# National Lyrics, and Songs for Music/The Death Song of Alcestis

THE DEATH SONG OF ALCESTIS.
She came forth in her bridal robes arrayed, And midst the graceful statues, round the hall Shedding the calm of their celestial mein, Stood pale, yet proudly beautiful, as they: Flowers in her bosom, and the star-like gleam Of jewels trembling from her braided hair, And death upon her brow!—but glorious death! Her own heart's choice, the token and the seal Of love, o'ermastering love; which, 'till that hour, Almost an anguish in the brooding weight Of its unutterable tenderness, Had burdened her full soul. But now, oh! now,
Its time was come—and from the spirit's depths, The passion and the mighty melody Of its immortal voice, in triumph broke, Like a strong rushing wind!
The soft pure air, Came floating through that hall;—the Grecian air, Laden with music—flute-notes from the vales, Echoes of song—the last sweet sounds of life; And the glad sunshine of the golden clime Stream'd, as a royal mantle, round her form, The glorified of love! But she—she look'd Only on him for whom 'twas joy to die, Deep—deepest, holiest joy!—or if a thought Of the warm sunlight, and the scented breeze, And the sweet Dorian songs, o'erswept the tide Of her unswerving soul—'twas but a thought That owned the summer-loveliness of life For him a worthy offering!—So she stood, Wrapt in bright silence, as entranced awhile,
Till her eye kindled, and her quivering frame With the swift breeze of inspiration shook, As the pale priestess trembles to the breath Of inborn oracles!—then flush'd her cheek, And all the triumph, all the agony, Borne on the battling waves of love and death, All from her woman's heart, in sudden song, Burst like a fount of fire.
"I go, I go! Thou Sun, thou golden Sun, I go, Far from thy light to dwell; Thou shalt not find my place below, Dim is that world—bright Sun of Greece, farewell!"
The Laurel and the glorious Rose Thy glad beam yet may see, But where no purple summer glows, O'er the dark wave I haste from them and thee.
Yet doth my spirit faint to part? —I mourn thee not, O Sun! Joy, solemn joy, o'erflows my heart, Sing me triumphal songs!—my crown is won!
Let not a voice of weeping rise! My heart is girt with power! Let the green earth and festal skies Laugh as to grace a conqueror's closing hour!
For thee, for thee, my bosom's lord! Thee, my soul's lov'd! I die; Thine is the torch of life restor'd, Mine, mine the rapture, mine the victory!
Now may the boundless love, that lay Unfathom'd still before, In one consuming burst find way, In one bright flood all, all its riches pour!
Thou know'st, thou know'st what love is now! Its glory and its might— Are they not written on my brow? And will that image ever quit thy sight?
No! deathless in thy faithful breast, There shall my memory keep Its own bright altar-place of rest, While o'er my grave the cypress-branches weep.
—Oh! the glad light!—the light is fair, The soft breeze warm and free, And rich notes fill the scented air, And all are gifts—my love's last gifts to thee!
Take me to thy warm heart once more! Night falls—my pulse beats low— Seek not to quicken, to restore, Joy is in every pang—I go, I go!
I feel thy tears, I feel thy breath, I meet thy fond look still; Keen is the strife of love and death; Faint and yet fainter grows my bosom's thrill.
Yet swells the tide of rapture strong, Tho' mists o'ershade mine eye; —Sing, Pæan! sing a conqueror's song! For thee, for thee, my spirit's lord, I die!"