Tale of Archais

THE TALE OF ARCHAIS 59 Stroked his flat head, his body curved and slim, And from the fire brought milk. He drank it up From the coarse pewter of the borrowed cup And cried : “ In eating, swear. I have vowed to make The gods infernal on their couches quake With fear before I die ; I have vowed to live With one aim only ; never to forgive The wrong the gods do me, and in my form Love his high self, by whom the earth is warm To-day, by whose defiance the universe Would crash in one inextricable curse To primal chaos. Hear me, I have sworn.” Then, suddenly, more glorious than the morn Tipping the golden tops of autumn hills With light, more countless than the myriad rills Of bright dew running off the bracken leaves, With gold more saturated than the sheaves In the red glow that promises the day Shall glory when the night is fled away In bonds, a captive ; so more glorious Than the supreme ideal dreams of us Mortals, he sprang forth suddenly a man. Wherefore the hag, triumphant, then began