Althaea
Fire in the roofs, and on the lintels fire.
Lo ye, who stand and weave, between the doors,
There; and blood drips from hand and thread, and stains
Threshold and raiment and me passing in
Flecked with the sudden sanguine drops of death.
CHORUS.
Alas that time is stronger than strong men,
Fate than all gods: and these are fallen on us.