Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (Cookson).djvu/117

Rh

All weapons else wherewith we went arrayed,

All power, and every necessary aid

That armies fight with, have been stripped away!

Alack! the sons of Javan fly not from a fray!

They take too much delight in war!

These eyes beheld a grief they looked not for.

Thy great armada, thy long battle-line

Broken

When I saw that such grief was mine

From hem to hem my robe I rent.

O God !

Cry loud with all lament!

Yea, the whole almonry of sorrow drain!

No amplest 'O' can this large ill contain.

I feel a twofold, yea, a threefold chain,

And every link a fiery pain,

Constrict my heart.