Page:Agamemnon (Murray 1920).djvu/75

vv. 1268–1294. Down to perdition! Lie ye so?

So I requite you! Now make rich in woe

Some other Bird of Evil, me no more!

Ah, see! It is Apollo's self, hath tore

His crown from me! Who watched me long ago

In this same prophet's robe, by friend, by foe,

All with one voice, all blinded, mocked to scorn:

"A thing of dreams," "a beggar-maid outworn,"

Poor, starving and reviled, I endured all;

And now the Seer, who called me till my call

Was perfect, leads me to this last dismay.

'Tis not the altar-stone where men did slay

My father; 'tis a block, a block with gore

Yet hot, that waits me, of one slain before.

Yet not of God unheeded shall we lie.

There cometh after, one who lifteth high

The downfallen; a branch where blossometh

A sire's avenging and a mother's death.

Exiled and wandering, from this land outcast,

One day He shall return, and set the last

Crown on these sins that have his house downtrod.

For, lo, there is a great oath sworn of God,

His father's upturned face shall guide him home.

Why should I grieve? Why pity these men's doom?

I who have seen the City of Ilion

Pass as she passed; and they who cast her down

Have thus their end, as God gives judgement sure.

I go to drink my cup. I will endure

To die. O Gates, Death-Gates, all hail to you!

Only, pray God the blow be stricken true!

Pray God, unagonized, with blood that flows

Quick unto friendly death, these eyes may close!