And even now in wakefulness and woe The city lies, calling to mind thy love Wearying with ceaseless prayers the gods above. But thou--thine heart is wise enough to know That they no whit from their decrees will go." So saying, swiftly from the room he passed; But on the world no look Admetus cast, But peacefully turned round unto the wall As one who knows that quick death must befall: For in his heart he thought, "Indeed too well I know what men are, this strange tale to tell To those that live with me: yea, they will weep, And o'er my tomb most solemn days will keep, And in great chronicles will write my name, Telling to many an age my deeds and fame. For living men such things as this desire, And by such ways will they appease the fire Of love and grief: but when death comes to stare Full in men's faces, and the truth lays bare, How can we then have wish for anything, But unto life that gives us all to cling?" So said he, and with closed eyes did await, Sleeping or waking, the decrees of fate. But now Alcestis rose, and by the bed She stood, with wild thoughts passing through her head. Dried were her tears, her troubled heart and sore Throbbed with the anguish of her love no more. A strange look on the dying man she cast, Then covered up her face and said, "O past! Past the sweet times that I remember well! Alas, that such a tale my heart can tell! Ah, how I trusted him! what love was mine! How sweet to feel his arms about me twine, And my heart beat with his! what wealth of bliss To hear his praises! all to come to this, That now I durst not look upon his face, Lest in my heart that other thing have place. That which I knew not, that which men call hate. "O me, the bitterness of God and fate! A little time ago we two were one; I had not lost him though his life was done, For still was he in me--but now alone Through the thick darkness must my soul make moan, For I must die: how can I live to bear An empty heart about, the nurse of fear? How can I live to die some other tide, And, dying, hear my loveless name outcried About the portals of that weary land Whereby my shadowy feet should come to stand. "Alcestis! O Alcestis, hadst thou known That thou one day shouldst thus be left alone, How hadst thou borne a living soul to love! Hadst thou not rather lifted hands to Jove, To turn thine heart to stone, thy front to brass, That through this wondrous world thy soul might pass, Well pleased and careless, as Diana goes Through the thick woods, all pitiless of those Her shafts smite down? Alas! how could it be Can a god give a god's delights to thee? Nay rather, Jove, but give me once again, If for one moment only, that sweet pain The love I had while still I thought to live! Ah! wilt thou not, since unto thee I give My life, my hope?--But thou--I come to thee. Thou sleepest: O wake not, nor speak to me