Atalanta in Calydon

CHIEF HUNTSMAN. Maiden, and mistress of the months and stars Now folded in the flowerless fields of heaven, Goddess whom all gods love with threefold heart, Being treble in thy divided deity, A light for dead men and dark hours, a foot Swift on the hills as morning, and a hand To all things fierce and fleet that roar and range Mortal, with gentler shafts than snow or sleep; Hear now and help and lift no violent hand, But favourable and fair as thine eye’s beam Hidden and shown in heaven, for I all night Amid the king’s hounds and the hunting men Have wrought and worshipped toward thee; nor shall man See goodlier hounds or deadlier edge of spears, But for the end, that lies unreached at yet Between the hands and on the knees of gods, O fair-faced sun killing the stars and dews And dreams and desolation of the night! Rise up, shine, stretch thine hand out, with thy bow Touch the most dimmest height of trembling heaven, And burn and break the dark about thy ways, Shot through and through with arrows; let thine hair Lighten as flame above that nameless shell Which was the moon, and thine eyes fill the world And thy lips kindle with swift beams; let earth Laugh, and the long sea fiery from thy feet Through all the roar and ripple of streaming springs And foam in reddening flakes and flying flowers Shaken from hands and blown from lips of nymphs Whose hair or breast divides the wandering wave With salt close tresses cleaving lock to lock, All gold, or shuddering and unfurrowed snow; And all the winds about thee with their wings, And fountain-heads of all the watered world; Each horn of Acheloüs, and the green Euenus, wedded with the straitening sea. For in fair time thou comest; come also thou, Twin-born with him, and virgin, Artemis, And give our spears their spoil, the wild boar’s hide. Sent in thine anger against us for sin done And bloodless altars without wine or fire. Him now consume thou; for thy sacrifice With sanguine-shining steam divides the dawn, And one, the maiden rose of all thy maids, Arcadian Atalanta, snowy-souled, Fair as the snow and footed as the wind, From Ladon and well-wooded Maenalus Over the firm hills and the fleeting sea Hast thou drawn hither, and many an armèd king, Heroes, the crown of men, like gods in fight. Moreover out of all the Aetolian land, From the full-flowered Lelantian pasturage To what of fruitful field the son of Zeus Won from the roaring river and labouring sea When the wild god shrank in his horn and fled And foamed and lessened through his wrathful fords, Leaving clear lands that steamed with sudden sun, These virgins with the lightening of the day Bring thee fresh wreaths and their own sweeter hair, Luxurious locks and flower-like mixed with flowers, Clean offering, and chaste hymns; but me the time Divides from these things; whom do thou not less Help and give honour, and to mine hounds good speed, And edge to spears, and luck to each man’s hand.