Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/166

96

Ye mighty Fates, end ye the great emprize,

As Right, with Heaven's high sanction, hath decreed;—

"Let tongue of Hatred pay back tongue of Hate;"

Thus with her mighty utt'rance Justice cries,

Due penalty exacting for each deed.

"Let murder on the murderous stroke await!"—

"Doer of wrong must sufifer."—This sage lore,

Tradition utters, trebly hoar.

What word or deed of mine,

Father unblest,

Can I, from this confine,

Waft to thy couch of rest,

Changing thy murky gloom

Into bright day!

Nathless to grace thy tomb,

Welcome to Atreus' line,

Pour we the lay.—

My son, the wasting jaws of fire

Quell not the spirit of the dead,

Full late he manifests his ire.—

When mourned is he whose blood is shed,

The slayer is revealed. In time,

For slaughtered parents, righteous cry

Of orphans, raised unceasingly,

Availeth to search out the hidden crime.