Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/132

62 His own child slaughtered,—of my travail throes

To me the dearest,—charm for Thracian blasts.

Him shouldst thou not have chased from land and home

Just guerdon for foul deed? Stern judge thou art

When me thou dost arraign;—but, mark my words,

(Nerved as I am to threat on equal terms,)

If with strong hand ye conquer me, then rule;—

But should the god decree the opposite,

Though late, to sober sense shalt thou be schooled.

O haughty of council art thou;—

And haughtily-minded thou vauntest amain,

As raveth thy mind neath blood-reeking fate.

Calling for vengeance, glares forth on thy brow

Of blood the foul stain;—

Forsaken of friends, the common hate,

Death-blow with death-blow shalt expiate.

This solemn sanction of mine oaths thou hearest;—

By the accomplished vengeance of my child,

By Até, by Erinyes, unto whom

I slew this man,—Expectancy for me

Treads not the halls of Fear, while on my hearth,

Ægisthos, kind as heretofore, burns fire;—

For he of boldness is no puny shield.

There prostrate lies this woman's outrager,

Minion to each Chryseis under Troy.