Page:Choëphoroe (Murray 1923).djvu/42

Rh

—Alas, alas, for the travail born in the race,

—Alas for the harp of Atê, whose strings run blood,

—The beaten bosom, the grief too wild to bear.

—The pain that gnaweth, and will not sink to sleep.

—The House hath healing for its own bitterness;

—It is here within. None other can stay the flood;

—Through bitter striving, through hate and old despair.

—Behold the Song of the Daemons of the deep!

O Father mine, O most unkingly slain,

Grant me the lordship of thy House again.

A boon for me likewise, O Father, give;

To lay Aigisthos in his blood and live.

So men shall honour thee with wassail high;

Else without meat or incense shalt thou lie,

Unhonoured when the dead their banquets call.

And I will pour thee offerings wondrous fair

From my stored riches for a marriage-prayer,

And this thy grave will honour more than all.