Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (1908) Morshead.djvu/70

40 Foiled shall they be. Yet well it were for you,

(If, ere with aid I come, I tarry long),

Not by one step this sanctuary to leave.

Farewell, fear nought: soon shall the hour be born

When he that scorns the gods shall rue his scorn.

Ah but I shudder, father!—ah, even now,

Even as I speak, the swift-winged ships draw nigh!

I shudder, I shiver, I perish with fear:

Overseas though I fled,

Yet nought it avails; my pursuers are near!

Children, take heart; they who decreed to aid

Thy cause will arm for battle, well I ween.

But desperate is Aegyptus' ravening race,

With fight unsated; thou too know'st it well.

In their wrath they o'ertake us; the prow is deep-dark

In the which they have sped,

And dark is the bench and the crew of the bark!

Yea but a crew as stout they here shall find,

And arms well steeled beneath a noon-day sun.

Ah yet, O father, leave us not forlorn!

Alone, a maid is nought, a strengthless arm.