Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/172

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Piercing thine ear, oh may my word

Find access to the depths within!

True is the tale. Thy spirit gird

To hear what yet thou hast not heard!

Now, with undaunted heart the strife begin.

Thine aid, O Father, to thy dear ones lend!

Weeping sad tears, my voice with his I blend.

Our prayers, in concert, to the shades descend;

Give ear, and rising to the day

Against our foes join thou the fray.

Ares shall cope with Ares,—Right with Right.

Ye gods, give righteous judgment in the fight.

Hearing your prayers, I tremble: hid in night,

Tarries from Eld the doom of Fate;

Invoked it cometh, sure, though late.

Oh curse that in our house doth reign!

Discordant Atè's murd'rous blow!