limb—­
  With chin aslant indrawn to a tightening throat,
  Grave, and with gathered sinews, like a god,—­
  Aimed on the left side his well-handled spear
  Grasped where the ash was knottiest hewn, and smote,
  And with no missile wound, the monstrous boar
  Right in the hairiest hollow of his hide
  Under the last rib, sheer through bulk and bone,
  Peep in; and deeply smitten, and to death,
  The heavy horror with his hanging shafts
  Leapt, and fell furiously, and from raging lips
  Foamed out the latest wrath of all his life. 
  And all they praised the gods with mightier heart,
  Zeus and all gods, but chiefliest Artemis,
  Seeing; but Meleager bade whet knives and flay,
  Strip and stretch out the splendour of the spoil;
  And hot and horrid from the work all these
  Sat, and drew breath and drank and made great cheer
  And washed the hard sweat off their calmer brows. 
  For much sweet grass grew higher than grew the reed,
  And good for slumber, and every holier herb,
  Narcissus, and the low-lying melilote,
  And all of goodliest blade and bloom that springs
  Where, hid by heavier hyacinth, violet buds
  Blossom and burn; and fire of yellower flowers
  And light of crescent lilies, and such leaves
  As fear the Faun’s and know the Dryad’s foot;
  Olive and ivy and poplar dedicate,
  And many a well-spring overwatched of these. 
  There now they rest; but me the king bade bear
  Good tidings to rejoice this town and thee. 
  Wherefore be glad, and all ye give much thanks,
  For fallen is all the trouble of Calydon.

  Althaea.

  Laud ye the gods; for this they have given is good,
  And what shall be they hide until their time. 
  Much good and somewhat grievous hast thou said,
  And either well; but let all sad things be,
  Till all have made before the prosperous gods
  Burnt-offering, and poured out the floral wine. 
  Look fair, O gods, and favourable; for we
  Praise you with no false heart or flattering mouth,
  Being merciful, but with pure souls and prayer.

  Herald.

  Thou hast prayed well; for whoso fears not these,
  But once being prosperous waxes huge of heart,
  Him shall some new thing unaware destroy.

  Chorus.

  O that I now, I too were
  By deep wells and water-floods,
  Streams of ancient hills; and where
  All the wan green places bear
  Blossoms cleaving to the sod,
  Fruitless fruit, and grasses fair,
  Or such darkest ivy-buds
  As divide thy yellow hair,
  Bacchus, and their leaves that nod
  Round thy fawnskin brush the bare
  Snow-soft shoulders of a god;
  There the year is sweet, and there
  Earth is full of secret springs,
  And the fervent rose-cheeked hours,
  Those that marry dawn and noon,
  There are sunless, there look pale