That has girded on the girdle of war— With hands that lightened the skies in sunder And feet whose fall was followed of thunder, A God, a great God strange of name, [Pg 32] With horse-yoke fleeter-hoofed than flame, To the mountain bed of a maiden came, Oreithyia, the bride mismated, 570 Wofully wed in a snow-strewn bed With a bridegroom that kisses the bride's mouth dead; Without garland, without glory, without song, As a fawn by night on the hills belated, Given over for a spoil unto the strong. [Ant. 1. From lips how pale so keen a wail At the grasp of a God's hand on her she gave, When his breath that darkens air made a havoc of her hair, It rang from the mountain even to the wave; Rang with a cry, Woe's me, woe is me!