Second Messenger
Queen, and you maidens, there is come on us
A thing more deadly than the face of death;
Meleager the good lord is as one slain.
Semichorus
Without sword, without sword is he stricken;
Slain, and slain without hand.
Second Messenger
For as keen ice divided of the sun
His limbs divide, and as thawed snow the flesh
Thaws from off all his body to the hair.
Semichorus
He wastes as the embers quicken;
With the brand he fades as a brand
SECOND MESSENGER.
Even while they sang and all drew hither and he
Lifted both hands to crown the Arcadian’s hair
And fix the looser leaves, both hands fell down.