Let him go his way!

Hear my thought of a happier thing-- Sparta's trees in flood of spring Where Eurotas' banks abrim Drown the reeds, and foam-clots swim Like a scattered brood of duck!

MYRTILLA

Flowers anod! White flowers to pluck, Stiffened in the foamy curds!

Ah, the green thickets quick with birds!

SITYS

Calling Itys! Itys! Itys!

PASIPHa.s.sA

She calls not here--her house it is In Sparta!

RHODOPE (_with a sob_)

Peace!

CHTHONOe

From my heart a cry-- Send me back, G.o.ddess, ere I die To those dear places and clean things-- To see my people, feel the wings Of the gray night fold over me, And touch my mother's knees, and be Her child, as long ago I was Before I lay burning in Ilios!

[_They hide their faces in their knees.

Then one by one they sing._]

Let me sing an old sweet air, Mother of Argos, to Thee, For hope in my heart is fair As light on the hills seen from afar at sea; And my weary eyes turn there As to the haven where my soul would be.

RHODOPE

I will arise and make choice The house of my tumbled breast, For she cometh, I hear the voice Of her wings of healing, and she shall be my guest; And my joys shall be her joys, And my home her home, O wind of the South West!

GORGO

As a bird that listens and thrills, Hidden deep in the night, For the sound of the little rills That run musically towards the light; As a hart to the high hills Turneth his dying eyes, my soul takes flight.

MYRTILLA

Ah, to be folded deep In the shade of Taygetus, In my mother's arms to sleep Even as a child when I lay harboured thus!

Oh, that I were as thy sheep, Lacedaemon, my land, cradle and nurse of us!

PASIPHa.s.sA

In Argos they sow the grain, In Troy blood is their sowing; There a green mantle covers the plain Where the sweet green corn and sweet short gra.s.s are growing; But here pa.s.sion and pain-- Blood and dust upon earth, and a hot wind blowing.

SITYS

To the hold on the far red hill From the hold on the wide green lea, Over the running water, follow who will Therapnae's hawk with the dove of Amyklae.

But I would lie husht and still, And feel the new gra.s.s growing quick over me!

[_The scene grows dark as they sit.

Their eyes are full of tears.

Presently one looks up, listening, then another, then another. They are all alert._]

CHTHONOe

Who prayeth peace? I feel her peace Steal through me as a quiet air Enters the house with sweet increase Of light to healing, praise to prayer!

RHODOPE

What do I know of guiltiness When she is here, and with grave eyes Seeketh the ways of quietness And lampeth them?

GORGO

Arise, arise!

[_They all stand waiting._]

MYRTILLA

Hark! Her footfall like the dew--

PASIPHa.s.sA

As a flower by frost made sere Long before the sun breaks through, Feeleth him, I know her near.

[_Helen stands in the doorway._]

CHTHONOe

This is she, the source of light, Source of light and end of it, Argive Helen, slim and sweet, For whose bosom and delight, For whose eyes, those wells of peace, Paris wrought, as well he might, Ten years' woe for Troy and Greece.