Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/373

Rh

Tread not this pathway to the seventh gate.

My whetted soul with words thou shalt not blunt.

Such conquest, in defeat, the God respects.

The armed warrior brooks not such a word.

Wouldst thou in sooth cull thine own brother's blood?

Grant but the gods, from harm he shall not 'scape.

[Exit.

I shudder lest the house-destroying Might,

Unlike to gods, true prophetess of ill,

A sire's invok'd Erinys, now fulfil

The wrathful curses, fraught with bitter hate,

Of Œdipus infatuate.

Child-slaying Eris urges on the fight.

The lots between them doth a stranger deal,

Chalybian colonist from Scythia's bound,

Divider stern of wealth, raw-hearted steel,