Algernon Charles Swinburne,
Atalanta in Calydon
(1865)
“ Maidens, if ye will sing now, shift your song, Bow down, cry, wail for pity; is this a time For singing? nay, for strewing of dust and ash, Rent raiment, and for bruising of the breast. CHORUS. What new thing wolf-like lurks behind thy words? What snake’s tongue in thy lips? what fire in the eyes? ”
