Page:Agamemnon (1877) Browning.djvu/45

Rh I think a noise—no mixture—reigns i' the city.

Sour wine and unguent pour thou in one vessel—

Standers-apart, not lovers, would'st thou style them:

And so, of captives and of conquerors, partwise

The voices are to hear, of fortune diverse.

For those, indeed, upon the bodies prostrate

Of husbands, brothers, children upon parents

—The old men, from a throat that's free no longer,

Shriekingly wail the death-doom of their dearest:

While these—the after-battle hungry labour,

Which prompts night-faring, marshals them to breakfast

On the town's store, according to no billet

Of sharing, but as each drew lot of fortune.

In the spear-captured Troic habitations

House they already: from the frosts upæthral