Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (Cookson).djvu/166

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Wail the woe!

Make grief thy song!

Let thy tears flow!

Misery! Ah, misery!

Oh, maddened breast!

Oh, moaning heart!

Wept with all tears thou art!

And thou of all unhappy things unhappiest!

Slain by thine own thou liest dead!

Yea, and this hand its own blood shed!

So is a tale of grief twice told!

A double horror to behold!

Two woes in dreadful neighbourhood!

They lie together mingled in their blood!