Page:Agamemnon (Murray 1920).djvu/74

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They? Say, what man this foul deed compasseth?

Alas, thou art indeed fallen far astray!

How could such deed be done? I see no way.

Yet know I not the Greek tongue all too well?

Greek are the Delphic dooms, but hard to spell.

Ah! Ah! There!

What a strange fire! It moves It comes at me.

O Wolf Apollo, mercy! O agony!

Why lies she with a wolf, this lioness lone,

Two-handed, when the royal lion is gone?

God, she will kill me! Like to them that brew

Poison, I see her mingle for me too

A separate vial in her wrath, and swear,

Whetting her blade for him, that I must share

His death because, because he hath dragged me here!

Oh, why these mockers at my throat? This gear

Of wreathèd bands, this staff of prophecy?

I mean to kill you first, before I die.

Begone!