hands refuse.
"What will my soul determine? Now mine eyes
"The mangled corses of my brethren fill:
"Now filial fondness, and a mother's name
"Distract my soul. O, wretched, wretched me!
"Brothers you gain the conquest, yet you gain
"Dearly for me; but on your shades I'll wait,
"Blest in what gives you once to me again."
She said; with face averse and trembling hand,
The fateful brand amid the fires was dropt.
The brand a groan deep utter'd, or a groan
To utter seem'd: the flames half backward caught
At length their prey, which gradually consum'd.

Witless of this sad deed, and absent far,
Fierce Meleager, with the self-same fire
Burn'd inward; all his vitals felt the flame
Scorching conceal'd: th' excruciating pangs
Magnanimous he bore. Yet deep he mourn'd
By such a slothful bloodless fate to fall;
And happy call'd Ancaeus in his wounds.
With deep-drawn groans he calls his aged sire,
His brother, sisters, and the nymph belov'd,
Who shar'd his nuptial couch; with final breath,
His mother too perchance. Now glows the fire,
And now the pains increase; now both are faint;
Now both together die. The soul flies forth,
And gently dissipates in empty air.

Low now lies lofty Calydon,--the youths,
And aged seniors weep; the vulgar crowd
And nobles mourn alike; the matrons rend
Their garments, beat their breasts, and tear their hair.
Stretch'd on the earth the wretched sire defiles
His hoary locks, and aged face with dust,
Cursing his lengthen'd years: the conscious hand
Which caus'd the direful end, the mother's fate
Accomplish'd; through her vitals pierc'd the steel.

Had heaven on me an hundred tongues bestow'd,
With sounding voice, and such capacious wit
As all might fill; and all the Muses' power,
Still should I fail the grieving sisters' woe
Justly to paint. Heedless of beauteous forms
They beat their bosoms livid; while the corse
Remains, they clasp and cherish in their arms
The senseless mass; the corse they kiss, and kiss
The couch on which it rests: to ashes burn'd,
Careful collected in the urn, they hug
Those ashes to their breasts; and prostrate thrown
His tomb they cover; on the graven stone
Embrace his name; and on the letters pour
Their tears in torrents. Dian' satiate now
The house of OEneus levell'd with the dust,
Rais'd them by wings in air, which sudden shot
From each their bodies. Go