Page:Choëphoroe (Murray 1923).djvu/39

Rh

Failing, failing;

Then mist is on my eyes and wailing

About mine ears, and tears as rain.

But when once more I look on thee

With power exalted, sudden-swift

A hope doth all my burden lift,

And light, and signs of things to be.

What best shall pierce thine ear; the wrongs she wrought,

Wrought upon us, upon us, she and none other?

Oh, fawn and smile: but the wrongs shall soften not,

Wrongs with a wolfish heart, by a wolf begot:

They see no smile, they reck not the name of Mother!

With the dirge of Agbatana I beat my breast:

Like the Keeners of Kissia, I make songs of pain.

Lo, yearning of arms abundant, east and west:

Tearing they smite, again and yet again,

From above, from high; yea, God hath smitten red

This bitter bleeding bosom, this bended head.

Ho, Mother! Ho, thou, Mother,

Mine enemy, daring all!

What burial made ye here?

His people followed not,

Mourned him not, knew him not:

Enemies bare his pall:

His wife shed no tear!