Page:Atalanta in Calydon - a tragedy (IA atalantaincalydo00swinrich).pdf/114

 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, 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, 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—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 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, "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,