Raging he went, and full of lust to kill:
O he was fillèd with a great despair;
But added labour unto labour still,
And slew her not because she was so fair.
In all of life was nothing that atoned
For that hard fate: in hearing of all heaven,
About the iron mountain world he groaned;
But no return of pitying was given.
The iron echoes in a mighty blast
Flung up his voice toward the sweet abodes
In the blue heaven: his pain was known at last
In every palace of the painless gods.
He had no part but wholly to upbraid
Them,—meters of his evil measured fate,
Who first made fair, then spoiled the thing they made,
And mingled all their gifts with love and hate.
Yet he was moved at length some way to win
Vengeance, and all at once, on her and Him—
That god with whom she rather chose to sin
Than with a man to love: when earth was dim—
Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/92
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