Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/249

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Not slighted are ye, powers august! through rage

Curse not with hopeless blight the abode of man.

I too on Zeus rely; why speak of that?

And sole among the gods I know the key

That opes the halls where sealèd thunder sleeps.

But such we need not. Be appeased by me,

Nor scatter o'er the land, from froward tongue,

The harmful seed that turneth all to bane.

Of bitter rage lull ye the murky wave;

Be venerated here and dwell with me.

Sharing the first fruits of this ample realm,

For children offered, and for nuptial rite,

This word of mine thou wilt for ever praise.

1. That I should suffer this, oh Fie!

2. That, old in wisdom, I on earth should dwell

Dishonour'd! Fie! Debasement vile!

3. Rage I breathe forth, and wrath no stint that knows.

4. Fie! Fie! O earth, alas!

5. What agony of pain creeps o'er my heart!

6. Hear, Mother Night, my passion.

7. Mark for scorn,

By crafty gods deluded, held for nought,

Of ancient honour I am basely shorn.

I'll bear thine anger, for mine elder thou,

And wiser art, in that regard, than I.

Yet me, with wisdom, Zeus not meanly dowers.