and these 
 
 I take for me to witness, all these Gods, 
 
 Were their great will more grievous than it is, 
 
 Not one but three, for this one thin-spun thread 
 
 A threefold band of children would I give 
 
 For this land's love's sake; for whose love to-day 
 
 I bid thee, child, fare deathward and farewell. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 O wofullest of women, yet of all 1075 
 
 Happiest, thy word be hallowed; in all time 
 
 Thy name shall blossom, and from strange new tongues 
 
 High things be spoken of thee; for such grace 
 
 The Gods have dealt to no man, that on none 
 
 Have laid so heavy sorrow. From this day 1080 
 
 Live thou assured of godhead in thy blood, 
 
 And in thy fate no lowlier than a God 
 
 In all good things and evil; such a name 
 
 Shall be thy child this city's, and thine own 
 
 Next hers that called it Athens. Go now forth 1085 
 
 Blest, and grace with thee to the doors of death. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 147 
 
 i 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 O city, O glory of Athens, O crown of my father's land, 
 farewell. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 For welfare is given her of thee. 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 Goddess, be good to thy people, that in them dominion 
 
 and freedom may dwell. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Turn from us the strengths of the sea. 1090 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 Let glory's and theirs be one name in the mouths of all 
 nations made glad with the sun. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 For the cloud is blown back with my breath. 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 With the long last love of mine eyes I salute thee, 
 O land where my days now are done. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 But her life shall be born of thy death. 1095 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 1 put on me the darkness thy shadow, my mother, and 
 
 symbol, 
 O Earth, of my name. 
 
148 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 For thine was her witness from birth. 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 In thy likeness I come to thee darkling, a daughter whose 
 dawn and her even are the same. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Be thine heart to her gracious, O Earth. 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 To thine own kind be kindly, for thy son's name's sake. 
 
 1100 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 That sons unborn may praise thee and thy first-born son. 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 Give me thy sleep, who give thee all my life awake. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Too swift a sleep, ere half the web of day be spun. 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 Death brings the shears or ever life wind up the weft. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Their edge is ground and sharpened; who shall stay his 
 hand? 1105 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 The woof is thin, a small short life, with no thread left. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 149 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Yet hath it strength, stretched out, to shelter all the land. 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 Too frail a tent for covering, and a screen too strait. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Yet broad enough for buckler shall thy sweet life be. 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 A little bolt to bar off battle from the gate. 1100 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 A wide sea-wall, that shatters the besieging sea. 
 
 CHTHONIA 
 
 I lift up mine eyes from the skirts of the shadow, [Str. 
 
 From the border of death to the limits of light; 
 O streams and rivers of mountain and meadow 
 
 That hallow the last of my sight, 1115 
 
 O father that wast of my mother 
 
 Cephisus, O thou too his brother 
 
 From the bloom of whose banks as a prey 
 
 Winds harried my sister away, 
 
 O crown on the world's head lying 1120 
 
 Too high for its waters to drown, 
 Take yet this one word of me dying, 
 O city, O crown. 
 Though land-wind and sea-wind with mouths that blow 
 slaughter [Ant. 
 
150 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Should gird them to battle against thee again, 1125 
 New-born of the blood of a maiden thy daughter, 
 The rage of their breath shall be vain. 
 For their strength shall be quenched and made idle, 
 And the foam of their mouths find a bridle, 
 And the height of their heads bow down 1130 
 
 At the foot of the towers of the town. 
 Be blest and beloved as I love thee 
 
 Of all that shall draw from thee breath; 
 Be thy life as the sun's is above thee; 
 
 I go to my death. 1135 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Many loves of many a mood and many a kind [Str. 1 
 Fill the life of man, and mould the secret mind; 
 Many days bring many dooms, to loose and bind; 
 Sweet is each in season, good the gift it brings, 
 Sweet as change of night and day with altering wings, 
 
 1140 
 
 Night that lulls world-weary day, day that comforts night, 
 
 Night that fills our eyes with sleep, day that fills with light. 
 
 None of all is lovelier, loftier love is none, [Ant. 1. 
 
 Less is bride's for bridegroom, mother's less for son, 
 
 Child, than this that crowns and binds up all in one; 1 145 
 
 Love of thy sweet light, thy fostering breast and hand, 
 
 Mother Earth, and city chosen, and natural land; 
 
 Hills that bring the strong streams forth, heights of 
 
 heavenlier air, 
 Fields aflower with winds and suns, woods with shadowing 
 hair. 1149 
 
 But none of the nations of men shall they liken to thee, 
 
 [Str. 2. 
 Whose children true-born and the fruit of thy body are we. 
 
 
Swinburne' s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 151 
 
 The rest are thy sons but in figure, in word are thy seed; 
 We only the flower of thy travail, thy children indeed. 
 Of thy soil hast thou fashioned our limbs, of thy waters 
 
 their blood, 
 And the life of thy springs everlasting is fount of our flood. 
 No wind oversea blew us hither adrift on thy shore, 1156 
 None sowed us by land in thy womb that conceived us and 
 
 bore. 
 But the stroke of the shaft of the sunlight that brought us 
 
 to birth 
 Pierced only and quickened thy furrows to bear us, O 
 
 Earth. 
 With the beams of his love wast thou cloven as with iron or 
 
 fire, 1160 
 
 And the life in thee yearned for his life, and grew great with 
 
 desire. . 
 And the hunger and thirst to be wounded and healed with 
 
 his dart 
 Made fruitful the love in thy veins and the depth of thine 
 
 heart. 
 And the showers out of heaven overflowing and liquid with 
 
 love 1164 
 
 Fulfilled thee with child of his godhead as rain from above. 
 Such desire had ye twain of each other, till molten in one 
 
 [Ant. 2. 
 Ye might bear and beget of your bodies the fruits of the 
 
 sun. 
 And the trees in their season brought forth and were 
 
 kindled anew 
 By the warmth of the moisture of marriage, the child- 
 bearing dew. 
 And the firstlings were fair of the wedlock of heaven and of 
 
 earth; 1170 
 
 All countries were bounteous with blossom and burgeon of 
 
 birth. 
 
152 Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Green pastures of grass for all cattle, and life-giving corn; 
 But here of thy bosom, here only, the man-child was born. 
 All races but one are as aliens engrafted or sown, 
 Strange children and changelings; but we, O our mother, 
 thine own. 1175 
 
 Thy nurslings are others, and seedlings they know not of 
 
 whom; 
 For these hast thou fostered, but us thou hast borne in thy 
 
 womb. 
 Who is he of us all, O beloved, that owe thee for birth, 
 Who would give not his blood for his birth's sake, O 
 
 mother, O Earth? 
 What landsman is he that was fostered and reared of thine 
 hand 1180 
 
 Who may vaunt him as we may in death though he died 
 
 for the land? 
 Well doth she therefore who gives thee in guerdon 
 
 The bloom of the life of thy giving; [Epode. 
 
 And thy body was bowed by no fruitless burden, 
 
 That bore such fruit of thee living. 1185 
 
 For her face was not darkened for fear, 
 For her eyelids conceived not a tear, 
 
 Nor a cry from her lips craved pity; 
 But her mouth was a fountain of song, 
 And her heart as a citadel strong 1190 
 
 That guards the heart of the city. 
 
 MESSENGER 
 
 High things of strong-souled men that loved their land 
 On brass and stone are written, and their deeds 
 On high days chanted; but none graven or sung 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 153 
 
 That ever set men's eyes or spirits on fire, 1195 
 
 Athenians, has the sun's height seen, or earth 
 
 Heard in her depth reverberate as from heaven, 
 
 More worth men's praise and good report of Gods 
 
 Than here I bring for record in your ears. 
 
 For now being come to the altar, where as priest 1200 
 
 Death ministering should meet her, and his hand 
 
 Seal her sweet eyes asleep, the maiden stood, 
 
 With light in all her face as of a bride 
 
 Smiling, or shine of festal flame by night 
 
 Far flung from towers of triumph; and her lips 1205 
 
 Trembled with pride in pleasure, that no fear 
 
 Blanched them nor death before his time drank dry 
 
 The blood whose bloom fulfilled them ; for her cheeks 
 
 Lightened, and brighter than a bridal veil 
 
 Her hair enrobed her bosom and enrolled 1210 
 
 From face to feet the body's whole soft length 
 
 As wih a cloud sun-saturate; then she spake 
 
 With maiden tongue words manlike, but her eyes 
 
 Lit mildly like a maiden's: Countrymen, 
 
 With more goodwill and height of happier heart 1215 
 
 / give me to you than my mother bare, 
 
 And go more gladly this great way to death 
 
 Than young men bound to battle. Then with face 
 
 Turned to the shadowiest part of all the shrine 
 
 And eyes fast set upon the further shade, 1220 
 
 Take me, dear Gods; and as some form had shone 
 
 From the deep hollow shadow, some God's tongue 
 
 Answered, / bless you that your guardian grace 
 
 Gives me to guard this country, takes my blood, 
 
 Your child's by name, to heal it. Then the priest 1225 
 
 Set to the flower-sweet snow of her soft throat 
 
154 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 The sheer knife's edge that severed it, and loosed 
 
 From the fair bondage of so spotless flesh 
 
 So strong a spirit; and all that girt them round 
 
 Gazing, with souls that hung on that sad stroke, 1230 
 
 Groaned, and kept silence after while a man 
 
 Might count how far the fresh blood crept, and bathed 
 
 How deep the dark robe and the bright shrine's base 
 
 Red-rounded with a running ring that grew 
 
 More large and duskier as the wells that fed 1235 
 
 Were drained of that pure effluence: but the queen 
 
 Groaned not nor spake nor wept, but as a dream 
 
 Floats out of eyes awakening so past forth 
 
 Ghost-like, a shadow of sorrow, from all sight 
 
 To the inner court and charnber where she sits 1240 
 
 Dumb, till word reach her of this whole day's end. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 More hapless born by far [Str. 
 
 Beneath some wintrier star, 
 One sits in stone among high Lydian snows, 
 
 The tomb of her own woes: 1245 
 
 Yet happiest was once of the daughters of Gods, and 
 
 divine by her sire and her lord, 
 Ere her tongue was a shaft for the hearts of her sons, for the 
 heart of her husband a sword. 
 
 For she, too great of mind, [Ant. 
 
 Grown through her good things blind, 
 With godless lips and fire of her own breath 1250 
 
 Spake all her house to death; 
 But thou, no mother unmothered, nor kindled in spirit 
 with pride of thy seed, 
 
Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 155 
 
 Thou hast hallowed thy child for a blameless blood-offering 
 and ransomed thy race by thy deed. 
 
 MESSENGER 
 
 As flower is graffed on flower, so grief on grief 
 
 Engraffed brings forth new blossoms of strange tears, 1255 
 
 Fresh buds and green fruits of an alien pain; 
 
 For now flies rumour on a dark wide wing, 
 
 Murmuring of woes more than ye knew, most like 
 
 Hers whom ye hailed most wretched; for the twain 
 
 Last left of all this house that wore last night 1260 
 
 A threefold crown of maidens, and to-day 
 
 Should let but one fall dead out of the wreath, 
 
 If mad with grief we know not and sore love 
 
 For this their sister, or with shame soul-stung 
 
 To outlive her dead or doubt lest their lives too 1265 
 
 The Gods require to seal their country safe 
 
 And bring the oracular doom to perfect end, 
 
 Have slain themselves, and fallen at the a] tar-foot 
 
 Lie by their own hands done to death; and fear 
 
 Shakes all the city as winds a wintering tree, 1270 
 
 And as dead leaves are men's hearts blown about 
 
 And shrunken with ill thoughts, and flowerless hopes 
 
 Parched up with presage, lest the piteous blood 
 
 Shed of these maidens guiltless fall and fix 
 
 On this land's forhead like a curse that cleaves 1275 
 
 To the unclean soul's inexpiate hunted head 
 
 Whom his own crime tracks hotlier than a hound 
 
 To life's veiled end unsleeping; and this hour 
 
 Now blackens toward the battle that must close 
 
 All gates of hope and fear on all their hearts 1280 
 
 Who tremble toward its issue, knowing not yet 
 
156 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 If blood may buy them surety, cleanse or soil 
 The helpless hands men raise and reach no stay. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 111 thoughts breed fear, and fear ill words; but these 
 The Gods turn from us that have kept their law. 1285 
 Let us lift up the strength of our hearts in song, [Str. 1. 
 And our souls to the height of the darkling day. 
 If the wind in our eyes blow blood for spray, 
 Be the spirit that breathes in us life more strong, 
 Though the prow reel round and the helm point wrong, 
 And sharp reefs whiten the shoreward way. 1291 
 
 For the steerman time sits hidden astern, [Ant. 1. 
 
 With dark hand plying the rudder of doom, 
 
 And the surf-smoke under it flies like fume 
 As the blast shears off and the oar-blades churn 1295 
 The foam of our lives that to death return, 
 
 Blown back as they break to the gulfing gloom. 
 What cloud upon heaven is arisen, what shadow, what 
 sound, [Str. 2. 
 
 From the world beyond earth, from the night under- 
 ground, 
 That scatters from wings unbeholden the weight of its 
 darkness around? 1300 
 
 For the sense of my spirit is broken, and blinded its eye, 
 
 [Ant. 2. 
 As the soul of a sick man ready to die, 
 With fear of the hour that is on me, with dread if an end be 
 not nigh. 
 O Earth, O Gods of the land, have ye heart now to see 
 and to hear [Str. 3. 
 
 What slays with terror mine eyesight and seals mine 
 ear? 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 157 
 
 O fountains of streams everlasting, are all ye not shrunk up 
 and withered for fear? 1306 
 
 Lo, night is arisen on the noon, and her hounds are in 
 quest by day, [Ant. 3. 
 
 And the world is fulfilled of the noise of them crying 
 for their prey, 
 And the sun's self stricken in heaven, and cast out of his 
 course as a blind man astray. 
 From east to west of the south sea-line [Str. 4. 
 
 Glitters the lightning of spears that shine; 1311 
 
 As a storm-cloud swoln that comes up from the skirts of the 
 sea 
 By the wind for helmsman to shoreward ferried, 
 So black behind them the live storm serried 
 Shakes earth with the tramp of its foot, and the terror to 
 be. 
 Shall the sea give death whom the land gave birth? 
 
 [Ant. 4. 
 O Earth, fair mother, O sweet live Earth, 1317 
 
 Hide us again in thy womb from the waves of it, help us or 
 hide. 
 As a sword is the heart of the God thy brother, 
 But thine as the heart of a new-made mother, 1320 
 To deliver thy sons from his ravin, and rage of his tide. 
 O strong north wind, the pilot of cloud and rain, [Str. 5. 
 For the gift we gave thee what gift hast thou given us 
 again? 
 O God dark-winged, deep-throated, a terror to forthfaring 
 ships by night, 
 What bride-song is this that is blown on the blast of thy 
 breath? 1325 
 
 A gift but of grief to thy kinsmen, a song but of death, 
 For the bride's folk weeping, and woe for her father, who 
 finds thee against him in fight. 
 Turn back from us, turn thy battle, take heed of our cry; 
 
 [Ant. 5. 
 
158 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Let thy dread breath sound, and the waters of war be 
 dry; 
 Let thy strong wrath shatter the strength of our foemen, 
 the sword of their strength and the shield; 1330 
 
 As vapours in heaven, or as waves or the wrecks of ships, 
 So break thou the ranks of their spears with the breath 
 of thy lips, 
 Till their corpses have covered and clothed as with raiment 
 the face of the sword-ploughed field. 
 O son of the rose-red morning, O God twin-born with the 
 day, [Str. 6. 
 
 O wind with the young sun waking, and winged for the 
 same wide way, 1335 
 
 Give up not the house of thy kin to the host thou hast 
 marshalled from northward for prey. 
 From the cold of thy cradle in Thrace, from the mists of 
 the fountains of night, [Ant. 6. 
 
 From the bride-bed of dawn whence day leaps laughing, 
 on fire for his flight, 
 Come down with their doom in thine hand on the ships 
 
 thou hast brought up against us to fight. 
 For now not in word but in deed is the harvest of spears 
 begun, [Str. 7. 
 
 And its clamour outbellows the thunder, its lightning out- 
 lightens the sun. 1341 
 From the springs of the morning it thunders and lightens 
 
 across and afar 
 To the wave where the moonset ends and the fall of the last 
 
 low star. 
 With a trampling of drenched red hoofs and an earthquake 
 
 of men that meet, 
 Strong war sets hand to the scythe, and the furrows take 
 fire from his feet. 1345 
 
Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 159 
 
 Earth groans from her great rent heart, and the hollows of 
 
 rocks are afraid, 
 And the mountains are moved, and the valleys as waves in 
 
 a storm-wind swayed. 
 From the roots of the hills to the plain's dim verge and the 
 
 dark loud shore, 
 Air shudders with shrill spears crossing, and hurtling of 
 
 wheels that roar. 
 As the grinding of teeth in the jaws of a lion that foam as 
 
 they gnash 1350 
 
 Is the shriek of the axles that loosen, the shock of the poles 
 
 that crash. 
 The dense manes darken and glitter, the mouths of the 
 
 mad steeds champ, 
 Their heads flash blind though the battle, and death's foot 
 
 rings in their tramp. 
 For a fourfold host upon earth and in heaven is arrayed for 
 
 the fight, 
 Clouds ruining in thunder and armies encountering as 
 
 clouds in the night 1355 
 
 Mine ears are amazed with the terror of trumpets, with 
 
 darkness mine eyes, 
 At the sound of the sea's host charging that deafens the 
 
 roar of the sky's. 
 White frontlet is dashed upon frontlet, and horse against 
 
 horse reels hurled, 
 And the gorge of the gulfs of the battle is wide for the spoil 
 
 of the world. 
 And the meadows are cumbered with shipwreck of chariots 
 
 that founder on land, [Ant. 7. 
 
 And the horsemen are broken with breach as of breakers, 
 
 and scattered as sand. 1361 
 
160 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Through the roar and recoil of the charges that mingle 
 
 their cries and confound, 
 Like fire are the notes of the trumpets that flash through 
 
 the darkness of sound. 
 As the swing of the sea churned yellow that sways with the 
 
 wind as it swells 
 Is the lift and relapse of the wave of the chargers that clash 
 
 with their bells; 1365 
 
 And the clang of the sharp shrill brass through the burst of 
 
 the wave as it shocks 
 Rings clean as the clear wind's cry through the roar of the 
 
 surge on the rocks: 
 And the heads of the steeds in their headgear of war, and 
 
 their corsleted breasts, 
 Gleam broad as the brows of the billows that brighten the 
 
 storm with their crests, 
 Gleam dread as their bosoms that heave to the shipwreck- 
 ing wind as they rise, 1370 
 Filled full of the terror and thunder of water, that slays as 
 
 it dies. 
 So dire is the glare of their foreheads, so fearful the fire of 
 
 their breath, 
 And the light of their eyeballs enkindled so bright with the 
 
 lightnings of death; 
 And the foam of their mouths as the sea's when the jaws of 
 
 its gulf are as graves, 
 And the ridge of their necks as the wind-shaken mane on 
 
 the ridges of waves: 1375 
 
 And their fetlocks afire as they rear drip thick with a dew- 
 fall of blood 
 As the lips of the rearing breaker with froth of the manslay- 
 
 ing flood. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 161 
 
 And the whole plain reels and resounds as the fields of the 
 
 sea by night 
 When the stroke of the wind falls darkling, and death is the 
 
 seafarer's light. 
 
 But thou, fair beauty of heaven, dear face of the day nigh 
 
 dead, [Epode. 
 
 What horror hath hidden thy glory, what hand hath 
 
 muffled thine head? 1381 
 
 O sun, with what song shall we call thee, or ward off thy 
 
 wrath by what name, 
 
 With what prayer shall we seek to thee, soothe with what 
 
 incense, assuage with what gift, 
 If thy light be such only as lightens to deathward the sea- 
 man adrift 
 With the fire of his house for a beacon, that foemen have 
 wasted with flame? 1385 
 
 Arise now, lift up thy light; give ear to us, put forth thine 
 
 hand, 
 Reach toward us thy torch of deliverance, a lamp for the 
 night of the land. 
 Thine eye is the light of the living, no lamp for the dead; 
 O, lift up the light of thine eye on the dark of our dread. 
 Who hath blinded thee? who hath prevailed on thee? 
 who hath ensnared? 1390 
 
 Who hath broken thy bow, and the shafts for thy battle 
 prepared? 
 Have they found out a fetter to bind thee, a chain for thine 
 
 arm that was bared? 
 Be the name of thy conqueror set forth, and the might of 
 thy master declared. 
 O God, fair God of the morning, glory of day, 
 
162 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 What ails thee to cast from thy forehead its garland away? 
 
 To pluck from thy temples their chaplet enwreathed of 
 
 the light, 1396 
 
 And bind on the brows of thy godhead a frontlet of 
 
 night? 
 
 Thou hast loosened the necks of thine horses, and goaded 
 
 their flanks with affright, 
 
 To the race of a course that we know not on ways that are 
 
 hid from our sight. 
 
 As a wind through the darkness the wheels of their 
 
 chariot are whirled, 1400 
 
 And the light of its passage is night on the face of the 
 
 world. 
 And there falls from the wings of thy glory no help from 
 
 on high, 
 But a shadow that smites us with fear and desire of thine 
 eye. 
 For our hearts are as reeds that a wind on the water bows 
 
 down and goes by, 
 To behold not thy comfort in heaven that hath left us un- 
 timely to die. 1405 
 But what light is it now leaps forth on the land 
 Enkindling the waters and ways of the air 
 From thy forehead made bare, 
 From the gleam of thy bow-bearing hand? 
 Hast thou set not thy left hand again to the string, 1410 
 With the back-bowed horns bent sharp for a spring 
 And the barbed shaft drawn, 
 Till the shrill steel sing and the tense nerve ring 
 That pierces the heart of the dark with dawn, 
 
 O huntsman, O king, 1415 
 
 When the flame of thy face hath twilight in chase 
 
 As a hound hath a blood-mottled fawn? 
 He has glanced into golden the grey sea-strands, 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 163 
 
 And the clouds are shot through with the fires of his hands, 
 And the height of the hollow of heaven that he fills 1420 
 As the heart of a strong man is quickened and thrills: 
 High over the folds of the low-lying lands, 
 On the shadowless hills 
 
 As a guard on his watchtower he stands. 
 All earth and all ocean, all depth and all height, 1425 
 At the flash of an eyebeam are filled with his might: 
 The sea roars backward, the storm drops dumb, 
 And silence as dew on the fire of the fight 
 Falls kind in our ears as his face in our sight 
 
 With presage of peace to come. 1430 
 
 Fresh hope in my heart from the ashes of dread 
 Leaps clear as a flame from the pyres of the dead, 
 
 That joy out of woe 
 May arise as the spring out of tempest and snow, 
 With the flower-feasted month in her hands rose-red 1435 
 Borne soft as a babe from the bearing-bed. 
 Yet it knows not indeed if a God be friend, 
 If rescue may be from the rage of the sea, 
 
 Or the wrath of its lord have end. 
 
 For the season is full now of death or of birth, 1440 
 
 To bring forth life, or an end of all; 
 
 And we know not if anything stand or fall 
 
 That is girdled about with the round sea's girth 
 As a town with its wall; 
 
 But thou that art highest of the Gods most high, 1445 
 
 That art lord if we live, that art lord though we die, 
 
 Have heed of the tongues of our terror that cry 
 For a grace to the children of Earth. 
 
164 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 ATHENIAN HERALD 
 
 Sons of Athens, heavy-laden with the holy weight of years, 
 Be your hearts as young men's lightened of their loathlier 
 
 load of fears; 1450 
 
 For the wave is sunk whose thunder shoreward shook the 
 
 shuddering lands, 
 And unbreached of warring waters Athens like a sea-rock 
 
 stands. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Well thy word has cheered us, well thy face and glittering 
 
 eyes, that spake 
 Ere thy tongue spake words of comfort: yet no pause 
 
 behoves it make 
 Till the whole good hap find utterance that the Gods have 
 
 given at length. 1455 
 
 ATHENIAN HERALD 
 
 All is this, that yet the city stands unforced by stranger 
 strength. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Sweeter sound might no mouth utter in man's ear than this 
 thy word. 
 
 ATHENIAN HERALD 
 
 Feed thy soul then full of sweetness till some bitterer note 
 be heard. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 None, if this ring sure, can mar the music fallen from 
 heaven as rain. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 165 
 
 ATHENIAN HERALD 
 
 If no fire of sun or star untimely sear the tender grain. 1460 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Fresh the dewfall of thy tidings on our hopes reflowering 
 lies. 
 
 ATHENIAN HERALD 
 
 Till a joyless shower and fruitless blight them, raining from 
 thine eyes. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Bitter springs have barren issues; these bedew grief's arid 
 sands. 
 
 ATHENIAN HERALD 
 
 Such thank-offering ask such altars as expect thy suppliant 
 hands. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Tears for triumph, wail for welfare, what strange godhead's 
 shrine requires? 1465 
 
 ATHENIAN HERALD 
 
 Death's or victory's be it, a funeral torch feeds all its festal 
 fires. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Like a star should burn the beacon flaming from our city's 
 head. 
 
 ATHENIAN HERALD 
 
 Like a balefire should the flame go up that says the king is 
 dead. 
 
166 Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Out of heaven, a wild-haired meteor, shoots this new sign, 
 scattering fear. 
 
 ATHENIAN HERALD 
 
 Yea, the word has wings of fire that hovered, loth to burn 
 thine ear. 1470 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 From thy lips it leapt forth loosened on a shrill and 
 shadowy wing. 
 
 ATHENIAN HERALD 
 
 Long they faltered, fain to hide it deep as death that hides 
 the king. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Dead with him blind hope lies blasted by the lightning of 
 one sword. 
 
 ATHENIAN HERALD 
 
 On thy tongue truth wars with error; no man's edge hath 
 touched thy lord. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 False was thine then, jangling menace like a war-steed's 
 brow-bound bell? 1475 
 
 ATHENIAN HERALD 
 
 False it rang not joy nor sorrow; but by no man's hand he 
 fell. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Vainly then good news and evil through so faint a trumpet 
 spake. 
 
Swinburne 7 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 167 
 
 ATHENIAN HERALD 
 
 All too long thy soul yet labours, as who sleeping fain would 
 
 wake, 
 Waking, fain would fall on sleep again; the woe thou know- 
 
 est not yet, 
 When thou knowest, shall make thy memory thirst and 
 
 hunger to forget. 1480 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Long my heart has hearkened, hanging on thy clamorous 
 
 ominous cry, 
 Fain yet fearful of the knowledge whence it looks to live or 
 
 die; 
 Now to take the perfect presage of thy dark and sidelong 
 
 flight 
 Comes a surer soothsayer sorrowing, sable-stoled as birds 
 
 of night. 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 Man, what thy mother bare thee born to say 1485 
 
 Speak; for no word yet wavering on thy lip 
 
 Can wound me worse than thought forestalls or fear. 
 
 ATHENIAN HERALD 
 
 I have no will to weave too fine or far, 
 
 O queen, the weft of sweet with bitter speech, 
 
 Bright words with darkling; but the brief truth shown 1490 
 
 Shall plead my pardon for a lingering tongue, 
 
 Loth yet to strike hope through the heart and slay. 
 
 The sun's light still was lordly housed in heaven 
 
 When the twain fronts of war encountering smote 
 
 First fire out of the battle; but not long 1495 
 
 Had the fresh wave of windy fight begun 
 
168 Swinburne' s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Heaving, and all the surge of swords to sway, 
 
 When timeless night laid hold of heaven, and took 
 
 With its great gorge the noon as in a gulf, 
 
 Strangled; and thicker than the shrill-winged shafts 
 
 Flew the fleet lightnings, held in chase through heavenl500 
 
 By headlong heat of thunders on their trail 
 
 Loosed as on quest of quarry; that our host 
 
 Smit with sick presage of some wrathful God 
 
 Quailed, but the foe as from one iron throat 1505 
 
 With one great sheer sole thousand-throated cry 
 
 Shook earth, heart-staggered from their shout, and clove 
 
 The eyeless hollow of heaven; and breached therewith 
 
 As with an onset of strength-shattering sound 
 
 The rent vault of the roaring noon of night 1510 
 
 From her throned seat of usurpation rang 
 
 Reverberate answer; such response there pealed 
 
 As though the tide's charge of a storming sea 
 
 Had burst the sky's wall, and made broad a breach 
 
 In the ambient girth and bastion flanked with stars 1515 
 
 Guarding the fortress of the Gods, and all 
 
 Crashed now together on ruin; and through that cry 
 
 And higher above it ceasing one man's note 
 
 Tore its way like a trumpet: Charge, make end, 
 
 Charge, halt not, strike,rend up their strength by the roots, 1520 
 
 Strike, break them, make your birthright's promise sure, 
 
 Show your hearts hardier than the fenced land breeds 
 
 And souls breathed in you from no spirit of earth, 
 
 Sons of the sea's waves; and all ears that heard 
 
 Rang with that fiery cry, that the fine air 1525 
 
 Thereat was fired, and kindling filled the plain 
 
 Full of that fierce and trumpet-quenching breath 
 
 That spake the clarions silent; no glad song 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 169 
 
 For folk to hear that wist how dire a God 
 
 Begat this peril to them, what strong race 1530 
 
 Fathered the sea-born tongue that sang them death, 
 
 Threatening; so raged through the red foam of fight 
 
 Poseidon's son Eumolpus; and the war 
 
 Quailed round him coming, and our side bore back, 
 
 As a stream thwarted by the wind and sea 1535 
 
 That meet it midway mouth to mouth, and beat 
 
 The flood back of its issue; but the king 
 
 Shouted against them, crying, O Father-God, 
 
 Source of the God my father, from thine hand 
 
 Send me what end seems good now in thy sight, 1540 
 
 But death from mine to this man; and the word 
 
 Quick on his lips yet like a blast of fire 
 
 Blew them together; and round its lord that met 
 
 Paused all the reeling battle; two main waves 
 
 Meeting, one hurled sheer from the sea-wall back 1545 
 
 That shocks it sideways, one right in from sea 
 
 Charging, that full in face takes at one blow 
 
 That whole recoil and ruin, with less fear 
 
 Startle men's eyes late shipwrecked; for a breath, 
 
 Crest fronting crest hung, wave to wave rose poised, 1550 
 
 Then clashed, breaker to breaker; cloud with cloud 
 
 In heaven, chariot with chariot closed on earth, 
 
 One fourfold flash and thunder; yet a breath. 
 
 And with the king's spear through his red heart's root 
 
 Driven, like a rock split from its hill-side, fell 1555 
 
 Hurled under his own horsehoofs dead on earth 
 
 The sea-beast that made war on earth from sea, 
 
 Dumb, with no shrill note left of storming song, 
 
 Eumolpus; and his whole host with one stroke 
 
 Spear-stricken through its dense deep iron heart 1560 
 
170 Swinburne's Atalanla in Calydon and Erechlkeus 
 
 Fell hurtling from us, and in fierce recoil 
 
 Drew seaward as with one wide wail of waves, 
 
 Resorbed with reluctation; such a groan 
 
 Rose from the fluctuant refluence of its ranks, 
 
 Sucked sullen back and strengthless; but scarce yet 1565 
 
 The steed had sprung and wheels had bruised their lord 
 
 Fallen, when from highest height of the sundering heaven 
 
 The Father for his brother's son's sake slain 
 
 Sent a sheer shaft of lightning writhen and smote 
 
 Right on his son's son's forehead, that unhelmed 1570 
 
 Shone like the star that shines down storm, and gave 
 
 Light to men's eyes that saw thy lord their king 
 
 Stand and take breath from battle; then too soon 
 
 Saw sink down as a sunset in sea-mist 
 
 The high bright head that here in van of the earth 1575 
 
 Rose like a headland, and through storm and night 
 
 Took all the sea's wrath on it; and now dead 
 
 They bring thee back by war-forsaken ways 
 
 The strength called once thy husband, the great guard 
 
 That was of all men, stay of all men's lives, 1580 
 
 They bear him slain of no man but a God, 
 
 Godlike; and toward him dead the city's gates 
 
 Fling their arms open mother-like, through him 
 
 Saved; and the whole clear land is purged of war. 
 
 What wilt thou say now of this weal and woe? 1585 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 I praise the Gods for Athens. O sweet Earth, 
 Mother, what joy thy soul has of thy son, 
 Thy life of my dead lord, mine own soul knows 
 That knows thee godlike; and what grief should mine, 
 What sorrow should my heart have, who behold 1590 
 
Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 171 
 
 Thee made so heavenlike happy? This alone 
 
 I only of all these blessed, all thy kind, 
 
 Crave this for blessing to me, that in theirs 
 
 Have but a part thus bitter; give me too 
 
 Death, and the sight of eyes that meet not mine. 1595 
 
 And thee too from no godless heart or tongue 
 
 Reproachful, thee too by thy living name, 
 
 Father divine, merciful God, I call, 
 
 Spring of my life springs, fountain of my stream, 
 
 Pure and poured forth to one great end with thine, 1600 
 
 Sweet head sublime of triumph and these tears, 
 
 Cephisus, if thou seest as gladly shed 
 
 Thy blood in mine as thine own waves are given 
 
 To do this great land good, to give for love 
 
 The same lips drink and comfort the same hearts, 1605 
 
 Do thou then, O my father, white-souled God, 
 
 To thy most pure earth-hallowing heart eterne 
 
 Take what thou gavest to be given for these, 
 
 Take thy child to thee; for her time is full, 
 
 For all she hath borne she hath given, seen all she had 1610 
 
 Flow from her, from her eyes and breasts and hands 
 
 Flow forth to feed this people; but be thou, 
 
 Dear God and gracious to all souls slive, 
 
 Good to thine own seed also; let me sleep, 
 
 Father; my sleepless darkling day is done, 1615 
 
 My day of life like night, but slumberless: 
 
 For all my fresh fair springs, and his that ran 
 
 In one stream's bed with mine, are all run out 
 
 Into the deep of death. The Gods have saved 
 
 Athens; my blood has brought her at their hand, 1620 
 
 And ye sit safe; be glorious and be glad 
 
 As now for all time always, countrymen, 
 
 
172 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 And love my dead for ever; but me, me, 
 
 What shall man give for these so good as death? 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 From the cup of my heart I pour through my lips along 
 
 [Str. 1. 
 The mingled wine of a joyful and sorrowful song; 1625 
 Wine sweeter than honey and bitterer than blood that is 
 
 poured 
 From the chalice of gold, from the point of the two-edged 
 
 sword. 
 For the city redeemed should joy flow forth as a flood, 
 And a dirge make moan for the city polluted with blood. 
 
 1630 
 Great praise should the Gods have surely, my country, of 
 thee, [Ant. 1. 
 
 Were thy brow but as white as of old for thy sons to see, 
 Were thy hands as bloodless, as blameless thy cheek divine; 
 But a stain on it stands of the life-blood offered for thine. 
 What thanks shall we give that are mixed not and marred 
 with dread 1635 
 
 For the price that has ransomed thine own with thine own 
 child's head? 
 For a taint there cleaves to the people redeemed with 
 blood, [Str. 2. 
 
 And a plague to the blood-red hand. 
 The rain shall not cleanse it, the dew nor the sacred flood 
 That blesses the glad live land. 1640 
 
 In the darkness of earth beneath, in the world without 
 sun, [Ant. 2. 
 
 The shadows of past things reign; 
 And a cry goes up from the ghost of an ill deed done, 
 And a curse for a virgin slain. 
 
Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 173 
 
 ATHENA 
 
 Hear, men that mourn, and woman without mate, 1645 
 
 Hearken; ye sick of soul with fear, and thou 
 
 Dumb-stricken for thy children; hear ye too, 
 
 Earth, and the glory of heaven, and winds of the air, 
 
 And the most holy heart of the deep sea, 
 
 Late wroth, now full of quiet; hear thou, sun, 1650 
 
 Rolled round with the upper fire of rolling heaven 
 
 And all the stars returning; hills and streams, 
 
 Springs and fresh fountains, day that seest these deeds, 
 
 Night that shalt hide not; and thou child of mine, 
 
 Child of a maiden, by a maid redeemed, 1655 
 
 Blood-guiltless, though bought back with innocent blood, 
 
 City mine own; I Pallas bring thee word, 
 
 I virgin daughter of the most high God 
 
 Give all you charge and lay command on all 
 
 The word I bring be wasted not; for this 1660 
 
 The Gods have stablished and his soul hath sworn, 
 
 That time nor earth nor changing sons of man 
 
 Nor waves of generations, nor the winds 
 
 Of ages risen and fallen that steer their tides 
 
 Through light and dark of birth and lovelier death 1665 
 
 From storm toward haven inviolable, shall see 
 
 So great a light alive beneath the sun 
 
 As the awless eye of Athens; all fame else 
 
 Shall be to her fame as a shadow in sleep 
 
 To this wide noon at waking; men most praised 1670 
 
 In lands most happy for their children found 
 
 Shall hold as highest of honours given of God 
 
 To be but likened to the least of thine, 
 
 Thy least of all, my city; thine shall be 
 
 The crown of all songs sung, of all deeds done 1675 
 
 
174 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Thine the full flower for all time; in thine hand 
 
 Shall time be like a sceptre, and thine head 
 
 Wear worship for a garland; nor one leaf 
 
 Shall change or winter cast out of thy crown 
 
 Till all flowers wither in the world; thine eyes 1680 
 
 Shall first in man's flash lightning liberty, 
 
 Thy tongue shall first say freedom; thy first hand 
 
 Shall loose the thunder terror as a hound 
 
 To hunt from sunset to the springs of the sun 
 
 Kings that rose up out of the populous east 1685 
 
 To make their quarry of thee, and shall strew 
 
 With multitudinous limbs of myriad herds 
 
 The foodless pastures of the sea, and make 
 
 With wrecks immeasurable and unsummed defeat 
 
 One ruin of all their many-folded flocks 1690 
 
 111 shepherded from Asia; by thy side 
 
 Shall fight thy son the north wind, and the sea 
 
 That was thine enemy shall be sworn thy friend 
 
 And hand be struck in hand of his and thine 
 
 To hold faith fast for aye; with thee, though each 1695 
 
 Make war on other, wind and sea shall keep 
 
 Peace, and take truce as brethern for thy sake 
 
 Leagued with one spirit and single-hearted strength 
 
 To break thy foes in pieces, who shall meet 
 
 The wind's whole soul and might of the main sea 1700 
 
 Full in their face of battle, and become 
 
 A laughter to thee; like a shower of leaves 
 
 Shall their long galleys rank by staggering rank 
 
 Be dashed adrift on ruin, and in thy sight 
 
 The sea deride them, and that lord of the air 1705 
 
 Who took by violent hand thy child to wife 
 
 With his loud lips bemock them, by his breath 
 
 
Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 175 
 
 Swept out of sight of being; so great a grace 
 
 Shall this day give thee, that makes one in heart 
 
 With mine the deep sea's godhead, and his son 1710 
 
 With him that was thine helmsman, king with king, 
 
 Dead man with dead; only such names as these 
 
 Shalt thou call royal, take none else or less 
 
 To hold of men in honour; but with me 
 
 Shall these be worshipped as one God, and mix 1715 
 
 With mine the might of their mysterious names 
 
 In one same shrine served singly, thence to keep 
 
 Perpetual guard on Athens; time and change, 
 
 Masters and lords of all men, shall be made 
 
 To thee that knowest no master and no lord 1720 
 
 Servants; the days that lighten heaven and nights 
 
 That darken shall be ministers of thine 
 
 To attend upon thy glory, the great years 
 
 As light-engraven letters of thy name 
 
 Writ by the sun's hand on the front of the earth 1725 
 
 For world-beholden witness; such a gift 
 
 For one fair chaplet of three lives enwreathed 
 
 To hang for ever from thy storied shrine, 
 
 And this thy steersman fallen with tiller in hand 
 
 To stand for ever at thy ship's helm seen, 1730 
 
 Shall he that bade their threefold flower be shorn 
 
 And laid him low that planted, give thee back 
 
 In sign of sweet land reconciled with sea 
 
 And heavenlike earth with heaven; such promise-pledge 
 
 I daughter without mother born of God 1735 
 
 To the most woful mother born of man 
 
 Plight for continual comfort. Hail, and live 
 
 Beyond all human hap of mortal doom 
 
 Happy; for so my sire hath sworn and I. 
 
 
176 Swinburne'' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 PRAXITHEA 
 
 O queen Athena, from a heart made whole 1740 
 
 Take as thou givest us blessing; never tear 
 
 Shall stain for shame nor groan untune the song 
 
 That as a bird shall spread and fold its wings 
 
 Here in thy praise for ever, and fulfil 
 
 The whole world's crowning city crowned with thee 1745 
 
 As the sun's eye fulfils and crowns with sight 
 
 The circling crown of heaven. There is no grief 
 
 Great as the joy to be made one in will 
 
 With him that is the heart and rule of life 
 
 And thee, God born of God; thy name is ours, 1750 
 
 And thy large grace more great than our desire. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 From the depth of the springs of my spirit a fountain is 
 poured of thanksgiving, 
 My country, my mother, for thee, 
 That thy dead for their death shall have life in thy sight 
 and a name everliving 
 At heart of thy people to be. 1755 
 
 In the darkness of change on the waters of time they shall 
 
 turn from afar 
 To the beam of this dawn for a beacon, the light of these 
 
 pyres for a star. 
 They shall see thee who love and take comfort, who hate 
 thee shall see and take warning, 
 Our mother that makest us free; 
 And the sons of thine earth shall have help of the waves 
 that made war on their morning, 1760 
 
 And friendship and fame of the sea. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon 
 and Erechtheus 
 
 NOTES 
 
ATALANTA IN CALYDON 
 
 The Play 
 
 The Atalanta is a romantic tragedy based on the plot of 
 a lost play of Euripides, "The Meleager," put together in 
 Aeschylean, rather than Euripidean form, with chorus 
 motivation somewhat resembling that of the Agamemnon, 
 and with chorus and rhesis themes that accept the faith of 
 Aeschylus but present it in the Euripidean manner. It is 
 long, moves rapidly and unerringly; is full of the atmos- 
 phere of the epic, to which it owes a great deal. It pro- 
 gresses with an air of certainty that suggests the inevitable 
 working out of the laws of destiny. The hunters have 
 gathered to destroy a divine monster that has been ravag- 
 ing the land for a long time. No sudden call has gathered 
 them; they have had time to deliberate on the seriousness 
 of the situation which the ill will of the daughter of Zeus 
 and Leto has brought about. And this situation is just as 
 momentous as that in which the son of Zeus and Leto 
 fired his arrows at the camp of the Danaans because they 
 had dishonored his priest. We have the epic catalogue, 
 the pictures, the real Homeric combat with its naive and 
 almost ludicrous incidents, and the death lament unsur- 
 passed by anything of the kind in literature. Although 
 the play owes much to many writers, it is more character- 
 istic of Swinburne than much of the work of his later years. 
 
 The Prologue 
 
 The prologue of the Atalanta in Calydon is a mono- 
 logue in the form of a prayer, piled so high with the timber 
 of rhetoric that the idea of supplication is almost obliter- 
 ated, smothered completely in the gorgeous 'raiment of 
 
2 Swinburne s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 words/ It is in characteristic Euripidean form, although 
 this form Aeschylus has made use of; but in content it is 
 neither Euripidean, with its interminable genealogies, nor 
 Aeschylean with its brief, strongly written prelude, as in 
 the Agamemnon. But it is structurally interesting and in 
 itself unique. 
 
 The speaker is the chief huntsman, who speaks and 
 disappears, not to return. In the Agamemnon we have 
 an instance of the same thing; the watchman explains his 
 business; he is waiting for the beacon. When it appears 
 he gives the alarm, dances a prelude to his joy, expresses 
 a hope of holding again in his own his master's hand, 
 drops a word or two of ill-omen and then goes his way. 
 In Euripides the character who speaks the prologue and 
 disappears is generally a god who gives the history of the 
 case and goes out, leaving nothing new to be expected. 
 In the Hippolytus it is Cypris; in the Ion, Hermes; in the 
 Alcestis, Apollo; and in the Daughters of Troy, Poseidon. 
 
 The prayer of the chief huntsman falls into three 
 divisions: first he greets Artemis, the diva triformis, and 
 after taking up eight lines to characterize her, he makes 
 known his wants; — "Hear thou and help, and lift no vio- 
 lent hands," and closes with a Homeric commonplace; 
 the outcome lies on the knees of the gods. This is a little 
 ominous, as we know that the gods give no unmixed bless- 
 ings to mortals. Next he greets the fair-faced sun, killer 
 (Apollo) of stars; and last, the virgin Artemis. He prays 
 for good speed for his hounds and for each man good luck, 
 and he prays to the divinities potent to give him luck, with 
 a reverence and an intensity that fully satisfy all Aeschy- 
 lean demands. This hunt motif with its reference to the 
 hand of the goddess that is mortal to all things fleet that 
 roar and range, and to Apollo, who slays the stars, is 
 
Swinburne's A talanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 3 
 
 echoed in the first line of the parodos: When the hounds 
 of spring are on winter's traces," etc. 
 
 Instead of the Euripidean genealogy we get a multipli- 
 cation of attributes. The speaker prays the fair-faced 
 sun, killer of stars, to rise up, shine, stretch thine hand 
 out, touch heaven with thy bow, burn, break the dark, 
 shoot it through with arrows; let thy hair lighten as flame, 
 let thine eyes fill the world, let thy lips kindle with swift 
 beams, let earth laugh, let the sea and winds and foun- 
 tains and each horn of Achelous, and green Euenus laugh; 
 for in fair time thou comest. 
 
 With Artemis he is just as generous. He makes a very 
 clever transition from the goddess to Atalanta, which 
 naturally suggests the chorus of maidens bringing fresh 
 locks of hair, clean offerings, chaste hymns. Then with a 
 very noticeable drop in intensity, characteristic of Greek, 
 he excuses himself, saying: 
 
 me the time 
 Divides from these things; whom do thou not less 
 Help and give honor, and to mine hounds good speed, 
 And edge to spears and luck to each man's hand. 
 
 Separated from its erudition it does fulfill the require- 
 ments of a prologue; that is, 'it connects the action of the 
 drama (the hunt, the slaying of the boar, and consequent 
 events) with previous events which explain the situation 
 of the dramatis personae at the time when the play begins.' 
 (The land devastated and folk depressed because of the 
 ravages of the boar.) 
 
 It should be noticed that the speaker addressed Arte- 
 mis in the character of the diva triformis, then Apollo, 
 and last, Apollo's sister Artemis, this time by name. In 
 
4 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechlheus 
 
 a similar manner, Aeschylus, in the Sep tern, 130 makes the 
 chorus greet Pallas as 
 
 Aioyevks <pi\6p.axov Kp&ros, 
 AuaiiroXis yevov, IlaXXds 
 
 and after addressing other gods and goddesses, returns 
 to her and addresses her with another characterization, 
 164 
 
 ah re', fiiucaip' &i>ao~o~' "Oyica, irpb 7r6Xe«s 
 kicrairvKov (80s emppvov 
 
 In addition it might be noted that the watchman in the 
 Agamemnon and the chief huntsman in the Atalanta have 
 much in common, in spite of the great difference in their 
 language. They are both awaiting the events of the day. 
 Both speak in astronomical terms; both emphasize the 
 idea of luck, fortune, tvxv. But the difference in style is 
 very great. The watchman's speech is rough; almost 
 ridiculously homely. We have repetitions and antithesis, 
 and dark hints and homely metaphors from watchdogs, 
 drugs, dicing, oxen; (See Sidgwick, Ag. 17, note.) he speaks 
 a word of hope with an air of misgiving. The mood is 
 low-pitched and in striking contrast with the awful tragedy 
 that impends. Swinburne's tone is in the stretches of 
 trembling heaven so high that we are driven to marvel 
 at what shriek must follow to maintain consistency in the 
 development of the drama. 
 
THE CHORUSES OF THE ATALANTA 
 
 Swinburne manipulates his chorus in the Aeschylean 
 rather than in the Sophoclean or Euripidean manner; that 
 is, he emphasizes its lyrical importance and its independ- 
 enceof "the dialogue. In no instance does it allude to the 
 coming episode or the entrance of a character, as is fre- 
 quently the case in Sophocles and Euripides. It lifts its 
 song to a power higher than that appearing in the action 
 of the play, and is therefore in its lyrical aspect purely 
 symbolical. But in addition to this lyrical function it 
 often serves as a character in the dialogue, and in such 
 cases its attitude is that of an actor and not at all pitched 
 to its lyrical mood. 
 
 Swinburne, like Aeschylus, evidently wished to keep 
 the stage free of actors during the song of the chorus. This 
 he has indicated in his text in all but one instance, which 
 will be commented on in its proper place. 
 
 The speaker of the prologue introduces the chorus and 
 immediately excuses himself with the words: 
 
 but me the time 
 Divides from these things; 
 
 Althaea and the chorus take up the first episode, and as 
 the first stasimon is about to begin she excuses herself 
 just as the speaker in the prologue had done: 
 
 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. 
 
 For just such a reason Atossa leaves the stage in Aes. 
 
 Per., 849, where the purpose is voiced in three lines at the 
 
 very end of the speech. 
 
 (But I will go, and taking from my halls 
 Fine raiment will essay to meet my son, 
 And not betray our dear one though ill-starred.) 
 
 
6 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtkeus 
 
 In the second episode Althaea, Meleager, Oeneus, and 
 the chorus occupy the stage where they seem to remain 
 through the singing of the second stasimon, which takes up 
 and develops the love theme that was the real motive of 
 Althaea's sermon on the law. Swinburne may have been 
 unable to find a motive for the removal of the actors, but 
 it is probable that he wished Meleager to hear the lyric 
 treatment of the love theme, while Althaea remained to 
 observe its effect on her son. 
 
 At the close of the third episode Oeneus dismisses the 
 throng and sends the hunters on their way: 
 
 but ye, depart with her 
 In peace and reverence, each with blameless eye 
 Following his fate; exalt your hands and hearts, 
 Strike, cease not, arrow on arrow and wound on wound, 
 And go with gods and with the gods return. 
 
 At the beginning of the fourth episode Althaea enters 
 with the words: 
 
 I heard within the house the cry of news 
 And came forth — 
 
 She hears the herald's account of the slaying of the boar 
 and at its conclusion leaves to offer sacrifice to the pros- 
 perous gods. That this sacrifice was not offered on the 
 stage is shown by the words of the chorus when it answers 
 the query of the messenger as to the whereabouts of the 
 queen with 
 
 Lo, she comes forth as from thank-offering made. 
 
 At the close of this episode, after she has learned of the 
 death of her brothers, she greets the fates who have come 
 to visit her a second time: 
 
 Lo ye, who stand and weave between the doors, 
 
 There; and blood drips from hand and thread, and stains 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 7 
 
 Threshold and raiment and me passing in 
 Flecked with the sudden sanguine drops of death. 
 
 Her motive for leaving was of course the burning of the 
 brand. 
 
 At the close of the lament of the chorus she cries: 
 
 Ho, ye that wail, and ye that sing, make way 
 Till I be come among you. 
 
 At the conclusion of her last speech the chorus, in two 
 divisions, sings of her as if she were off the stage, but at 
 the close of the last stanza the second messenger enters 
 saying : 
 
 Queen, and you maidens, there is come on us 
 A thing more deadly than the face of death; 
 Meleager the good lord is as one slain. 
 
 The fact that Meleager twice addresses his mother, 
 once during the kommos and once during his last speech, 
 shows that she remained through the death scene although 
 she had resolved, at the close of the last episode, never to 
 speak again. 
 
 Considered in their structural aspect the choruses of 
 the Atalanta display great variety. There is the Euripi- 
 dean lightness of touch, the serenity and repose of 
 Sophocles, and the pulsing flow of Aeschylus, swelling at 
 times to a torrent. In every instance we find a mood 
 created to suit the dramatic situation that it introduces; 
 and in every instance the nexus is close, — as close and 
 exact as the best examples in Greek tragedy. Althaea's 
 long rhesis on her son suggests the choric song of creation ; 
 --Meleager dominates the next scene, upon which follows 
 the strain of love the destroyer; Atalanta appears and 
 after her comes the chorus of infatuation; the boar is 
 

 8 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 slain and naturally enough we listen to the sylvan flutes 
 breathing freedom from care. Theme follows theme with- 
 out a waver in their directness. 
 
 The preponderance of aesthetic effect is Aeschylean, 
 but the ethical is quite often Euripidean. The cynical, 
 sophisticated pessimism of Althaea is not felt in the paro- 
 dos nor does it appear in the first episode, where the chorus 
 makes her acquaintance; but its chords begin to color the 
 harmony of the creation chorus, they ring loud in the love 
 chorus and reach a wild crescendo and climax in the 
 chorus of infatuation. There is little of the Aeschylean 
 theme that the doer must suffer, that evil begets offspring 
 of its kind, and that the houses of the pious are immune 
 from the thunder. The ritual of the Atalanta makes us 
 shudder at the sinister resentment of the gods against 
 their puppet, man. 
 
 The Parodos 
 
 The parodos is a beautiful invocation to Artemis, 
 written in very rapid anapests, in definite stanza form. 
 The chorus of young maidens is announced by the speaker 
 of the prologue, who turns over to them the task of 
 sacrificing to Artemis. They come to offer to the daughter 
 of Leto chaste hymns and flowers and locks of their hair. 
 
 This chorus is unique; there is nothing just like it in 
 literature, ancient or modern. Its dominant note is splen- 
 dor and speed, and it lives up to its theme as few others do. 
 Not once is it forgotten until we lose sight of 
 
 "the feet that scare 
 The wolf that follows, the fawn that flies." 
 
 — It is un-Aeschylean in both movement and mood. 
 Although its burden is Artemis, it might well come, 
 Alovvgov Karkyovaai, inspired by the strange breath of the 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 9 
 
 Bacchae. We find in the choruses of that play the same 
 swiftness, joined with the same breathless seriousness. 
 The flashes of beauty and the note of delight in the days of 
 youth, symbolized in pictures from many myths, leave the 
 final impression of sadness characteristic of the Greek 
 contemplation of such scenes. 
 
 In it are many individual lines suggested by the Greek, 
 many images and allusions; but these seem to pour from 
 the author's mind in a molten stream, to be moulded into 
 a form as original as anything in our language. 
 
 The classical reminiscences are from many sources. 
 In "The mother of months" there is a suggestion of 
 
 TTorvia Arj/irjTrjp, wprj(p6pe, ayXaSScope, 
 
 Spring with its lisp of leaves and ripple of rain is an echo of 
 
 nam seu mobilibus veris inhorruit 
 Adventus foliis — Hor. O. 1, 23, 5 
 
 The story of the brown bright nightingale is a common- 
 place in classical poetry. Cf . Ovid, Met. 6, 424 ff. ; Homer, 
 Od. 19, 518 ff. 
 
 Horace, O. 4, 12, 5 
 Nidum ponit, Ityn flebiliter gemens, 
 infelix avis it Cecropiae domus 
 aeternum opprobrium 
 
 old rts iovda 
 clk6pgtos £oas, ^«0, raXalvcus (pptcrlv 
 *Itw, *Itw ffrkvova' &n<pida\rj /towts 
 &t,8*v 0U>v Aesch. Ag. 1142 ff. 
 
 (As the dusky nightingale sings 
 Insatiate of lament, alas, from her soul's dark springs 
 Moaning of Itys, Itys, as down through her life she goes 
 Where sorrow for blossom blows.) 
 
10 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtkeus 
 
 tov ep.bv nai crbu iroXvbaKpvv "\tvv 
 
 eXthi^ofikvrj biepols p-ekeaiv 
 
 yepvos &vdijs Aristoph. Av. 212 ff. 
 
 The characterization of Artemis reads like a crystaliza- 
 tion from several sources. 
 
 tAs re nuptfiopovs 
 
 'AprepiSos 0.17X05, £w ais Awa' 6pea biaaoti Soph. O. R.206 
 
 (And the flashing fires of Artemis wherewith she glances 
 through the Lycian hills.) 
 
 Come with bows bent and with emptying of quivers, 
 
 Maiden most perfect, lady of light, 
 With a noise of winds and many rivers, 
 
 With a clamor of waters and with might. 
 
 As goddess of the chase, we find her characterized, 
 
 77 kot' opt] oKibevra. kox oKpias i\vep.oeaaa.<i 
 aypjf repirovp.evrj xayxpv(rea to£o rtraivei 
 ■Kkp-TTOvaa arovbevra fie\r] H. 27, 4 
 
 Tpop'tti be Kaprjva 
 inprjX&v bpeuv, Laxei 5' tire baaKias J5Xtj 
 beivbv airb Kkayyrjs B-qpwv, <ppi<r<rei he re yala. H. 27, 73 
 
 As lady of light she brandishes two torches, 
 
 biirbpovs avexovaa Xap.7ro5os, Aristoph. Ran. 1362 
 ' KprtpLiv ap<plirvpov Trach. 214. See Jebb, O. T. 207-8 
 
 She is also called creXatr^opos, <pu)<j<p6pos, 
 
 Bind on thy sandals, O thou most fleet, 
 Over the splendor and speed of thy feet" 
 
 is a Homeric reminiscence. Cf. II. 2, 44 
 
 Kotrtri 8' vvrb XiTrapoTci ebfaaro koXo TreotXa 
 

 
 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 11 
 
 88-95 is an allusion to the Song of Songs, 2, 10-13 
 
 For the winter rains and ruins are over, 
 
 And all the seasons of snows and sins; 
 The days dividing lover and lover, 
 
 The light that loses, the night that wins; 
 And time remembered is grief forgotten, 
 And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, 
 
 And in green underwood and cover 
 
 Blossom by blossom the spring begins. 
 
 Cf. My beloved spake and said unto me, 
 
 Rise up my love, my fair one and come away. 
 
 For lo, the winter is past, 
 
 The rain is over and gone; 
 
 The flowers appear on the earth, 
 
 The time of the singing of birds is come, 
 
 And the voice of the turtle is heard in the land ; 
 
 The fig tree ripeneth her green figs, 
 
 And the vines are in blossom, 
 
 They give forth their fragrance. 
 
 Arise my love, my fair one and come away. 
 
 "Ripe grasses trammel a traveling foot" 
 as in Horace, Ep. 2, 22 modo in tenaci gramine 
 
 "The faint fresh flame of the young year flushes" etc. 
 
 is the Pindaric (poLvuiavdefjiov fjpos aKfiq. 
 
 or better, ipoivLnoeap&v ottot olxSevros 'Slpav OaXanov 
 
 evoSfiov kraygai.v tap <pvra vexrapta 
 
 And the oat is heard above the lyre 
 &xei t' dfupai fieKeuv ai>v atoXcus, 
 &X« r « Se/jeXtw k\iKajj,irvKa xopoi. 
 
 This whole fragment of Pindar (75) is interesting in 
 connection with this ode; it has left its color in more than 
 one place. 
 
12 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 And Pan by noon and Bacchus by night, 
 Fleeter of foot than the fleet-foot kid 
 Follows with dancing and fills with delight 
 The Maenad and the Bassarid. 
 
 This passage finds an echo in many places, cf. 
 
 ir&Ttp Qkoive, "Slaiuabicv £evKTTipie Aes. fr. 350 
 vbn<pais ovpelais ovp.irai$uv Arist. Av. 1098 
 
 vvfi<pa opeaijSdrp irov ir\rjdeia' Soph. O. R. 1100 
 k£a\{j£as SLxerai vkfipov SIktjv Aesch. Eurn. Ill 
 oip&ira fiaKxov duiov, 
 M.aiv&8oiv dfiocrroXov Soph. O. T. 211 
 
 In the next there is a fine Horatian reminiscence. 
 
 And soft as lips that laugh and hide, 
 The laughing leaves of the trees divide 
 
 And screen from seeing and leave in sight 
 The god pursuing, the maiden hid. 
 
 Nunc et campus et areae 
 lenesque sub noctem susurri 
 
 Composita repetantur hora 
 nunc et latentis proditor intimo 
 
 Gratus puellae risus ab angulo Hor. O. 1, 9, 18 
 
 The following picture is about the finest in the whole 
 collection. 
 
 The ivy falls with the Bacchanal's hair 
 
 Over her eyebrows, hiding her eyes; 
 
 The wild vine slipping down leaves bare 
 
 Her bright breast shortening into sighs 
 
 For a similar picture of the runner weakening and finally 
 falling from weariness see Eurip. Bac. 135 ff. 
 
 trance of rapture when, reeling aside, 
 From the Bacchanal rout o'er the mountains flying 
 One sinks to the earth, and the fawn's flecked hide 
 Covers him lying. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 13 
 
 The Euripidean pictures fit more nearly the life and 
 action of the Swinburnian; cf. Ion, 716 f. for Bacchus 
 sporting with the nymphs: 
 
 (Where Bacchus uptossing the pines flame-glaring, 
 Leaps mid his Bacchants through darkness that roam.) 
 
 also Bacchae, 306 ff. 
 
 Yet shalt thou see him even on Delphi's crags 
 With pine brands leaping o'er the cloven crest, 
 Tossing on high and waving Bacchus' bough. 
 
 See also Ion, 492 ff.; Phoen. 226 ff. 
 
 One sees in this ode the radiancy and rush of an Euripi- 
 dean chorus, and the characteristic Euripidean pictures, 
 quite suggestive but not too definite, and at times some- 
 what diffuse. The purpose of the ode, however, is Aeschy- 
 lean. It is in reality a hymn, an appeal to the great 
 goddess who governs the wilds, who has sent the boar and 
 who is going to destroy him now at the hands of Meleager. 
 This is made clear at the close of the prologue, when the 
 chorus is announced as coming with "clean offering, chaste 
 hymns." And this hymn is perfectly suited to the powers 
 that inspired it. It follows very naturally the prayer of 
 the chief huntsman, and it develops the same theme, 
 which is exalted by the chorus to a higher plane. 
 
 First Episode 
 
 The first episode is low-pitched in tone. After the 
 eloquence of the prologue and the radiancy of the parodos, 
 comes the wise, sombre, and pessimistic Althaea. She 
 begins at once to undermine the reverence of the chorus 
 and in the stasimon that follows, her influence is distinctly 
 felt., The stichomythia between Althaea and the chorus 
 
14 Swinburne *s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 is wonderfully well constructed. Put all the lines of the 
 chorus in a paragraph, and we get one point of view; 
 Althaea's speeches treated in the same way, give us the 
 other. 
 
 Chorus: 1 Yet one doth well, being patient of the gods. 
 
 2 But when time spreads, find out some herb for it. 
 
 3 What ails thee to be jealous of their ways? . 
 
 4 They have their will; much talking mends it not. 
 
 5 Have they not given life and the end of life? 
 
 Althaea: 1 Yea, lest they smite us with some four-foot plague. 
 
 2 And with their healing herbs infect our blood. 
 
 3 What if they give us poisonous drinks for wine? 
 
 4 And gall for milk, and cursing for a prayer? 
 
 5 Lo, where they heal, they help not. 
 
 She then introduces the love theme, love the destroyer, 
 which she develops in the long rhesis, after which she 
 introduces and develops, in the same speech, the episode 
 of the three weaving women, the Fate motif of the play. 
 This is introduced by a dream and dismissed by another, 
 after which she comments on the gods and their ways, 
 and the wisdom of her mother, closing by announcing 
 that she must go to arm her son. 
 
 First Stasimon 
 
 creation of man and the vanity of life 
 
 After Althaea has indulged in a rather long and senti- 
 mental rhesis in quite Euripidean manner on the infancy 
 of her son, the chorus sings its song of creation. Classical 
 and Biblical thought are blended in one quivering mass. 
 This is one of the finest things that Swinburne ever did. 
 The movement is unerring and the compression remark- 
 able. Noteworthy is the list of high gods and the material 
 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 15 
 
 with which they worked. The chorus begins now to show 
 the influence of Althaea, who provoked it by her theme of 
 mother-love in the last speech of the first episode. Its 
 outlook on life is full of Euripidean bitterness and pessi- 
 mism. Time brings us but sorrow, every hour has its 
 grief; for all of us pleasure is mixed with pain; we are 
 impotent to control our life, the best we can do is to choose 
 the lesser evil. Once dead, we are gone, (fr. 507) the bond 
 with the living is broken (fr. 532), what is under earth is 
 really nothing (Iph. Aul. 1251, fr. 633). 
 
 In their very act of creating, the gods are sinister in 
 their attitude towards man. He sows but shall not reap, 
 he weaves to be clothed in derision, and he endures for a 
 span in travail and sorrow; Surely to live is to suffer 
 (Eur. fr. 966). The last quatrain is steeped in all the 
 pessimism of the ages. For the myth see Plato. Prot. XI. 
 
 Second Episode 
 
 The second episode presents Althaea and her son. He 
 comes out with her, armed for the hunt. While waiting 
 for the throng that is gathering they regard and comment 
 on the prominent characters to be seen from their outlook. 
 The scene is based on the famous passage in the Iliad, 3, 
 166-244. Althaea asks him to name the men whom he 
 recognizes. He replies that on account of the distance 
 he can recognize but few. But he does mention Peleus, 
 the sons of Leda, Telamon, Ancaeus, and her own brothers, 
 Toxeus and the violent-souled Plexippus. The descrip- 
 tions of most of these are taken from the Meleager of 
 Euripides. In technique the passage is very similar to 
 that of the Iliad. Priam calls Helen to look at her former 
 husband. He then asks her the name of an Achaean 
 
16 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 warrior. As she replies to his questions the old man be- 
 comes pensive and reminiscent. In the same manner 
 Althaea comments on the characters mentioned by Melea- 
 ger. A passage of stichomythia leads to Althaea's great 
 sermon on the law, which has been discussed elsewhere. 
 Her son reminds her that he is not a child, but has been a 
 leader in the great expedition for the fleece. Oeneus inter- 
 rupts, to be silenced by his wife, who then indulges in 
 tender recollections of her son's infancy. Meleager, driven 
 to it by his mother, makes the one vain speech of his life. 
 Here follows the great Eros Tyrannus chorus. 
 
 Second Stasimon 
 eros tyrannus 
 
 The Eros Tyrannus chorus holds the center of the play. 
 The lyric parts that precede it are the parodos and the 
 stasimon on the creation and stultification of man, who is 
 so temperamentally endowed as to become an easy victim 
 of the delusion that is now to fall upon him. From the 
 episodes that follow these two choruses we have learned 
 something of the character of Althaea and her attitude 
 towards her son and the woman for whom he is to go to his 
 ruin. She has in a very insistent manner enforced the idea 
 that for wise men as for fools, love is one thing, an evil 
 thing; and that her son's only chance of happiness lies in 
 submitting his soul to fate, and setting his eyes and heart 
 on high-born hopes and abstinence divine. To all of which 
 her son plays slight heed, ov yap evnidris ; and that too in 
 face of the fact that what she is insisting upon has been 
 the practice of hunters from time immemorial and is still 
 to be observed in semi-savage tribes today. (See Frazer, 
 The Golden Bough.) 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 17 
 
 The song is a fitting prelude for the entrance of the 
 woman herself; while the contrast between the baneful 
 and resistless might of Persuasion, ^ t6l\cliv<i Jleidco, and 
 the Beautiful Atalanta with her maidenly reserve and 
 goddess-like imperturbability is very strong. 
 
 The chorus is very long, — longer than the great Aeschy- 
 lean chorus in the Agamemnon, which it follows rather 
 closely in its progressive piling up of horrors, from which 
 there is but one escape. But in his characterization of 
 Love Swinburne was not content with Aeschylean mater- 
 ial. He foraged the whole field of Greek literature and 
 added a reminiscence of Lucretius besides. His Eclectic 
 method owes much to Aeschylus, particularly in the 
 sombre progressive cumulation of the mood, as well as in 
 the anapestic beginning; it owes much to Euripides both 
 in actual material and the disposition of it. Euripides, 
 Hippol. 527 ff. uses half of his chorus in the characteriza- 
 tion of Love and the remainder in citing concrete examples 
 from the myths to show its application. Swinburne has 
 closed his chorus in just this manner, which has the effect 
 of a slight anticlimax. The myth, found in Odyssey 11, 
 235 ff., is not so well chosen to exemplify the horror of such 
 things as the two employed by Euripides, particularly the 
 story of Iole, whose beauty had aroused the passion of 
 Heracles and led him to destroy her father's city. For 
 similar use of myth, showing ill-fated maidens, see Euri- 
 pides Helen, 375 ff. The great Love chorus in the Anti- 
 gone has also contributed its share to both the thought 
 and the rhythm. 
 
 Throughout the entire poem Swinburne maintains the 
 direct address, just as Sophocles has done, but his method 
 of composition is more diffuse than that of Euripides at 
 his worst. Throughout the interminable series of horrors 
 we find few that give a clear Aeschylean picture. 
 
18 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheifs 
 
 In the anapestic introduction there is some confusion 
 between the winged Eros and the Aphrodite of the passion 
 and gratification of love; but after this, the whole address 
 is directed to the mother. Nowhere is Swinburne's power 
 of assimilation and manipulation of material shown to 
 better advantage. And here it is interesting to note that 
 the first couplet echoes a biblical idea, Song of Songs, 
 4, 1-2. 
 
 Behold thou art fair, my love, behold thou art fair; 
 Thine eyes are as doves behind thy veil. 
 
 There is a Sapphic intensity in 
 
 Thou art swift and subtle and blind as a flaming fire, 
 Before thee the laughter, behind thee the tears of desire. 
 
 ovre 7&p irvpos ovt Harpiov virtp'repov (ie\os olov rb ras 
 
 AtppoSiras 
 
 Eur. Hup. 530. 
 
 The rest of the introductory stanza reads like the descrip- 
 tion of a vase-painting. 
 
 The idea of the evil blossom born of sea-foam is old, 
 a Greek commonplace met first in Horn. H. 5. For the 
 idea of evil, compare Euripides, Hipp. 764 ff., 
 
 avd } 6)i> oi>x oaltov epw— 
 t<j)v Seivq. ippkvas 'A<ppo8i 
 tcls vboif KarviKaadri. 
 
 Aphrodite resents being called by Hippolytus KaKiar^v 
 baiubvuv TT€(pvKkvat (Hipp. 13) and under her Kkvrpois 
 ZpwTos the heart of Phaedra bleeds to death. Love is a 
 bitter flower from the bud, just as Helen found it, a 
 drj^Wvfiov epojTos avdos, and Phaedra's nurse assured her, 
 tj8l<ttov, & toll, ravrov aXyewdv 0' a/xa. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 19 
 
 The origin of the evil blossom born of sea-foam and the 
 frothing of blood is given in full in Hesiod, Theog. 176-200, 
 where reference is also made to Eros. The stanza beginning 
 
 The weft of the world was untorn 
 
 That is woven of the day on the night — 
 
 shows very skillful handling on Swinburne's part. Cf. 
 Theog. 176 ff. 
 
 7}X0e 8e vvkt' kira-yoiv /zeyas Ovpavos, ayupi 8k Fatrj 
 l/xeipcov <pi\6TrjTos kirkcrxero Kal p.' kravvadrj 
 iravTrj k.t.X. 
 
 The Homeric hymn to Aphrodite 2-6 shows that she sub- 
 dued the whole world of animal life. 
 
 Kai T* eSapaaaero <pv\a KaTadvTjT&p avdp6)Tro)v 
 oiuuovs re SuTrereas Kal drjpla iravra, 
 i)likv 6a' iffirtipos 7roXXd rpe<pei i]b' ocra -kovtos* 
 Traaiv 8' epya fj.ep.r]\ev kvcrrecpavov KvBepeir]';. 
 
 There is a Lucretian note in the line 
 
 And in air the clamorous birds 
 
 while the next idea springs from the Homeric nkpoirts 
 avdpuiroi which Swinburne handles almost jocosely; 
 
 Sweet articulate words 
 Sweetly divided apart. 
 
 The remainder of the stanza is Homeric. The next, how- 
 ever is clearly after Hesiod. 
 
 For all they said upon earth, 
 
 She is fair, she is white like a dove, 
 
 And the life of the world in her breath 
 Breathes, and is born at her birth; 
 
 For they knew thee for mother of love 
 
 And they knew thee not mother of death. 
 
 
20 Swinburne's Atalanta i>i Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Cf. Theogony 192 ff. 
 
 First she drew near holy Cythera, and from there, 
 afterwards, she came to sea-girt Cyprus, and came forth 
 an awful and lovely goddess, and grass grew up about her 
 beneath her shapely feet. Her gods and men call Aphro- 
 dite, and the foam-born goddess and rich-crowned 
 Cytherea, because she grew amid the foam, and Cytherea 
 because she reached Cythera, and Cyprogenes because 
 she was born in billowy Cyprus, and Philommedes because 
 she sprang from the members. And with her went Eros 
 and comely Desire followed her at her birth at the first 
 and as she went into the assembly of the gods. This 
 honor she has from the beginning, and this is the portion 
 allotted to her among men and undying gods — the whis- 
 perings of maidens and smiles and deceits with sweet 
 delight and love and graciousness." 
 
 And for Love the fair destroyer see also Hesiod, Theog. 
 120 
 
 ^5' ''Epos, 8s K&XXcaros tv bdavaTouxi deoiai, 
 XucrijueXifc, ttSlvtiov 81 de&v iravTwv 8' 6.vBp6)ir<av 
 86.fiva.Tat. iv o-T-qdeaai vbov nal tiri<ppova f3ov\i]v. 
 
 Swinburne's Aphrodite resembles Hesiod's Pandora. 
 
 Hes. works 57 ff. Zeus, indig- What hadst thou to do being born 
 
 nant at the theft of fire, tells Pro- Mother, when winds were at 
 
 metheus of his intended revenge: [ease 
 
 "But I will give men as the price of As a flower of the springtime of 
 
 fire an evil thing in which they all [corn, 
 
 be glad of heart while they em- A flower of the foam of the seas?, 
 
 brace their own destruction." So For bitter thou wast from thy 
 
 woman was made. Golden Aphro- [birth, 
 
 dite shed grace upon her head and Aphrodite, a mother of strife; 
 
 cruel longing and cares that weary For before thee some rest was on 
 
 the limbs. And Athena girded and [earth, 
 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtkeus 21 
 
 clothed her, and the divine graces 
 and queenly Persuasion put neck- 
 laces of gold upon her, and the 
 rich-haired hours crowned her 
 head with spring blossoms. And 
 Pallas Athena decked her form 
 with all manner of finery. And the 
 Guide, the Slayer of Argus, con- 
 trived within her lies and crafty 
 words and a deceitful nature at the 
 will of loud-thundering Zeus, and 
 the herald of the gods put speech in 
 her. And he called this woman 
 Pandora, because all they who 
 dwelt on Olympus gave each a 
 gift, a plague to men who eat 
 bread. 
 
 But when he had finished the 
 sheer hopeless snare, the father 
 sent glorious Argus-Slayer, the 
 swift messenger of the gods, to 
 take it to Epimetheus as a gift. . . 
 But he took the gift, and after- 
 wards, when the evil thing was al- 
 ready his, he understood. 
 
 For before this the tribes of men 
 lived on earth remote and free 
 from ills and hard toil and heavy 
 sicknesses which bring the fates 
 upon men. . . Now the earth is 
 full of evils and the sea is full. 
 
 A little respite from tears, 
 A little pleasure of life; 
 
 For life was not then as thou art, 
 But as one that waxeth in years 
 Sweet-spoken, a fruitful wife; 
 Earth had no thorn, and desire 
 No sting, neither death any 
 
 [dart; 
 What hadst thou to do among 
 [these, 
 Thou, clothed with a burning 
 
 [fire, 
 
 Thou, sprung from the seed of 
 
 [the seas 
 
 As an ear from a seed of corn, 
 
 As a brand plucked forth of a 
 
 [pyre, 
 
 As a ray shed forth oft he morn, 
 
 [etc. 
 
 See also Theog. 573 ff. 
 
 For the vernal beauty of Aphrodite, 
 
 When winds were at ease, 
 As a flower of the spring time of corn, 
 As a flower of the foam of the seas, 
 
22 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechthem 
 
 see Cypria 1 ff. 
 
 She clothed herself with garments which the graces and hour* had 
 made for her and dyed in the flowers of spring — such flowers as the 
 seasons wear — in crocus and hyacinth and flourishing violet and the 
 rose's lovely bloom, so sweet and delicious, and heavenly buds, the 
 flowers of the narcissus and lily. Tn such perfumed garments is Aphro- 
 dite clothed at all seasons. 
 
 For the desolation of cities because of Love the de- 
 stroyer see Euripides, Troades, particularly the choruses 
 5 11-5 70 and 799-860 also 1060-1120. Quite in Swinburnian 
 manner is 1071-80. 
 
 Thine altars are cold; and the blithesome calling 
 Of the dancers is hushed; nor at twilight's falling 
 
 To the nightlong vigil of gods cometh walking. 
 They are vanished, thy carven images golden, 
 And the twelve moon-feasts of the Phrygians holden. 
 
 Dost thou care, O King, I muse, heart-aching, — 
 Thou who sittest on high in the far blue heaven 
 Enthroned, — that my city to ruin is given 
 That the bands of her strength is the fire-blast breaking. 
 
 O my beloved, O husband mine, 
 Thou art dead and unburied thou wanderest yonder 
 Unwashen, — but me shall the keel through the brine 
 Waft, onward sped by its pinions of pine, 
 To the horse-land Argos, where that stone wonder 
 Of Cyclops' walls cleaves clouds asunder. 
 And our babes at the gates in a long, long line 
 Cling to their mothers with wail and with weeping that 
 
 [cannot avail — 
 "O mother" they moan, "alone, alone; woe's me!" etc. 
 
 See also Hecuba's lament, Tro. 1272 ff. 
 
 In many places throughout Greek literature we hear 
 
 A cry of perishing lands, 
 
 A moan as of people in prison, 
 
 A tumult of infinite griefs; 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 23 
 
 Hecuba's is such a cry: 
 
 The deepest depth of all my miseries; 
 
 I leave my land; my city is aflame; 
 
 OTroy. . . 
 
 Soon of thy glorious name thou wilt be spoiled. 
 
 They fire thee, and they hale us forth the land, 
 
 Thralls. 
 
 and the chorus answers: 
 
 d 5c /xeyaXo7roAis 
 
 HiroXis SXcoXe? oid' It' 6<tti Tpoia." 
 
 Hec. Ilios is blazing, the ramparts of Pergamos crashing 
 
 Down, with the homes of our city, mid flames far-flashing 
 
 Over their ruins, a furnace glow. 
 Cho. With its wide- winged blackness the heaven's face covering. 
 
 O'er our spear-stricken land is the smoke-cloud hovering. 
 
 In madness of ruin-rush earthward they reel 
 
 Our halls, neath the fire and the foeman's steel. 
 Hec. Hear children, O hearken your mother's crying. 
 
 Cho. To the dead dost thou wail, — can they hear thine entreating? 
 
 Hec. From my land unto mansions of slavery. 
 
 O hapless I ! 
 
 O Priam, O Priam, slain without tomb, 
 
 Without friend, nought, nought dost thou know of thy 
 
 [doom! 
 Cho. For the blackness of death hath shrouded the eyes 
 
 Of the righteous, by the hand of the impious slain. 
 Hec. The death-flame, the spear in your midst have dominion — 
 
 Cho. Swift falling to earth your memorial shall vanish, — 
 
 Hec. And the dust o'er the welkin wide stretching its pinion, 
 
 Mine eyes from the home of my yearning shall banish. 
 Cho. And the name of my land shall be heard not, and wide 
 
 Shall her children be scattered; no more doth abide Troy's 
 
 [woeful pride. 
 Hec. Did ye mark, did ye hear? 
 
 Cho. ' Crashed Pergamus down. 
 
2-4- Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheks 
 
 Hec. The earthquake thereof shall engulf the town ! 
 
 O sorrow's crown! 
 
 O tottering limbs upbear 
 
 My steps; to the life of bondage fare. 
 Cho. O hapless Troy ! Yet down to the strand 
 
 And the galleys Achaean my feet must strain. 
 Hec. O land — of my children the nursing-land ! 
 
 Cho. Woe, wail the refrain! 
 
 More direct and terrible are the words of Aeschylus: 
 Clytemnestra vaunts over the fallen city — 
 
 Today the Achaean s fill the streets of Troy. 
 Methinks a shout discordant strikes the ear. 
 Pour vinegar and oil in the selfsame vessel 
 And you will name them standing sundered foes. 
 So of the captives and the captors rise 
 Discordant voices of a twofold fate. 
 For they, the captives, fallen on many a corpse 
 Of men, their brethren, sons across their sires, 
 No longer from a throat whose speech is free 
 Bewail the ruin of their near and dear. 
 
 And the chorus boasts that Zeus 
 
 Down on the towers of Troytown has cast 
 
 A net so fine-wrought that no leap hath o'er past 
 
 Nor of aged nor young, the mighty slave snare 
 
 Of a doom that will bear 
 
 One and all to destruction within her. 
 
 And through strophe and antistrophe we see the might 
 of Peitho who leads men to follow in the footsteps of Love 
 to their utter undoing. 
 
 The herald speaks no less grimly: 
 
 Agamemnon Hath torn down Troy with Zeus' avenging 
 
 [mattock 
 And therewith ploughed up utterly the plain. 
 Her altars all unseen, gods' images, 
 The seed of all the soil now wastes away. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 25 
 
 Agamemnon says: 
 
 By smoke the conquered city stands a sign; 
 
 The blasts of Ate live; but with them dying 
 
 The ashes breathe rich breath of wealth abroad. 
 
 For this must we make memorable return 
 
 Unto the gods; since we our wrathful snares 
 
 Set close about the city. For a woman 
 
 The beast of Argos laid a city low; 
 
 A horse's foal, a folk that bears the shield, 
 
 Leaping its leap when Pleiades go down, 
 
 It crossed the walls, a lion carnal-mad, 
 
 And lapped its very fill with tyrant's blood. 
 
 Through the power of Love the very earth is shaken. 
 By the aid of Aphrodite Typhoeus was born, a monster 
 that threatened the very throne of Zeus. In the great bat- 
 tle that ensued "earth resounded terribly, and the wide 
 heaven above, and the sea and Ocean's streams and the 
 nether parts of the earth. Great Olympus reeled beneath 
 the divine feet of the king as he arose and the earth groaned 
 thereat. And through the two of them the heat took hold 
 on the dark-blue sea, through the thunder and the light- 
 ning and through the fire from the monster, and the 
 scorching winds and the blazing thunderbolt. The whole 
 earth seethed, and the sky and sea: and the long waves 
 raged along the beaches, round and about, at the rush of 
 the deathless gods: and there arose an endless shaking." 
 
 From the maimed body of the monster arose a terrible 
 vapor that scorched a great part of earth. And boisterous 
 winds arose. Some rush upon the misty sea and work 
 great havoc among men with their evil, raging blasts; and 
 men who meet these upon the sea have no help against 
 the mischief. Others again over the boundless flowering 
 earth spoil the fair fields of men who dwell below, filling 
 them with dust and cruel uproar. (Hes. Theog. 840 ff.) 
 
26 Swinburne s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Cp. Swinburne: 
 
 And under thee newly arisen 
 
 Loud shoals and shipwrecking reefs, 
 Fierce air and violent light; 
 Sail rent and sundering oar, 
 
 Darkness and noises of night; 
 Clashing of streams in the sea, 
 
 Wave against wave as a sword, 
 Clamor of currents, and foam; 
 Rains making ruin on earth, 
 Winds that wax ravenous and roam 
 As wolves in a wolfish horde; 
 
 And referring to Persephone he says 
 
 Fruits growing faint in the tree, 
 
 And blind things dead in their birth; 
 Famine and blighting of corn. 
 
 Demeter in her grief for her daughter, carried off by 
 Pluto, "caused a most dreadful and cruel year for man- 
 kind over the all-nourishing earth; the ground would not 
 make the seed sprout, for rich-crowned Demeter kept it 
 hid. In the fields the oxen drew many a curved plough 
 in vain, and much white barley was cast upon the ground 
 without avail. So she would have destroyed the whole 
 race of man with cruel famine" had Zeus not intervened. 
 
 The dividing of friend against friend, 
 The severing of brother and brother; 
 
 This is the theme of the Iliad; the wrath of Achilles 
 because of a maiden. 
 
 The last stanza is a resume of the woes that Love 
 has brought upon mortals; and of these woes the great of 
 earth have had their share. Euripides, in the prologue of 
 Helen, has shown how ruin befell Trov. Zeus, beguiled bv 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 27 
 
 Aphrodite with love for Leda, sought refuge on her bosom 
 in the guise of a swan pursued by an eagle. Thus the 
 divine and fatal origin of Helen is explained. Further- 
 more Aphrodite fomented strife among the immortals 
 by her trick in the affair of the judgment of Paris. 
 
 To a hollow vale on Ida came three goddesses to Paris, for beauty's 
 prize contending, Hera and Cypris and the virgin child of Zeus, eager 
 to secure his verdict on their loveliness. Now Cypris held out my 
 beauty, — if aught so wretched deserves that name, — as a bride before 
 the eyes of Paris, saying he should marry me; and so she won the day; 
 wherefore the shepherd of Ida left his steading, and came to Sparta, 
 thinking to win me for his bride. 
 
 and the will of Zeus straightway 
 
 Upon the land of Hellas and the hapless Phrygians brought war. 
 
 On this account Helen says 
 
 there by Scamander's stream hath many a life breathed out its last, and 
 
 [all for me. 
 She laments, saying 
 
 For mine anguish I raise an exceeding great bitter cry! 
 
 How shall I agonize forth my lament? to what muse draw nigh 
 
 With tears, with death-dirges, or with moanings of misery? 
 
 Woe's me, woe's me. 
 
 Come Sea-maids, hitherward winging, 
 
 Daughters of Earth's travail-throes, 
 
 Sirens, to me draw nigh, 
 
 That your flutes and your pipes may sigh 
 
 In accord with my wailings and cry 
 
 To my sorrows consonant ringing 
 
 With tears, lamentations and woes. 
 
 O would but Persephone lend 
 
 Fellow-mourners from Hades, to blend 
 
 Death-dirges with mine ! 
 
 The chorus hears her "pitiful wailing"; 
 
 Mournful and wild did it seem 
 As the shriek of a Naiad's despair 
 
28 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Far-borne on the mountain air, 
 When she moans faint-fleeing the snare, 
 When the might of Pan is prevailing, 
 And the gorges where cataracts stream 
 Ring to her scream. 
 
 Paris came for Helen and with him 
 
 in treacherous malice 
 Came Cypris, the bringer of Death's desolation 
 Unto Danaus' sons, unto Priam's nation. 
 Woe is me for my lot, who am misery's bride. 
 
 And later she laments: 
 
 Woe, hapless Troy, for thee, woe. 
 
 Thou hast perished for sins not thine own, under misery's load brought 
 
 [low! 
 And the gifts of Cypris to me for their fruit have borne 
 Rivers of blood and of tears, and to them that mourn 
 Anguish is added, and griefs to the grief-forlorn. 
 There are mothers for dead sons weeping; 
 There are maids that have cast shorn hair 
 Where seaward Scamander on-sweeping 
 
 The limbs of their brothers bare. And from Hellas a cry, a cry 
 Ringeth heavenward wild and high 
 And with frenzied hands on her head 
 She smiteth; her fingers are red 
 From the cheeks that the blood-furrows dye. 
 
 Then follows here, as in the Chorus of Hippolytus, a 
 specific example from mythology, of the cruelty of Love, 
 similar to the one with which Swinburne closes his chorus. 
 
 Ah maiden of Arcady, happy, Callisto, art thou, 
 
 O fourfoot-pacing thing who wast Zeus' bride, 
 
 Better by far than my mother's is thy lot now, 
 
 Who hast cast the burden of human sorrow aside, 
 
 And only now for the shaggy limb 
 
 Of the brute with tears are thy fierce eyes dim. 
 
 Yea, happier she whom Artemis drave from her choir, 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 29 
 
 A stag, gold-antlered Merops' Titanian daughter, 
 Because of her beauty; but mine with the brands of desire 
 Hath enkindled Dardanian Pergamus' ruin-pyre 
 And hath given the Achaeans to slaughter. 
 
 Aeschylus' characterization of Helen is quite brief, 
 but remarkably comprehensive: ekevavs, ekavdpos, eXex- 
 roXis, not because of her own sins, but through the will 
 of the stern implacable Aphrodite. Instance of her might 
 fallen on the cities of men are many. See Sophocles, 
 Tr. 431, where Heracles destroys Oechalia, because he 
 loved Iole, the daughter of king Eurytus: 
 
 <bs Tabrrjs irodq 
 
 7r6Xis dafxdri Taaa, kov% 17 Avbia 
 
 irepaeiev avT-qv, dXX' 6 rfjs <fpo>s <pavels. 
 
 Likewise Euripides, Hipp., 525 ff. 
 
 "Epwra be, rbv rvpavvov avbp&v 
 . . . ov <T0l^ofxev, 
 irkpdovTa Kai 5ta iraaas 
 iovra <rvp.(popas 
 dvarots, otuv iXdrj. 
 
 The ruthless power of love is the central thought in all 
 this. See Jebb, Soph. Antig. notes 782-3. 
 
 In the Agamemnon we have an example of Eros 
 reacting on the individuals he inspired. The capture of 
 Troy is the stroke of Zeus, but under that stroke falls 
 also the conqueror of Troy, as an atonement for being 
 led too far. Love, the lust for slaughter and ruin, fell 
 upon the victorious host in its victory, and led it to 
 desecrate what was forbidden. 
 
 Cornford says of it, p. 157: "The conquerors of Troy 
 are beset by Eros, the spirit of rapine; but this passion is 
 not conceived as a natural state of mind determined by a 
 
30 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 previous state — the effect of a normal cause; it is a spirit 
 (daimon) which haunts, swoops down, and takes posses- 
 sion of the soul, when reason slumbers and keeps no 
 watch." Now it is in this respect that Swinburne is not 
 Aeschylean ; the malignity of his divinities is not the result 
 of the mistakes of men, but of their ill-will towards men. 
 
 Third Episode 
 
 Atalanta. enters and greets the sun and Artemis and 
 speaks at length of her devotion to her goddess. The 
 speech is, in effect, a repetition of the prologue. Meleager 
 then addresses Atalanta about as Hippolytus addresses 
 Artemis. He looks upon her as something divine. He is 
 taunted by his mother's brothers and angry words are 
 exchanged, but the scene is interrupted by the queen who 
 warns them that words may turn snakes. Atalanta then 
 makes her long rhesis in which she sets forth her case. 
 At the end she warns them with a sort of divine indigna- 
 tion to refrain transgressing hands and lips lest they die. 
 Oeneus pronounces his blessing on the hunt and the 
 procession starts. Here follows the chorus of The Word 
 is Death. 
 
 Third Stasimon 
 
 Atalanta, at the close of her speech, just before the 
 huntsmen start on their way, gives stern and ominous 
 warning to those who by their sharp and sarcastic utter- 
 ances have opposed her participation in the hunt, first 
 appealing to the supreme judge to judge between them. 
 
 for now, 
 If there be any highest in heaven, a god 
 Above all thrones and thunders of the gods 
 Throned, and the wheels of the world roll under him, 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 31 
 
 Judge he between me and all of you, and see 
 If I transgress at all; but ye, refrain 
 Transgressing hands and reinless mouths, and keep 
 Silence, lest by much foam of violent words 
 And proper poison of your lips ye die. 
 
 This motivates not only the chorus following but all 
 the rest of the play. For all too soon do reinless words 
 set free transgressing hands. The double figure used by 
 Swinburne has two aspects; one looking to the hunt with 
 its din and clamor and deeds of prowess; the other psy- 
 chological, showing the sinister working of fate within 
 the mind of more than one treading the wretched stage, 
 and man's utter unconsciousness of the lurking powers of 
 darkness that wait to hurl him to ruin. The chorus, 
 taking up the theme of the Infatuate Word proceeds to 
 lash itself into a very ecstasy of fury that leads straight 
 to the shambles of Ate. Of this chorus, Woodberry says: 
 (Swinburne, p. 62) "the thought is arrived at through 
 the spectacle of the suffering of the human race, and 
 applies, as it were, to the Zeus of Prometheus." But the 
 attitude of Prometheus the god toward his brother god 
 is mild when compared with the attitude of man, the mud- 
 moulded ephemeral, towards his sardonic creator, whom 
 he pleases to characterize as the supreme evil. Swinburne 
 is probably playing on the meaning of the word supreme, 
 as he often does, having in mind the warning of Oceanus 
 to Prometheus, particularly the lines 
 
 d 8' &8e Tpaxets Kai T^9rjyp.ivovs \6yovs 
 plipeis, rax' av crov KaL fio.Kpav avoirepco 
 d<LK&v KkboL 7a&}$, bare aoi rbv vvv ox^ov 
 Tapdvra p,6x0w iratSiav elvai boKtiv. 
 
 Prometheus calls nature to witness his sufferings; 
 man taunts god himself as the author and the malignant 
 
32 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 dispenser of the ills that fall to mortal lot. Prometheus 
 sees the end of his sufferings, though it is far away; man 
 knows that 
 
 A little fruit a little while is ours, 
 And the worm finds it soon. 
 
 But for him there is death and much forgetfulness of 
 things, a boon for which Prometheus cannot hope. He 
 does know, however, that time will bring reconciliation 
 and release from pain. Man takes pleasure in throwing 
 into god's face his sardonic delight in afflicting his children. 
 Prometheus is fellow god and benefactor of Zeus, with 
 perfect foreknowledge of the future; man is the thing 
 fashioned with loathing and love and clothed with 
 derision, whose life is a watch between a sleep and a 
 sleep. He has done nothing for god nor is there anything 
 for him to do. Prometheus is in disfavor with Zeus 
 because of his attempt to relieve man of some of his 
 affliction, which he knows has arisen from the injustice 
 of Zeus. He has made life more tolerable for him in many 
 ways, particularly by hiding from him foreknowledge of 
 his doom, whereas Zeus had put into his eyes foreknowl- 
 edge of death. Prometheus is not the only example of 
 the cruelty of Zeus; there is Atlas, Typhon, the giants in 
 Tartarus, besides individuals of the earth-born brood 
 chosen for particular afflictions, of whom Io is a good 
 example. Prometheus is too free of speech; the chorus 
 tells him so, as do Oceanus his friend and Hermes his 
 enemy. For man the word is death. The closing admoni- 
 tion of the Swinburnian chorus is to keep lips from over- 
 speech, echoing in this the warning of Atalanta. But 
 unfortunately for our hero the vain word has been spoken 
 already. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 33 
 
 This chorus is Aeschylean in its thunderous flow and 
 in its accepting without question the existence of the gods 
 that overwhelm us with affliction. It is un- Aeschylean in 
 "that it gives no motive nor justification for such treatment; 
 Tn that, it is Euripidean, for Euripides often takes a hostile 
 attitude towards the gods because of their treatment of 
 mortals. They are the authors of all our woes. 
 
 Thou hast laid 
 Upon us with thy left hand life and said 
 Live: and again thou hast said, Yield up your breath, 
 And with thy right hand laid upon us death, 
 
 is an echo of Euripides' Medea, 1109 ff. 
 
 But one crowning woe for every mortal man I now will name; suppose 
 that they have found sufficient means to live, and see their children 
 grow to man's estate and walk in virtue's path, still, if fortune so befall, 
 comes death and bears the children's bodies off to hades. Can it be any 
 profit to the gods to heap upon us mortal men beside our other woes this 
 further grief? 
 
 Helen, when reproached by Menelaus for her flight with 
 Paris, cries (Troad. 1042 f.) 
 
 I implore thee impute not to me that heaven-sent affliction. 
 
 Apollo lives up to his name that is a destroying. 
 
 O fair shining Helios, how hast thou destroyed him and me also. 
 Rightly among mortals art thou called Apollo, fr. 781. 
 
 So in fr. 273, 
 
 For all men and not for us alone, the god at one time or another has 
 ruined life. No one bears good fortune to the end. 
 
 For the same idea in various guises see Hecuba, 197; 
 721; Phoen. 1030; Iph. Aul. 411; upon the high and low 
 
34 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 alike fall their ill-will; sometimes the low fare better 
 than the high. Cf. Helen, 1213, 
 
 The base are often more fortunate than the noble, 
 and Orestes, 954, 
 
 So you must leave the light; your noble birth has availed you nought, 
 nor the Pythian Phoebus, seated on his tripod, but rather has he de- 
 stroyed you. 
 
 They bring us into hopeless situations to observe how 
 we would extricate ourselves. Agamemnon in the hope- 
 lessness and perplexity of misfortune that demands the 
 sacrifice of his daughter, cries, 
 
 How by the gods I am whelmed amid despair. (Iph. Aul. 536.) 
 
 In the same play, 24, we see that for the slightest pretext 
 they ruin our life. 
 
 For the god's will clashed with man's will now, 
 Wrecking his life. 
 
 Justice does not exist, or else she is blind. 
 
 oi>x opq. Aiko. kclkovs, 
 
 ov5' d/xti/Serai jSporcov acrweaias. 
 
 Swinburne begins his chorus with a very striking 
 characterization of "T/3pis made manifest in the word. It 
 leads a man to ruin. 
 
 Who hath given man speech? or who hath set therein 
 
 A thorn for peril and a snare for sin? 
 
 For in the word his life is and his breath, 
 
 And in the word his death, 
 
 That madness and the infatuate heart may breed 
 
 From the womb's word the deed 
 
 And life bring one thing forth ere all pass by, 
 
 Even one thing which is ours yet cannot die — 
 
 Death. 
 
Swinburne s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 35 
 
 This is an Aeschylean idea, but Swinburne has made of it 
 a too universal application. Aeschylus applies it to 
 those who because of their sins have brought upon 
 themselves the just resentment of god. But Swinburne 
 in his sweeping generalization applies it to wise men and 
 to fools, — to the whole human race. The high gods in 
 their hate have overwhelmed us all, and through no fault 
 of our own, but for their good pleasure. 
 
 Having promised us death, he reverts to the sorrows 
 and tears that are ours, for our woes and mishaps and old 
 age, treating the last in true Euripidean manner. In fact the 
 whole outlook upon life is Euripidean. We all carry 
 our burdens, beneath which each one is crushed. (Alces- 
 tis, 893 f.) 
 
 <jvp<popa 5' krepovs krepa 
 irik£ « (paveiaa dvar&v. 
 
 For us our doom is fixed; it is ours to bear. (Alcestis, 20) 
 
 rfJSe yap <r<p' kv ijpepa 
 davtiv irkirpoiTat. ko.1 ixeTaaTTJvai filov. 
 
 The chorus closes the Hecuba with this hopeless advice: 
 
 Ire irpds Xt/xcvas aurjvas re, <pl\at, 
 tuv 8e<Tiroavvo)i> ireipaabp-evai 
 p,6x0<>>v' areppa yap avayKT). 
 
 From god comes what comes, Fr. 62 
 
 rb Oeiov ws aeXirrov epxerai 
 
 dvrjToZaiv, ZKicet 5' ovttot' «c rabrov ruxas. 
 
 No one is wholly blest. Fr. 150 
 
 ovk tariv 6<ttis etiruxijs l<pv Pporoiv, 
 ov fxri t6 deiov ws ra iroXXa <rvv8k\ei. 
 
 From evil there is no escape, Fr. 444 
 
 & Salfxov, cbs oiiK 1<tt' airo<JTpo<pii fjpoTois 
 t&v (/j,<pvtuv re Kal deqhaTuv KaicZv. 
 
36 Swinburne's Atalania in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 Mishaps are many and they find us all. (Hipp. 981) 
 
 ovk 0I8' 6tcoi% elwoifi' av evrvx&v rlva. dvrjTuiv 
 
 for 
 
 ToWai ye iroWols e\oi crvfjupopal fipoT&v 
 
 pop<pal 8e 8ia<pepov<rip' tv 8' av einvxes 
 
 poXis ttot' ei-evpoi rts avdp&irw &iop. (Ion, 381 ff) 
 
 The lot of all is unstable; the fool alone feels secure. 
 (Troad. 1203 ff) 
 
 dvrjT&v 8k n&pos 6<ttis ev Trpaaoeiv boK&v 
 fikftata xafpa' rots rpbirois yap at Tv\al, 
 ifjnrXriKTos W5 avdpuiros, aWor' aWoae 
 tt7)8uxti, KobSels avrds ebrvxel irore. 
 
 There is, however, this difference between the atti- 
 tudes of the two men; Swinburne's eyes are fixed on 
 death, while Euripides prefers to contemplate the many 
 misfortunes that anticipate death. The following passages 
 show the habit of the latter: 
 
 7rdXcu crKOTrodfjLcu ras ri>xas tCjv fiporuv 
 cos ev peraWaaaova-iv' 8s yap av a<pa\% 
 
 els opdbv earrj x& irpiv evrvx&v irirvei. Fr. 262 
 
 and 
 and 
 
 and 
 
 <pev, ra rdv evSatpovovvrcov cbs rdx^ra arpe<pet Beds. Fr. 540 
 
 7roXXa$ y' 6 8al(j.(j)v rod filov neraaraaets 
 ebumev r}p.lv perafioXas re rrjs tvxv*- Fr. 554 
 
 fie&aia 8' ovSeis evrvxei dvrjrds yeyi>is. Fr. 1074 
 
 Swinburne's attitude to old age is Euripidean, rather 
 than Aeschylean, although he probably caught his 
 theme from the Agamemnon, where old age when the 
 leaf has been shed goes his three-footed ways, nothing 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 37 
 
 better than a dream that roams in the daytime. There 
 is the same Euripidean amplification and the same lament. 
 
 Yea, and with weariness of lips and eyes, { 
 With breaking of the bosom and with sighs, 
 J We labor, and are clad and fed with grief 
 
 And filled with days we would not fain behold 
 
 And nights we would not hear of; we wax old, 
 
 All we wax old and wither like a leaf. 
 
 We are outcast, strayed between bright sun and moon; 
 
 Our light and darkness are as leaves of flowers, 
 
 Black flowers and white, that perish; and the noon 
 
 As midnight, and the night as daylight hours. 
 
 The chorus of the Heracles gives the characteristic 
 Euripidean attitude towards this condition of life. "Ce 
 sont de gens que Page accable, et qui loin de cacher leur 
 faiblesse, semblent prendre plaisir a la detailler. lis s'en 
 vont, appuyes sur un baton, les genoux branlants; ils 
 chantent une triste complainte; la blancheur de leurs 
 cheveux est aussi eclatante que celles de cygnes. Ils ne 
 sont plus qu'une voix, qu'un souffle, qu'une vision de 
 songe nocturne. Et ce sont eux-memes, comme toujours, 
 qui la constatent, sans y etre contraints." (P. Masqueray, 
 Euripide et ses Idees, p. 272.) 
 
 iiiropaxpa peXaflpa nai 
 yepaia dkfxvi' ap.<pl /3d/CTpois 
 epeicrpa dk/xevos, korak-qv 
 lrj\kfjL03P yboiv dot — 
 
 56$ &(TT€ 7To\lOS OpPLS, 
 
 ewea p.6vov icai 86icri — 
 
 pa WKTtpwwov kvvvxuv oveipoiv, 
 
 rpopepa /xtv, dXX' opcos irpodvii ' . 
 
 The question as to what we shall do with the tears 
 shed on our journey to this bourne both Swinburne and 
 
;s N vinburncs Aialania in I and Erechthdks 
 
 Euripides leave unanswered, although the former does 
 make some interesting suggestions. 
 
 ++ 
 
 What shall be done with all these tears of ours? 
 Shall they make watersprings in the fair heaven 
 To bathe the bro\v> of morning? or like flower- 
 Be shed and shine before the starriest hours, 
 Or make the raiment of the weeping » 
 Or rather, our masters, shall they be 
 Food tor the famine of the grievous sea. 
 A great well-head of lamentation 
 Satiating the sad gods? or fall and flow 
 Among the years and seasons to and fro, 
 And wash their feet with tribulation 
 \nd till them full with grieving ere they go? 
 
 Throughout Euripides they trickle just as freely and 
 at times with quite as much ostentation. 
 
 SdKpvd t' Sakpi'^i- Kara\tideTai 
 aptTtpoHTt 86poi<;' 
 
 Swinburne 's high gods mix our drink with the bubbling 
 bitterness of life and death and hold it to our lips and 
 laugh; but they taste not, lest they too change and sleep. 
 They mix it, however, for the whole human race; and not 
 for the man who has sinned, as in Aeschylus, nor for the 
 man marked For destruction, as in Sophocles. There we 
 see that 'though one look well, he will not find the mortal 
 who, if the god should draw him on to evil, could escape.' 
 Swinburne takes the Euripidean outlook; god confounds 
 everything. 
 
 But up in heaven the high gods one by one 
 Lay hands upon the draught that quickeneth. 
 Fulfilled with all tears shed and all things done. 
 And stir with soft imperishable breath 
 The bubbling bitterness of life and death, 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 59 
 
 And hold it to our lips and laugh; but they 
 
 Preserve their lips from tasting night or day, 
 
 Lest they too change and sleep, the fates that spun, 
 
 The lips made us and the hands that slay; 
 
 Lest all these change and heaven bow down to none. 
 
 Change and be subject to the secular sway 
 
 And terrene revolution of the sun. 
 
 ^Therefore they thrust it from them, putting time away. 
 
 For a similar notion of the immortality of the gods 
 see Iliad 5, 341 f: where in explanation of the statement 
 that ichor flowed from the wounded wrist of Aphrodite, 
 the poet says: 
 
 ov yap alrov eooua', ov wlvovcr' aWoira olvov, 
 tow€k' avalfj.oves ei<xt. icai adavaroi KaXeovrai. 
 
 * In regard to the immortality of the gods, Sappho has 3 aid: "To 
 die was an evil, the gods having so decided, since had it not been so they 
 themselves would have died." 
 
 Euripides cites an instance and adds his comment. 
 Polymestor speaks to Queen Hecuba, Hec. 952 ff. 
 
 O Hecuba, I weep beholding thee, 
 
 Thy city, and thine offspring slain so late. 
 
 Xaught is there man may trust, nor high repute, 
 
 Xor present weal — for it may turn to woe; 
 
 All things the gods confound, hurl this way and that. 
 
 Turmoiling all, that we, foreknowing naught, 
 
 May worship them: — what skills it to make moan 
 
 For this, outrunning evils none the more? 
 
 In the Orestes the chorus cries "Alas for the deeds of the 
 malice of heaven," to which Electra replies: 
 
 Wrongful was he who uttered that wrongful rede 
 When Loxias, throned on the tripod of Themis, decreed 
 The death of my mother, a foul unnatural deed. 
 
40 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 In the Ion, Creusa's thoughts of Apollo are none too kind. 
 
 But, looking on Apollo's dwelling place, 
 I traversed o'er an ancient memory's track: 
 Afar my thoughts were, and my body here. 
 Ah, wrongs of women wrongful-reckless deeds 
 Of gods! For justice where shall we make suit, 
 Tf 'tis our Lords' injustice crushes us? 
 
 The wish to reduce the gods to the state of man's 
 wretchedness for an hour has a ring of Homeric naivete. 
 We get a hint, however, in Hippolytus, 1415, where in 
 reply to his father's admission that the gods had caused 
 his wit to stumble, Hippolytus cries: 
 
 that men's curses could but strike the gods! 
 
 Swinburne has treated the subject in a very comprehensive 
 manner. 
 
 1 would the wine of time, made sharp and sweet 
 With multitudinous days and nights and tears 
 And many mixing savors of strange years, 
 Were no more trodden of them under feet, 
 Cast out and spilt about their holy places; 
 That life were given them as a fruit to eat 
 
 And death to drink as water; 
 
 The remainder of the chorus is made up of a very 
 elaborate statement of the theory of compensation in 
 divine providence, the theory that the gods never give to 
 mortals unmixed blessings. This idea is as old as Homer. 
 Cf. II. 24, 525 
 
 "Qs yap eireKXcoaavTo deol det.\ol<n (3poTolaiu, 
 <Tw€iJ> axwixeuois' avrol 5e r' a/CTjSees tiaiv . 
 
 "For two urns stand upon the floor of Zeus filled with 
 his evil gifts, and one with blessings. To whomsoever 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 41 
 
 Zeus whose joy is the lightning dealeth a mingled lot, 
 that man chanceth now upon ill and now again upon good, 
 but to whom he giveth but of the bad kind him he bringeth 
 to scorn, and evil famine chaseth him over the goodly 
 earth, and he is a wanderer honored of neither gods nor 
 men." 
 
 The arraignment of the supreme evil is very strong; 
 it might have been inspired, as Swinburne himself said of 
 Shakespeare's Timon, by the triune furies of Ezekiel, 
 Juvenal, and Dante. 
 
 The ode sinks to repose in true Greek manner, closing 
 with the following classical injunction: 
 
 But ye, keep ye on earth 
 
 Your lips from over-speech. 
 
 Loud words and longing are so little worth; 
 
 And the end is hard to reach. 
 
 For silence after grievous things is good, 
 
 And reverence and the fear that makes men whole, 
 
 And shame and righteous governance of blood, 
 
 And lordship of the soul. 
 
 But from sharp words and wits men pluck no fruit, 
 
 And gathering thorns they shake the tree at root; 
 
 For words divide and rend; 
 
 But silence is most noble to the end. 
 
 The idea is a Greek commonplace. Cf. Prometheus, 
 311 ff. Oceanus urges Prometheus to 
 
 Know thyself; come, fashion anew thy ways; 
 
 New is the tyrant now who rules the gods. 
 
 But if thou wilt thus vent rough, whetted words, 
 
 Speedily, though he sits so very high, 
 
 Zeus, hearing thee, will make thy present horde 
 
 Of troubles seem the merest play of children. 
 
 and 320 
 
 Yet such, Prometheus, comes to be the wage 
 Of him whose tongue upvaunteth overhigh. 
 
42 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 and 329 ff. 
 
 But thou be silent, not in speech perverse; 
 For knowest thou not, who art exceeding wise, 
 The penalty that plagues an idle tongue? 
 
 See also Sophocles, Antigone, 127 
 
 Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue; 
 
 and 1347 ff. 
 
 Wisdom is the supreme part of happiness; and reverence towards 
 the gods must be inviolate. Great words of prideful men are ever 
 punished with great blows, and, in old age, teach the chastened to be 
 wise. 
 
 The whole matter is stated briefly but convincingly in 
 Prov. 18, 7 
 
 A fool's mouth is his destruction 
 And his lips are the snare of his soul 
 
 and 21, 
 
 Death and life are in the power of the tongue : 
 And they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof. 
 
 Fourth Episode 
 
 The fourth episode is particularly Homeric in spirit 
 and suggestiveness, to which is added a certain coloring 
 suggested by the herald in the Electra of Sophocles. In 
 her first speech Althaea airs her Aeschylus by calling 
 attention to the warder gods that face the sun. Agam. 
 519. There is a Homeric ring in the 
 
 clashes of swift hoofs and trampling feet 
 And through the windy pillared corridor — cf . II. 24, 323 
 
 At the word of good news Althaea orders sacrifice in 
 imitation of her great prototype, Clytemnestra. Cf. Ag. 
 86 IT. The herald recalls Homer at once by giving us 
 
Swinburne *s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 43 
 
 the roster of the hunt. Some of the huntsmen are found 
 in the great Catalogue, while others appear on the roster 
 of the good ship Argo. We see Laertes, island born, the 
 young Gerenian Nestor, the beautiful Atalanta from whose 
 
 white braced shoulder the plumed shafts 
 Rang, and the bow shone from her side. 
 
 who is a Virgilian Artemis rather than Homeric. Cf. 
 Aen. 6, 498; Od. 6, 102; Apoll. Arg. 3, 875. Meleager is 
 like the sun in spring, and the twin sons of Leda, whom 
 Althaea had likened to one sundered star, the Horatian 
 lucida sidera. And there were Toxeus and Plexippus and 
 the keenest eye of Lynceus, even as he was called in the 
 Argonautica. The details of the hunt follow very closely 
 the account of Ovid. 
 
 
 Fourth Stasimon 
 rest after toil 
 
 This chorus is motivated by the close of the herald's 
 speech in which he describes the place where the hunters 
 were resting after their struggle with the boar. When the 
 work was all over they 
 
 Sat and drew breath and drank and made great cheer, 
 
 And washed the hard sweat off their calmer brows. 
 
 For much sweet grass, grew higher than grew the reed, , 
 
 And good for slumber, and every holier herb, 
 
 Narcissus, and the low-lying melilote, 
 
 And all of goodliest blade and bloom that springs 
 
 Where, hid by heavier hyacinth, violet buds 
 
 Blossom and burn; and fire of yellower flowers 
 
 And light of crescent lilies, and such leaves 
 
 As fear the Faun's and know the Dryad's feet; 
 
 Olive and ivy and poplar dedicate, 
 
 And many a well-spring overwatched of these. 
 
 There now they rest; 
 
44 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Based on such a theme, it offers one of the few examples 
 found in Swinburne of the peaceful mood, when the noon- 
 day quiet holds the hill. The singer seems to lie back 
 in the shadows, lulled by every peaceful note of the wood- 
 lands and breathed upon by every fragrant wind that 
 haunts the vale. There are few things like it in the lan- 
 guage, and among those few it must be given first place. 
 The spirit and form suggest at the very outset the great 
 chorus in the Oedipus Coloneus of Sophocles, although 
 in substance it owes very little to that passage. It is the 
 low pitched mood that suggests Sophocles' Colonus, while 
 the content is more Euripidean. 
 
 O that I now, I too were 
 By deep wells and waterfloods, 
 Streams of ancient hills, and where 
 All the wan green places bear 
 Blossoms cleaving to the sod, etc. 
 
 are very close to the fancy of Phaedra who in her love 
 fever longs for the woods and streams. Hippol. 208 ff. 
 
 (Oh but to quaff, where the spray-veil drifteth 
 O'er taintless fountains, the dear cool stream ! 
 
 Oh to lie in the mead where the soft wind lifteth 
 Its tresses — 'neath poplars to lie and dream. 
 
 Let me hence to the mountain afar — I will hie me 
 To the forest, the pines — ) 
 
 Here Swinburne seemed unable to go on with the 
 description without introducing the presence of a god, 
 just as the Greeks have done in many of their best descrip- 
 tions. The divinity seems to have been needed to lend 
 grace to the painting, or to give it a purpose. So when the 
 poet thinks of ivy it is quite natural to say 
 
 darkest ivy buds 
 As divide thy yellow hair, 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 45 
 
 Bacchus, and their leaves that nod 
 Round thy fawn-skin brush that bare 
 Snow-soft shoulders of a god. 
 
 So in the Bacchae, 81 f. 
 
 tcuraQ re (JTetpavoiBtU 
 Aidvvov depaTTtvei 
 
 And 111 f. 
 
 GTIKT03V T* kvbVTCL Vtfip'lhtoiV 
 
 arecpere \evKOTpixuv Trkonamav 
 paXKols' 
 
 Snow-soft seems like a new epithet for the shoulders of 
 the god, although we find snowy flesh of Adonis stained 
 by blood. Bion, 1, 10 "Pale as grass" gives a Sapphic 
 touch, while the vine and the nightingales are common- 
 places in Greek as well as English. Sophocles' description 
 of Colonus is made up of such, in spite of the fact that it 
 is so perfect, poetically. 
 
 (Stranger, in this land of goodly steeds thou hast come to earth's 
 fairest home, even to our white Colonus; where the nightingale, a 
 constant guest, trills her clear note in the covert of green glades, dwelling 
 amid the wine-dark ivy and the god's inviolate bowers, rich in berries 
 and fruit, unvisited by sun, unvexed by wind of any storm; where the 
 reveller Dionysus ever walks the ground, companion of the nymphs that 
 nursed him.) 
 
 There is in Swinburne the same calm. 
 
 Pale as grass or latter flowers 
 Or the wild vine's wan wet rings 
 Full of dew beneath the moon, 
 And all day the nightingale 
 Sleeps, and all night sings; 
 There in cold remote recesses 
 That nor alien eyes assail, 
 Feet, nor imminence of wings, 
 Nor a wind nor any tune, 
 Thou, O queen and holiest, 
 Flower the whitest of all things, etc. 
 
46 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 In Euripides we rind the same touch. Hippolytus, 
 offering an anadem to Artemis (Hipp. 73 ff.) says: 
 
 For thee this woven garland from a mead 
 
 Unsullied have I twined, O queen, and bring. 
 
 There never shepherd dares to feed his flock, 
 
 Nor steel of sickle came; only the bee 
 
 Roveth the springtide mead undesecrate; 
 
 And reverence wathereth it with river-dews. 
 
 They which have heritage of self-control 
 
 In all things, purity inborn, untaught, 
 
 These there may gather flowers, but none impure. 
 
 Swinburne, addressing the same goddess, surrounds her 
 with the same scenery. 
 
 Or in lower pools that see 
 All their marges clothed all round 
 With the innumerable lily 
 Whence the golden-girdled bee 
 Flits through flowering rush to fret 
 White or duskier violet 
 
 (Here the poet introduces a reminiscence from Pindar, 
 O. 6, 84 ff.) 
 
 Fair as those that in far years 
 
 With their buds left luminous 
 
 And their litde leaves made wet 
 
 From the warmer dew of tears, 
 
 Mother's tears in extreme need, 
 
 Hid the limbs of Iamus 
 
 Of thy brother's seed; 
 
 For his heart was piteous 
 
 Toward him even as thine heart now 
 
 Pitiful toward us. 
 
 In Pindar the new-born Iamus "was hidden among rushes 
 in an impenetrable brake, his tender body all suffused 
 with golden and deep purple gleams of violet flowers." 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 47 
 
 Swinburne owes considerable to Euripides in this 
 chorus. And in addition to the actual reminiscences, 
 which are many, he has caught the gleam and radiancy of 
 the Greek rationalist at his very best. The cold dark 
 recesses of the woods, the passionless white goddess, 
 before whom is set the picture of a little child in the hope 
 of evoking some tenderness and compassion — in this we 
 see a picture that is both Swinburnian and Euripidean in 
 its pathos. 
 
 Aeschylus. Agamemnon, 140 ff. has a similar invoca- 
 tion to Artemis. 
 
 Though so kind, O lady fair, 
 To the tender dew drops of a lion's lair, 
 And to the sucklings of all beasts we find 
 Roaming the fields thou art of gentle mind, 
 Consent the signs of these things to fulfill, 
 Visions of good and visions too of ill. 
 
 Swinburne's "Be thou favorable and fair" is the note 
 that was struck in the prologue. As often with him, the 
 close is bathos. 
 
 But do thou, sweet, otherwise. 
 Having heed of all our prayer, 
 Taking note of all our sighs; 
 We beseech thee by thy light, 
 By thy bow and thy sweet eyes, 
 And the kingdom of the night, 
 Be thou favorable and fair; 
 By thine arrows and thy might, 
 And Orion overthrown; 
 By the maiden thy delight, 
 By^the indissoluble Zone 
 And the sacred hair. 
 
48 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Fifth Episode 
 
 The messenger reports the death of Toxeus and 
 Plexippus. Then follows Althaea's great conflict of 
 soul between love of brothers and love of son. We have 
 an Euripidean development of the celebrated theme in 
 the Antigone of Sophocles. At the conclusion of her 
 mental struggle the three fates visit her once more; there 
 is now no possibility of escape for Meleager. The house 
 is broken, is broken, it shall not stand, sing the chorus, and 
 Althaea adds that a rod smote it of old and now the ax is 
 here. 
 
 Swinburne has treated the mental struggle of the 
 queen in quite Ovidian manner. 
 
 Fifth Stasimon 
 
 the bitter jealousy of god 
 
 The fifth stasimon is motivated by the entrance of the 
 Fates, returned to witness the burning of the brand that 
 Althaea had been presumptuous years ago to extinguish. 
 She now meets them as she goes out to avenge herself on 
 her son for the slaughter of her brothers. 
 
 Fire in the roofs, and on the lintel, fire. 
 
 Lo ye, who stand and weave between the doors, 
 
 There; and blood drips from hand and thread and stains 
 
 Threshold and raiment and me passing in 
 
 Flecked with the sudden sanguine drops of death. 
 
 Swinburne draws a sharp antithesis between the birth of 
 Love in the second stasimon and that second birth, when 
 
 Fate, mother of desires and fears, 
 Bore unto men the law of tears; 
 
 she is great, 
 
Swinburne's Atahnila in Calydon and Erechtheus 49 
 
 The daughter of doom, the mother of death, 
 
 The sister of sorrow; a lifelong weight 
 
 That no man's finger lighteneth; 
 
 Nor any god can lighten fate: 
 
 A landmark seen across the way 
 
 Where one race treads where the other trod; 
 
 An evil scepter, an evil stay 
 
 Wrought for a staff, wrought for a rod, 
 
 The bitter jealousy of God. 
 
 See Hes. Theog. 210 ff. 
 
 And Night bare hateful Doom and black Fate and Death, and she 
 bare Sleep and the tribe of Dreams. 
 
 For the power of Fate see Eurip. Heracleidae, 615 f. 
 
 To shun what Fate decrees is nowise permitted; none by cunning 
 shall thrust it from him; but he, who vainly would do so, shall have 
 unceasing trouble. 
 
 In Aeschylus Ate is at times active in leading one into 
 the toils. Cf. Per. 97 f. 
 
 (For Delusion, at first all smiles and flattery, coaxes men into her 
 stake-nets; but out of them it is not possible for a man to surmount the 
 enclosure and escape unhurt.) 
 
 (The glebe of Ate" grows the grain of death.) 
 
 The "law of tears" is a figure similar to Aesch. Choe. 
 150 
 
 u/ias 8e kukvtois eiravdi^eiv vdfxos 
 
 Such is the law of Zeus, ordaining that man must walk the 
 path that leads to wisdom in sorrow. Ag. 176 ff. 
 
 (Zeus who leads man wisdom-ward 
 
 Makes the path of wisdom hard; 
 
 Save through sorrow, all's debarred. 
 
 Trickles drop by drop in sleep before the heart 
 
 Care that keeps clear in mind sorrow's part. 
 
 
50 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Wisdom come9 in their despite, 
 
 Favor forced of gods who sit in splendor 
 
 High enthroned in their might.) 
 
 The idea of the immutability of fate, that neither god nor 
 man can change it, is common in Greek and as old as 
 Homer. Cf. II. 6, 488 f. 
 
 polpav 5' tlvo. <pr)ni rretpv) ptvov eppevai dvSpoV, 
 ov kok6v } ov8l pei> ea9\6v, eTrrfv ra irpu>Ta yevrjTai. 
 
 The same idea is found in Sophocles, Antigone, 951 ft. 
 
 (But dreadful is the mysterious power of fate; there is no deliverance 
 irom it by wealth or by war, by fenced city, or dark, sea-beaten ships.) 
 
 The ideas implied in Krjp and 'Eplvves are rather closely- 
 related. They are avenging spirits who cause a reversal 
 of fortune, cf. Aes. Sept. 1055 
 
 T ii fieyaXavxot ko.1 (pdepaiyeveis Ktjpes 'EpivOe^ 
 
 Agamemnon was aware of what his fate would be if he 
 disobeyed the god. Ag. 206 
 
 fiaptia pev kt)p to prj Tideadai 
 
 The Erinyes make the life of the unjust man wretched. 
 Ag. 468 
 
 (At him who over man has trod 
 
 Glower the stern fixed eyes of god. 
 
 The dark Erinyes in time 
 
 By sad reversal of life's lot 
 
 Strike him from sight and he is not. 
 
 Among the unseen low he's laid 
 
 With not a hope for one to aid. 
 
 And too much glory is not wise; 
 
 Zeus' bolt is flung against his eyes.) 
 
 In Aeschylus the notion of divine jealousy (<p$6vos) is 
 quite prominent, but is always directed against the man 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 51 
 
 who oversteps the limits assigned to him by the gocU. 
 Its purpose is to punish sin. Swinburne's "bitter jealousy 
 of god" is much more general and all-embracing than 
 Aeschylus would attribute to any of the higher powers. 
 After Swinburne has presented the idea of divine 
 jealousy he reverts to the Eros theme, which in Greek is 
 often associated with the idea of <p96vos. His exposition 
 of the 'reversal of fortune' idea is quite Greek, but ex- 
 pressed in more powerful language than the Greeks were 
 in the habit of using. 
 
 Wilt thou cover thine hair with gold and with silver thy feet? 
 
 Hast thou taken the purple to fold thee and made thy mouth sweet? 
 
 Behold, when thy face is made bare, he that loved thee shall hate, 
 
 Thy face shall be no more fair at the fall of thy fate. 
 
 For thy life shall fall as the leaf and be shed as the rain; 
 
 And the veil of thine head shall be grief and the crown shall be pain. 
 
 Exodos 
 
 Perhaps the most terrible passage in the play is 
 Althaea's speech following the fifth stasimon. It closes, 
 to be sure, with the conventional Greek appeal to Earth, 
 but it makes an impression far from conventional. The 
 language is Biblical in its simplicity and intensity, and 
 nowhere is the feeling of pity colored with terror more 
 definitely aroused. In the last sentence we get the motif 
 of the stasimon: 
 
 Lo, the fire I lit 
 I burn with fire to quench it; yea, with flame 
 I burn up even the dust and ash thereof. 
 
 Then in a brief stichomythia she mystifies the chorus who 
 can see nought but 
 
 A long brand that blackens; and white dust. 
 
52 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 It is with some impatience that she cries: 
 
 This is my son, my flesh, my fruit of life, 
 Meleager, a fire enkindled of mine hands, 
 And of mine hands extinguished; this is he. 
 
 So spoke Clytemnestra after the slaughter of her husband: 
 1404 ff. 
 
 ovtos kern' A 7 afj.kfj.voop, ifj,6s 
 ttoctos, vacpos 5e, rrjade 5e£iSs X*pos 
 epyov, 5i/ccuas tcktovos' to.8' oj8' ex«. 
 
 Her last speech, which follows closely, is quite Euripidean 
 in sentiment. Both Swinburne and Euripides have given 
 children a place of some prominence in their writings. 
 Althaea makes use of it in her first rhesis in the first 
 episode. Then Meleager was not a "fire enkindled of 
 mine hands," but "a goodly flower in fields of fight; at 
 his birth he 
 
 Felt the light touch him coming forth, and wailed 
 Childlike; .... thee most piteous, thee a tenderer thing 
 Than any flower of fleshly seed alive. 
 
 She then compares him to the great warrior (Aes. Sept. 
 380-395) 
 
 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; 
 
 He had even the temerity to reach out after the fates. 
 
 but those gray 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; 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 53 
 
 In the second episode Althaea returns to the subject 
 more than once. A woman's honor is "Love, and the cry 
 of children." She sees Meleager always as 
 
 the flower of three suns old, 
 The small one thing that lying drew down my life 
 To lie with thee and feed thee; a child and weak, 
 Mine, a delight to no man, sweet to me. 
 
 But fair for me thou wert, O little life, 
 Fruitless, the fruit of mine own flesh, and blind, 
 More than much gold, ungrown, a foolish flower. 
 For silver nor bright snow nor feather of foam 
 Was whiter, and no gold yellower than thine hair, 
 O child, my child; 
 
 She remembers how her brothers played with her when she 
 was a little child. 
 
 For this man dead walked with me, child by child, 
 
 And made a weak staff for my feebler feet 
 
 With his own tender wrist and hand, and held 
 
 And led me softly, and showed me gold and steel 
 
 And shining shapes of mirror and bright crown 
 
 And all things fair; and threw light spears, and brought 
 
 Young hounds to huddle to my feet and thrust 
 
 Tame heads against my little maiden breasts, 
 
 And please me with great eyes; 
 
 In her lament for her brothers she reverts again to the 
 subject: 
 
 the love of my born son, 
 
 A new-made mother's new-born love, that grows 
 From the soft child to the strong man, now soft, 
 Now strong as either, and still one sole same love, 
 Strives with me, no light thing to strive withal; 
 
54 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 And the last, her death-song: 
 
 O child, 
 Son, first-born, fairest — O sweet mouth, sweet eyes, 
 That drew my life out through my suckling breast, 
 That shone and clove my heart through, — O soft knees 
 Clinging, O tender treadings of soft feet, 
 Cheeks warm with little kissings, — O child, child. 
 What have we made each other? Lo, I felt 
 Thy weight cleave to me, a burden of beauty, O son, 
 Thy cradled brows and loveliest loving lips, 
 The floral hair, the little lightening eyes, 
 And all thy goodly glory : with mine hands 
 Delicately I fed thee, with my tongue 
 Tenderly speke, saying, Verily in God's time 
 For all the little likeness of thy limbs, 
 Son, I shall make thee a kingly man to fight, 
 A lordly leader; and hear before I die, 
 'She bore the goodliest sword of all the world.' 
 
 Aleleager, too, has a tender feeling for children; he recalls 
 his young cousins, Helen and Clytemnestra, whom he 
 saw on a visit to Sparta: 
 
 One swan-white, 
 The little Helen, and less fair than she, 
 Fair Clytaemnestra, grave as pasturing fawns 
 Who feed and fear some arrow; but at whiles, 
 As one smitten with love or wrung with joy, 
 She laughs and lightens with her eyes, and then 
 Weeps; whereat Helen, having laughed, weeps too, 
 And the other chides her, and she, being chid speaks naught, 
 But cheeks and lips and eyelids kisses her, 
 Laughing; so fare they, as in their bloomless bud 
 And full of unblown life, the blood of gods. 
 
 Even the young chorus has an idea on the subject: for 
 when Althaea raves over the death of her brothers, the 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 55 
 
 chorus reminds her that the child is nearer than the 
 brothers: 
 
 Nay, for the son lies close about thine heart, 
 
 Full of thy milk, warm from thy womb, and drains 
 
 Life and the blood of life and all thy fruit, 
 
 Eats thee and drinks thee as one who breaks bread and eats. 
 
 Treads wine and drinks, thyself a sect of thee; 
 
 And if he feed not, shall not thy flesh faint? 
 
 Or drink not, are not thy lips dead for thirst? 
 
 The same mother-love is shown by Andromache when 
 she deplores the death that must come to her child, now 
 that his father is dead. (Tro. 740 ff.) 
 
 O darling child, O prized above all price, 
 Thou must leave thy poor mother, die by foes! 
 
 Child, dost thou weep, dost comprehend thy doom? 
 Why with thy hands clutch, clinging to my robe, 
 Like fledging fleeing to nestle 'neath my wings? 
 
 O tender nursling, sweet to mother, sweet ! 
 
 O balmy breath ! in vain and all in vain 
 
 This breast in swaddling-bands has nurtured thee. 
 
 Vainly I travailed and was spent with toils! 
 
 Now, and no more forever, kiss thy mother, 
 
 Fling thee on her that bare thee, twine thine arms 
 
 Around my waist and lay thy lips to mine. 
 
 Hecuba laments that the child had died otherwise than in 
 battle, just as Althaea lamented the ill-fate of her brothers: 
 Tro. 1167 ff. 
 
 Ah, darling, what ill death has come on thee ! 
 
 Hadst thou for Troy been slain, when thou hadst known 
 
 Youth, wedlock's bliss, and godlike sovereignty, 
 
 Blest wert thou — if herein may aught be blest, 
 
 But now, once seen and sipped by thy child-soul, 
 
 Thine home-bliss fleets forgotten, unenjoyed. 
 
56 Swinburne's Atalanto in Calydon and Brecktheus 
 
 Poor child, how sadly thine ancestral halls, 
 
 Upreared by Loxias, from thine head have shorn 
 
 The curls that oft thy mother softly smoothed 
 
 And kissed, wherefrom through shattered bones forth grins 
 
 Murder — a ghastliness I cannot speak. 
 
 Medea, about to slay her children, speaks in a similar 
 
 strain: 
 
 1070 ff. 
 
 Give, to babes, 
 
 (live to your mother the right hand to kiss. 
 
 O dearest hand, O lips most dear to me, 
 
 O form and noble features of my children, 
 
 Blessing be on you — there ! for all things here 
 
 Your sire hath stolen. Sweet, O sweet embrace! 
 
 O children's roseleaf skin, O balmy breath! 
 
 Away, away! Strength faileth me to gaze 
 
 On you, but I am overcome of evil. 
 
 Of this last sentiment Althaea has made much. After 
 she has kindled the brand she addresses the chorus: 
 
 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, 
 Loathe my long living and am waxen red 
 As with the shadow of shed blood; behold, 
 I am kindled with the flames that fade in him, 
 I am swollen with subsiding of his veins, etc. 
 
 It would be easy to multiply examples; perhaps these 
 suffice to show the mental attitude of the two poets. The 
 case in Aesch. Choe. 755 ff. is a good example to show how 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 57 
 
 Swinburne so often takes an Aeschylean point of view 
 and at once proceeds to treat the subject in true Euripi- 
 dean manner. The nurse is musing on the infancy of the 
 absent Orestes, under the delusion that he is dead. She 
 is distinctly retrospective as Althaea is always. While 
 the characters in Euripides addresses the child directly. 
 But Swinburne would never use the language of the nurse; 
 it is altogether lacking in his kind of sentiment. 
 
 Above all men beside, — 
 Lo, how am I thrust 
 Into Hades to hide 
 My life in the dust! 
 All vainly I reverenced god and in vain unto man was I just. 
 
 Both cry for death, but the cry of Meleager is like the 
 cry of a delirious man; the pain of Hippolytus more 
 poignant. Hipp. 1370 
 
 Let the stricken one be; 
 Ah mine anguish again; 
 Give ye sleep unto me, 
 Death, salve for my pain, 
 The sleep of the sword for the wretched, I long, O I long to be slain. 
 
 Meleager not only desires to die; he even takes thought 
 where he wishes to lie buried, and he has a vision of the 
 world to come. 
 
 Would God ye could carry me 
 
 Forth of all these, 
 
 Heap me and bury me 
 
 By the Chersonese 
 Where the thundering Bosphorus answers the thunder of Pontic seas. 
 
 For the dead man no home is; 
 Ah better to be 
 What the flower of the foam is 
 In fields of the sea 
 That the sea-waves might be as my raiment, the gulf-stream a garment 
 
 [of me. 
 
58 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Will ye crown me my tomb 
 
 Or exalt me my name, 
 
 Now my spirits consume 
 
 Now my flesh is a flame? 
 Let the sea slake it once and men speak of me sleeping to praise me or 
 
 [blame. 
 
 Would the winds blow me back 
 
 Or the waves hurl me home? 
 
 Ah to touch in the track 
 
 Where the pine learnt to roam 
 Cold girdles and crowns of the dea-gods, cool blossoms of water and foam. 
 
 Not the life of men's veins, 
 Not of flesh that conceives; 
 But the grace that remains, 
 The fair beauty that cleaves 
 To the life of the rain in the grasses, the life of the dews on the leaves. 
 
 The years are hungry, 
 They wail all their days; 
 The gods wax angry, 
 And weary of praise; 
 And who shall bridle their lips? and who shall straiten their ways? 
 
 The cry of Hippolytus is of the immediate present: 
 
 Ah for words of a spell 
 That my soul might take flight 
 From the tortures, with fell 
 Unrelentings that smite 
 O for the blackness of Hades, the sleep of Necessity's night. 
 
 Then for his comfort the voice of Artemis speaks. 
 
 Unhappy, bowed 'neath what disaster's yoke! 
 Thine own heart's nobleness hath ruined thee. 
 
 He recognizes the voice at once; the form he has never 
 
 seen. 
 
 Ah perfume breath celestial, mid my pains 
 I feel thee and mine anguish is assuaged, 
 l.o. in this place the goddess Artemis. 
 

 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 59 
 
 And she explains to him his plight and shows him why she 
 could not save him; but she promises him vengeance and a 
 festival and a memory preserved in song. She urges him 
 not to hate his father, and seeing the approach of death 
 she takes her leave. 
 
 Farewell, I may not gaze upon the dead, 
 Nor may with dying gasps pollute my sight : 
 And now I see that thou art near the end. 
 
 His last words are with his father. I am gone; I see the 
 gates of death. I absolve you of my death, witness 
 Artemis. My strength is overcome; I am gone. Cover my 
 face with my mantle. 
 
 The whole scene is full of pathos, particularly where 
 the youth sees that his death will make no great difference 
 to the goddess and is provoked on account of it to say as 
 Artemis goes out: 
 
 Farewell to thy departing, Maiden blest; 
 
 Light falls on thee long fellowship's severance. 
 
 Lo, I forgive my father at thy suit, 
 
 As heretofore have I obeyed thy word. 
 
 And o'er my eyes even now the darkness draws. 
 
 Take father, take my body and upraise. 
 
 When Meleager turns to Atalanta, she reproaches 
 herself after the manner of Helen in Iliad, 6, 345 ff. 
 
 I would that with feet 
 Unsandalled, unshod, 
 Overbold, overfleet, 
 I had swum not nor trod 
 From Arcadia to Calydon, northward, a blast of the envy of god. 
 
 Helen, addressing Hector, cries: 
 
 Would that on the day when my mother bare me at the first, an 
 evil storm-wind had caught me away to a mountain or a billow of the 
 
60 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 loud-sounding sea, where the billow might have swept me away before all 
 these things came to pass. 
 
 or, as turned by Tennyson: 
 
 I would the white, cold, heavy-plunging foam 
 Whirled by the wind, had rolled me deep below, 
 Then when I left my home. 
 
 For the "envy of god" see Aes. Per. 362; 
 
 At his next address she becomes more responsive: 
 
 Though thou art as fire 
 
 Fed with fuel in vain, 
 
 My delight, desire, 
 
 Is more chaste than the rain, 
 More pure than the dewfall, more holy than stars are that live without 
 
 [stain. 
 Atalanta replies: 
 
 I would that as water 
 My life's blood had thawn, 
 Or as winter's wan daughter 
 Leaves lowland and lawn 
 Spring-stricken, or ever mine eyes had beheld thee made dark in thy 
 
 [dawn. 
 
 Meleager sees that he is dying for the sins of others as 
 well as his own. As he takes leave of his father he says: 
 
 O holy head of Oeneus, lo thy son 
 Guiltless, yet red with alien guilt, yet foul 
 With kinship of contaminated lives, 
 Lo, for their blood I die; and mine own blood 
 For bloodshedding of mine is mixed therewith, 
 That death may not discern me from my kin. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 61 
 
 An Euripidean idea; see Hip. 1378 ff. 
 
 Dire curse of my father, 
 
 Sins long ago wrought 
 
 Of mine ancestors gather, 
 
 Their doom tarries not; 
 But the scourge overfloweth the innocent, — wherefore on me is it 
 
 [brought? 
 Meleager cries: 
 
 Yet with clean heart I die and faultless hand 
 
 just as Hippolytus claims: 
 
 Innocent I, ever fearing the gods, who was wholly heart-clean. 
 
 And the close of this speech of Meleager's is distinctly 
 
 Greek: 
 
 Thou therefore of thy love 
 Salute me and bid fare among the dead 
 Well, as the dead fare; for the best man dead 
 Fares sadly; 
 
 See the famous passage in the Od. 11, 488 fL; Eur. fr. 537; 
 and fr. Mel. 536, the motto of the play. 
 
 The kommos that follows seems to me the greatest 
 thing of the kind that I have ever seen. To praise it all 
 words seem inadequate; surely Swinburne was right in a 
 case like this, when he said that it was the business of the 
 reader to rejoice in the song that is sung for him and 
 praise the gift of the singer. As for the song, it is not for 
 him to handle. With this in mind, I shall touch as lightly 
 as possible this great death symphony, although material 
 for comparison is abundant. 
 
 Meleager, while crowning Atalanta, is stricken with 
 sudden agony from the kindling of the brand, 
 
 and grasping his own hair groaned 
 And cast his raiment round his face and fell. 
 
62 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Muffling the face at the approach of death seems to be a 
 favorite literary device; even in Shakespere we find 
 
 then burst his mighty heart; 
 And in his mantle muffling up his face, 
 Even at the base of Pompey's statua, 
 Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. 
 
 The cry of Oeneus at the mishap of Meleager is close to 
 that of Creon in the Medea, when he sees his daughter 
 caught in the meshes of the magic veil : 
 
 But the king twitched his reins in and leapt down 
 And caught him, crying out twice, O child; and thrice, 
 So that men's eyelids thickened with their tears: 
 
 Cf. Medea, 1206 ff. 
 
 But ignorant of all, her wretched sire, 
 
 Suddenly entering, falls upon her corpse, 
 
 And straightway wailed and clasped the body round, 
 
 And kissed it, crying, "O my hapless child, 
 
 What god thus horribly hath thee destroyed?" 
 
 Meleager's cry of pain is much more dignified and 
 full of modern stoicism than that of Hippolytus, but there 
 is much in common in the two death scenes. The dying 
 men are brought in to the sound of mourning. Euripides' 
 chorus announces the coming and draws a sympathetic 
 picture. 
 
 Lo, lo, the stricken one borne 
 Hitherward, with his young flesh torn 
 And his golden head of its glory shorn. 
 Ah griefs of the house, what doom 
 Twofold on thine halls hath come 
 By the gods' will shrouded in sorrow's gloom. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 63 
 
 No translator could make Euripides approach the splendor 
 of the passage in Swinburne, who seems to have gathered 
 from all the world food for a funeral feast such as even 
 the gods had not known till then. The chorus sings in 
 two-verse groups, interrupted by three verses of spoken 
 pentameter. I omit the latter. 
 
 Without sword, without sword is he stricken. 
 
 Slain, and slain without hand; 
 He wastes as the embers quicken, 
 
 With the brand he fades as a brand. 
 With rending of cheek and of hair, 
 
 Lament, ye, mourn for him, weep; 
 Alas, for visions that were, 
 
 And soothsayings spoken in sleep. 
 Lament with a long lamentation, 
 
 Cry, for an end is at hand. 
 Cry aloud, O thou kingdom, O nation. 
 
 O stricken, a ruinous land. 
 Thou art smitten, her lord, her desire, 
 
 Thy dear blood wasted as rain, 
 Thou madest thy sword as a fire, 
 
 With fire for a sword thou art slain. 
 
 Alcestis wastes away in the same manner but to no such 
 beautiful music. Cf. Alcestis 201 ff. 
 
 (Admetus) weeps and clasps his dear one in his arms 
 
 And prays, "Forsake me not," asking the while 
 
 The impossible, for still she wanes and wastes, . 
 
 Drooping her head, a misery-burdened weight; 
 
 But yet, albeit hardly breathing still, 
 
 To the sun's rays fain would she lift her eyes, 
 
 As nevermore, but for the last time now 
 
 Destined to see the sun's beam and his orb. 
 
64 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 The chorus adds its lament : 
 
 "Cry, land Pheraean, shrill and keen! 
 Lift up thy voice to wail thy best 
 There dying, and thy queenliest 
 Slow wasting to the gates unseen. 
 
 Swinburne was right in this instance at least; it is easy 
 for him to tower head and shoulders above Euripides. 
 Way, who evidently saw in Swinburne's great kommos a 
 reminiscence of the lament of Hippolytus, has translated 
 the verse of Euripides in the Swinburne stanza form, and 
 given it some touches of Swinburnian color; but his effort 
 goes only to show how inferior Euripides, or Way, or any 
 one is to the Master of that particular form. Way has 
 thought enough of it to use it in other plays; e. g. Iph. 
 Aul. 1279 ff.; Alcestis, chor. 112 ff.; 912 ff. etc. 
 
 Hippolytus, while being borne to his father's house, 
 directs his thralls how to carry him, and cries aloud in 
 his agony. Meleager, in thirteen stanzas, each of which 
 is answered by the chorus, or Oeneus, or Atalanta, reviews 
 his past life. Althaea sits by in grim silence, the incarna- 
 tion of Fate. Swinburne's treatment is marvelous in its 
 dignity, elegance and poetic beauty. Hippolytus repeats 
 the reproach against his father; 
 
 Woe, woe for a son 
 By the doom of his sire 
 All marred and undone, 
 Through my head leapeth fire 
 Of agony flashes, and throbbeth my brain like a hard-smitten lyre. 
 
 Meleager has more self-control: 
 
 Let your hands meet 
 Round the weight of my head ; 
 Lift ye my feet 
 As the feet of the dead; 
 For the flesh of my bodv is molten, the limbs of it molten as lead. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon unci Erechtheus 65 
 
 In this is a little of Phaedra's appeal: 
 
 Uplift ye my body, mine head upraise, 
 
 Friends, faint be my limbs, and unknit be their bands, 
 
 Hold, maidens, my rounded arms and my hands. 
 
 The pain and suffering of Hippoly tus seems very real : 
 
 For gods' sake, bear 
 Me gently each thrall; 
 Thou to right have a care, 
 Soft let your hands fall; 
 Tenderly bear the sore mangled, onstepping in tune, one and all, 
 
 The unhappy onbearing 
 And cursed, I ween, 
 
 (then referring his own innocence to Zeus, he regards 
 himself as Virtue abused) 
 
 Of his father's own erring 
 Ah Zeus, hast thou seen? 
 Innocent I, ever fearing the gods, who was wholly heart-clean. 
 
ERECHTHEUS 
 
 Swinburne chose for the motto of the Erechtheus two 
 verses from Pindar, f r. 47 : 
 
 co ral \iirapai ical ioarkipavot. not boldiftoi, 
 
 "EXXASa* iptiana, KKtival 'Adavai, baipoviov irTo\Ledpoi>. 
 
 and two from Aeschylus, Persae, 241 f. 
 
 Aroaco. tis Be Troipavup eirecm Ka.Tride<nr6£et arparov ', 
 Xopos. ovtivos 8ov\oi KkKXrjvrai (fiords ov8' virrjKooi. 
 
 
 
 One expresses his appreciation of the wealth and splendor 
 of the ancient city, while the other states the character- 
 istic attitude of the Athenian toward his native land. 
 This theme of devotion to native land recurs in many 
 places in the works of Swinburne, throughout his entire 
 career. 
 
 Structure 
 
 1. Prologue 1- 94 
 
 2. Parodos 95-238 
 
 3. First Episode 239- 348 
 
 4. First Stasimon 349- 360 
 
 5. Second Episode 361- 554 
 
 6. Second Stasimon 555- 640 
 
 7. Third Episode 641- 753 
 
 8. Third Stasimon, with Kommos 754- 889 
 
 9. Fourth Episode 890-1074 
 
 10. Fourth Stasimon, with Kommos 1076-1190 
 
 11. Fifth Episode 1191-1240 
 
 12. Fifth Stasimon 1241-1252 
 
 13. Sixth Episode 1253-1282 
 
 14. Sixth Stasimon, with Kommos 1283-1483 
 
 15. Seventh Episode 1484-1623 
 
 16. Seventh Stasimon 1624-1643 
 
 17. Exodos 1644-1760 
 
 66 
 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 67 
 
 Prologue 
 
 The prologue of the Erechtheus is a monologue like 
 that of the Atalanta. It is longer, however, by thirty 
 lines, and, so, nearly three times the length of that of the 
 Agamemnon. It gives about as much direct information 
 as we find in an Aeschylean prologue, but it is not at all 
 Aeschylean in its method. Structurally it is very complex, 
 and abounds in subtle allusion. No extant Greek prologue 
 reveals half the erudition. We are told that Athens is 
 threatened with destruction. The king laments that the 
 oracle demands the sacrifice of his child to save the ship 
 of state from the rocks. (Aeschylean figure; see Sep tern, 
 Iff.) He prays his mother (Earth) to strengthen the 
 city. 
 
 Lines 1-22 resemble an Euripidean genealogy, referring 
 to the king in eight different aspects, rather than to eight- 
 different characters, as might have been the case in 
 Euripides. Erechtheus calls Earth's attention to himself; 
 behold me, thy son, men-crowned, thy child, fosterling 
 of Pallas, reared in her shade, hallowing her fame in feasts, 
 first to tame steeds, the king. Lines 23-43 are full of 
 Euripidean sentimentality. After line 43 the emotion 
 becomes more intense. His cry is for help; save thou our 
 city. The cry of Eteocles, in the Septem of Aeschylus, is 
 to the people of the city of Cadmus; 'save your common 
 mother earth, for it was she, when you walked as children 
 on her kindly soil, brought you up to be her colonists and 
 trusty champions, that you might become such for an 
 emergency like this.' One calls to the earth for help; the 
 other asks help for the Earth. As Swinburne himself has 
 disclaimed all Euripidean influence, and declared his play 
 an imitation of the earlier style of Aeschylus, if of any- 
 thing, and as some of his most important critics accept 
 
68 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 this as a statement of fact, let us see how it applies to the 
 Septem, the prologue of which lies under the same im- 
 pending cloud of calamity. Thebes is threatened on 
 land, Athens, from the sea. In each case the king speaks 
 the prologue. Both use the 'ship of state' figure. Erech- 
 theus calls on Earth and asks why the gods are against 
 him. Eteocles trusts in the defense of his army. They 
 must save their altars and their children and their mother 
 earth. The gods have been favorable up to this time; 
 there is no reason to fear a change of attitude on their 
 part. Haste to the battlements, man the parapets. 
 Aeschylus emphasizes the importance of the state and 
 minimizes that of the king; Swinburne emphasizes the 
 anxiety of a king who has been interrupted in the exercise 
 of his sovereignty. He is quite sure of his dignity and his 
 divine associations and has decked them with Pindaric 
 splendor. The pomp and verbosity is more than Aeschy- 
 lean; and there is added a certain loud-voiced, high- 
 pitched wordiness, which is Swinburne at his worst. 
 
 Erechtheus 
 
 The theme of the Erechtheus is the sacrifice of a maiden 
 at the command of a god. The plot is based on that of 
 the lost Erechtheus of Euripides, three of whose extant 
 dramas deal with a similar subject. 'Macaria dies to 
 save the race of the Heracleidae; Iphigeneia, to prosper 
 the cause of the Greek fleet; Alcestis, to save the life of 
 her husband. In each of these three cases a divine voice 
 had declared that some one must die; in each, the heroine 
 required was purely passive; and in each a definite gain 
 was promised. (See Jebb, Antigone, Intr. xxxiv.) 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 69 
 
 Such is the situation in Swinburne's Erechtheus. 
 Thus he explains the case to his queen: 
 
 The word that journeying to the bright God's shrine 
 Who speaks askance and darkling, but his name 
 Hath in it slaying and ruin broad writ out, 
 I heard, hear thou: thus saith he; There shall die 
 One soul for all this people; from thy womb 
 Came forth the seed that here on dry bare ground 
 Death's hand must sow untimely, to bring forth 
 Nor blade nor shoot in season, being by name 
 To the under Gods made holy, who require 
 For this land's life her death and maiden blood 
 To save a maiden city. 
 
 Euripides records Agamemnon's statement thus: 
 
 Now when the gathered host together came, 
 At Aulis did we tarry weather-bound. 
 Then the seer Calchas bade in our despair 
 Slay Iphegeneia, her whom I begat, 
 To Artemis who dwelleth in this land; 
 So should we voyage, and so Phrygia smite; 
 But if we slew her not, it should not be. 
 
 In the chorus of the Agamemnon of Aeschylus, 150 ff. 
 we have a reference to the same sacrifice, and again in 
 200, where the word $ic\ay%ov is used of the declaration 
 of Calchas. This Swinburne seems to have had in mind 
 when he wrote, in reference to the prophecy cited above: 
 If this ring worse I know not; strange it rang. 
 
 In the Heracleidae, where the salvation of Athens is at 
 
 stake, as in the Erechtheus, Iolaus refers to the oracle 
 
 thus: 
 
 488 ff. 
 
 For oracle-chanters, saith the king, proclaim 
 That he must bid to slay nor bull nor calf. 
 
7() Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 But a maid, daughter of a high-born sire, 
 If we, if Athens must not cease to be. 
 This then is our despair: the king refuseth 
 To slay his own or any other child, 
 And saith to me, — albeit not in words, — 
 Except we find for this some remedy, 
 We must needs forth and seek another land; 
 But his own land he cannot choose but save. 
 
 Macaria's first speech is very similar in tone to Chthonia's. 
 
 They both come out and address the chorus, and both 
 
 offer a modest apology for intruding. Eur. Heracleidae, 
 
 474 ff. 
 
 Strangers, impute not for my coming forth 
 Boldness to me; this is my first request; 
 Since for a woman silence and discretion 
 Be fairest, and still tarrying in the home. 
 But Iolaus, I heard thy moans and came, — 
 Though I be not ordained mine house's head: 
 Yet in some sort it fits me, for I love 
 These brothers more than all: yea, mine own fate 
 Fain would I learn, — lest to the former ills 
 Some new pang added now torments thy soul. 
 
 At the cry of the chorus Chthonia also enters. 
 
 Forth of the fine-spun folds of veils that hide 
 
 My virgin chamber toward the full-faced sun 
 
 I set my foot and moved of mine own will, 
 
 Unmaiden-like, nor with unprompted speed 
 
 Turn eyes too broad or doglike unabashed 
 
 On reverend heads of men and thence on thine, 
 
 Mother, now covered from the light and bowed 
 
 As hers who mourns her brethren; but what grief 
 
 Bends thy blind head thus earthward, holds thee mute, 
 
 I know not till thy will be to lift up 
 
 Toward mine thy sorrow-muffled eyes and speak; 
 
 And till thy will be would I know not this. 
 
 

 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 71 
 
 In both cases the speaker comes out and addresses first 
 the chorus, and then a character who has been discussing 
 a mournful subject with the chorus. In Chthonia's 
 speech there is, at its close, a slight parallel to Aesch. Ag. 
 1048 f. where the chorus addressed Cassandra: 
 
 Thou taken in the hunting net of chance 
 
 Shouldst hearken if thou wouldst; perchance thou'lt not. 
 
 Macaria accepts her fate at once; she offers herself a 
 willing victim; Chthonia makes no direct reply, but after 
 two stasimons and an episode she laments her fate in a 
 kommos, after which she takes a very elaborate leave. 
 Her last words are addressed to Earth, her father's mother. 
 She goes, 
 
 A silent soul led of a silent God 
 
 Toward sightless things led sightless. 
 
 Macaria too takes leave of Iolaus, giving some practical 
 advice as to his future conduct. She does drop for a 
 moment into a pathetic strain, calling attention to her 
 maiden death. 
 
 Thou seest how my bloom of spousal-tide 
 I yield up in the stead of these to die. 
 
 I have failed you naught, 
 
 Have stood your champion, for mine house have died. 
 My treasure this shall be, for babes unborn, 
 Spousals foregone; 
 
 Her last thought is on the question of future life. 
 
 if in the grave aught be: 
 But ah that naught might be! for if there too 
 We mortals who must die shall yet have cares, 
 I know not whither one shall turn; since death 
 For sorrows is accounted chief est balm. 
 
72 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 In both plays a battle is the deciding factor. Swin- 
 burne is much more brilliant and spectacular, but Euripi- 
 des is not without his prodigies. He gives us an example 
 of an old man made young and showing deeds of prowess 
 far beyond his age. He also gave Swinburne a hint for 
 several of his fine lines. The battle grows in fury: 
 
 Anon foot stood in grapple locked with foot, 
 
 Man fronting man, hard-wrestling in the fray. (Her. 830 i.) 
 
 So Swinburne speaks of the limbs of the contestants 
 
 To be locked as in wrestle together, and lighten 
 With fire that shall darken thy fire in the sky, 
 Body to body and eye against eye 
 In a war against kind. 
 
 The sacrifice of the maiden is pictured very strikingly 
 in the Iphigeneia and the picture is not without its 
 influence on Swinburne, although he wilfully kept 
 Aeschylus' version in mind. Both Chthonia and Iphi- 
 geneia sing a lament in anticipation of death. Chthonia's 
 is in kommos form and is in its structure somewhat like 
 the lament of Antigone. Iphigeneia sings first of the 
 fatal judgment of Paris, then laments her own end. The 
 passage is one of great beauty. In the dialogue that 
 follows, she suddenly experiences a change of heart; she 
 wishes to die for her country, and she wishes to thrust 
 aside cowardly thoughts and die gloriously. All Greece 
 looks to her; she alone can bestow the boon of the sailing 
 of the ships, and the overthrow of Phrygia and safety 
 for the years to come. 
 
 All this great deliverance I in death shall compass, and my name 
 As one who gave to Hellas freedom shall be blessing-crowned. 
 
 . My body unto Hellas I resign. 
 Sacrifice me, raze ye Troy; for this through all the ages is 
 My memorial; children, marriage, glory — all are mine in this. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 73 
 
 So Chthonia to her mother: 
 
 Thou brought'st me forth a savior who shall save 
 Athens; for none but I from none but thee 
 Shall take this death for garland; and the men 
 Mine unknown children of unsounded years, 
 My sons unrisen shall rise up at thine hand, 
 And call thee most of all most fruitful found 
 Blessed; but me too for my barren womb 
 More than my sisters for their children born 
 Shall these give honor; yea, in scorn's own place 
 Shall men set love and bring for mockery praise 
 And thanks for curese; 
 
 Chthonia's lyrical farewell, "I lift up mine eyes from the 
 skirts of the shadow," is a farewell to Athens, built on a 
 web of mythological allusion. Like all the lyrics in the 
 play, it is technically perfect, but is somewhat cold and 
 unconvincing; when we reach the conclusion, 'I go to my 
 death,' we are more inclined to hope that she will attain 
 her goal, than to give her of our sympathy, she has 
 spoken so many farewells! Turning to the Iphigeneia 
 we find about the same conditions. There is rhesis, 
 stichomythia, triumphal procession, closing with the 
 last words of the victim; a cry to Mycenae: 
 
 For a light unto Hellas thou fosteredst me. 
 And I die— O freely I die for thee. 
 
 Hail, light divine! 
 
 Hail day, in whose hands doth the world's torch shine! 
 
 In a strange new life must I dwell, 
 
 And a strange new lot must be mine. 
 
 Farewell, dear light, farewell. 
 
 At the sacrifice Swinburne paints a very roseate picture 
 of the victim, trembling with pride in pleasure, proud 
 because she was not pale with fear. 
 
74 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Her cheeks lightened and brighter than a bridal veil 
 Her hair enrobed her bosom and enrolled 
 From face to feet the body's whole soft length 
 As with a cloud sun-saturate: 
 
 Euripides paints no pre-sacrificial picture. The messenger 
 reports that Agamemnon groaned at the sight of his child, 
 who approached and addressed him as follows: 
 
 My father, at thine hest I come 
 And for my country's sake my body give 
 And for all Hellas, to be led of you 
 Unto the goddess' altar willingly, 
 And sacrificed, if this is Heaven's decree. 
 Prosper, so far as rests with me and win 
 Victory, and return to fatherland. 
 Then let no Argive lay a hand on me : 
 Silent, unflinching will I yield my neck. 
 
 Chthonia also spoke, not to her father, but to her country- 
 men, 
 
 With maiden tongue words manlike, but her eyes 
 
 Lit mildly like a maiden's: Countrymen, 
 
 With more goodwill and height of happier heart 
 
 I give me to you than my mother bare, 
 
 And go more gladly this great way to death 
 
 Than young men bound for battle. Then with face 
 
 Turned to the shadowiest part of all the shrine 
 
 And eyes fast set upon the further shade, 
 
 Take me, dear gods; and as some form had shone 
 
 From the deep hollow shadow, some god's tongue 
 
 Answered, I bless you that your guardian grace 
 
 Gives me to guard this country, takes my blood, 
 
 Your child's by name, to heal it. 
 
 In the Agamemnon the story of the sacrifice is told by the 
 chorus (228-47) 
 
 Her prayers and cries her father's ears that sought, 
 Her maiden bloom they heedless set at naught, 
 

 Swinburne *s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 75 
 
 Those war-enraptured judges gathered there. 
 
 Her father bade the attendants after prayer 
 
 The maiden drooping prone to quick upraise 
 
 Even as a kid above the altar blaze, 
 
 Her robes about her spread, and with a guard 
 
 Of her sweet lips within to compass hard 
 
 By force of bonds and might that muffles thought 
 
 Her voice with curses for the palace fraught. 
 
 And she to earth her saffron robe let fall 
 And smote her very slayers one and all 
 With piteous eyes that cast out pity's darts 
 To strike in vain those cold unpitying hearts, 
 Clearer than in a picture, fain to speak, etc. 
 
 The chorus saw no more; it was not a picture to paint too 
 clearly to the audience. In the Iphigeneia the priest 
 makes his preparations for the sacrifice, 
 
 Laid down a keen knife which his hand had drawn 
 Out of its sheath, then crowned the maiden's head. 
 
 Then Peleus' son cried: 
 
 Zeus' daughter, slayer of wild beasts, 
 Whose wheels of light roll splendors through the gloom — 
 (Cf. Sw. One day more I see the world's of the circling sun 
 Roll up rejoicing to regard on earth 
 This one thing goodliest.) 
 
 But the sacrifice is interrupted; the maiden has dis- 
 appeared. Swinburne, however, carries it on to the bitter 
 end. 
 
 Then the priest 
 Set to the flower-sweet snow of her soft throat 
 The sheer knife's edge that severed it, and loosed 
 From the fair bondage of so spotless flesh 
 So strong a spirit; and all that girt them round 
 Gazing, with souls that hung on that sad stroke, 
 Groaned, and kept silence after while a man 
 
76 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Might count how far the fresh blood crept, and bathed 
 How deep the dark robe's and the bright shrine's base 
 Red-rounded with a running ring that grew 
 More large and duskier as the wells that fed 
 Were drained of that pure effluence; 
 
 In Lucretius we find an account of the same sacrifice. 
 
 Soon as the fillet encircling her maiden tresses shed itself in equal 
 lengths adown each cheek, and soon as she saw her father standing 
 sorrowful before the altars and beside him the ministering priests, 
 hiding the knife and her countrymen at sight of her shedding tears, 
 speechless in terror she dropped down on her knees and sank to the 
 ground. Nor aught in such a moment could it avail the luckless girl 
 that she had first bestowed the name of father on the king. For lifted 
 up in the arms of the men she was carried shivering to the altars, not 
 after due performance of the customary rites to be escorted by the 
 clear-ringing bridal song, but in the very season of marriage, stainless 
 maid mid the stain of blood, to fall a sad victim to the sacrificing stroke 
 of a father, that thus a happy and prosperous departure might be granted 
 to the fleet. So great are the evils to which religion could prompt. 
 
 Lucretius' view is contemptuous, Swinburne's ecstatic, 
 Aeschylus' pathetic, and Euripides' melodramatic. Each 
 has manipulated the same material in his own way. It 
 might be interesting to compare Tennyson's effort: 
 
 I was cut off from hope in that sad place. 
 Which men called Aulis in those iron years; 
 My father held his hand upon his face; 
 I, blinded with my tears. 
 
 Still strove to speak; my voice was thick with signs 
 As in a dream; dimly I could descry 
 The stern black-bearded kings with wolfish eyes 
 Waiting to see me die. 
 
 The high masts flickered as they lay afloat 
 The crowds, the temples, wavered, and the shore; 
 The bright death quivered at the victim's throat; 
 Touched; and T knew no more. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 77 
 
 The Characters 
 
 Erechtheus may be viewed in four lights; as king, 
 warrior, husband, father. He appears as king in the 
 prologue, appealing to his mother Earth for information 
 as to the cause of the plague just fallen upon his state. 
 He speaks with ostentatious pride of his ancestry, pictures 
 his land in loving terms, glances at the impending ruin, 
 and puns in true Greek manner on the name of his foe. 
 He speaks with reverence of the gods who have sent upon 
 him for some dark reason, 'the confluent surge of loud 
 calamities.' His prayer closes with an appeal for help. 
 
 As a warrior, his interview with the herald shows 
 him ready and confident. He speaks no word of tempor- 
 izing, no haggling about terms; he will fight, and die or 
 live, as his lot lies on the lap of the unknown hour. He has 
 had divine information that he is to win and die, and he 
 is in accord with his fate. The report of the Athenian 
 herald makes him a successful leader who attained a 
 heroic and supernatural end. 
 
 The attitude of Erechtheus to Praxithea is very 
 unusual for a Greek play. His language is all love and 
 admiration; he has found her from all times wise and 
 perfect of heart. Moreover, he has found her free from 
 hybris in prosperity, a condition of heart he implies to be 
 exceptional, so that now when sorrow has come upon him 
 he dreads to shock her with its weight. He tries the tem- 
 per of her fortitude by considerable riddling speech, and 
 closes by offering her a choice of evils, the culmination 
 of which is death. 
 
 but we for all our good things, we 
 Have at their hands (the gods') which fill all these folk full 
 Death, barrenness, child-slaughter, curses, cares, 
 Sea-leaguer and land-shipwreck; which of these, 
 Which wilt thou first give thanks for? all are thine. 
 
78 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Having satisfied himself of her fortitude, he relates the 
 oracle of Apollo. She does not disappoint him, but shows 
 herself to be a strong and sympathetic character. In fact 
 Swinburne has succeeded in doing the unusual in portray- 
 ing two strong and admirable characters in perfect accord. 
 Both recognize the might of Necessity and seek no escape; 
 both feel the injustice of Fate, while recognizing the im- 
 portance of their sacrifice for the safety of their city. 
 The daughter, too, accepts her doom without a protest. 
 The crisis has swooped suddenly upon them all, and they 
 have met it unhesitatingly and with clear discernment. 
 In the Iphigeneia at Aulis the situation is somewhat 
 different. The host has been long detained, and finally 
 Calchas has proclaimed the price the gods demand for 
 sailing. Agamemnon, somewhat craven and fearing 
 overmuch the host (cf. 1. 1012), has sent for his daughter 
 with the alleged purpose of giving her in marriage to 
 Achilles. His duplicity merits all the scorn poured upon 
 him by his outraged wife. But Iphigeneia, after prayers 
 and tears and lamentations, by a sudden change of heart 
 expresses a willingness to die, and thus brings about a 
 reconciliation. Swinburne's characters are more admir- 
 able; Euripides', more human. The turbulent English 
 poet has given us a pair of Philosophers who curb their 
 own hearts because they recognize the necessity at once; 
 the Greek sophist has given us two human beings who 
 bluster and rail in a very human way at the slings and 
 arrows of fortune, to fall before them in the end. 
 
 As a father, Erechtheus is not very well drawn. He 
 does not greet his daughter throughout the play, and his 
 chief concern for her seems to be on his wife's account. On 
 the other hand, some of the finest touches in the Iphigeneia 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 79 
 
 come in the scenes where father and daughter appear. 
 Her appeal to him is very childlike and pathetic. 1221 ff. 
 
 Sweet is light: Constrain me not to see the nether gloom. 
 
 'Twas I first called thee father, thou me child. 
 
 'Twas I first throned my body on thy knees, 
 
 And gave thee sweet caresses and received. 
 
 And this thy word was; Ah, my little maid, 
 
 Blest shall I see thee in a husband's halls 
 
 Living and blooming worthily of me? 
 
 And as I twined my fingers in thy beard, 
 
 Whereto I now cling, thus I answered thee; etc. 
 
 Agamemnon makes clear the necessity of his case. 
 1255 ff. 
 
 I know what asketh pity, what doth not, 
 Who love mine own babes I were madman else. 
 Awful it is, wife, to dare this deed, 
 Yet awful to forbear. I must do this! 
 Mark ye yon countless host with galleys fenced, 
 And all the brazen-harnessed Hellend kings, 
 Who cannot voyage unto Ilium's towers, 
 Who cannot raze Troy's citadel renowned, 
 But by thy blood, as Calchas saith, the seer. 
 A fiery passion maddeneth Hellas' host 
 To sail in all haste to the aliens' land 
 And put an end to rapes of Hellene wives. 
 My daughters will they slay in Argos, — you 
 And me. — if I annul the Goddess' hest. 
 Not Menelaus hath enslaved me, child, 
 Nor yet to serve his pleasure have I come. 
 'Tis Hellas for whom, — will I, will I not — 
 I must slay thee: this cannot we withstand. 
 Free must she be, so far as in thee lies, 
 And me, child; nor by aliens' violence 
 Must sons of Hellas of their wives be spoiled. 
 
 His case is clear: the gods have exacted a price for the 
 overthrow of Ilium. This price Agamemnon is not willing 
 
80 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 to pay, for it concerns him too personally. But his fellow- 
 chieftains, less interested in the price, and more interested 
 in the profit, insist on payment. With Erechtheus the 
 case is different. The god set the price of ransoming the 
 city in such a way that the royal family must perish in 
 either alternative. Chthonia must be sacrificed and the 
 king must fall in battle to insure the safety of the city, the 
 destruction of which meant the ruin of every one. And 
 perhaps it is just as well that a father take no leave of his 
 daughter at whose sacrifice he will later be the presiding 
 officer. 
 
 Erechtheus, under provocation, assumes a temper 
 toward the gods similar to Althaea's, with this difference, 
 however, that it is under better control. He draws a 
 sharp distinction between the joy of the citizens in the 
 safety of their state, and their praise of the gods for the 
 sparing of their lives, and his own situation: 
 
 To these they give 
 Life of their children, flower of all their seed, 
 For all their travail fruit, for all their hopes 
 Harvest; but we, for all our good things, we 
 Have at their hands which fill all these folk full 
 Death, barrenness, child-slaughter, curses, cares, 
 Sea-leaguer and land-shipwreck; 
 
 He graces Apollo with all his epithets, but reserves his 
 praise. He accepts the grim situation because 
 
 save this 
 Xo word is left us and no hope alive. 
 
 To the herald of Eumolpus he recognizes the omnipotence 
 of the gods; of their wisdom or loving-kindness he says 
 nothing. A grim character, his language is very com- 
 pressed; he says much more in brief space than is the wont 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 81 
 
 of Swinburne's characters. He is stronger than the 
 Aeschylean Agamemnon, who also put on the yoke of 
 necessity and became the slayer of his child. Both have 
 to submit to the divine decree, in regard to the justice of 
 which both are in the dark. Agamemnon found it hard 
 to sacrifice his daughter, but harder to become a \iiropavs ; 
 the word is very strong: so of the two evils he chose what 
 seemed the lesser, and offered his child to the malice of 
 stubborn winds. 
 
PRAXITHEA 
 
 Praxithea is a woman worthy of the love and respect 
 of her royal husband. She is brave, dutiful, submissive, 
 and self-sacrificing. In her first speech she sums up in 
 brief her entire philosophy of life. At the king's hint of 
 bloodshed, she offers herself at once as the victim. Her 
 heart is all for her land. "Firm let it stand, whatever 
 bleed or fall." In her treatment of her daughter, she is 
 very tender, displaying the attitude of the best women in 
 Greek drama, which seems to have been more fond and 
 intimate than that of the women of modern liter- 
 ature. To deaden the shock of her hard lot, she 
 brings forward and emphasizes the idea of "motherland," 
 which is worth all and more than they will lose in the 
 sacrifice. But Swinburne could not save her from the 
 long rhesis calling the gods to witness her ills, and showing 
 her great antiquarian knowledge and her familiarity 
 with the institutions of gods and men. She closes with 
 a childhood picture in true Euripidean-Swinburnian 
 manner. It seems to be the peculiarity of both these 
 writers to put such speeches in the mouths of women; 
 they make them the fountains of diverse information 
 and the fountain-heads of tears. Swinburne has con- 
 demned rather bitterly the long fragment of Euripides, 
 on which he based this rhesis, but it is doubtful if he has 
 given us a startling example of superiority, as he implies. 
 (See E. Gosse, Swinburne, p. 231.) The massing of fable 
 and folk lore and reminiscences from almost every Greek 
 
 82 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 83 
 
 writer that one would meet in a long period of time, does 
 not make easy reading, and to many smacks somewhat of 
 a handbook. That is the impression one, familiar with 
 such things, might get. If unfamiliar, he is apt to be 
 overwhelmed, and wonder what it is all about. Even 
 the experienced Greek scholar is in danger of being 
 dazzled and confused by the kaleidoscopic changes from 
 reminiscences of one author to those of another. 
 
 In Praxithea's speech of farewell to her daughter, she 
 comments on the gods in Euripidean fashion. She is 
 innocent of wrong-doing; she has suffered much and for 
 many causes; and she has merited none of it. But she 
 will hold her peace. After she has shown that from the 
 heartless gods no help comes, her speech is a fine piece of 
 Euripidean tenderness and pathos. The picture of the 
 babe is one of the finest ever drawn. For the sake of her 
 people she gives her child to 
 
 Death and the under Gods who crave 
 So much for what they give. 
 
 She sets aside, however, her personal loss for the sake of 
 her country. Her sacrifice wrests from ruin the power 
 to take hold on Athens. When one loves the life of 
 
 child, wife, father, friend, 
 Son, husband, mother, more than this, even there 
 Are all these lives worth nothing, all loves else 
 With love slain and buried, and their tomb 
 A thing for shame to spit on; for what love 
 Hath a slave heart to love with? or the heart 
 Base-born and bound in bondage fast to fear, 
 What should it do to love thee? what hath he, 
 The man that hath no country? Gods nor men 
 Have such to friend, yoked beast-like to base life, 
 
84 Swinburne's Atalania in Calydon and ErechtheUs 
 
 Vile, fruitless, groveling at the foot of death, 
 Landless and kinless thralls of no man's blood, 
 Unchilded and unmothered, abject limbs 
 That breed things abject; but who loves on earth 
 Not friend, wife, husband, father, mother, child, 
 Nor loves his own life for his own land's sake. 
 But only this thing most, more this than all. 
 He loves all well and well of all is loved, 
 And this love lives forever. 
 
 To slavery Swinburne has taken a somewhat scornful 
 attitude. The Greeks regarded it with more pathos, 
 especially when it was a question of their own country. 
 
 When the herald comes to report on the battle, she 
 greets him with an eagerness that is mingled with fierce- 
 ness. 
 
 Man, what thy mother bare thee born to say 
 
 Speak ; for no word yet wavering on thy lip 
 
 Can wound me worse than thought forestalls or fear. 
 
 On learning the fate of her husband and the city she 
 praises the gods of Athens and prays for death. Her 
 isolation is complete; she has nothing to live for. 
 
 Be thou, 
 Dear God and gracious to all souls alive, 
 Good to thine own seed also; let me sleep, 
 Father: my sleepless darkling day is done, 
 My day of life like night, but slumberless: 
 For all my fresh fair springs, and his that ran 
 In one stream's bed with mine, are all run out 
 Into the deep of death. The Gods have saved 
 Athens; my blood has bought her at their hand, 
 And ye sit safe; be glorious and be glad 
 As now for all time always, countrymen. 
 And love my dead forever; but me, me, 
 What shall man give for these so good as death? 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 85 
 
 Parodos 
 
 Swinburne has not used an Aeschylean motivation 
 for his parodos in the Erechtheus; in fact there seems to 
 be none. This chorus is but the echo of the prologue, 
 Erechtheus has just prayed to Earth for help; 
 
 Though all our house die for this people's sake, 
 Keep thou for ours thy crown our city, guard 
 And give it life the lovelier that we died. 
 
 Thereupon the chorus, on a higher plane, to the greater 
 gods, makes the same supplication, — to the gods whose 
 interests have been before at stake, Pallas and Poseidon. 
 Then the contest between this god and goddess for the 
 naming of the fair city is reviewed, and the fair city is 
 named and characterized in a very remarkable passage of 
 fourteen lines based on Aeschylean and Pindaric reminis- 
 cences. He weaves in both quotations that serve as 
 mottoes for the play. 
 
 The fruitful anointed immortal adored 
 
 Dear city of men without master or lord, 
 
 Fair fortress and fostress of sons born free, 
 
 Who stand in her sight and in thine, O sun, 
 
 Slaves of no man, subject to none; 
 
 A wonder enthroned on the hills and sea, 
 
 A maiden crowned with a fourfold glory 
 
 That none from the pride of her head may rend, 
 
 Violet and olive-leaf purple and hoary, 
 
 Song-wreath and story the fairest of fame, 
 
 Flowers that the winter can blast not or bend; 
 
 A light upon earth as the sun's own flame, 
 
 A name as his name, 
 
 Athens, a praise without end. 
 
86 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechthmts 
 
 Now this fair territory is in danger of being encroached 
 
 upon ; 
 
 For the sea-marks set to divide of old 
 
 The kingdoms to Ocean and Earth assigned, 
 
 The hoar sea-fields from the cornfields' gold, 
 
 His wine-bright waves from her vineyards' fold. 
 
 Frail forces we find 
 
 To bridle the spirit of Gods or bind 
 
 Till the heat of their hearts wax cold. 
 
 Cf. Horace, O. 1; 3; 21 ff. 
 
 Nequiquam deus abscidit 
 Prudens oceano dissociabili 
 terras — 
 
 Ovid, Met. 1, 21 Nam caelo terras et terris abscidit undas. 
 Swinburne has added the Homeric touch in the "hoar 
 sea-fields" and "his wine-bright waves." The figure of 
 the 'bridle 1 is frequent in Aeshcylus, though it is not 
 applied to the mouth of any god. We find the same 
 figure in the first line of the third stasimon: 
 
 Who shall put a bridle in the mourner's lips to chasten them, 
 Or seal up the fountains of his tears for shame? 
 
 The violet is a favorite flower in Greek, and is used for 
 many purposes. See Pindar, fr. 47; 75, 7; 75, 18; Aristoph. 
 Eq. 1329; Achar. 636; For the hoary olive, see Soph. O. C. 
 701; Pin. 0.3, 13; 
 
 From the strife of Athena and Poseidon the chorus 
 turns to a new strife arisen on the city; a sound of battle 
 come up from the sea. 
 
 Strange hunters are hard on us, hearts without pity; 
 They have staked their nets round the fair young city, 
 That the sons of her strength and her virgin daughters 
 Should find not whither alive to flee. 
 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 87 
 
 These hunters follow on the unseen track of oar-blades 
 after Paris, Ag. 695; they cast a close-wrought net over 
 the towers of Troy, Ag. 358; and they throw a net of 
 slavery over the inhabitants, Ag. 361. 
 
 From the navel of earth and the veiled mid-altar 
 We wait for a token with hopes that falter, 
 
 "The navel of earth" occurs in Aesch. Eum. 40 and 166; 
 also in Pindar, N. 7, 33. For an interesting and unusual 
 account of the birth of Pallas, see Hesiod, Theog. Also 
 Pin. O, 7, 36; and fr. 34, 9. 
 
 Swinburne closes the chorus with a double myth, in 
 the manner of Euripides, but particularly applicable 
 here because of the relation of the maidens carried away, 
 to Erechtheus. The story of Orithyia is told in Ovid., 
 Met. VI; and Procris, in Met. VII. 
 
 For the third wave signifying the culmination of 
 calamity, see Aes. Pr. 1015. Swinburne uses the ex- 
 pression again in The Triumph of Time: 
 
 It is not much that a man can save 
 On the sands of life, in the straits of time, 
 Who swims in sight of the great third wave 
 That never a swimmer shall cross or climb. 
 
 Orithyia and Procris were gone; now there is danger of 
 losing Chthonia. 
 
 Chthonia mentions the rape of her sister: 
 
 From the bloom of whose banks as a prey 
 Winds carried my sister away; 
 
 and later the chorus speaks of it again: 
 
 O strong north wind, the pilot of cloud and rain, 
 
 For the gift that we gave thee what gift hast thou given us again? 
 
 O god dark-winged, deep-throated, a terror to forth-faring ships by night, 
 
 What bride-song is this that is blown on the blast of thy breath? 
 
88 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 There is much in the second part of this chorus that 
 suggests the parodos of the Septem. There is this differ- 
 ence, however; the chorus in that play is composed of 
 women who are thoroughly terrified, while the chorus of 
 elders in the Erechtheus are inclined to be fault-finding. 
 Theirs is not the Aeschylean theme that sin calls for 
 sorrow; they ask what they have done, and suggest thai 
 the god has done enough. The genealogy of Pallas, 
 
 O thou not born of the womb or bred 
 In the bride-night's warmth of a changed god's bed, 
 But thy life as the lightning was flashed from the light of thy father's 
 
 [head, 
 O chief god's child by a motherless birth, 
 
 is reminiscent of the prologues of Euripides. Aeschylus, 
 however, makes use of the same literary device. See 
 Septem, 128 f.; 123-5. 
 
 There is no motivation for the episode that follows; 
 the chorus finishes its prayer and the king begins to speak 
 of his wife. Nothing could be more unlike the manner of 
 Aeschylus. 
 
 First Episode 
 
 In the first episode Erechtheus informs his wife of the 
 decree of Apollo. In this scene we get a very fine example 
 of the perfect adjustment of the love between husband 
 and wife. He tells her he has found her wise, perfect of 
 heart, free from insolence in prosperity, and brave in 
 adversity, but now 
 
 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 
 And hold it hateful as the grave to hear. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 89 
 
 She convinces him that she can endure the tale, so he 
 reveals the oracle. 
 
 The word that journeying to the bright God's shrine (Phoibos) 
 
 Who speaks askance and darkling (Loxias) but his name 
 
 Hath in it slaying and ruin broad writ out (Apollo) 
 
 I heard, hear thou, thus saith he; there shall die 
 
 One soul for all his people; from thy womb 
 
 Came forth the seed that here on dry bare ground 
 
 Death's hand must sow untimely to bring forth 
 
 Nor blade nor shoot in season, being by name 
 
 To the under gods made holy, who require 
 
 For this land's life her death and maiden blood 
 
 To save a maiden city. 
 
 Throughout this scene Swinburne is reminiscent of 
 the Alcestis. Praxithea speaks: 
 
 But if thou speak of blood, and I that hear 
 Be chosen of all for this land's love to die 
 And save to thee thy city, know this well, 
 Happiest I hold me of her seed alive. 
 
 So Alcestis, 282 ff. 
 
 Admetus, for thou seest all my plight, 
 Fain would I speak mine heart's wish ere I died. 
 I, honoring thee and setting thee in place 
 Before mine own soul still to see this light, 
 Am dying, unconstrained to die for thee. 
 
 There is a fine effect of Aeschylean piling up of sub- 
 stantives in 
 
 we, for all our good things, we 
 Have at their hands which fill all these folks full, 
 Death, barrenness, child-slaughter, curses, cares, 
 Sea-leaguer and land-shipwreck; 
 
90 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 So in Ag. 
 
 irvoai 8' airb "Ztpvplouos noXovaai 
 KaKoaxoKoi, vrjcmSes, 5vaopp.oi, 
 fipoT&v &Xat, 
 
 ve&v re Kal TrtHTixaTuiv acpeiSeis, 
 ira\ippi)K-q xpbvov Ttdeiaai 
 Tpifiu} Kark^aivov Hvdos" Apyois. 
 
 Ag. 192 ft. 
 
 (The blasts from Strymon ever downward hasting, 
 Evil-delaying, famine- winged, rope-wasting, 
 Wanderings of men, 
 
 Of ships and moorings one and all unsparing, 
 And time made ever double for their sharing, 
 The flower of Argos wasted to outwearing.) 
 
 In Praxithea's last speech there is an unusual Aeschy- 
 lean figure in 
 
 But most for this 1 thank them most of all, 
 That this their edge of doom is chosen to pierce 
 My heart and not my country's; 
 
 The same figure occurs in Aes. Per. 407; 1060 
 The significance of names is shown at the close of Erech- 
 theus' last speech; referring to Chthonia, he says: 
 
 — being my name 
 To the under gods made holy, who require 
 For this land's life her death and maiden blood. 
 
 He closes his speech and leaves the stage clear for the 
 stasimon, by saying: 
 
 Thus I heard, 
 And thus with all said leave thee; for save this 
 No word is left us and no hope alive. 
 
 Praxithea seems to be left on the stage. 
 
Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 91 
 
 •S&GQXB- STASIMON 
 
 The chorus, at this point, like the chorus in the Septem, 
 takes an active interest in the action of the play. It 
 comments on the speech of Erechtheus and offers its 
 protest to death. We get a reminiscence of the Atalanta 
 in "The master that lightens not hearts he enlightens, 
 but gives them fore-knowledge of death" Cf. Atalanta, 
 357; In his eyes foreknowledge of death. Swinburne often 
 repeats in his later poems, giving it an added touch, an 
 idea from his earlier work. This is noticeable in Aeschy- 
 lus, also; ideas may be found, for example, in the Septem, 
 which he repeated in more ample form in the Agamemnon. 
 
 Second Episode 
 
 The second episode is between mother and daughter 
 and is Euripidean in its rjdos, showing the strong affection 
 and confidence that existed between the two. Erechtheus 
 is gone, and so far as we know, does not see his daughter 
 again until the sacrifice. Chthonia comes out and greets 
 her mother who has remained on the scene during the 
 singing of the stasimon. There is a reminiscence of the 
 delicacy and fine garments of the Persian women in the 
 Persae in 
 
 Forth from the fine spun folds of veils that hide 
 My virgin chamber toward the full-faced sun, 
 
 and in her mother's comment to the chorus on her 
 daughter's beauty: 
 
 her gait 
 
 How virginal, how soft her speech, her eyes 
 
 How seemly smiling! 
 
 See Aes. Per. 543. 
 
( )2 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erecktheus 
 
 The scene between Hecuba and Polyxena has much 
 in common with this. She comes out at the sound of her 
 mother's bitter lament to ask the cause of her tears. 
 Hecuba, 177 ft. Chthonia is Aeschylean in her self- 
 control. PI. 
 
 O mother, my mother, what meaneth thy crying? 
 What strange dread thing 
 Is this that thou heraldest 
 That hath scared me. like a bird forth-flying 
 On startled wing 
 Out of the peace of her nest. 
 Dumb are ye all. bowed eyes and tonaueless mouths; 
 
 There is shown the same affection between mother 
 and daughter. The latter laments bitterly her sacrifice, 
 for she is to be offered to the shade of the man who 
 destroyed her city. 
 
 Praxithea tells the chorus how helpless they are; 
 
 Dumb are ye all. bowed eyes and tongueless mouths; 
 
 the same attitude that Atossa took, in her fear of the 
 omen. Per. 206, <f6i3u 5' £^07705 earad^v, v?t\ot. The 
 maiden hesitates to turn eyes too broad or dog-like, 
 unabashed on the chorus and on her mother. This, of 
 course, is a distorted Homeric reference, cf. 1, 225; 3, 180. 
 Praxithea bids Chthonia take note of all the writing on 
 her face 
 
 As of a tablet of a tomb inscribed 
 
 That bears me record. 
 
 At the close of a hundred lines she decides that it is of no 
 avail. 
 
 Turn from me, turn thine eyes, 
 
 A little from me; I can bear not yet 
 
 To see if still they smile on mine or no 
 
Swinburne* 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 93 
 
 Praxithea's long rhesis closes the scene. She has already 
 charged the girl to lay up her words in her heart: 
 
 yet I charge thee learn 
 And love and lay this up within thine heart, 
 Even this my word. 
 
 See Od. 4, 399 f. 
 
 rot 7&p iyoiv epew, av 5' ivl <ppe<rl /SAXXco ofjaiv 
 
 "From the grey, fruitless waters" is a combination of the 
 Homeric 
 
 irpbyerov it6vtov yXavtcif . . . daXaaaa 
 
 In this rhesis we get a second rehearsal of the Orithyia- 
 Boreas episode; likewise of the strife between Poseidon 
 and Athena for the domination of Athens. 
 
 Then we get a well-known figure of reaping. 
 
 as the fields 
 Were landward harried from the north with swords 
 Aonian, sickles of man-slaughtering edge 
 Ground for no hopeful harvest of live grain 
 Against us in Boeotia. 
 
 Cf. Hor. O. 4, 14, 31 
 
 primosque et extremos metendo 
 Stravit humum sine claude victor. 
 
 Catul. 63, 354 ff. 
 
 Namque velut densas praecerpens messor aristas 
 Sole sub ardenti flaventia demetit arva, 
 Troiugenum infesto prosternit corpora ferro. 
 
94 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 See also II. 11, 67 ff.; 19, 221 ff.; Aes. Sup. 637 ff. apol. Arg. 
 1380-90. There is a repetition of the 'third time' motif 
 from the parodos: 
 
 This third time his wind of wrath has blown 
 Right on this people a mightier wave of war, 
 Three times more huge a ruin. 
 
 The following is a good example of the use Swinburne 
 makes of Euripides' fragments. 
 
 Here never shall the Thracian plant on high 
 
 For ours his father's symbol, nor with wreaths 
 
 A strange folk wreathe it upright set and crowned 
 
 Here where our natural people born behold 
 
 The golden Gorgon of the shield's defence 
 
 That screens their flowering olive, nor strange Gods 
 
 Be graced, and Pallas here have praise no more. 
 
 ov8' avr' eXaas XP 1 * 7 ^*" Tt Topyovos 
 rpiatvav bpBr\v araoiv iv 7t6Xoojs /3d0pois 
 EdfioXwos ov8k Opq.1- bvaoTptyti X«*>s 
 cTeipapourt, IlaXXas 5* ovSanov ri^<rerat. 
 
 Through the rest of the speech appear reminiscences from 
 the long speech of Praxithea, preserved in the fragments 
 of the Meleager. The exit is motivated by the words: 
 
 Come, therefore, I will make thee fit for death, etc. 
 
 She charges the old men to pray for this land; hence the 
 chorus. 
 
 Second Stasimon 
 
 The second episode is an amplification of the rape of 
 Orithyia. It has been touched upon already by the 
 chorus in the Parodos, and by Praxithea in the rhesis 
 just before this stasimon. It serves to forecast the storm 
 
Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 95 
 
 ' of war that is coming upon Athens. This is brought out 
 clearly towards the close of the stasimon by antithesis 
 between the old woe and the new. Swinburne gets his 
 outline and some coloring from Ovid, Met. 6, IX. There 
 are fragments of a lost play of Sophocles on the subject. 
 
 Of this hoary-headed woe 
 Song made mention long ago. 
 
 There are fewer apparent reminiscences from Greek 
 in this song than is usual with Swinburne. We see the 
 conventional war chariots, the fawn by night on the hills 
 belated, given over for a spoil unto the strong, which 
 may be reminiscent of Horace, or of Aesch. fr. 32. The 
 maiden's knees beneath her were loosened for fear, as 
 sometimes happens in Homer; and the violet and olive 
 come in for their share of praise. The ode closes with a 
 reference to the new sorrow, which motivates the next 
 episode, opened by the ultimatum of the herald of Eumol- 
 pus. 
 
 Third Episode 
 
 The speech of the herald is colored with the wit of 
 Aristophanes, the irony of Aeschylus and the pathos of 
 Homer. The "tongue-fighters, tough of talk and sinewy 
 speech," recall the old Marathon fighters that Aristo- 
 phanes mentions with pride not unmixed with humor. 
 Homer likens such men to grasshoppers that sing their 
 song in the sunshine. See II. 3, 149 ff. 
 
 (Elders of the people, sat at the Scaean gates. They had now 
 ceased from battle for old age, yet were they right good orators, like 
 grasshoppers that in a forest sit upon a tree and utter their lily-like voice; 
 even so sat the elders of the Trojans upon the tower.) 
 
96 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 The tone of the herald is very scathing. 
 
 Old men, gray 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. 
 
 The remainder of the speech, although couched in the 
 language of a challenge to single combat, is turned to 
 express the enemy's contempt for the men of Athens. 
 Such combats occur in the Iliad, and at the gates of 
 Thebes. In Euripides, Heracl. 807 ff., Hyllus challenges 
 the leader of the invading forces, who declines the honor. 
 To reward such cowardice, the gods give him over to old 
 Iolaus, who has long outlived his fighting days. The 
 "keen-tongued wail" of these old men is transferred from 
 the cry of the eagles in Ag. 56. 
 
 The reply of the chorus is just as sharp and more 
 coherent. There is a decided Aeschylean bigness of phrase 
 in the language, particularly 
 
 short space 
 May lessen thy large ignorance and inform 
 This insolence with knowledge if there live 
 Men earth-begotten of no tenderer thews 
 Than knit the great joints of the grim sea's brood 
 With hasps of steel together. 
 
 Then in stichomythia fly word-feathered shafts in 
 Homeric style, to be checked by the entrance of Erech- 
 theus. His greeting is full of Aeschylean pomp and shrill 
 wind of speech. 
 
 The herald now repeats his ultimatum in terms of 
 Poseidon the earth-shaker. 
 
 The stakes of war are set, 
 
 For land or sea to win by throw and wear; 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 97 
 just as in the Septem, 414: 
 
 ipyov 5' iv *c{i/?ots" Ap77s Kptvel. 
 
 or Horace, 0, 2, 1, 6. 
 Choose to yield 
 
 Or by that father's sceptre, and the foot 
 Whose tramp far off makes tremble for pure fear 
 Thy soul-struck mother, (Earth) piercing like a sword 
 The immortal womb that bare thee; by the waves 
 That no man bridles and that bound thy world, 
 And by the winds and storms of all the sea, 
 He swears to raze from eyeshot of the sun 
 This city named not of his father's name, etc. 
 
 Erechtheus accepts the gage: 
 
 To fight then be it; for if to die or live 
 No man but only a God knows this much yet 
 Seeing us fare forth, who bear but in our hands 
 The weapons not the fortunes of our fight; 
 For these now rest as lots that yet undrawn 
 Lie in the lap of the unknown hour; 
 
 This is a later amplification of Atalanta, 15 f. 
 
 But for the end, that lies unreached as yet 
 Between the hands and on the knees of gods; 
 
 a Homeric commonplace. Then follows another version 
 of the freedom theme from Aes. Per. 241, already used in 
 the parodos, 1. 138. 
 
 death nor life of mine 
 Shall give to death or lordship of strange kings 
 The soul of this live city, nor their heel 
 Bruise her dear brow discrowned, nor snaffle or goad 
 Wound her free mouth nor stain her sanguine side 
 Yet masterless of men. 
 
98 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 For the "snaffle or goad" figure see Aes. Per. 185 ff., 
 where Atossa dreams that she saw her son try to drive 
 Hellas yoked to a chariot. "She was restive, and with her 
 hands tried to tear in pieces the harness of the car, and 
 then ran away with it by force, without the bit, and 
 snapped the yoke in the middle. And my son was thrown 
 out, and his father Darius stood pitying him." Continu- 
 ing the metaphor he goes on: 
 
 so bid thy lord 
 Learn ere he weep to learn it, and too late 
 
 Gnash teeth that could not fasten on her flesh, 
 And foam his life out in dark froth of blood, 
 
 just as Clytemnestra says of Cassandra, Ag. 1065 ff: 
 
 She is mad or under the influence of an evil spirit, — as one who has 
 arrived from a city just taken, and has not learned to bear the bit, 
 before she foams away her fretfulness in blood. 
 
 Erechtheus is confident; 
 
 though his ranks 
 Were more to number than all wildwood leaves 
 The wind waves on the hills of all the world, 
 Yet should the heart not fail, the head not fall. 
 
 He takes in more territory than Horace; O. 1, 21, 6: 
 
 nemorum coma 
 Quaecumque aut gelido prominet Algido 
 nigris aut Erymanthi 
 cilvis aut viridis Cragi. 
 
 Tell the king to make ready; I am coming. In this 
 manner he gives the chorus its entrance. "I go this last 
 high way to the end of all." 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 99 
 
 Third Stasimon 
 
 (Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus 
 tarn can capitis?) 
 
 The chorus opens with a Greek rhythm that is rather 
 unusual in English. 
 
 Who shall put a bridle in the mourner's lips to chasten them 
 Or seal up the fountains of his tears for shame? 
 Song nor prayer nor prophecy shall slacken tears nor hasten them, 
 Till grief be within him as a burnt-out flame. 
 
 We find here 'the rain of eyes that weep'; while in Prome- 
 theus, 144 we see a cloud: also, "Death at last for all men 
 is a harbor: Anthol. Pal; 7, 452 
 
 kolvos icaai Ai/it)?' AiStjs 
 
 The elaboration is in the modern poetic vein. 
 
 Death at last for all men is a harbor; yet they flee from it 
 
 Set sails to the storm-wind and again to sea; 
 
 Yet for all their labor no whit further shall they be from it, 
 
 Nor longer but wearier shall their life's work be. 
 
 And with anguish of travail until night 
 
 Shall they steer into shipwreck out of sight, 
 
 And with oars that break and shrouds that strain 
 
 Shall they drive whence no ship steers again. 
 
 See, however, the great chorus of Soph. O. C. 1211 ff. 
 
 the long days lay up full many things nearer unto grief than 
 
 joy; but as for thy delights, their place shall know them no more, when 
 a man's life hath lapsed beyond the fitting term; and the Deliverer comes 
 at the last to all alike,— when the doom of Hades is suddenly revealed, 
 without marriage-song or lyre, — or dance,— even Death at the last. — 
 
100 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 ******** and as some cape that fronts the north is lashed on 
 every side by the waves of winter, so he also is fiercely lashed evermore 
 by the dread troubles that break on him like billows, some from the 
 setting of the sun, some from the rising, some in the region of the noon- 
 tide beam, some from the gloom-wrapped hills of the North. 
 
 The appeal to Zeus is in the Aeschylean manner: 
 
 King of kings, holiest of holies, and mightiest of might, 
 
 Lord of the lords of thine heaven that are humble in thy sight. 
 
 See also ATHENS, King of kings, holy of holies, blessed 
 god 
 
 A"pa% Avclktuv, nanapov naK&pTare Kal Ttkkuv 
 TeXetdraTov icpdros, 8X0ie Z«5 
 
 Aes. Sup. 524 
 
 Swinburne is much milder in his expostulation with the 
 gods than in the Atalanta. His 'therefore' at the close 
 of the citation of the power of god, suggested the 'supreme 
 evil' theme; but instead, we get a prayer: "Take off us 
 thy burden, and give us not wholly to death." The next 
 idea is Greek: 
 
 For lovely is life and the law wherein all things live, 
 And gracious the season of each, and the hour of its kind, 
 And precious the seed of his life in a wise man's mind. 
 
 cf. Soph. fr. 64 
 
 Then follows the sacrifice of the maiden, which I have 
 already discussed. The chorus glorifies Athens and 
 laments the maiden going to become the bride of death. 
 This part of the chorus is very strongly reminiscent of 
 the Antigone. There, 800 ff,, the chorus can not refrain 
 from tears at the sight of Antigone passing to the bridal 
 chamber where all are laid at rest. Here the chorus 
 laments 
 
 To behold thee, O child, of so bitter a birth 
 
 That we counted so sweet, 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechthens 101 
 
 What way thy steps to what bride-feast tend 
 What gift he must give that shall wed thee for token 
 If the bridegroom be goodly to greet. 
 
 Chthonia and Antigone greet the chorus in the same 
 manner, each calling attention to her wretchedness. 
 
 People, old men of my city, lordly wise and hoar of head, 
 
 I a spouseless bride and crownless but with garlands of the dead, 
 
 From the fruitful light turn silent to my dark unchilded bed. 
 
 So Antigone: 806 ff. 
 
 See me, citizens of my fatherland, setting forth on my last way, 
 looking my last on the sunlight that is for me no more; no, Hades who 
 gives sleep to all leads me living to Acheron's shore; who have had no 
 portion in the chant that brings the bride, nor hath any song been mine 
 for the crowning of bridals; whom the lord of the dark lake shall wed. 
 
 The chorus in reply, puns on her name, just as the 
 chorus in the Agamemnon puns on the name of Helen. 
 
 Wise of word was he too truly, but with deadlier wisdom wise, 
 First who gave thee name from under earth, no breath from upper skies, 
 When foredoomed to this day's darkness, their first daylight filled thine 
 
 [eyes. 
 
 Ag. 681 ff. 
 
 Who was he the name conferred 
 True in deed and true in word, — 
 Was it one we do not see 
 Fate-inspired of what must be, 
 Ordering his tongue aright? 
 Spear-won bride of many a fight 
 Helen, in what seemly way 
 Ships, men, city, fall her prey. 
 
 In spite of the fact that Chthonia is attended by her 
 mother, her isolation seems just as great as Antigone's. 
 The next is an echo of Euripides, Iph. Aul. 1502 ff. 
 
 Day to day makes answer, first to last, and life to death; but I 
 Born for death's sake die for life's sake, if indeed this be to die, 
 This my doom that seals me deathless till the springs of time run dry. 
 
102 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 Iph. 
 
 Ch. 
 
 For a light unto Hellas thou fosteredst me, 
 And I die, O freely I die for thee. 
 
 Yea, for thy glory shall never die. 
 
 Praxithea makes a double pun on the daughter's and 
 father's name. 
 
 Dark the name, and dark the gifts they gave thee, child, in childbirth 
 
 [were 
 Sprung from him that rent the womb of earth (Erechtheus) a bitter seed 
 
 [to bear, 
 Born with groanings of the ground that gave him way to heaven's dear 
 
 [air. 
 
 The chorus consoles her by speaking of her future fame. 
 
 Children shalt thou bear to memory, that to man shall bring forth none; 
 Yea, the lordliest that lift eyes and hearts and songs to meet the sun, 
 Names to fire men's ears like music till the round world's race be run. 
 
 So of Alcestis the chorus sings. 445 ff. 
 
 For the seven-stringed shell or the paean 
 Unharped, shall thy fame be a song, 
 When o'er Sparta the moon Carnean 
 High rideth the whole night long. 
 And in Athens the wealthy and splendid 
 Shall thy name on her bards' lips ring; 
 Such a theme hast thou left to be blended 
 With the lays that they sing. 
 
 See also Iph. Aul. 1398 f. where Iphigeneia says: 
 
 My body unto Hellas I resign. 
 Sacrifice me, raze ye Troy; for this through all the ages is 
 My memorial; children, marriage, glory — all are mine in this. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calvdon and Erechtheus 103 
 
 Praxithea closes the kommos by saying: 
 
 I thy mother, named of gods that wreak revenge and brand with blame, 
 Now for thy love shall be loved as thou, and famous with thy fame, 
 While this city's name on earth shall be for earth her mightiest name. 
 
 CI. Iph. Aul. 1440 akaoiaiiai, /car' e/z^ 5' evKXerjs tcrei. 
 
 Fourth Episode 
 
 Chthonia's farewell to her mother is similar to Iphi- 
 geneia's speech in Eur. Iph. Aul. 1368-1401. Both are 
 reconciled to the idea of death; in fact both rather glory 
 in their fate. Euripides is more direct and reasonable. 
 Swinburne cannot refrain from his habit of retrospection 
 at childhood that is past, and of regret for children that 
 were not to be born. There is a long passage in the 
 Atalanta where the heroine talks in the same strain. 
 Praxithea answers in a speech still longer, which becomes 
 heavier and heavier with metaphor. She touches again 
 upon the rape of Oreithyia, who was borne 
 
 Beyond the wild ways of the unwandered world 
 And loud wastes of the thunder-throated sea, 
 Springs of the night and openings of the heaven, 
 The old garden of the sun; 
 
 Cf. Soph. fr. Oreithyia: 
 
 virtp re kovtov ko.vt «r' e<rx aTa X^ ov ^ 
 pvktos T€ ir?j7as ovpavov t' auairrvxas, 
 $oi(3ov TraXaiov ktjttov 
 
 The chorus speaks to Chthonia just as the chorus 
 speaks to Antigone: and under similar conditions. 
 
 O woefullest of women, yet of all 
 
 Happiest, thy word be hallowed; in all time 
 
 Thy name shall blossom, and from strange new tongues 
 
104 Swinburne's Atalania in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 High things be spoken of thee; for such grace 
 The gods have dealt to no man, that on none 
 Have laid so heavy sorrow. From this day 
 Live thou assured of godhead in thy blood 
 And in thy fate no lowlier than a god 
 In all good things and evil; such a name 
 Shall be thy child this city's, and thine own 
 Xext hers that called it Athens. Go now forth 
 Blest, and grace with thee to the doors of death. 
 
 Soph. Ant. 817 ff. 
 
 Glorious, therefore, and with praise, thou departest to the deep 
 place of the dead; wasting sickness hath not smitten thee; thou hast not 
 found the wages of the sword; no, mistress of thine own fate, and still 
 alive, thou shalt pass to Hades, as no other of mortal kind hath past. 
 
 Chthonia's lyrical farewell to her country is much like 
 that of Iphigeneia at Aulis, 1474 ff. She puts on the 
 garlands of sacrifice, greets Artemis, her mother, Pelasgia, 
 Mycenae, and closes with a farewell to the light: 
 
 Hail, light divine! 
 Hail, day, in whose hands doth the World's Torch shine! 
 In a strange new life must I dwell 
 And a strange new lot must be mine. 
 Farewell, dear light, farewell. 
 
 Fourth Stasimon 
 
 The episode closes with Chthonia's last words: I go 
 to my death. Her mother bade her farewell about sixty 
 lines back, but whether she left the stage or has waited 
 to accompany Chthonia, we do not know. The chorus, 
 that has listened to many lines in glorification of love of 
 native land, begins softly, quasi improvisando, to treat 
 the same theme, love: 
 
 Many loves of many a mood and many a kind 
 Fill the life of man and mould the secret mind; 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 105 
 
 After various modulations we come to the love of Mother 
 Earth, and city chosen, and natural land, and hills and 
 streams and heaven: 
 
 Fields aflower with winds and suns, woods with shadowing hair 
 
 (For which see Hor. O. 1, 21, 5; 4, 3, 10; 4, 7, 1; Catul. 
 4, 10; II. 17, 677; Od. 23, 195; Soph. Ant. 419; Eur. Alces. 
 172) 
 
 Then we come to the generation theme, which Swin- 
 burne uses, or abuses, with so much enthusiasm. 
 
 No wind over sea blew us hither adrift on thy shore, 
 None sowed us by land in thy womb that conceived us and bore. 
 But the stroke of the shaft of the sunlight that brought us to birth 
 Pierced only and quickened thy furrows to bear us, O Earth. 
 With the beams of his love wast thou cloven as with iron or fire, 
 And the life in thee yearned for his life and grew great with desire. 
 And the hunger and thirst to be wounded and healed with his dart 
 Made fruitful the love in thy veins and the depths of thy heart. 
 And the showers out of heaven overflowing and liquid with love 
 Fulfilled with child of his godhead as rain from above. 
 Such desire had ye twain of each other, till molten in one 
 Ye might bear and beget of your bodies the fruits of the sun. 
 And the trees in their season brought forth and were kindled anew 
 By the warmth of the moisture of marriage, the child-bearing dew. 
 And the firstlings were fair of the wedlock of heaven and of earth; 
 All countries were bounteous with blossom and burgeon of birth, 
 Green pastures of grass for all cattle, and life-giving corn; 
 But here on thy bosom, here only, the man-child was born. 
 
 But Aeschylus used it before him. See Fr. Danaides. 
 
 Love throbs in holy heaven to wound the earth, 
 And love still prompts the land to yearn for bridals; 
 The rain that falls in rivers from the sky 
 Impregnates earth, and she brings forth for man 
 The flocks and herds and life of teeming Ceres. 
 The bloom of forests by dews hymeneal 
 Is perfected; in all which things I rule. 
 
106 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 So spoke Aphrodite. 
 
 The chorus closes with a note of admiration for the 
 victim. 
 
 But her mouth was a fountain of song, 
 
 And her heart as a citadel strong, 
 
 That guards the heart of the city. 
 
 Fifth Episode 
 
 The messenger enters and describes the sacrifice; the 
 throng, the maiden, her offertory, the response of the god, 
 the stroke of the knife, the pool of blood, the groans of the 
 spectators and the silence of the queen. She 
 
 Groaned not nor spake nor wept, but as a dream 
 Floats out of eyes awakening, so past forth 
 Ghostlike, a shadow of sorrow, from all sight 
 To the inner court and chamber where she sits 
 Dumb, till word reach her of this whole day's end. 
 
 In Euripides' Hecuba, 521-582 occurs the sacrifice of 
 Polyxena to the shade of Achilles. Talthybius tells the 
 story of her death to Hecuba, who is summoned by 
 Agamemnon to receive the corpse for burial. This is 
 even more spectacular than Swinburne's. All the 
 Achaeans throng to see the offering, where the son of 
 Achilles is master of ceremonies. He poured drink offer- 
 ings and prayed to the ghost of his father, after which he 
 drew his sword and signaled to his assistants to seize the 
 maid; but she, noticing this spoke thus: 
 
 O Argives, ye which laid our city low, 
 Free-willed I die; on my flesh let no man 
 Lay hand; unflinching will I yield my neck. 
 But by the gods, let me stand free, the while 
 Ye slay, that I may die free; for I shame 
 Slave to be called in Hades, who am royal. 
 
Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 107 
 
 Yea, like a great sea roared the host: the king 
 
 Spake to the youths to let the maiden go. 
 
 And they, soon as they heard that last behest 
 
 Of him of chiefest might, drew back their hands. 
 
 And she, when this she heard, her master's word, 
 
 Her vesture grasped, and from the shoulder's height 
 
 Rent it adown her side, down to the waist, 
 
 And bosom showed and breasts, as of a statue, 
 
 Most fair; and bowing to the earth her knee, 
 
 A word, of all words most heroic, spake. 
 
 Lo here O youth, if thou art fain to strike, 
 
 My breast, strike home; but if beneath my neck 
 
 Thou wouldest, here my throat is bared to thee. 
 
 And he, loth and yet fain, for ruth of her, 
 
 Cleaves with the steel the channels of her breath: 
 
 Forth gushed the life-springs, but she, even in death, 
 
 Took chiefest thought decorously to fall, 
 
 Hiding what hidden from men's eyes should be. 
 
 But when she had spent her breath 'neath that death-stroke, 
 
 Each Argive 'gan his task, no man the same. etc. 
 
 Swinburne has done what he would have ridiculed in 
 the work of any one else; he has given the maiden too 
 much hair. But he has succeeded in investing the picture 
 with the requisite horror by drawing that ever-increasing 
 pool of blood at the foot of the altar. Euripides, is, as he 
 claims, statuesque; but he too spoils his effect by over- 
 drawing the feminine touch when the princess is careful, 
 even in death, to fall in a becoming posture. Swinburne 
 at times approaches the sublimity of Aeschylus, who is 
 seldom other than sublime: the bathos and characteristic 
 gaucherie of Euripides all too frequently mar his efforts. 
 We get two pictures in Swinburne; the foreword of the 
 chorus, as it were, which is a reminiscence of the Agamem- 
 non, and the sacrifice proper. Quite Aeschylean is: 
 
 They shall muffle her mouth that she cry not or curse them and cover 
 her eyes from the sword. 
 
108 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 They shall fasten her lips as with bit and with bridle, and darken the 
 
 light of her face, 
 That the soul of the slayer may not falter, his heart be not molten, his 
 
 hand give not grace. 
 
 In the actual sacrifice, however, these precautions are 
 forgotten. In the Hecuba, also, Euripides makes the 
 chorus look forward in foreboding to what is going to 
 happen. Speaking to Hecuba, it sings: 
 
 For, except they turn and spare, and thy prevalence of prayer 
 Redeem thee from bereavement of thy ruin-stricken child, 
 Thou must surely live to gaze where a maiden on her face 
 On a grave-mound lieth slaughtered, while the darkly-gleaming tide 
 Welleth, welleth from the neck which the golden mockeries deck, 
 And all her body crimsons in the bubbling horror dyed. 
 
 The chorus now sings to Praxithea, drawing a com- 
 parison between her unquestioning submission to the 
 decrees of the gods, and her unselfish devotion to her 
 country, and Niobe, who was once happiest of the 
 daughters of the gods. The chorus has just heard from 
 the messenger that the queen has past 
 
 To the inner court and chamber where she sits 
 Dumb, till word reach her of this whole day's end. 
 
 Thereupon the chorus draws the comparison of one sitting 
 in stone among the Lydian hills. 
 
 Fifth Stasimon 
 
 More hapless born by far 
 
 Beneath some wintrier star, 
 
 One sits in stone among high Lydian snows, 
 The tomb of her own woes; 
 Yet happiest was once of the daughters of Gods and divine by her sire 
 
 and her lord, 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 109 
 
 Ere her tongue was a shaft for the hearts of her sons, for the heart 
 of her husband a sword; 
 For she, too great of mind, 
 Grown through her good things blind, 
 
 With godless lips and fire of her own breath 
 Spake all her house to death; 
 
 But thou, no mother unmothered, nor kindled in spirit with pride of 
 thy seed, 
 
 Thou hast hallowed thy child for a blameless blood-offering, and ran- 
 somed thy race by thy deed. 
 
 For her family see Aes. fr. Niobe 
 
 ol B&av hrixiOTtopoi . . . kovtto) viv k^iTifKov al/xa baifibvoiv 
 
 For the boastful tongue see Ant. 127 
 
 Zeus yap fieyaKrjs yKuxroris Kofxirovs u7repex0c«P« 
 
 Hor. O. 4.6.1 
 
 Dive, quern proles Niobea magnae 
 vindicem linguae, Titiosque raptor sensit. 
 
 Antigone compares her own fate with that of Niobe. 
 824 ff. 
 
 I have heard in other days how dread a doom befell our Phrygian guest, 
 the daughter of Tantalus, on the Sipylian heights; how like clinging ivy, 
 the growth of stone subdued her; and the rains fail not, as men tell, 
 from her wasting form, nor fails the snow, while beneath her weeping 
 lids the tears bedew her bosom; and most like to hers is the fate that 
 brings me to my rest. 
 
 Sophocles does not mention her fateful tongue, but 
 there is a reference to it in Ovid, Met. 6, 301, ff. 
 For the region, see also II. 24, 614. 
 
110 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Sixth Episode 
 
 The messenger, who has evidently remained on the 
 scene during the singing of this short ode, reports now 
 the rumor of the death of a threefold crown of maidens; 
 fear shakes the city as the winds a wintering tree. In the 
 Argonautica Jason and Medea stand like motionless 
 trees until blown upon by the blast of Love. And essen- 
 tially Greek is the idea that the blood 
 
 Shed of these maidens guiltless fall and fix 
 On this man's forehead like a curse that cleaves 
 To the unclean soul's inexpiate hunted head 
 Whom his own crime tracks hotlier than a hound 
 To life's veiled end unsleeping. 
 
 So in Aes. Eum. 246 ff. the Erinyes say: 
 
 For as a hound tracks a wounded fawn, so do we track out by blood and 
 its droppings. And with my long toils to wear out a man in the chase 
 my heart pants; for every spot of earth has been carefully gone over, 
 and across the sea with wingless flight have I come plying my course, 
 etc. 
 
 With a reference to the battle that is imminent, the messen- 
 ger ceases and the greatest chorus in the play begins. 
 
 Sixth Stasimon 
 
 joy out of woe 
 
 This chorus sets forth the battle fought in the terrified, 
 foreboding mind, that still hopes for an escape from 
 calamity; it is followed in the succeeding episode by the 
 herald's account of the real contest. This is the second 
 example of this device; the first being the third stasimon, 
 in which the chorus forecasts, as it were, the sacrifice of 
 the daughter of the king. It is one of the most magnificent 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 111 
 
 choruses that Swinburne ever wrote, and more nearly 
 produces the effects he was constantly striving for; and 
 it is about the most thoroughly Aeschylean of his efforts, 
 at times fairly outdoing Aeschylus in sweep and majesty of 
 phrase, and obscurity of thought. 
 
 We get a note of fear in the very first line, 
 
 111 thoughts breed fear, and fear ill words; but these 
 The gods turn from us that have kept their law. 
 
 but there is a ring of fortitude and confidence in things 
 human and divine that is not usual with Swinburne, 
 whose manner in the face of suffering is usually defiant. 
 The chorus is composed of singers, who in this instance 
 seer-wise lift up their voices to recount the struggle of 
 the forces of the gods jealous for the possession of Athens. 
 The first chorus of the Septem begins with the same fear 
 motif, but it is rather the terror of distracted women. 
 
 Opkofxat <pofiepa fxeyaX' &xv- 
 IxedeXrai ffrparos 
 
 They vacillate between exclamations of fright and 
 supplication to the gods; but here we get a clear-eyed 
 contemplation of the storm and stress of war. I know of 
 nothing else that so fully realizes spiritual agony and 
 victory. The classical reminiscences are many. 
 
 Let us lift up the strength of our hearts in song, 
 And our souls to the heights of the darkling day. 
 
 In Aes. Sup. 809, the chorus, driven by fear, does likewise: 
 
 tv£e 5' ofupap oipaviau, 
 fieXrj 8 toi<rt, XiravA. 
 
 and it is a fear of as desperate fate as may befall the cho- 
 rus of Erechtheus. In the latter chorus, too, the fear is 
 
112 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 assuaged somewhat by patience, as in the case of the 
 watchman of the Agamemnon, who on watch was inclined 
 to sing or hum a tune, shredding into his hours the song 
 to be an antidote for sleep. (Ag. 16 f.) Then follows a 
 curious confusion of the metaphor of ship of state and 
 ship of life. Aeschylus loved the sea, which was also Swin- 
 burne's lifelong passion. Both drew heavily on it for 
 metaphors. 
 
 If the wind in our eyes blow blood for spray, 
 Be the spirit that breathes in us life more strong 
 Though the prow reel round and the helm point wrong, 
 And the sharp reefs whiten the shoreward way. 
 For the steersman time sits hidden astern 
 With dark hand plying the rudder of doom, 
 And the surf-smoke under it flies like fume 
 As the blast shears off and the oar-blades churn 
 The foam of our lives that to death return, 
 Blown back as they break to the gulfing gloom. 
 
 Sep. 109 f. 
 
 nvpa 7repi tttoKiv boxv-o\6<pu)v yap avbp&v 
 Kax^dfei irvooiis "Apeos bpbptvov. 
 
 There is the usual appeal to the gods: 
 
 O earth, O gods of the land, have ye heart now to see and to hear 
 What slays with terror mine eyesight and seals mine ear? 
 
 So in Septem, 101 
 
 irpobwcreis, irayalxQw "Aprjs rav reav ) 
 o> xP^^owTjXri^ balpov, C7ri5' eirtoe TroXiv, 
 
 We get a good picture of the Homeric storm cloud in 
 
 As a storm-cloud swollen that comes up from the skirts of the sea, 
 
 By the wind for helmsman to shoreward ferried, 
 
 So black behind them the live storm serried 
 
 Shakes earth with the tramp of its foot and the terror to be. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erecktheus 113 
 
 II. 4, 275 ff. 
 
 (Even as when a goatherd from a place of outlook seeth a cloud 
 coming across the deep before the blast of the west wind; and to him 
 being afar off it seemeth ever blacker, even as pitch, as it goeth along 
 the deep, and bringeth a great whirlwind, and he shuddereth to see 
 it and driveth his flock beneath a cave; even in such wise moved the 
 serried battalions of young men, the fosterlings of Zeus, by the side of 
 the Aiantes into furious war, battalions dark of line, bristling with 
 shields and spears. 
 
 Here follows an appeal to the north wind, the raptor of 
 Oreithyia: 
 
 O strong north wind, the pilot of cloud and rain, 
 
 For the gift that we gave thee what gift hast thou given us again? 
 
 O god dark-winged, deep-throated, a terror to forth-faring ships by night, 
 
 What bride-song is this that is blown on the blast of thy breath? 
 
 In Ovid, Met. 6, 690 ft\, Boreas says to Oreithyia: 
 
 vi tristia nubila pello, 
 vi freta concutio nodosaque robora verto 
 induroque nives et terras grandine pulso. 
 
 What bride song is this that is blown on the blast of thy breath? 
 A gift but of grief to thy kinsmen, a song but of death, 
 For the bride's folks weeping, and woe for her father, who finds thee 
 
 [against him in fight. 
 
 In the Agamemnon there is a similar play on two meanings 
 of the word Krjdos. Wrath, accomplishing its end, sped 
 to Ilion this marriage bond, a trouble indeed. 
 
 'IXtco 8k Krj8os opdoivvyLOv 
 rehecrcrlippoov nfjvis ffKaaev 
 
 Some of Swinburne's metaphors are very bold, and rather 
 confusing. 
 
 Till their corpses have covered and clothed as with raiment the face of 
 the sword-ploughed field. 
 
114 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 Aechylus had described the sea fairly abloom with corpses. 
 
 bpCjptv AlpOovv irkXayos kiyaiov fc/cpoTs 
 
 Still the appeal is to Boreas, the son of Aurora: 
 
 O son of the rose-red morning, O god twin-born with the day, 
 
 O wind with the young sun waking, and winged for the same wide way, 
 
 Herodotus says Boreas helped the Athenians in the Persian 
 wars by wrecking the ships of the enemy. 
 
 The battle is joined in earnest now : 
 
 For now not in word but in deed is the harvest of spears begun. 
 
 So spoke Prometheus after the last warning of Hermes. 
 Pro. 1080 
 
 And now comes the deed, no longer the word; 
 Kai pr)u epyia Kou/ce-ri pi>6u> 
 
 Aristophanes speaks of the Spartan prisoners fromi 
 Sphacteria as a harvest; Eq. 392. 
 
 kclt' aur)p tbo^tv elvat, Ta.WoTpi.ov apdv depos. 
 vvv 8k tovs araxvs kKtivovs, ovs katWtv r)yayei>. 
 
 See also II. 19, 221-4 
 
 Sounds are expressed in the classical way; 
 
 Air shudders with shrill spears crossing, and hurtling of wheels that roar. 
 Sept. 140 
 
 8opiTLva.KTOs aldijp 8' kTrpaiverai. 
 IX. 13, 339 pb-xv tippi&v iyx^XI <Ttv 
 
 SPaXa7yes aaneaiv re kcu e7x«7"i iretppiKviai 
 
 As the grinding of teeth in the jaws of a lion that foam as they gnash 
 Is the shriek of the axles that loosen, the shock of the poles that clash. 
 
 Sept. 53 
 
 tn8rjp6(ppo)v yap dvpbs ai>8pela tpXkyuv 
 eirvei, \eovToiv us" Apr] 8e8opKoTui> 
 
Swinburne s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 115 
 Sept. 135 
 
 orofiov apfx&Tj)P 6.fJL<pi ir6\iu nXbo), 
 . . . t\a.Koi> 6.£6v(a)P ftpidofjikpuv x^ai. 
 
 Sept. 188 
 
 ore (Tvptyyes eKXa^av kXlrpoxot 
 
 The dense manes darken and glitter, the mouths of the mad steeds 
 
 [champ, 
 Their heads flash blind through the battle, and death's foot rings in 
 
 [their tramp. 
 Sept. 115 
 
 5td 8k tol yevvwv LTTeloiv Serol 
 Kivvpovrai (pavov x&Xtvoi. 
 
 At the sound of the sea's host charging that deafens the roar of the sky's 
 Sept. 85 
 
 fipkpti 8'apaxkrov binav vdaros bporvirov 
 
 There is a fine touch from the Prometheus in 
 
 Earth groans from her great rent heart, 
 
 and the hollows of rocks are afraid, 
 And the mountains are moved and the valleys 
 
 as waves in a storm-wind swayed. 
 
 Pr. 434 
 
 (log. 8e irovTios kXOSiov 
 %vp.-KiTV<j)v, arkva fivdos, 
 Ke\aivds"Ai8os vwofipepei pvxos yas 
 
 The chorus closes with a prayer to the sun for light 
 and grace. It is answered by the appearance of the 
 Athenian herald. The trochaic rhythm is in strong con- 
 trast to the very fine anapests of the chorus. 
 
116 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Seventh Episode 
 
 Praxithea interrupts the kommos of the chorus and 
 the herald. Her sentence structure is quite Greek: 
 
 Man, what thy mother bare thee born to say 
 
 Speek; for no word yet wavering on thy lip 
 
 Can wound me worse than thought forestalls or fear. 
 
 The herald begins his account of the battle. 
 
 I have no will to weave too fine or far, 
 
 O queen, the weft of sweet with bitter speech; 
 
 Bright words with darkling; 
 
 Pindar, O. 6, 86 weaves for warriors the changes of his 
 song; 
 
 The battle cry is reminiscent of the Persae, 401 ff. 
 
 one man's note 
 Tore its way like a trumpet: Charge, make end, 
 Charge, halt not, strike; rend up their strength by the roots; 
 Strike, break them, make your birthright's promise sure, 
 Show your hearts hardier than the fenced land breeds, 
 And souls breathed in you from no spirit of earth, 
 Sons of the sea's waves; 
 
 And you might have heard the loud shout of many at once, — Sons of 
 the Greeks, go, free your country, free your children, your wives, the 
 temples of your fathers' gods, and the tombs of your ancestors. Now 
 the contest is for them all. 
 
 The battle itself seems more like a contest between 
 Hesiodic monsters or Miltonic angels; but Athens is saved 
 and Praxithea is content. She prays for death. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 117 
 
 Seventh Stasimon 
 the golden chalice of song 
 
 Here follows the song of doubt and foreboding, to be 
 very sharply offset by the sudden intervention of Athena. 
 The Pindaric note is dominant in the phraseology, but 
 the mood is Aeschylean. The chalice of gold, the flower 
 of song, the wine of song, the honey of song, are all 
 Pindaric; see the famous beginning of the seventh Olym- 
 pian, also Olym. 9, 48 
 Fr. 166, 
 Iliad, 10, 579 
 
 The antithesis between the city redeemed and the 
 city polluted with blood is very strong; and because of 
 this pollution, the Aeschylean misgiving throws its 
 sombre pall over the chorus. The attitude is similar to 
 that of the chorus in the Agamemnon, just after the 
 return of the king. (988) 
 
 Now I learn with mine own eyes 
 
 Their return, eye- witness- wise; 
 
 Still my soul, self-taught from within, feels rise 
 
 The dirge not sung with the lyre that Erinys cries 
 
 All unable still to clasp 
 
 Hope's fond daring in my grasp. 
 
 Not in vain my bosom broods 
 
 Nor unfulfilled my heart's prophetic moods, 
 
 Heart that beats in eddies stilled 
 
 Only when each is fulfilled. 
 
 Pray I such things farther fall 
 
 Than my hope, unfashioned all. 
 
 The song sits close to the heart, a dark dream that will 
 not be spurned away. And the reason is clear: 
 
 In the darkness of earth beneath, in the world without sun, 
 The shadows of past things reign; 
 
118 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Ercchthcus 
 
 And a cry goes up from the ghost of an ill deed done, 
 And a curse for a virgin slain. 
 
 Nothing is more Aeschylean than the mindful wrath, for 
 sin done, that bides its time for the hour to strike, a fury 
 against the transgressors, bringing after-vengeance on 
 the deed. Not by sacrifice or libation will one soothe the 
 stubborn rage for the sacrifice without lire, i. e., the 
 sacrifice of the maiden. Swinburne is keeping close to 
 his text now, and in it is not much of Euripides. 
 
 Exodos 
 Then comes the deus ex machina; the intervention of 
 Athena, quite Euripidean and wholly unsatisfying. The 
 enforcement of a new term of life upon Praxithea, when 
 her desolation is complete, makes the doom of Althaea 
 seem thrice fortunate indeed. But she quickly takes 
 courage and speaks up from 'a heart made whole,' and 
 takes the proffered blessing. The language of Athena, is, 
 of course very overwhelming: 
 
 Hear, men that mourn, and woman without mate, 
 Hearken, ye sick of soul with fear, and thou 
 Dumb-stricken for thy children; hear ye too, 
 Earth, and the glory of heaven, and winds of the air, 
 And the most holy heart of the deep sea, 
 Late wroth, now full of quiet; hear, thou sun, 
 Rolled round with the upper fire of rolling heaven, 
 And all the stars returning; hill and streams, 
 Springs and fresh fountains, day that seest these deeds, 
 Night that shall hide not; 
 
 It is difficult why she should enter here into the spirit of 
 "reverent emulation" with Prometheus. 
 Cf. Pr. 88 ff. 
 
 <J bios aldrjp nai TaxvirrepoL wvoai, 
 TcoraixCyv re irrjyai, ttovt'iuv re Kvp.aru>v 
 avi]pLdfj.ou 7eXacr/xa, TranixrJTop re yrj, 
 Kal tov TravoTTTrfP kvkXov r)\lov koKoj, 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechthcus 119 
 
 Althaea's reply suggests a metamorphosis. 
 
 never tear 
 Shall stain for shame nor groan untune the song 
 That as a bird shall spread and fold its wings 
 Here in thy praise forever; * * * there is no grief 
 Great as the joy to be made one in will 
 With him that is the heart and rule of life 
 And thee, God born of God; thy name is ours, 
 And thy large grace more great than our desire. 
 
 Almost better seems the lament of Hecuba: 
 
 Daughter, I know not on what ills to look, 
 
 So many throng me: if to this I turn, 
 
 That hindereth me : thence summoneth me again 
 
 Another grief, on-ushering ills on ills. 
 
 And now I cannot from my soul blot out 
 
 Thine agony, that I should wail it not. 
 
 The chorus is quick to note the change of mood; and 
 forgetting the cry from the ghost of an ill deed done, it 
 proceeds to convert the light from the pyres of the dead 
 into the light of the dawn of a new day. 
 
METRE 
 
 Much of Swinburne's fine rhythmical effect is due to 
 his use of Greek metrical devices; — to his employment of 
 Greek feet, and of Greek license in substitution and 
 resolution. Space will permit but few examples. The 
 Choriambus 
 
 That it gndures outrage and dolSrous days 
 Nor light upon the land | whithgr I go 
 
 She reels as any reed undlr tM wind, 
 
 And cleaves untd thl ground with staggering feet. 
 
 And thy mouth shuddering like a shot bird v 
 
 What shall atone, what heal me, what bring back 
 Strength to the foot, light to the face? What herb 
 Assuage me? 
 
 He takes Euripidean license in substitutions in the iambic 
 line. 
 
 Strike, cease not, arrow on arrow and wound on wound. 
 
 The house is broken, is broken; it shall not stand. 
 
 There is Euripidean" iteration in this line, as in 
 Drives wave on wave on wave to west 
 
 and 
 
 Drives day on day on day to doom 
 
 So Eur. Bacchae, 1064 f., where Dionysus bends the tree. 
 
 A soaring pine-shaft by the top he caught, 
 
 And dragged down — down — still down to the dark earth. 
 
 KaTrjyev, rjyev, rjyev eis ivtyw irkbov. 
 
 120 
 
Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 121 
 
 The following is quite Greek in its rhythm: 
 
 Who shall put a bridle in the mourner's lips to chasten them, 
 Or seal up the fountains of his tears for shame 
 
 We meet also the rather unusual example of a word 
 being used in the same verse in both emphatic and un- 
 emphatic position : 
 
 Earth is the | covering to | hide thee, the | garment of | thee. 
 
 The Greeks and Romans have been criticised for just 
 such contrasts in quantity. See Virgil, Aen. 2, 663: 
 
 gnatum ante ora patris, patrem qui 
 
 Ovid, Met. 13, 607 
 
 voliicri mox vera volucris 
 
 and Theoc. 6, 19 
 
 to. iii\ Ka\a KoXd Tr'tipavTai 
 
 In the Atalanta in Calydon and the Erechtheus, 
 Swinburne has drawn from the Greek drama in the follow- 
 ing ways: 
 
 He has used two Greek plots of Euripides, the Melea- 
 ger and the Erechtheus; he has introduced the original 
 characters, in so far as they are known, and to re-create 
 them he has borrowed all available material from the 
 surviving fragments; and to augment the effect of these, 
 he has added extracts and ideas borrowed from the entire 
 field of Greek poetry. 
 
 His characters are physiologically Aeschylean, but 
 psychologically Euripidean. 
 
 Structurally the plays are both Aeschylean. 
 
122 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 From Homer he borrowed (a) myths, (b) the Review, 
 (c) the battle scene, and his narrative style, material for 
 which he found in Ovid and Apollodorus. 
 
 The classical reminiscences may be classified as follows: 
 
 Close Translations; 
 
 Atalanta 68 lines 
 
 Erechtheus 41 " 
 
 Greek Passages Used as Themes for Amplification 
 
 Atalanta 73 
 
 Erechtheus 47 " 
 
 Lines That Reveal in One Way or Another Greek Connotation 
 
 Atalanta 1623 " 
 
 Erechtheus 1419 " 
 
 Number of lines in Atalanta 2317 
 
 Number of lines in Erechtheus 1761 
 
CLASSICAL SUBJECTS 
 
 The following subjects are among those treated with 
 more or less elaboration in the two plays: 
 
 Altar 
 
 Animate nature 
 
 Atmosphere 
 
 Ate 
 
 Athens 
 
 Battle scenes 
 
 Bridle 
 
 Babes 
 
 ^Characterizations 
 
 Cursing 
 
 Cup of heart, song, etc. 
 
 Catalogue, from Homer, Ovid, 
 Apollonius, Apollodorus, and 
 the fragments of Euripides' Me- 
 leager 
 
 Demeter 
 
 Death, regret for early 
 
 Dreams 
 
 Envy of god 
 
 Earth, Mother 
 
 Eros 
 
 Fates 
 
 Festivals 
 
 Fire 
 
 Fishes 
 
 Flower (Anthos) 
 
 Future 
 
 Fear 
 
 Geography 
 
 Gaming 
 
 Ghosts 
 
 Gods 
 
 Goddesses 
 
 Love 
 
 Law 
 
 Luck 
 
 Lightning 
 
 Lions 
 
 Mind 
 
 Metaphors 
 
 Memory of the dead 
 
 Memory for the dead 
 
 Nightingales 
 
 Navel of Earth 
 
 Nemesis 
 
 Omens 
 
 Opposition of Gods (Earth and 
 
 Ocean; Poseidon and Pallas) 
 Pictures 
 
 Piling up of adjectives 
 Pain, physical and mental 
 Prayer 
 Plowshare 
 Puns on names 
 Quotations 
 Rhesis 
 
 Raiment, embroidery, veils, etc. 
 Reaping, of life 
 Sacrifice, human 
 Spring 
 
 Sentimentality 
 Serpents 
 Spinning 
 Sound 
 Sea 
 Ship of State 
 
 123 
 
124 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Gifts of gods 
 
 Ship of doom 
 
 Gifts of the Hours 
 
 Similes 
 
 Generation 
 
 Sleep eternal 
 
 Hysteria 
 
 Soothsaying 
 
 Hybris 
 
 Stars 
 
 Hades 
 
 Sophistication 
 
 Hair 
 
 Trumpet 
 
 Honey 
 
 Vegetation 
 
 Intellect 
 
 Violets 
 
 Irony 
 
 Wine 
 
 Insolence 
 
 Word, the 
 
 Joy of battle 
 
 Words, Greek, with unusual con- 
 
 Justice 
 
 notation 
 
 Litotes 
 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 I have consulted, in addition to the various editions 
 of Aeschylus and Euripides, the following authors: 
 
 Edmund Gosse Algernon Charles Swinburne 
 
 Edward Thomas Algernon Charles Swinburne 
 
 G. E. Woodberry Swinburne 
 
 John Drinkwater Swinburne 
 
 F. M. Cornford Thucydides Mythistoricus 
 
 P. Masqueray Euripide et ses idees 
 
 Decharme Euripide et l'esprit de son theatre 
 
 Nestle Euripides 
 
 The English version of passages from Euripides are 
 with few exceptions from the translation of A. S. Way; 
 that of Sophocles, from the edition of Jebb. 
 
 125 
 
STRUCTURE 
 
 Atalanta in Calydon, built on the Greek model, may 
 be divided as follows: 
 
 Prologue, 11. 1-64. 
 Parodos, 11. 65-120. 
 First Episode, 11. 121-313. 
 First Stasimon, 11. 314-361. 
 Second Episode, 11. 362-718. 
 Second Stasimon, 11. 719-866. 
 Third Episode, 11. 867-1037. 
 Third Stasimon, 11. 1038-1204. 
 Fourth Episode, 11. 1205-1373. 
 Fourth Stasimon, 11. 1374-1468. 
 Fifth Episode, 11. 1469-1808. 
 Fifth Stasimon, 11. 1809-1855. 
 Exodos, 11. 1856-2317. 
 
 The Exodos contains a Kommos, one of the finest in 
 English, and as fine as any thing of the sort in the Greek 
 drama. 
 
 (For an explanation of these terms se c the Poetics of Aristotle, 
 Ch. XII.) 
 
 SWINBURNE'S DEBT TO HOMER 
 
 Atalanta in Calydon belongs to the pre-Homeric 
 period, to a time when heroes were very near the gods. 
 It was the age of Heracles, Jason, Peleus, and the young 
 Gerenian Nestor. Homer casually mentions the story 
 of Meleager (Iliad 9, 529 ff.) as an example of the reward 
 of the headstrong. The combat with the monster gives 
 the play an epic cast. In it Swinburne finds opportunity 
 to draw from Homer in more ways than one. He is in fact 
 in the same position as Apollonius of Rhodes, who although 
 
 126 
 
Swinburne s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 127 
 
 he set his story in a period antedating the Homeric, was 
 wholly dependent on Homer for material and method 
 of treatment. Swinburne draws from Homer in his set- 
 ting, his characters, which are more heroic than those 
 generally found in Greek tragedy, in incidents such 
 as the review, in many reminiscences, several direct 
 references, and numerous quotations. The following 
 references will show in part Swinburne's debt to Greek 
 Epic. 
 
 Atalanta in Calydon, 1. 
 
 8 Mortal with gentler shafts, Od. 11, 172. 
 
 16 Knees of gods, II. 17, 514. 
 
 26 Earth laughs, II. 19, 362; H. Dem. 14. 
 
 45 Wind-footed, II. 8, 409; H. Aph. 217. 
 
 51 Full-flowered, Od. 14, 353. 
 
 64 Spring, H. Dem. 54. 
 
 70 Lady of light, H. 27, 4. 
 
 78 Sandals, II. 2, 44 et freq. 
 
 104 Nymphs, H. Pan, 2, 19; H. Dion. 26. 
 
 162 Sacrifice— for the story see U. 9, 534 ff. 
 
 166 Rural atmosphere, H. Hermes. 
 
 201 Vain talk, Od. 18, 331. 
 362 ff. The review, cf. II. 3, 161 ff. 
 
 434 Hard-hearted, II. 3, 60. 
 
 436 Vine-chapleted, etc. II. 23, 316; H. 15. 
 
 510 Blessed Isles, Od. 4, 563. 
 
 564 Green life, H. Merc. 375. 
 
 659 Supplication, II. 1, 500, 22, 338; 24, 478. 
 
 703 Windy words, II. 4, 355. 
 
 674 For the mental attitude see' II. 1, 167. 
 
 688 Golden hair, II. 1, 197; Od. 15, 133. 
 
 759 Articulate speech, II. 1, 225 and seh. 
 
 855 Tyro. For the story see Od. 11, 235 ff. 
 
 1209 Came clashes of swift hoofs, II. 24, 323. 
 1235 fit. List of huntsmen, see the Homeric catalogue. 
 1242 ff. Picture of Atalanta; see Od. 6, 102 ff. 
 
 1280 Spear . . . shook and stood fast, II. 21, 69. 
 
128 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erecktheus 
 
 1287 Arrow, 11. 4, 125. 
 
 1290 See boar similes in II. 414 ff.; 12, 145 ff. 
 
 1297 And violent sleep, etc. II. 16, 250; 20, 477; 21, 181. 
 
 1304 Sharp rang, etc. II. 4, 504. 
 
 1310 The boar, wounded by Amphiaraus, cries like Aros, wounded in 
 
 battle before Troy, II. 5, 860. 
 2042 Atalanta's wish is like that of Helen, II. 6, 345. Cf. Tennyson, in! 
 
 "Dream of Fair Women." 
 2202 Farewell, Od. 11,488. 
 
 REMINISCENCES FROM THE GREEK 
 DRAMATISTS 
 
 AESCHYLUS 
 
 The theme of the play is given in Aesch. Choe. 602-612. 
 
 1 Fr. 388. 
 
 5 A light for dead men. Sept. 620 IT. 
 
 10 Favorable and fair, Ag. 143; Sup. 149. 
 
 14 Edge of spears, Eum. 766. 
 
 17 O fair-faced sun, Ag. 508. 
 
 2F< Let earth laugh and the sea, Pro. 90. 
 
 28 Foam, Eum. 183; 
 
 34 Fountain heads, Pro. 89. 
 
 60 Shorn locks, Choe. 180; 229. 
 
 68 Nightingale, Ag. 1142. 
 
 106 Fleet-foot kid, Eum. Ill; fr. 382. 
 105-8 fr. 168. 
 
 119 Fr. 39. 
 
 148 Retribution, Pro. 8. 
 
 170 Sacrifice neglected, Fr. 161. 
 
 177 Justice, Eum. 702; Sup. 814; Choe. 671. 
 
 201 Witless, Pro. 385. 
 
 208 ff. Love the destroyer, Ag. 743; Choe. 600. 
 
 222 Weeping, Choe. 81; Ag. 889. 
 
 228 Per. 539. 
 
 261 Picture of warrior. Sept. 380 ff. 
 
 300 Like Themis in Pro. 
 370 Sept. 543. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erecktheus 1 2 ( ) 
 
 421 Ag. 725. 
 
 436 Sept. 435. 
 
 460 Change, Pro. 310. 
 
 466 ff. Integer vitae, Eum. 490; Pro. 536. 
 
 564 Green youth, Sup. 663. 
 
 665 ff. Mother love, Choe. 749-60. 
 
 715 Sup. 1049. 
 
 889 Sup. 1030. 
 
 1043 Pro. 310 ff. 
 
 1153 Ag. 369. 
 
 1175 Prometheus to Zeus, in Euripidean manner; Ag. 146; 383. 
 1205 ff. Flowers at the altar, Ag. 86. 
 
 1208 Pro. 533. 
 
 1893 That is my son, Ag. 1404. 
 
 2043 Pro. 135. 
 
 2046 Per. 362. 
 
 2054 Spear shaft broken, Ag. 65. 
 
 2075 Choe. 345. 
 
 2136 Choe. 345. 
 
 2215 Sowing Sept. 753. Cf. Shak. Ant. and Cleo. 2, 2. 
 
 2229 Per. 840. 
 
 REMINISCENCES FROM SOPHOCLES 
 
 1 Elec. 626. 
 
 17 Fair-faced sun, Trach. 94. 
 
 38 Virgin Artemis, Elec. 1238. 
 
 50 Aetolian land, Elec. 704. 
 
 52 Won from the river, Trach. 9 ff. 
 
 59 Hair, Ajax 1174 and Jebb's note. 
 
 72 Artemis, O. R. 206. 
 
 104 Pan, Bacchus, Maenads, Or. R. 211; 1100; Ant. 1153. 
 
 112 Bacchanal, O. C. 674; Trach. 218. 
 
 166 Flocks, crops, Fr. 4626, 1. 
 
 208 Love, Ant. 787. 
 
 353 Ajax, 1203. 
 
 466 ff. Child vs. parent, Ant. 639. 
 
 721 Relentless time, O. R. 341. 
 
 929 Ant. 1087. 
 
130 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 930 Just as Jocasta stops the wrangling of Oedipus and Creon. 
 1200 Ajax, 125 ff. 
 1208 Silence, Ant. 1347 ff. 
 
 1374 ff. For the general idea of this chorus see O. C. 668 ff. 
 1469 Brothers, Ant. 668. 
 1809-55 Love the destroyer, Ant. 944 ft". 
 2031 The flesh of my body is molten, Trach. 1055. 
 2122 Bear me away, Trach. 953. 
 2215 Sowing, O. T. 1497; 1211; 1257. 
 
 REMINISCENCES FROM EURIPIDES 
 
 Theme of play from the fragment of the Meleager, 
 20 (537). 
 
 "Treat well the living; every man, when dead 
 Is dust and shadow, naught to nothing fled." 
 
 17 Herac. 748. 
 
 38 Ion 466. 
 
 122 Pure lips, Cyc. 558. 
 
 148 Patient of the gods, Hel. 252; Fr. 1076. 
 
 161 Small praise, Iph. Tau. 386. 
 
 166 Grain, Fr. Hyps. 458. 
 
 208 Love, .Med. 320; Tro. 982. 
 
 210 Med. 330. 
 
 216 Med. 900. 
 
 222 Hip. 375. 
 
 261 Picture, Rhe. 305. 
 
 380 Fr. Meleager. 
 
 395 Leda, Fr. Meleager. 
 
 429 Telamon, Fr. Meleager. 
 
 436 Ancaeus, Fr. Meleager, 554, 5. 
 
 444 Fr. Meleager, 534, 7. 
 
 592 Elec. 432. 
 
 624 Medea 928. 
 
 682 Medea 920. 
 
 709 Erech. Fr. 570. 
 
 737 Fr. 433. 
 
 810 Hecuba. 
 
 838 Omnipresent love. Hip. 449; 1272. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 131 
 
 929 Woman playing the man's part, Fr. Meleager. 
 
 930 Iph. Aul. 380. 
 942 Med. 366. 
 
 1010 Hysteria, Bacchae. 
 
 1080 Euripides sent them. 
 
 1115 Against the gods, Hip. 1415. 
 
 1374 Peace, Hip. 208; Bacch. 71, 106. 
 
 1145 Med. 1020. 
 
 1210 Bacch. 178. 
 
 1246 Bacch. 621. 
 
 1516 Alces. 147; Iph. Aul. 441. 
 
 1734 Med. 1013. 
 
 1781 Med. 1013. 
 
 1806 Bacch. 590. 
 
 1830 Heracl. 608. 
 
 1945 Med. 1021; Phoen. 1429. 
 
 2004 Med. 1206. 
 
 2005 Alces. 141. 
 2009 Alces. 141. 
 2027 Hip. 1350. 
 2037 Hip. 1391. 
 2117 Med. 134. 
 2182 Hip. 1378. 
 2188 Hip. 1364 
 
 2202 Salute me, Fr. 537; 536. 
 
 REMINISCENCES FROM PINDAR 
 
 35 Achelous, Fr. 249 (153). 
 
 46 Wind-footed, N. 1. 6. 
 
 47 Well wooded, O. 8. 9. 
 51 Full flowered, O. 13, 17. 
 
 88-95 Spring, Fr. 75 (45) P. 4, 114. 
 
 112 0.2,30. 
 
 115 Bright breast, P. 4, 8. 
 
 119 Wolf, P. 2, 84. 
 
 124 Honey, P. 9, 63. 
 
 161 Praise, O. 9, 56: 1, 52. 
 
 443 Unsandaled, P. 4, 96. 
 
132 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 466 ff. Blessed Isles, O. 2, 61-85; Dirges, fr. 129, 130 (95); 131 (96): 
 
 137 (102). 
 564 Flower of life, P. 4, 158. 
 688 Yellow hair, P. 2, 16. 
 1424 Hid the limbs of Iamos, O. 6, 84. 
 
 REMINISCENCES FROM ARISTOPHANES 
 
 68 Nightingale, Av. 676; 212. 
 104 Pan, Av. 1098. 
 
 REMINISCENCES FROM OTHER GREEK 
 WRITERS 
 
 727 ff. Theog. 211 ff. 
 1065 Pandora. 
 1070 Works, 90. 
 
 2110 320. 
 
 HESIOD 
 
 MOSCHUS 
 
 SAPPHO 
 1391 Pale as grass or latter flowers, 2, 14. 
 
 CALLIMACHUS 
 
 45 Art. 215. 
 
 THEOGNIS 
 26 Earth laughs, 9. 
 320 Pandora, 500. 
 
 REMINISCENCES FROM LATIN WRITERS 
 OVID 
 4 Diva triformis, Met. 7, 94. 
 
 Ovid contains the whole story of the Calydonian boar. 
 See Met. 6, 424 ff. 
 
 HORACE 
 
 4 Diva triformis, O. 3, 22, 4. 
 65 Hounds of spring, O. 4, 7, 9. Ver proterit aestas. 
 
Swinburne* 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 133 
 
 67 Lisp of leaves, 0. L, 23, 5 Nam seu mobilibus vepris inhorruit 
 
 ad ventum foliis. 
 
 68 Brown bright Nightingale, O. 4, 12, 5. 
 98 Grass, Ep. 2, 22. 
 
 108 O. 1, 9, 18. 
 
 170 Sacrifice, O. 3, 23, 20. 
 
 594 Hewn pine, O. 1, 14, 11. 
 
 LUCRETIUS 
 128 Seasons, 5, 737. 
 719 ff. 4, 1040 to end. 
 752 1, 1-8. 
 758 Love, 1, 10 ff. 
 2215 Sowing, 4, 1272. 
 
 TIBULLUS 
 170 3, 4, 10. 
 
 CATULLUS 
 721 Nobis, cum semel occidit lux. 
 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 A TRAGEDY 
 
 STRUCTURE 
 
 1 Prologue 1- 94 
 
 2 Parodos 95-238 
 
 3 First Episode 239- 348 
 
 4 First Stasimon 349- 360 
 
 5 Second Episode 361- 554 
 
 6 Second Stasimon 555- 640 
 
 7 Third Episode 641-753 
 
 8 Third Stasimon 754-889 
 
 9 Fourth Episode 890-1074 
 
 10 Fourth Stasimon 1075-1190 
 
 11 Fifth Episode 1191-1240 
 
 12 Fifth Stasimon 1241-1251 
 
 13 Sixth Episode 1253-1282 
 
 14 Sixth Stasimon 1283-1483 
 
 15 Seventh Episode 1484-1623 
 
 16 Seventh Stasimon 1624-1643 
 
 17 Exodos 1644-1760 
 
134 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 CLASSICAL REMINISCENCES IN THE 
 ERECHTHEUS 
 
 FROM HOMER 
 
 7 Hymn to Aphrodite, 317; II. 14, 239; II. 1, 511; 21, 33. 
 
 10 II. 2, 586 ft*. 4, 478; H. Cer. 16S. 
 
 21 II. 1, 64. 
 
 38 Od. 15, 480. 
 
 113 11.4,248. 
 
 114 Homeric otuoin ttovtco 
 384 II. 1, 225; 3, 180. 
 396 Od. 4, 399. 
 473 II. 15, 27; 15, 34. 
 475 II. 11, 67 ft*.; II. 19,221 ft". 
 646 11.3,151. 
 679 II. 1, 201. 
 711 ft". Another version of Atalanta 16. 
 
 1149 II. 17, 677; Od. 23, 195. 
 
 1248 ft*. II. 24, 614. 
 
 1312 ft. II. 4, 275 IT. 
 
 1340 11. 19,221 It. 
 
 1349 II. 13, 399. 
 
 1626 11. 10, 679. 
 
 CLASSICAL REMINISCENCES FROM THE 
 GREEK TRAGEDIANS 
 
 AESCHYLUS 
 
 1 Pro. 90. 
 7 Sept. 477. 
 13 ff. Pro. 462 If.; Sept. 393. 
 
 29 Eum. 190. 
 
 30 Pro. 91. 
 38 Per. 576. 
 
 44 Sept. 64, 1077. 
 
 52 ff. Pro. 89 ft*.; Ag. 681 ft". 
 
 57 Cf. 174; Ag. 151,207 IT. 
 138 Per. 241. 
 159 Eum. 166. 
 
Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 135 
 
 312 Ag. 192. 
 
 335 ff. Bright god's (Phoibos) — speaks askance and darkling (Loxias) 
 but his name hath in it slaying and ruin (Apollo) Ag. 1080. 
 
 365 Ag. 1178; Per. 159. 
 
 384 Per. 206. 
 
 475 ff. Sup. 637. 
 
 479 Pro. 1015. 
 
 646 Ag. 56. 
 
 693 Sept. 414. 
 
 725 ff. Ag. 1065 ff. 
 
 778 f. Sup. 524 ff. Cf. Athens "King of kings, holv of holies, blessed 
 god." 
 
 818 ff. Ag. 227 ff. 
 
 866 For similar pun see Ag. 681 ff. 
 1164 f. Fr. Danaides, 38 o///3pos 8' air' evvcuvros ovpavov irtakv envae 
 
 ycuav. 
 1168 Fr. Danaides, SeySpoms &pa 8'£k i>oti£ovtos ■ya.p.ov reXeios karri. 
 1225 ff. Ag. 239 ff. 
 
 1242 ff. Er. Niobe 157 ol deQv ayxiviropoi, k. t. X. 
 1274 ff. Eum. 246 f. 
 1284 f. Sept. 78. 
 1286 f. Sup. 809; Ag. 16 f. 
 1288 ff. Sept. 109 ff. 
 1304 f. Sept. 101. 
 1311 Sept. 140. 
 
 1324 ff. For similar word play see Ag. 699. 
 1333 Ag. 659. 
 
 349 Sept. 140. 
 1350 f. Sept. 53, 135, 188. 
 1357 Sept. 85. 
 1461 Ag. 1390 ff. 
 1518-30 Per. 401-7. 
 1641 ff. Ag. 100, 214, 224, 236. 
 1647 ff. Pro. 88 ff. 
 1720 Per. 242. 
 
 FROM SOPHOCLES 
 
 13 Antig. 477. 
 
 25 xAntig. 122. Cf. Tennyson, Oenone. 
 
 "Troas, and- Ilium's columned citadel, 
 The crown of Troas." 
 
136 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
 
 Swinburne uses the same figure in 82 and 125. 
 30 f. Antig. 1065. 
 146 O. C. 701. 
 
 350 Elec. 1078. Cf. Atalanta 357. 
 863 Antig. 806; Ajax, 857. 
 981-4 Fr. Oreithuia virep re irovrov. k. t. X. 
 1075 ff. The chorus addresses Antigone in the same manner. Antig. 
 
 817 ff. 
 1149 Antig. 419. 
 1242 ff. Antig. 824tT. 
 1750 Antig. 834. 
 
 FROM EURIPIDES 
 12 Bacch. 133. 
 497-503 Fr. Erechtheus 46 oW W tX&as. *. t. X. 
 518-30 Fr. Erechtheus 32 /cai p.i\v dav6vT&. k. t. X. 
 869 Iph. Aul. 1276 ff. 
 881 ff. Iph. Aul. 1502. 
 884 ff. Iph. Aul. 1397 ff. 
 887 ff. Iph. Aul. 1440. 
 1149 Alces. 172. 
 1212 ff. Iph. Aul. 1552 ff. 
 
 FROM PINDAR 
 
 18. 
 
 12 
 
 Nem. 6, 45. 
 
 16 
 
 Pyth. 10, 65. 
 
 25 
 
 01. 8, 32. 
 
 125 
 
 Fr. 47; Fr. 75,7; 75, 
 
 146 
 
 01. 3, 13. 
 
 159 
 
 Nem. 7, 33. 
 
 165 
 
 01. 7, 36; Fr. 34, 9. 
 
 1461 
 
 Nem. 378. 
 
 1488 
 
 01. 6, 86; Nem. 4, 94 
 
 1624 
 
 01.7, Iff.; 9, 43. 
 
 1626 
 
 Fr. 166. 
 
 1627 
 
 Pyth. 4, 193. 
 
 1641 ff. Fr. 120; 01. 9, 33. 
 
 FROM ARISTOPHANES 
 
 125 Equit. 1329; Achar. 636 f. 
 641 f. Achar. 181. 
 
Siv inhume } s A talanta in Calydo n and Erechtheus 137 
 
 FROM APOLLONIUS OF RHODES 
 1254 Arg. 3,966 ff. 
 
 FROM OVID 
 
 111 Met. 1, 22. 
 
 199 For the story see Met. 6, 683 ff. 
 
 215 For the story see Met. 6, 661 ff. 
 
 618 ff. Met. 6, 683-710. 
 1242 ff. Met. 6,301 ff. 
 1322 Met. 6,690 f. 
 
 FROM HORACE 
 38 O. 1, 2, 7. 
 
 Ill ff. O. 1,3, 21. 
 
 475 ff. O. 4, 14, 31. 
 
 693 f. 0.2,1,6. 
 
 736 ff. O. 1, 21, 6 ff. 
 
 754 O. 1, 24, 1 f. 
 1149 O. 1, 21, 5; 4, 3, 10; 4, 7, 1. 
 1242 ff. 0.4,6,1. 
 
 FROM CATULLUS 
 
 475 ff. 63, 354 ff. 
 1149 4, 10. 
 
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