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MORTA.
By this closed eye that knows no sight,
Sister, thou readest all I am.
Sister, thou readest all I am.
"From Time's dark fleece grave Nona's hand
Draws out the slender thread of life;
Whirling the humming wheel of strife,
Decima winds the tortured strand.
Draws out the slender thread of life;
Whirling the humming wheel of strife,
Decima winds the tortured strand.
"But I am Morta,—she who rends,
With instant touch its length in twain;
And there is no more bliss nor pain
Forever, when the spinning ends.
With instant touch its length in twain;
And there is no more bliss nor pain
Forever, when the spinning ends.
"Who hears my solemn words, must rise
And follow, follow where I lead:
A captive, never to be freed,
With voiceless throat and sightless eyes."
And follow, follow where I lead:
A captive, never to be freed,
With voiceless throat and sightless eyes."
And art thou Morta? O most rare,
Most piercing melody of voice!
As if the heart had sung, "Rejoice!"
Even while the lips had wailed "Despair!"
Most piercing melody of voice!
As if the heart had sung, "Rejoice!"
Even while the lips had wailed "Despair!"
Nona, arise; put by the fleece,—
Life fails with torture overmuch;
Stay, Decima, thy guiding touch,
And let the troublous spinning cease:
Life fails with torture overmuch;
Stay, Decima, thy guiding touch,
And let the troublous spinning cease:
