Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (1908) Morshead.djvu/49

Rh

O stranger maids, I may not trust this word,

That ye have share in this our Argive race.

No likeness of our country do ye bear,

But semblance as of Libyan womankind.

Even such a stock by Nilus' banks might grow;

Yea, and the Cyprian stamp, in female forms,

Shows, to the life, what males impressed the same.

And, furthermore, of roving Indian maids

Whose camping-grounds by Aethiopia lie,

And camels burdened even as mules, and bearing

Riders, as horses bear, mine ears have heard;

And tales of flesh-devouring mateless maids

Called Amazons: to these, if bows ye bare,

I most had deemed you like. Speak further yet,

That of your Argive birth the truth I learn.

Here in this Argive land—so runs the tale—

Io was priestess once of Hera's fane.

Yea, truth it is, and far this word prevails:

Is't said that Zeus with mortal mingled love?

Ay, and that Hera that embrace surmised.

How issued then this strife of those on high?

By Hera's will, a heifer she became.