Page:Agamemnon (1877) Browning.djvu/111

Rh

Thou art some mind-mazed creature, god-possessed:

And all about thyself dost wail

A lay—no lay!

Like some brown nightingale

Insatiable of noise, who—well away!—

From her unhappy breast

Keeps moaning Itus, Itus, and his life

With evils, flourishing on each side, rife.

Ah me, ah me,

The fate o' the nightingale, the clear resounder!

For a body wing-borne have the gods cast round her,

And sweet existence, from misfortunes free: