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