Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (Cookson).djvu/23

Rh

Bend in awe

And adoration at the common altar

Of all these sovereignties. On holy ground

Crouch like a flock of doves that fear the hawk

For all his cousinship of wings. Even so

Fearful are ye of foes of your own blood

That would pollute your race. And if one fowl

Prey on another, how can it be pure?

And he who weds a bride against her will,

Her father not consenting, where shall he

Find purity? I trow, that when he's dead

The doer of this deed at Hades' bar

Shall stand arraigned not idly: even there,

So we believe, another Zeus holds court

Among the souls whose earthly race is run,

And passes final sentence on their crimes.

Look to yourselves, and to this lord return

Such answer, that ye fail not in your cause.

What little band is this that I salute?

Whence come ye, not, as Hellenes are, attired,

But with barbaric bravery of robes,

And fine veils finished with the weaver's spathe?

These woman's weeds are not of Argolis

Nor any part of Hellas. Herald ye

Have none; nor minister to be your friend;

Nor guide in a strange land. And how ye dared

Adventure here, thus utterly forlorn,

Is matter for amazement. By your side