Page:House of Atreus 2nd ed (1889).djvu/165

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Behold, one woe is here—

Another loometh near.

Hark ye and learn—for what the end shall be

For me I know not: breaking from the curb

My spirit whirls me off, a conquered prey,

Borne as a charioteer by steeds distraught

Far from the course, and madness in my breast

Burneth to chant its song, and leap, and rave—

Hark ye and learn, friends, ere my reason goes!

I say that rightfully I slew my mother,

A thing God-scorned, that foully slew my sire.

And chiefest wizard of the spell that bound me

Unto this deed I name the Pythian seer

Apollo, who foretold that if I slew,

The guilt of murder done should pass from me;

But if I spared, the fate that should be mine

I dare not blazon forth—the bow of speech

Can reach not to the mark, that doom to tell.

And now behold me, how with branch and crown

I pass, a suppliant made meet to go

Unto Earth's midmost shrine, the holy ground

Of Loxias, and that renownèd light

Of ever-burning fire, to 'scape the doom

Of kindred murder: to no other shrine,

So Loxias bade, may I for refuge turn.

Bear witness, Argives, in the after time,

How came on me this dread fatality.

Living, I pass a banished wanderer hence,

To leave in death the memory of this cry.

Nay, but the deed is well; link not thy lips