"And is thy fate thus hope-forlorn?"
"Yea, even so," the shade replied,
"For one I wronged in life hath sworn
In hatred ever to abide:
The lover seeketh not the bride,
But aye, with me, his heart dreams on,
Asleep in these cold mists that hide
The sunless marsh of Acheron.
"And still for me will Lacon mourn,
And still my pardon be denied:
Ah, never shall I cross the bourne
That Dead from Living doth divide;
Yet I repent me not!" she cried,
"Nay—only that mine hour is gone;
One memory hath glorified
The sunless marsh of Acheron."
Envoy.
Ah, Princess! when thy ghost shall glide
Where never star nor sunlight shone,
See thou she tarry not beside
The sunless marsh of Acheron.
Graham R. Tomson.
BALLADE OF ASPHODEL.
Κατ' ἀσφοδελὸν λειμῶνα.
Now who will thread the winding way,
Afar from fervid summer heat,
Beyond the sunshafts of the day,
Beyond the blast of winter sleet?
In the green twilight, dimly sweet,
Of poplar shades, the shadows dwell,
Who found erewhile a fair retreat
Along the mead of Asphodel.
There death and birth are one, they say;
Those lowlands bear no yellow wheat;
No sound doth rise of mortal fray,
Of lowing herds, of flocks that bleat:
Nor wind nor rain doth blow nor beat;
Nor shrieketh sword, nor tolleth bell;
But lovers one another greet
Along the mead of Asphodel.