Page:Sophocles (Storr 1919) v2.djvu/221



My resolution was not born to-day.

Then I will go, for thou canst not be brought

To approve my words, nor I to approve thy ways.

Go in then; I shall never follow thee,

E’en shouldst thou pray me: ’tis insane to urge

An idle suit.

Well, if thou art wise

In thine own eyes, so let it be; anon,

Sore stricken, thou wilt take my words to heart.

[Exit.

Wise nature taught the birds of air

For those who reared them in the nest to care;

The parent bird is nourished by his brood,

And shall not we, as they,

The debt of nature pay,

Shall man not show like gratitude?

By Zeus who hurls the leven,

By Themis throned in heaven,

There comes a judgment day;

Not long shall punishment delay.

O voice that echoes to the world below,

Bear to the dead a wail of woe,

A coronach, a tale of shame

To Atreus’ line proclaim.

Tell him his house is stricken sore,

Tell him his children now no more

In amity together dwell;

Dire strife the twain divides, 209