Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/101

Rh Woe upon Paris' bridal bed

She utters;—she who long before

A dirgeful life, alas! had led,

Weeping her sons in wretched slaughter sped.

So once did wight incautious rear

A suckling lion, for the breast

Still yearning, to the house a pest.

Tame in life's early morning, dear

To childhood, and by Eld caressed.

Carried full oft in fondling play,

Like to a babe in arms he lay;

The hand with winning glances wooed,

And, smit with pangs of hunger, fawned for food.

But time the temper doth bewray

Inherent in his race. Due meed

Of gentle nurture to repay,

Rending the flocks with cruel greed,

Unbidden he prepares the feast,

And mars with gory stain the halls.

Resistless, dire, athirst for prey,

The pest the menial train appals,

Reared for the house by Heaven, fell Atè's priest.

So came to Troia's walls, in evil hour,

Spirit of breathless calm, fair pride

Of riches, love's soul-piercing flower,

The eyes' soft dart; but from her course aside