Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (Cookson).djvu/120

108

I spare them not whom no grief spares.

Renew, renew thy cry! Begin

With mine your voices blending,

Let sorrow have no ending!

Sorrow, sorrow hath no ending.

Rend thine ample train!

Behold! 'tis rent in twain!

Touch the hair-strung lute

And teach it sorrow for my power laid low!

All mournful music else be dumb and mute.

That shrill lament shall ever flow!

To-day and every morrow

Let fall the rain of sorrow.

To-day shall have a rainy morrow.

Now with me the burthen bear!