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

 Death stands upon the doorway of thy lips, And in thy mouth has death set up his house.

O death, a little, a little while, sweet death, Until I see the brand burnt down and die.

She reels as any reed under the wind, And cleaves unto the ground with staggering feet.

Girls, one thing will I say and hold my peace. I that did this will weep not nor cry out, Cry ye and weep: I will not call on gods, Call ye on them; I will not pity man, Shew ye your pity. I know not if I live; Save that I feel the fire upon my face And on my cheek the burning of a brand. Yea the smoke bites me, yea I drink the steam With nostril and with eyelid and with lip Insatiate and intolerant; and mine hands Burn, and fire feeds upon mine eyes; I reel As one made drunk with living, whence he draws Drunken delight; yet I, though mad for joy,