Ah, merciless Love, is there any length to which you cannot force the human heart to go?

Death’s brother, sleep.

But the queen–too long she has suffered the pain of love,hour by hour nursing the wound with her lifeblood,consumed by the fire buried in her heart. […]His looks, his words, they pierce her heart and...

the dank night is sweeping down from the skyand the setting stars incline our heads to sleep.

Primary Epic is great, but not with the greatness of the later kind. In Homer, its greatness lies in the human and personal tragedy built up against this background of meaningless flux. It is all...