Tale of Archais

P A R T I I I LONG days and nights succeeded in despair. Each noon beheld his doom—too proud for prayer, And scorning Aphrodite’s help—he strayed Through swamps and weary bogs, nor yet be- trayed His anguished countenance to mortal men. There was so keen an hour of sorrow, when He had destroyed himself ; but Heaven’s hand, Stretched out in vengeance, held him back. The land, Where rest is made eternal, slipped his clutch ; He wandered through the world and might not touch The sceptre of King Death. In vain he sought Those fierce embraces, nor availed him aught To numb the aching of his breast. The maid He loved, now freed from doom, no longer prayed