Aticta.
Only as is the graven image of death
‘Which men call life, and ignorantly adore!
Crassus.
Spare me! I cannot bear you more.
Aurcia.
Then will I drown you. Lock your fingers fast
In mine, and fet our mouths mix at the last.
[Zhe statue
of PAN is seen to be alive.
Pan.
Shrill, shrill
Over the hill!
‘The hunter is hot—this is the kill
Scream! Scream!
Dissolving the dream
Of life, the knife to the heart of the wife!
The fountain jets
Its flood of blood,
And the moss that it wets
Is an amethyst flame of violets.
‘Who shall escape
Murder and rape
When I am alive in my solemn shape?
Shrili, shrill,
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