Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/228

158 Men's homes to destroy is the Furies' employ.

When Ares in strife

Robs a brother of life,

Relentless, the blood-dripping caitiff we chase;—

Though girded with strength, he must falter at length,

And falls, overpowered in the race.

No partner brook we in our time-honoured cares,

Nor share with the gods jurisdiction nor prayers.

For, us,—the detested,—

Blood-stained, sable-vested,

High Zeus from his hall did exclude one and all.

So downward we stoop

On our foe with fell swoop,

And crush him with heavy footfall where he lies;

These limbs overthrow both the swift and the slow;

Once prostrate, our victims ne'er rise.

Men's glory, though beneath the sky

Proudly august, below the earth

Dwindles dishonoured, nothing worth,

Before our dark-stoled company,

What time in bodeful dance, untired, our feet we ply.

Through evil blind, the wretch, though prone,

Knows not his fall; for dark the cloud

That doth the guilty mind o'ershroud;