Page:Atalanta in Calydon - a tragedy (IA atalantaincalydo00swinrich).pdf/112

 Gaze, stretch your eyes, strain till the lids drop off.

Flushed pillars down the flickering vestibule.

Stretch with your necks like birds: cry, chirp as they.

And a long brand that blackens: and white dust.

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 And of mine hands extinguished; this is he.

O gods, what word has flown out at thy mouth?

I did this and I say this and I die.