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As they sang, he danced around it, trampling the dew, making his magic, till the grove spun round him and he did not know earth from sky. But there before him was the Great Mother, with a wreath of light in her hair; she caught him in her arms, and kissed him over; and he saw on her golden gown the red prints from his blood-stained feet, where he had trodden in the place of sacrifice. His feet were as red as the boots of the painted statue.
Sayfa 48 - Vintage Books – March, 1977Kitabı okudu
He was wrapped in a cloak, and laid on a deep pine-mat, and kissed again, and told softly that even the gods, when they are young, must sleep.
Sayfa 49 - Vintage Books – March, 1977Kitabı okudu
He had cried easily at old war-songs where sworn comrades died together, at a fallen cadence of the flute. He had cried half a day, when his dog fell sick and died. Already he knew what it was to mourn the fallen; for Agis he wept his heart out. But to cry for his own wounds would make Herakles forsake him. This had long been a part of their secret compact.
Sayfa 53 - Vintage Books – March, 1977Kitabı okudu