Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (1908) Morshead.djvu/127

Rh And take therefrom such raiment as befits

Thy son, and go to meet him: for his garb

In this extremity of grief hangs rent

Around his body, woefully unstitched,

Mere tattered fragments of once royal robes!

Go thou to him, speak soft and soothing words—

Thee, and none other, will he bear to hear,

As well I know. But I must pass away

From earth above, unto the nether gloom;

Therefore, old men, take my farewell, and clasp,

Even amid the ruin of this time,

Unto your souls the pleasure of the day,

For dead men have no profit of their gold!

[The sinks.

Alas, I thrill with pain for Persia's woes—

Many fulfilled, and others hard at hand!

O spirit of the race, what sorrows crowd

Upon me! and this anguish stings me worst,

That round my royal son's dishonoured form

Hang rags and tatters, degradation deep!

I will away, and, bringing from within

A seemly royal robe, will straightway strive

To meet and greet my son: foul scorn it were

To leave our dearest in his hour of shame.

[Exit.

Ah glorious and goodly they were, the life and the lot that we gained,

The cities we held in our hand when the monarch invincible reigned,