Page:Choëphoroe (Murray 1923).djvu/40

Rh

All, all dishonour, so thy story telleth it!

And for that dishonour shall the woman pay,

As the gods have willed it, as my right hand willeth it!

Then Death may take me, let me only slay!

His hands and feet, they were hacked away from him!

Yea, she that buried him, she wrought it so.

To make thy life blasted, without help or stay from him.

Thou hast it all, the defiling and shame and woe!

Thou tellest the doom he died, but I saw him not;

I was far off, dishonoured and nothing worth.

Like a dog they drove me back, and the door was shut,

And alone I poured my tears to him through the earth.

I laughed not, yet rejoiced that none saw me weep.—

Write this in thine heart, O Father; grave it deep.

Write! Yea, and draw the word

Deep unto that still land

Where thy soul dwells in peace.

What is, thou hast this day heard;

What shall be, reach forth thine hand