LEADER.

Admetus' Queen is dead!

[_While_ ADMETUS _is weeping silently, and the_ CHORUS _veil their faces, the_ LITTLE BOY _runs up to his dead Mother_.]

LITTLE BOY.

Oh, what has happened? Mummy has gone away, And left me and will not come back any more!

Father, I shall be lonely all the day....

Look! Look! Her eyes ... and her arms not like before, How they lie ...

Mother! Oh, speak a word!

Answer me, answer me, Mother! It is I.

I am touching your face. It is I, your little bird.

ADMETUS (_recovering himself and going to the Child_).

She hears us not, she sees us not. We lie Under a heavy grief, child, thou and I.

LITTLE BOY.

I am so little, Father, and lonely and cold Here without Mother. It is too hard.... And you, Poor little sister, too.

Oh, Father!

Such a little time we had her. She might have stayed On till we all were old....

Everything is spoiled when Mother is dead.

[_The_ LITTLE BOY _is taken away, with his Sister, sobbing_.]

LEADER.

My King, thou needs must gird thee to the worst.

Thou shalt not be the last, nor yet the first, To lose a n.o.ble wife. Be brave, and know To die is but a debt that all men owe.

ADMETUS.

I know. It came not without doubts and fears, This thing. The thought hath poisoned all my years.

Howbeit, I now will make the burial due To this dead Queen. Be a.s.sembled, all of you; And, after, raise your triumph-song to greet This pitiless Power that yawns beneath our feet.

Meantime let all in Thessaly who dread My sceptre join in mourning for the dead With temples sorrow-shorn and sable weed.

Ye chariot-lords, ye spurrers of the steed, Shear close your horses' manes! Let there be found Through all my realm no lute, nor lyre, nor sound Of piping, till twelve moons are at an end.

For never shall I lose a closer friend, Nor braver in my need. And worthy is she Of honour, who alone hath died for me.

[_The body of_ ALCESTIS _is carried into the house by mourners;_ ADMETUS _follows it._]

CHORUS.

Daughter of Pelias, fare thee well, May joy be thine in the Sunless Houses!

For thine is a deed which the Dead shall tell Where a King black-browed in the gloom carouses; And the cold grey hand at the helm and oar Which guideth shadows from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e, Shall bear this day o'er the Tears that Well, A Queen of women, a spouse of spouses.

Minstrels many shall praise thy name With lyre full-strung and with voices lyreless, When Mid-Moon riseth, an orbed flame, And from dusk to dawning the dance is tireless; And Carnos cometh to Sparta's call, And Athens shineth in festival; For thy death is a song, and a fullness of fame, Till the heart of the singer is left desireless.

LEADER.

Would I could reach thee, oh, Reach thee and save, my daughter, Starward from gulfs of h.e.l.l, Past gates, past tears that swell, Where the weak oar climbs thro'

The night and the water!

SECOND ELDER.

Beloved and lonely one, Who feared not dying: Gone in another's stead Alone to the hungry dead: Light be the carven stone Above thee lying!

THIRD ELDER.

Oh, he who should seek again A new bride after thee, Were loathed of thy children twain, And loathed of me.

LEADER.

Word to his mother sped, Praying to her who bore him; Word to his father, old, Heavy with years and cold; "Quick, ere your son be dead!

What dare ye for him?"

SECOND ELDER.

Old, and they dared not; grey, And they helped him never!

'Twas she, in her youth and pride, Rose up for her lord and died.

Oh, love of two hearts that stay One-knit for ever....

THIRD ELDER.

'Tis rare in the world! G.o.d send Such bride in my house to be; She should live life to the end, Not fail through me.

[_As the song ceases there enters a stranger, walking strongly, but travel-stained, dusty, and tired. His lion-skin and club show him to be_ HERACLES.]

HERACLES.

Ho, countrymen! To Pherae am I come By now? And is Admetus in his home?

LEADER.

Our King is in his house, Lord Heracles.-- But say, what need brings thee in days like these To Thessaly and Pherae's walled ring?

HERACLES.

A quest I follow for the Argive King.

LEADER.

What prize doth call thee, and to what far place?

HERACLES.

The horses of one Diomede, in Thrace.

LEADER.

But how...? Thou know'st not? Is he strange to thee?

HERACLES.

Quite strange. I ne'er set foot in Bistony.

LEADER.

Not without battle shalt thou win those steeds.

HERACLES.

So be it! I cannot fail my master's needs.

LEADER.

'Tis slay or die, win or return no more.

HERACLES.

Well, I have looked on peril's face before.