Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/326

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Woe! Woe! Alas! Woe! Woe!

Heavy, in sooth, the blow.

Which sorely I bemoan.

Ply, ply the stroke, lift for my sake your cries.

Woe-fraught, I weep amain.

Wail with responsive groan.

This care, my liege, I own.

Swell loud the doleful strain.

Woe! Woe! Alas! Woe! Woe!

Mingled with many a blow!

Yea, black, and fraught with sighs.