and the sound in thine ears;
  Yet thine heart shall wax heavy with sighs and thine eyelids with tears. 
  Wilt thou cover thine hair with gold, and with silver thy feet? 
  Hast thou taken the purple to fold thee, and made thy mouth sweet? 
  Behold, when thy face is made bare, he that loved thee shall hate;
  Thy face shall be no more fair at the fall of thy fate. 
  For thy life shall fall as a leaf and be shed as the rain;
  And the veil of thine head shall be grief:  and the crown shall be pain.

  Althaea.

  Ho, ye that wail, and ye that sing, make way
  Till I be come among you.  Hide your tears,
  Ye little weepers, and your laughing lips,
  Ye laughers for a little; lo mine eyes
  That outweep heaven at rainiest, and my mouth
  That laughs as gods laugh at us.  Fate’s are we,
  Yet fate is ours a breathing-space; yea, mine,
  Fate is made mine for ever; he is my son,
  My bedfellow, my brother.  You strong gods,
  Give place unto me; I am as any of you,
  To give life and to take life.  Thou, old earth,
  That hast made man and unmade; thou whose mouth
  Looks red from the eaten fruits of thine own womb;
  Behold me with what lips upon what food
  I feed and fill my body; even with flesh
  Made of my body.  Lo, the fire I lit
  I burn with fire to quench it; yea, with flame
  I burn up even the dust and ash thereof.

  Chorus.

  Woman, what fire is this thou burnest with?

  Althaea.

  Yea to the bone, yea to the blood and all.

  Chorus.

  For this thy face and hair are as one fire.

  Althaea.

  A tongue that licks and beats upon the dust.

  Chorus.

  And in thine eyes are hollow light and heat.

  Althaea.

  Of flame not fed with hand or frankincense.

  Chorus.

  I fear thee for the trembling of thine eyes.

  Althaea.

  Neither with love they tremble nor for fear.

  Chorus.

  And thy mouth shuddering like a shot bird.

  Althaea.

  Not as the bride’s mouth when man kisses it.

  Chorus.

  Nay, but what thing is this thing thou hast done?

  Althaea.

  Look, I am silent, speak your eyes for me.

  Chorus.

  I see a faint fire lightening from the hall.

  Althaea.

  Gaze, stretch your eyes, strain till the lids drop off.

  Chorus.

  Flushed pillars down the flickering vestibule.

  Althaea.

  Stretch with your necks like birds:  cry, chirp as they.

  Chorus.

  And a long brand that blackens:  and white dust

  Althaea.

  O children, what is this ye see? your eyes
  Are blinder than night’s face at fall of moon. 
  That is my son, my flesh, my fruit of life,
  My travail, and the year’s weight of my womb,
  Meleager, a fire enkindled of mine hands
  And of mine hands extinguished, this is he.