up your breath,
  And with thy right hand laid upon us death. 
  Thou hast sent us sleep, and stricken sleep with dreams,
    Saying, Joy is not, but love of joy shall be,
  Thou hast made sweet springs for all the pleasant streams,
    In the end thou hast made them bitter with the sea. 
  Thou hast fed one rose with dust of many men;
    Thou hast marred one face with fire of many tears;
  Thou hast taken love, and given us sorrow again;
    With pain thou hast filled us full to the eyes and ears. 
  Therefore because thou art strong, our father, and we
    Feeble; and thou art against us, and thine hand
  Constrains us in the shallows of the sea
    And breaks us at the limits of the land;
  Because thou hast bent thy lightnings as a bow,
    And loosed the hours like arrows; and let fall
  Sins and wild words and many a winged woe
    And wars among us, and one end of all;
  Because thou hast made the thunder, and thy feet
    Are as a rushing water when the skies
  Break, but thy face as an exceeding heat
    And flames of fire the eyelids of thine eyes;
  Because thou art over all who are over us;
    Because thy name is life and our name death;
  Because thou art cruel and men are piteous,
    And our hands labour and thine hand scattereth;
  Lo, with hearts rent and knees made tremulous,
    Lo, with ephemeral lips and casual breath,
      At least we witness of thee ere we die
  That these things are not otherwise, but thus;
    That each man in his heart sigheth, and saith,
      That all men even as I,
  All we are against thee, against thee, O God most high,
    But ye, keep ye on earth
    Your lips from over-speech,
  Loud words and longing are so little worth;
    And the end is hard to reach. 
  For silence after grievous things is good,
    And reverence, and the fear that makes men whole,
  And shame, and righteous governance of blood,
    And lordship of the soul. 
  But from sharp words and wits men pluck no fruit,
  And gathering thorns they shake the tree at root;
  For words divide and rend;
  But silence is most noble till the end.

  Althaea.

  I heard within the house a cry of news
  And came forth eastward hither, where the dawn,
  Cheers first these warder gods that face the sun
  And next our eyes unrisen; for unaware
  Came clashes of swift hoofs and trampling feet
  And through the windy pillared corridor
  Light sharper than the frequent flames of day
  That daily fill it from the fiery dawn;
  Gleams, and a thunder of people that cried out,
  And dust and hurrying horsemen; lo their chief,
  That rode with Oeneus rein by rein, returned. 
  What cheer, O herald of my lord the king?

  Herald.

  Lady, good cheer and great; the boar is slain. 
  Chorus.