Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/327

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Ay, beat thy breast, and raise the Mysian wail.

Pain, grievous pain!

And from thy chin pluck out the silver hair.

Woe-fraught, we pluck amain!

Rend with shrill cries the air.

Cries shall not fail.

With forceful hand tear thou thy bosom's stole.

Pain, grievous pain!

Our host lamenting rend thy tresses too.

Woe-fraught, we rend amain!