The Mother’s Tragedy

( 107) EPILOGUE A DEATH IN THESSALY Movos Oewv yap Odvatos ov Swpuwv epg. —ALSCH., Fr. Niobe. AREWELL! O Light of Day, O torch of Althzean! ‘The strange fruits lure me of Persephone; I raise the last, the memorable pzean, Storm-throated, mouthed as the cave-rolling sea; I lift the cup: deep draughts of blue Lethean! My wine to me. O lamentable season of Apollo, When swoops his glory to the golden wave! As all his children, so their lord shall follow ; The flower he slew, the maiden he would save, As Itylus, light woven, tuned! Oh swallow, Bewail their grave! The gracious breast of Artemis may light me To men—yet loved I ever Artemis ? Surely the vine-song and the dance delight me, The sea-blue bowers where Aphrodite is. Terrible gods and destinies excite me, The strange sad kiss. 107