Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/199

Rh The tender weight of children 'neath her zone,

Burden once dear, but now her deadly foe;

What deem ye of her? Might she not have been

A viper, or torpedo, which by touch

Corrupteth where it bites not? true if judged

For reckless daring and unrighteous will.

How name this thing, using well-omened words?

Toil for wild beast, the laver's ghastly pall,

Shrouding the dead man's feet? A net, a snare,

Might'st call it, or a feet-entangling robe.

Such were some robber's gear, whose trade it is

Strangers to dupe and plunder of their wealth;

While slaying many a one with such device,

With many a crime his seething brain might teem.

May no such woman house with me! Ye gods,

Devote me rather to a childless death!

Alas! alas, for doings fraught with doom!

A loathsome death has brought thee to the tomb.

Woe! Woe!

To the survivor grief is but in bloom.

Did she the deed or not? To me this robe

Attests that she Ægisthos' sword imbrued;

Behold the death-stain tallies with the time

Marring the broidered garment's varied dyes.

One while I praise my slaughtered sire, anon,

As present at the scene I wail his death.