And ran along the sands and made old
Nile Run red between the shadows of his banks.
And so it struck those sphinxes crouched at watch
Grimly before the gates, struck them and rose,
And reached that lighted room, and looked beyond
The lights.
And the queen saw it first.
Even then
A maiden came therein who bore a cup,
A wonderous eup, flashing more fair than day,
And in it, darker than the pools of night,
The hemlock; placed on the table and went out
Dolorous-footed from that waiting hall.
Laughing rose Creon, not a laggard sound,
This as it burst forth made a rout of all
The lurking shadows. So he grasped the cup
And raised aloft, and ever laughing cried:
"Libations to high Eros, God of Gods,
And Atropos, who brought me to this night!
O queen, I feel the arms of Proserpine!"
But ere he drank, sudden she started up,
With wan, drear lips, and placed a hand upon
The fateful arm, but never word she spoke,
For as they stood a growing sound moved out,
Strong as the horror of that dawn of death—
The marching trumpets of Antonius.
[ 15 ]
