Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (Cookson).djvu/118

106

Yea, we must weep.

And we must put on sackcloth; but the foe

On this dark anniversary shall keep

Pastime and sport, highday and holiday.

And all thy strength and all thy bright array—

Lo! I fled naked: none escorts me home—

And all thy friends and comrades cast away!

The waters of calamity flow deep;

They break in death and ruin; and they sweep

Wrecks of the wrath of God in their tumultuous foam.

Weep blood! Yea, with sharp nail

The lank and hollow cheek of dotage tear,

Then each man to his house.

Weep! Wail!

Anon with me the burthen bear!

Shriek for shriek and groan for groan,

In miserable antiphone!

Shrill forth your loud lament in unison.

Woe! Woe! Woe! Woe!