Page:Atalanta in Calydon - a tragedy (IA atalantaincalydo00swinrich).pdf/66

 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 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, Pure, and a light lit at the hands of gods.

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.

Why, if she ride among us for a man, Sit thou for her and spin; a man grown girl Is worth a woman weaponed; sit thou here.

Peace, and be wise; no gods love idle speech.

Nor any man a man’s mouth woman-tongued.